Reindeer Games (7 page)

lifetime of memory?

Maybe it would be worth it. Rom had been magnificent, thrusting into Tym.

Tym certainly had been lost in ecstasy. But beyond the initial thought, it just didn’t

appeal to Lon. A single night didn’t seem right.

But it wasn’t a decision to be made right now. First things first, he needed to

get out of Wod’s cottage.

“
If you’d let me, I’d love to fuck you right now
.” The memory of Wod’s offer was

crystal clear, resuming the desire in his blood.

Right. He couldn’t let that happen.

Why not?

Never you mind why.

He left the bathroom, then sat on a chair to don his shoes. After pulling on his

jacket and firmly buttoning it to his chin—well, okay, the base of his neck—he crept

to the door and opened it a crack. The main room of the cottage looked very

different in the daylight. Sunlight streamed in through the east-facing windows,

bouncing off the light pine walls to give a gentle golden glow to the somber tones in

the furniture. He saw no one as he opened the door fully and stepped out, careful

not to let the hard rubber soles of his shoes make a sound on the hardwood floor.

The front door was directly to his left. He could just slip out and pretend that none

of last night had happened.

Except that it had. Wod had been nothing but nice. More than nice. He had, in

fact, offered to help Lon…along with other things.

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He deserved better. At least a thank-you.

“Wo—” Lon’s voice broke on a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Wod?”

“In here.”

Following the heavenly scents of coffee, sugar, and cinnamon, Lon crept

around the corner into the main room. Beyond the sitting area with the couch and

fireplace were a small table and chairs. Wod sat, bare-chested, with his back to the

wall, watching the sun on the snowy escarpment that dropped to the river far

below. Lon stopped, amazed at the way the morning light made Wod’s rich, loose

hair the same deep red of the mulled wine that had jumbled his thoughts last night.

A shadow from one of the trees that flanked the picture window mixed with Wod’s

shadow on the wall behind him and gave it antlers. It was almost as though his

other form hovered over his shoulder.

Wod turned to face him, and the shadows parted. “Good morning. How do you

feel?”

“Much better.” Lon shuffled closer, unsure what to do. “Good morning. Thank

you for…” He gestured toward the bedroom. “Thank you for letting me sleep it off.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lon put a hand to his head. “I don’t usually drink.”

“Good to know.” Wod leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. Sleek

muscles bunched in his arms, a minor distraction to add to that of a stack of a dozen

fresh, hot cinnamon rolls set before him. “Even if it does pack a punch, the wine

usually wears off by morning.”

“I’m sorry for putting you out of your bed.” He forced himself not to make it a

question. For all he knew, Wod had slept beside him and had gotten up early. That

sent an odd thrill through him.

“It’s all right. I’ve slept on that couch many times.”

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41

So they hadn’t been in bed together. Good.
Right
? Lon grabbed the back of one

of the chairs as he stood behind it. “Still, you didn’t have to.”

“I did. I gave you the wine.” Wod waved at the rolls on the table. “Please, sit. I

got us breakfast.”

Deliberately
not
licking his lips, Lon shook his head and released the chair.

“No, I should leave. I’ve troubled you enough.”

“Lon, sit. I can’t send you home on an empty stomach.”

Although touched by Wod’s concern, Lon still protested, taking a step back. “I

can’t.”

Wod stood. “Lon. They’re already here. No sense in wasting them. I won’t eat

them all.” He picked up his empty mug. “There’s mocha coffee too.”

Lon’s mouth watered. He
loved
mocha coffee. Together with cinnamon rolls,

that was his ideal breakfast. Of course, among the elves, he was not alone in this

preference.

While he was hesitating, Wod crossed behind him. He pulled out the chair,

then propelled Lon into it with a firm shove. “Eat. I’ll get you a cup.”

Lon bit his lip, staring at the cinnamon rolls. A half dozen of them were

stacked in a neat pyramid on a plate, the icing clearly added after they were

stacked, since it oozed unbroken over the whole stack. Still warm, with a little

steam rising off them. Hadn’t Wod eaten yet? But the small forest green plate in

front of Wod’s chair was as clean as the one in front of Lon. Surely he hadn’t been

waiting for Lon? Maybe he’d only just stacked them when Lon emerged from the

bedroom. But wait… “When did you order these?”

Wod had opened the door of the oven to take out a familiar warming pot.

Although most elves chose to eat in the common hall, anyone could order food to

take home. Those with the high-pressure jobs—like the reindeer and Santa—could

have it delivered. Lon had never enjoyed the luxury himself, but he’d seen food

packed for delivery. “This morning,” Wod answered, bringing the pot and a clean

mug back to the table.

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Jet Mykles

Lon glanced out the window at the sun in its glory. He’d never been good at

judging time without a timepiece, but it still looked pretty early to him. “How long

have I been sleeping?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not that late. We’ll have you out of here in plenty of time for

work.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about. Both handlers and reindeer typically

slept in, since the bulk of their jobs occurred at night. Lon spread his hands on the

smooth pine of the table to either side of his empty plate. “Who delivered

breakfast?” They lived in a small enough community that there was likely to be

plenty of gossip if anyone found out he’d spent the night in Wod’s cottage. Who had

delivered breakfast? Would they tell Rom? Had Wod talked to his friend? What if

Rom had stopped by and found Lon there? That would have been awful!

Wod chuckled as he poured fragrant brown mocha into the mug, filling the air

with the scents of sweet chocolate and rich coffee. “Relax, Lon. No one knows you’re

here.”

Lon winced, realizing his panic wasn’t exactly flattering for Wod. “But you

ordered for two.”

Wod gave him a steady look as he set the cup by Lon’s plate. “It’s not that odd

for me to have company in the morning.”

Lon flushed and ducked his head. “No, of course not.” It was considered an

honor to have spent the night with any of the reindeer. “But if Rom finds out…”

Wod snorted as he refilled his own cup. “Lon, I assure you, it wouldn’t matter

to Rom if you had sex with me. In fact”—he set the pot down—“it could help you.”

“
Help
me?”

“Sure. I could tell him how good you are.” Passing behind Lon’s chair on his

way back to his own, Wod leaned near to Lon’s ear. “Pique his interest.”

Lon flinched, but Wod continued on to his chair. He sat, calm, as though he

hadn’t just propositioned Lon. Again. Gazing at the expanse of his bare chest and

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43

the way loose waves of dark red hair curled over it and broad shoulders, Lon was a

little hard-pressed to remember why.

Rom
. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

Wod’s gaze didn’t lift to meet his as he sipped. Then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Setting down his mug, he reached out to pluck the roll off the top of the stack. “Eat

up. We need to talk about Project Rom.”

“Project Rom?”

“Yes.” Licking icing off his fingers, he handed Lon the full plate, then took the

empty one. “We need to make a plan.”

“We?”

Wod grinned as he put another roll on the second plate. “I said I’d help you.”

Slowly Lon set down the plate, gaping in surprise. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do if you hope to get anywhere with him.” Wod took a bite from his roll and

finally met Lon’s gaze. “Because, frankly, you’re not going to get anywhere at the

rate you’re going.” Dark eyes were calm and matter-of-fact as he chewed.

Lon lowered his chin and concentrated on pulling an ooey-gooey piece of roll

apart from the center. “I thought you said it was hopeless.”

“Did I say that?”

“You said he wouldn’t be interested in…what I want.”

“A relationship? No. Not initially. You’ll have to work on him. But first you’ll

need to get close to him.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

“I said I would.”

Lon stuck the bite of roll into his mouth and chewed, considering his next

words carefully. “I thought you wanted me.”

“I do.” Again, it was said in a very frank, straightforward manner. A little

disconcerting. “But you’ve made it obvious that you don’t want me, so I might as

well help you.”

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Jet Mykles

Lon flinched, fingers sinking into warm bread as he tore off another piece of

roll. “It’s not that I don’t… I mean, you’re… You’re beautiful, and you’ve been really

nice to me, but… Oh, I don’t know.” He reached for his mug, then stopped when he

saw the mess on his fingers. Without thought, he put his fingers to his mouth to lick

them clean.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Wod watching with casual interest.

When he faced the other man fully, he saw the drop of heavy eyelids and the quirk

to one corner of Wod’s mouth. “My offer still stands.”

Beneath the table, Lon’s cock perked. His fingers stalled on his tongue when

he froze, mesmerized by the heat Wod caused in his blood. But that was wrong. He

was in love with Rom. Sure, Wod was beautiful, but Lon felt absurdly guilty for

being turned on. Lowering his head, Lon pulled his fingers from his mouth and

grabbed his mug, taking refuge by sipping the chocolatey coffee. By the time he had

savored his sip and set the mug back down, the awkward moment had passed, and

he felt prepared to speak again. Except he didn’t know what to say.

Wod didn’t have the same problem. Having bolted down his first roll, he

reached for another. “Tomorrow’s Sixth Day. That means Rom’s probably going to

the Mistletoe tonight.”

The Mistletoe was what passed for a bar and dance club in Santa’s Village. In

recent years, as less and less long-term storage space was needed for toys, a

warehouse at the end of the row closest to the hill had become a common meeting

place. The bar and dance floor had evolved as elves learned more of human

pastimes. It even had a few pool tables and dartboards. The Mistletoe was

especially popular on the night of the fifth day of the elves’ six-day week because

tradition held that the sixth day was a day of rest.

“You should go.”

Lon allowed himself a laugh as he tore off another piece of roll. “I’ve been to

the Mistletoe. I’ve seen him there.” He’d seen Wod there too, but he left that aside.

“I’m not going to have a chance to get close to him there.”

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45

“Ah.” Wod raised one finger, sticky with icing, in the air. “But I can help you

there.”

Lon swallowed, barely tasting his favorite of breakfast treats. “I don’t dance

very well.”

Wod laughed. “It’s barely dancing. More like sex with clothes on, if you do it

right.” He laughed again as Lon blushed. “All you have to do is move to the music.”

Lon took another sip of his coffee to give himself to a chance to remember

seeing Rom and Wod gyrating to the music within the flashing red, green, and blue

lights that strobed the dance floor. They were as beautiful there as they were just

after a shift. Wod was right about the style of dance too. Not only was it like sex—it

often led to sex. The lofts of the warehouse had been sectioned off into small, cozy

rooms for quick trysts for those who couldn’t wait to get home. Lon had never been

in one, but he’d heard of them.

He shook his head as he put the mug down. “I don’t know.”

“It’s perfect. Once I get you close, all you have to do is let him know you want

him, and he’ll do the rest.”

Lon bit his lip.

“Of course, we could always go the more direct route.”

“Direct route?”

Wod licked his fingers, then reached for a third roll. “I could just tell Rom

you’re interested.”

Lon froze. “No!”

Wod shrugged. “It’s the best way. Then there’s no chance he’ll misunderstand

or overlook you.”

“No. You can’t.”

Wod watched him as he slowly sucked icing off one index finger. “Why not?”

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Lon tore his eyes off Wod’s finger to meet his eyes. “That’s not… No.”

Instinctively, he reached for Wod but managed to stop his sticky fingers before he

grabbed the bigger man’s wrist. Hand hovering above Wod’s, he pleaded with his