Sleigh Ride (Minnesota Christmas Book 2) (5 page)

“You might want to find a movie or a TV show to watch while I do you. Because I fully intend to take an hour on your ass, and you’ll be glad for a distraction.”

“I’m not going to let you lick my ass,” Gabriel said, with no conviction whatsoever.

“You will, sweetheart.” Arthur’s smile was lazy. “You’ll beg me to.”

“I won’t,” Gabriel whispered, ignoring the tingle in his balls.

“Be good.” Chuckling, he ran a finger down Gabriel’s thigh. “On second thought, be bad, since it’s what you want.” He bent down, brushed a kiss over Gabriel’s swollen lips and whispered, “Me too.”

Ch
apter Five

On
ce Arthur left Gabriel, he sat in his truck for a minute after starting it. Shutting his eyes, he tipped his head back and drew several deep, satisfied breaths as he replayed the unexpected but welcome encounter.

Da-yam.

He drove to the municipal liquor store, figuring he’d pick up a bottle of wine. Frankie would like it, which would make Marcus happy. It would also distract them from the fact that he
wasn’t
bringing Gabriel. Normally Arthur wouldn’t have settled for anything but a yes-I’ll-get-my-coat from Gabriel, but their little sexplosion changed all the rules. Probably he could have bullied him into coming still, but it would be at the expense of getting laid again, and fucking the librarian had gone
way
to the top of Arthur’s to-do list. So wine it was.

The muni was on the north end of town so it could catch traffic from Pine Valley. It had a nice variety of everything, and now that the manager knew Frankie, he always stocked his favorite wine. The nice thing was, even though Arthur couldn’t remember what the brand name was, the woman behind the counter did.

Paul was in the wine aisle, with another guy.

Arthur stopped at the end of the row, too stunned to do anything else. When Paul saw him, he smiled—awkwardly. “Hey, Arthur.”

Arthur murmured a greeting. Well, this was weird.

Paul looked good. Happy. Too bad his date sucked. The guy was a total tool. But this was what Paul wanted.

“Good to see you.” He shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his head. “Just picking up some wine. Going over to see Frankie and Marcus.”

“Oh?” Paul’s smile lost its awkward. “Tell them hi. I owe Frankie a visit. He keeps calling me, telling me to come over.”

Because they couldn’t all be together now, because he and Paul weren’t together. Except damn it, they never really
were
together.

Arthur cleared his throat. “You could come too. You know Frankie. Always makes enough for an army.” He made himself add, “Bring your…friend.”

The friend in question pursed his lips, and when he spoke, his voice was a whine. “I thought
we
were having a special dinner.”

Arthur gave Paul an incredulous look.
This is what you had to end our arrangement for, is it?

Suppressing a sigh, Paul patted the guy on the arm. “Bobby, why don’t you go pick up the wine? I’ll be along in a minute.”

Grumbling under his breath, Bobby tucked the wine sullenly under his arm and flounced off. As soon as he was gone, Arthur turned to Paul.

“
Seriously
, Paul. What the hell?”

Paul waved vaguely in the direction of the sulking Bobby. “I’m dating, Arthur. This is how it goes. Sometimes they’re diamonds. Sometimes they’re duds.”

“This ain’t no diamond, babe.” He shook his head. “Why’d you have to go and mess up what we had going? It wasn’t so bad.”

Paul raised a dubious eyebrow. “It wasn’t so great, either. We fought more than anything.”

“Foreplay. Don’t tell me you didn’t like the sex. It was fucking great.”

“Yes, but I want to cuddle too.”

Arthur aimed a finger at him. “I cuddle, buddy.”

“We weren’t right together, Arthur. We can be friends. That’s it. And I think we’ll be better friends if we give each other some space for a little while. Just until after Christmas.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “So you know, it’s stressing Frankie out. We gotta at least go do dinner or something. I don’t care if you spit on me after. Because if Frankie gets too stressed out, you know what’s going to happen.”

“I’m aware. Marcus will come grouse at us.” Paul shifted on his feet. “A few more weeks, okay? It’s not easy for me. Or rather, it’d be way too easy to let you take me to bed again. I don’t
want
to hate you, Arthur. But if we keep on the way we were, I will. If not now, soon.”

Well, now Arthur felt like shit. Which was probably why he let his mouth go and say something stupid. “You go ahead and date. Who knows. Maybe I will too.”

Paul’s eyebrows went into his hairline. “Oh
will
you, now?”

Dammit, Arthur hated that snotty tone. “Yeah. You never know what I might do.”

“Arthur, do
not
date just because you’re angry with me for moving out. It’s not fair to the guys you’d be using.”

Oh
fuck this
shit. He had no cause to stand here and be lectured by Mr. Fussypants. “You don’t worry about me, buddy. Go on and have your Pinot with snotty-butt there. I hope he’s a good lay, at least, because I can tell you right now, dinner’s gonna be a snoozer.”

Fucking no way the guy was going to be a good lay.

Arthur bought the wine and headed back to his truck.

He wasn’t jealous, he reasoned as he drove across town to Frankie and Marcus’s house. It was dumb, because things had been
fine
. No, it wasn’t what Marcus and Frankie had, but that shit didn’t grow on trees. Like the Stones said, you can’t always get what you want. But sometimes you got a best buddy with a fine ass who didn’t mind a bit of rough and tumble. There were worse things in life.

As he pulled up to Frankie and Marcus’s building, though, and saw the two of them through the window of the apartment they shared above their businesses, laughing and smiling at each other as they hung up Christmas decorations, Arthur did admit there were
better
things.

He was also ready, he decided as he climbed out of the cab with his wine, to admit Gabriel’s hair wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was kind of growing on him.

“The thing is,” Marcus began as Arthur poured the wine and Frankie dished up the stew, “grants are difficult to get, more so all the time because there are fewer of them and more people needing things. But we can definitely research some, find out what Gabriel needs, and I can help write the applications.”

“Good.” Arthur passed over Marcus’s glass. “Can I pick them up tomorrow night after work? Or will you take them over on your lunch break?”

Marcus gave Arthur a long-suffering glare he’d given many times before. “It’s going to take me the better part of the week alone to do the research on which grants to apply for. The actual application writing might take over a month.”

“Who the hell has that kind of time? The library needs money
now
.” Or at least, Arthur needed to give it to Gabriel, with his mom watching. Or it was
ho, ho, ho
.

“Even if by some miracle we could turn in winning applications tonight, we’d have to wait until the application period closed to see if we received the money, and
then
we’d have to win over the other people competing.”

Arthur took a deep swig of wine, wishing it were beer.

“What about a regular fundraiser?” Frankie passed Arthur his soup and sat down with his own. “We could still do the grants, but maybe something local to pass the time?”

“Well, you’ve hit the problem.” Arthur poked at his stew, sitting up when he smelled how good it was. He spooned up a bite and blew on it to cool it off. “Mom has some harebrained idea of me playing Santa in the sleigh.”

Frankie’s eyes danced. “You’d be a cute Santa.”

“What’s wrong is the damn plan isn’t a plan. She wants to dress me up and ride in Grandpa’s old sleigh. I’m going to shuttle her and three other widows around and look like an idiot in front of the whole town. And they’ll make about a buck fifty.” He put the stew in his mouth and almost groaned. Goddamn, it was
good
.

“Well, you need to have a better plan. You need to take them via sleigh to an event. And they’ll need their hair done before they go. I’ll donate my services and get a few of the guys from the Cities to fill in my chairs. The diner will do a charity dinner, and the muni will do a wine sale.”

“They could have an old-fashioned dance in the school gym,” Marcus suggested.

Frankie beamed. “That would be
great
. Does the dance teacher in Pine Valley know ballroom?”

“I don’t know, but if she doesn’t, I know someone in St. Paul who does.” Marcus scratched his beard then spooned up his own bite. “Sweetheart, this is
amazing
. What did you do?”

“Nothing special.” Except Frankie was practically melting under the praise.

“There’s some taste in it, something I don’t recognize.” Arthur tried another bite. God, it got better every time. “Whatever it is, it’s good.”

“You’re tasting the Herbes de Provence. Lavender, savory, fennel, basil, thyme.”

Lavender.
In his food. Well, Arthur’d be goddamned then, because it was the best stew he’d ever had in his life. He lifted his wine in toast. “Here’s to the Provence.”

They all toasted Frankie, who was so proud he looked ready to burst, and conversation turned to the gossip Frankie had overheard in the salon, what had happened at the city council meeting. It was all boring, so Arthur chewed on Marcus and Frankie’s fundraising ideas while he helped himself to a second bowl and a huge hunk of mouth-watering bread.

It could work. It had him dressed up in a damn Santa suit, but Arthur was ready to admit that was going to happen one way or another at this point. He still wasn’t sure
who
was coming to this shindig and how they had money, but that sort of thing was decidedly Marcus and Frankie’s territory. With those two on board, it’d end up amazing.

Arthur wondered if Gabriel would like it.

“It’s too bad Gabriel couldn’t come.” Frankie sat back in his chair, cradling his wine in his hand.

“He had a big day. He’ll be along next time.” Arthur would talk to him about it when he went over after work.

He already knew there was going to be pushback once his librarian had a chance to think about what they’d done. The next time Arthur showed up unannounced, the doors would be locked.

So he’d show up at doors that couldn’t be locked. Easy enough.

C
hapter Six

G
abriel stared into the mirror the morning after his sofa sex with Arthur and addressed himself sternly.

“You will not have sex with Arthur. You will not let him in your house. You will not let him rope you into anything crazy. You will not, under any circumstances, let him lick your ass.”

He managed to say that without blushing, but as Arthur had predicted, he couldn’t pass his couch without feeling uncomfortable in his underwear.

The encounter had been exciting, yes. And sexy. His body hummed, sated from its orgasm hangover. Gabriel would allow that Arthur had been a good lover, attentive and caring—even
while
he said dirty, toe-curling things.

It was an unexpectedly pleasant interlude, but it wasn’t happening again.

The problem, he admitted as he drove into work, was he’d never been like that with another lover in his life. Certainly he’d had those urges before, dark desires he’d entertained himself with in fiction, pornography.
Fantasy
, which was what he’d always considered those feelings. But now he’d tasted his fantasies, and he had to admit a second sample wouldn’t be objectionable.

Not with Arthur, though, and not here in Logan. He was bothered less about the kinky sex and more about the fact that he didn’t
like
Arthur Anderson.
Yes
, sex with someone he didn’t care for had been some of the thrill, an even deeper-embedded fantasy—but it was a fantasy and not his modus operandi for good reason.

He wouldn’t see Arthur again, most especially not for sex. He’d talk to Corrina about the fundraiser, find a way to redirect her.

There. That was settled. Time to move on to thinking about something else.

Despite how small the library was and how unpopulated it could be at times, Gabriel never lacked for anything to do. Shelving was often done by volunteers, little old ladies and teenagers, most of them lonely book lovers, though a few were what his own grandmother had called crackerjacks, spitfires who loved organizing things. Corrina Anderson was decidedly one of those. Gabriel, however, had to double-check the volunteers’ work, because nothing lost a book like a distracted teen tracking a peer’s cute behind or memory-addled pensioner misreading a six for a nine. The children’s area had to be disinfected at least three times a day. Volunteers often helped here too, but Gabriel had to make sure it was done correctly. And of course he had to prepare story time.

The library was also a community meeting place, and he had to coordinate the varied activities held in the conference room, the reading pit, the upstairs lounge. When school wasn’t in session, he had to make sure the lounge wasn’t being used by hormone-addled teenagers as a trysting place.

Last week he’d sent two girls from Pine Valley on their way, though not before he assured them it was absolutely natural for them to fall in love with one another, and if they ever needed anything—except for a place to make out—they were to call him. He gave them his cell. He also gave them twenty minutes before he
accidentally
stumbled onto them.

Most of his time, however, was spent trying to find books or funds. He’d taken the Logan job as part of a grant from the Minnesota Public Library Foundation. He was a non-voting board member, and he believed passionately in the movement to get library access to even the most remote towns in his home state. He’d gone to the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign for his MLS, but he’d come home to Minnesota as soon as he was finished. He was courted all over the country and especially in the Midwest, but he ignored the offers because the North Woods was where he wanted to be. He wanted to help small libraries, and he was good at it. He’d taken the Logan Public Library from the edge of extinction back to a functioning hub of the community. Stocking its shelves and keeping it solvent was another juggle altogether, but it wasn’t any worse than he expected.

It was, however, lonely.

The day after his evening with Arthur was a typical one. Story time happened every morning. Today was the day the preschool from the Lutheran church came over, so he was bursting at the seams. Today’s lesson was on sharing, but when he saw a familiar pinch-faced grandmother in the back of the room, he got ready for a talking-to after because he’d chosen to use a book with an African-American girl as the protagonist. He could already hear the complaint. “You always pick colored stories. Logan isn’t urban like that.”

Which was exactly why he read so many stories with non-white protagonists. But it was a discussion which never resolved. At the end of the day, Mrs. Gordman and Gabriel disagreed on what was important for a child to learn.

He had the argument with her after story time right on schedule, ending with her once again promising to talk to the board, which he encouraged her to do. Once she left, Gabriel had to endure twenty minutes of aimless chatter from his widowed volunteer before he could escape into his office to do an interlibrary loan comb through while he ate his lunch and chatted with Alex on instant messenger during naptime. After she signed off, he did a tour of the shelves, disinfected the play area and added the new snowflakes made by visiting children to the bulletin board. He had just started putting up the wish list Christmas tree—a little early, but the shopping season would be short this year—when Marcus Gardner came in.

“Hey there.” Marcus looked harried and cold, his cheeks red, his dark hair on end from being run through with his fingers. He wore a suit beneath his wool coat, which was unusual for him. He must have had a trial. “Wanted to talk to you for a minute. Are you free?”

“Of course.” Gabriel turned away from the tree with a smile. “Do you want to go into my office or sit out here?”

“Here’s good.” Marcus pulled out a chair from a table and sat on the edge of it. “I wanted to go over some of this fundraising with you. Frankie’s a little bit excited about the gala idea, and I know Corrina would be down with whatever, but I wasn’t sure what your actual goals were. And then there are the grants.”

Gabriel blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What gala? And what grants?”

Marcus ran a hand over his beard. “Yeah. This is what I was afraid of.”

Marcus detailed an elaborate Christmas fundraiser, Santa-driven sleigh rides included, yes, but with dinner and hairstyling and ballroom dance lessons. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, though. I assume this is a generalized attempt to boost the bank account, but I thought it’d be worth checking to see if you had specific goals. Because we’re thinking of inviting some of our friends up from the cities, and Frankie’s parents could get a lot of traffic from Duluth. Did you want to do some kind of book drive? Get more movies? I know you’re pretty much the DVD rental hub now. We could tailor this in a million ways. I wanted to know your preferences before Frankie got his teeth in something.”

Gabriel dragged himself out from the onslaught of possibility. “Can I do a little research and get back to you?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He looked rueful. “Sorry it’s taken us all this long to do our civic duty. Can’t believe it was Arthur who started it all up. What’d you do to him?”

Gabriel beat back his blush with sheer force of will. “You mentioned grants. How do they fit into this?”

“Arthur came to dinner all fired up about getting the library money yesterday. I had to explain to him grants are for patient saints, and he took that news about as well as I expected. The next thing I knew Frankie was offering to do hair for donation, and I was putting a call into an old friend for ballroom lessons.”

“Why in the world was Arthur asking you about money for the library?”

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “That’s what I was going to ask you. Because he threw me for a loop. Arthur
hates
the library.”

Gabriel startled, putting his hand to his breast like a little old lady witnessing a public display of affection. “He
hates libraries
?”

Marcus grimaced. “Yeah, that’s my mother’s fault. He and I’ve been best friends since forever, and since my mom was the librarian, I spent Saturdays here. His mom worked the post office counter, back when we had one, and he and I were both shacked up here for four hours when most kids were home watching cartoons. Me, I loved it, but Arthur hasn’t ever been much for reading. He was okay if I read things to him, but it had to be pretty good to keep his attention. He loved comics—still does as far as I know. Sure loves superhero movies. But when we were kids, my mom thought comics were worse than TV. She wouldn’t stock them, and she wouldn’t let him read them on Saturday mornings. She made him read
real
literature.”

Gabriel winced. “Oh no.”

“It got pretty bad. She couldn’t accept he didn’t enjoy reading. At one point she convinced Corrina to have him put in special classes, get tested for disabilities. He doesn’t have any—don’t let him fool you with his dumb-lumberjack routine. He’s smart as a whip. But he hates this place. So him suddenly wanting to lift it out of the ashes is quite a one-eighty.”

It certainly sounded like it, and Gabriel had no idea how to explain the transformation. “He stopped by the library yesterday, upset because Corrina had bullied him into playing Santa. Maybe his plans to get out of the job became a bit elaborate?”

“No, he’s still Santa. It doesn’t seem to bother him anymore. Which surprised me too. Especially given the whole bringing-you-to-dinner thing, I half-wondered—” Marcus scratched his chin, regarding Gabriel thoughtfully before shrugging and straightening. “Anyway. I think he’s moved on from grants, but I’ve put in my time with those. I’d be happy to help you with some applications.”

Gabriel only half-heard the part about the grants, too busy obsessing over what Marcus had half-wondered. “That would be kind of you, thanks. I have a few started, one for children’s books and another for a new set of computers, but I’m always short of time.”

“Send them over whenever you’re ready. We could book a night after we’re both off work and tackle them, lay out a battle plan. All I ask is we do it at my place so Frankie can fuss and bring us coffee. It’ll make him happy. I’d suggest, though, we do this without Arthur.
He
will just get in the way.”

This time Gabriel couldn’t stay his flushed face. “I don’t— Arthur and I aren’t involved in any way. Yesterday is the only day in eighteen months I’ve really spoken to him.”

And let him fuck me on my couch, hold me down and make me say and do lewd things.

“Well, whatever you said to him must have made a hell of an impression.” Marcus rose, tugging his coat around his large body, buttoning it as he went on. “In case it wasn’t mutual, I know Arthur can be hard to take, but he’s a good guy.”

“I’m sure he is.” Gabriel searched for the diplomatic dismissal, one which wouldn’t make him too big of a hypocrite, given what he’d done. “I don’t have time for dating, I’m afraid.”

Marcus’s eyes bugged. “He asked you on a
date
?”

Oh God. “No—I’m sorry, I thought you were setting us up. My mistake.”

“Well, I would, except he doesn’t date. Arthur hooks up, end of discussion. He had a regular thing with our other best friend, but Paul got tired of it and cut him off. And he never so much as bought Paul a cup of coffee. So if he’d asked you on a date, I was going to have to sit down.” He relaxed. “Anyway. I’m not saying he won’t hit on you, but once he finds out you’re not interested, he’ll just be friendly. He’s a good guy. And clearly you have undisclosed talents, getting him to give a shit about the library.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not that Marcus assumed Arthur wasn’t interested. “I’ll bear that in mind. Thank you.”

“Don’t forget to send over those grants. And let me know if you think of a wish list. Speaking of.” Marcus scanned the tree with its paper decorations listing books the library’s young patrons wished to get for Christmas. “Who do you really want to see get their Secret Santa? Give me five.”

Gabriel had every intent of filling all the wishes by Christmas Eve, even if he had to dip into his own savings to do it. He picked up five of his favorites and passed them over. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
for making it so easy for me to help.” Marcus tossed Gabriel a two-fingered salute and tucked the ornaments into his jacket pocket. “Talk to you soon.”

School let out shortly after Marcus left, which meant Gabriel was busy constantly until closing. First came students with an assignment—the social studies teacher had warned him about a report, and Gabriel helped the children look things up on the Internet and use research materials. His volunteer got slammed with DVD returns and checkouts, many patrons wanting titles which the computer said were checked in but still loitered in the restocking bin, so he helped her out. The next thing he knew, it was six. Well past time to go home.

It took him almost until seven to escape, however, and when he did, he was hungry. He was trying to decide if he should stop by the café, the grocery store or make himself cook, as he rounded the corner to the library parking lot.

Arthur Anderson leaned against the driver-side door of Gabriel’s car.

Oh, no,
Gabriel thought, even as part of him perked up. Before he could open his mouth to object, though, Arthur pushed off the car and came forward, hands in his pockets.

“There you are. Thought you’d never come out.”

“Arthur,” Gabriel began, but Arthur waved a hand at him.

“Yeah, I know, you’re going to tell me last night was a mistake and I should go home. I will, but you’re going to go to dinner with me first. My treat.”

Gabriel stopped walking. “What?”

One of Arthur’s bushy red eyebrows arched into his hairline. “Dinner, sugar. I’m taking you on a date.” He closed the distance between them, hooking his arm into Gabriel’s, pulling him toward the back of the lot. “Come on. I got my truck warmed up, ready to go.”

A
rthur didn’t know what the hell he was thinking, telling Gabe he was taking him on a date, but once he saw the way the statement stunned Gabriel like a moose in headlights, he decided he’d be using that line again.