The Beary Best Holiday Party Ever (4 page)

Ron looked at Paddy. Blinked again. “You’re serious.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah. Totally.” He smiled. “I think we really do need to make this party rock. Get people from all over to come. It’s not even like they have to commit to a whole weekend, although I think we should think about something like that in the future too. Kansas City hasn’t had a big bear weekend in a long time. Someone told me there used to be this camping thing, but it died several years ago. If we can make a hit of this party, then the sky’s the limit.”

Ron didn’t know what to say. Paddy
was
serious. “So you’re thinking big. Really big.”

“Huge,” Paddy said. “Why not? Kansas City is an awesome town, and we’ve got a lot of bears, and I don’t think that community is being served as well as it should.”

“I don’t either,” Ron said before he could stop himself. It wasn’t like he thought Mel hadn’t done a good job. It was just—

“Not that I don’t respect Mel,” Paddy said, interrupting Ron’s thoughts in that if-you-could-read-my-mind way of his. “I think it’s just that he ran the club too long. I think he was getting bored there at the end but couldn’t let it go, you know?”

Ron opened his mouth to answer but then shut it. He did agree. And somehow that made him feel almost traitorous to the man who’d made sure there was a bear club for Ron to find in the first place. He had no idea where he would be today if not for the bear clan.

Something happened in Paddy’s eyes then. The emotion playing in them went from boyish enthusiasm to… sadness? “I hope I didn’t offend you. Mel is a great guy. I don’t mean to imply anything different. And if I had done half of what he accomplished with the club, I bet I would be a little reluctant to let it go too.”

Ron nodded once. It was true. He knew it. Mel had pretty much said it the last time Ron had spent an evening at the older man’s house. They’d been watching the movie
Bear City 2
, a much better film than the first one (although Ron liked both of them), and while Mel—a big man in his early sixties, with graying hair but still sexy in his own right—was drinking his fifth beer, he said it.

“You know, in a way it’s a relief to be retiring and moving away. Jerry and I have been looking to move to Florida for a long time. We love it so much there. And it would be nice to have a new start, especially when it’s not like we’re completely jumping in the shark-infested deep end. We know a lot of guys there.”

Mel and his legally wedded husband went to Florida for three weeks every summer and another couple in January.

“And it’ll be nice to just be members of their bear group instead of trying to herd cats and run one.”

Ron looked at Paddy again and once more saw the sincerity shining in his eyes.

Billy’s words came back to him then.

“But God, Ron. He’s a nice guy.”

He did seem nice. It conflicted so sharply with the guy Ron had met that lonely night. Was this even the same guy? His gaze traveled down Paddy’s sexy body. The wide chest, the hot little belly, the big basket and heavy thighs, his work boots (and even those were sexy).

“And cute—”

Yes, Billy
, Ron thought. Paddy was certainly cute. He was more than cute.

Not that Paddy feels the same way about me.

He sighed.

Let it go. You were both drunk that night. Just let it go….

Oh, dear God! Now I’m singing Disney in my head!

“You really think you can get Cueball to DJ?” he asked.

“It couldn’t hurt for me to ask.” Paddy’s eyes were sparkling again.

Ron nodded sharply. “All right, then. Ask.” Hell, it wasn’t like Cueball was likely to have a date so close to Christmas free, anyway, and—wait. What was Paddy doing?

He was making a phone call.

Paddy held his cell phone up to his ear and raised a hand, that infectious smile on his face. Surprised, Ron realized Paddy was talking to Cueball himself. “Yeah! I’m great! How about you?”

And then, holy shit, he was asking him!

“I know it’s probably a busy time for you and all, but…. What?” Paddy’s grin widened even more. “Really? You’re shitting me!”

Ron was surprised to feel his heart leap into his throat. Could it be?

“Oh man!” Paddy cried. “That is awesome!”

Ron’s heart began to race. Cueball! Cueball was agreeing to DJ their party?

Then Paddy’s face grew serious. “There’s just this one thing. Our club isn’t rich and…. And last year we only got maybe two hundred guys to show. That’s kind of why we hoped you’d be willing to do the music. We thought maybe your name would bring in more—” He paused, and then his smile returned. “Oh man. You would do that?” He covered the phone with his hand and looked at Ron. “He says he would be willing to be paid on numbers. A hundred flat fee—”

A hundred? Only a hundred dollars? Had he understood that right?”

“—and then a dollar a head for every guy who shows up.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open. It sounded too good to be true.

“Well, Mr. President?” Paddy asked. “What do you think?”

“I think yes!” Ron all but shouted. But then it hit him. “But shouldn’t we ask the board first? I mean, at least ask Jon?” Jon Tucker was the club treasurer.

“Look,” Paddy said. “If Jon says we don’t have the money, I’ll pay.”

Ron’s mouth dropped open. Paddy would pay?

“Yeah… yeah,” Paddy was saying, and then he looked back to Ron. “Well?”

Ron gulped. Was this a good idea? Showing up at his first meeting with a decision for the whole club, and their most important event, a fait accompli?

“Ron, this is
Cueball
! He just had a group cancel on him. You know how fast someone is going to sweep him up? And for a lot more money than he’s asking from us.”

Paddy was nodding, and it was hard not to be swept up in his enthusiasm. Could the board really complain? This was so great it was impossible to believe. And it had happened so fast. And wasn’t it his job to make decisions when the board couldn’t be consulted? Plus, worst-case scenario, the DJ wouldn’t cost the club a penny.

“Ron?”

Hell!

“Yowza,” he cried. “Tell him yes!”

T
WO
DAYS
later they went to see a movie. It surprised Ron when Paddy called and asked him if he wanted to go. But it was the new Terminator movie, and he was curious, and it turned out to be pretty damned good.

But more than that, and he also wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe Paddy was playing the old press-knees game. But that didn’t really make any sense. Paddy had made his views clear on the subject, hadn’t he?

Lunch at Noodles & Company followed for another meeting of the minds.

“The next thing we have to get rid of are the decorations,” Paddy was saying over a mouth full of steak stroganoff.

Ron found himself regretting this meeting in record time.

“You realize we don’t have the budget to replace the decorations,” he said. “It takes a lot of stuff to decorate for that party.”

Paddy rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying replace
all
of it. But, God. Some of it is pretty tacky. And
old
.”

Ron gritted his teeth. He wondered what Paddy thought they should replace. Was it, for instance, the huge painting Ron had done on four separate pieces of plywood? Or maybe the centerpieces he’d spent weeks making?

“Those streamers are falling apart,” Paddy said. “And a lot of the lights don’t even work. And some of those big paintings—the ones on plywood?”

Ron stiffened.

“I mean, God, they’re
horrible
!”

Ron felt hurt and anger and more fall over him in one fell swoop. He opened his mouth to let the bastard know he’d done one of those “horrible” paintings when Paddy said something else.

“Except that huge one.
That
one I like a lot. I couldn’t imagine how they got it in the door, and it was only when I looked closely that I saw it was four pieces they screw together somehow.”

Ron’s heart jumped. He nodded mutely.

“It needs a little touch-up. It’s gotten scuffed some. But it’s the perfect combination of cartoony and sweet and sexy. Who knew a big old teddy bear could be so sexy?”

Ron blushed.

Paddy liked his painting.

Ron had worked so hard on it. Hours on the original drawing. A friend of his who was a high school teacher then loaned him an overhead projector—the kind that allowed pages from books to be cast up onto a wall. But in this case it was his art shown instead, enlarged, onto the plywood pieces. He’d traced his drawing and then spent another week painting it. He’d been proud of the thing.

The giant painting was no
Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness
by Caravaggio, but he’d put a lot of love into the piece. He’d sketched a dozen versions before he came up with the cartoonlike bear wearing a bar vest and Santa hat. Drawn dozens of mouths striving for a cross between cute and naughty.

And Paddy liked it?

Finally he found words. “I-I did that.”

That sparkle came into Paddy’s eyes again. “Oh, really?”

Ron gaped at Paddy. What? What did that mean? Had Paddy known all along? Was he pulling his leg? What the hell?

Paddy gave him a lopsided grin. “I almost opened my mouth and inserted my foot royally, didn’t I?”

Huh? What?

“Because as I was blathering on, it hit me. You must have done that one….”

So you
didn’t
like it?

Paddy grinned. “Thank God I liked it!”

Ron shook his head, blushing… and confused. He still wasn’t sure if he was being teased or not. Was Paddy being sincere, or was he yanking his chain?

Paddy reached out and touched Ron’s chest—

(And dammit, Ron’s heart jumped!)

—and said, “I really do like it. It’s sweet and hot, and you need to do the logo for the club. The one we have sucks. Make it almost like your Christmas one—”

(And Ron couldn’t correct him—couldn’t say “holiday”—because his bear was wearing a Santa hat)

“—except he should be wearing a leatherman’s cap. For the club logo, that is.”

“You really think so?” Ron asked.

Paddy nodded. “Don’t you think they’re sexy?” Paddy ran his fingers along the edge of his baseball cap. It brought Ron’s attention back to Paddy’s eyebrow piercings—two tiny bars set very close to each other—that had at one time seemed so tacky and had somehow become sexy. “That little chrome rim?” Paddy continued. “The silver chain? All shiny black leather?” He grinned salaciously.

God, yes. He found it very sexy. Very fucking sexy. “Do you have one?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Me?” Paddy asked, fingers splayed over his chest, trying for an innocent look but still grinning.

Ron felt his traitorous cock stiffening in his jeans.

Then Paddy shrugged and leaned back again, legs spread (and was the bulge in his crotch bigger?), and rolled his eyes and said, “Nah. They aren’t cheap, and I don’t even have chaps yet. I figured a cap was lower on my list.”

Ron bit his lip. “Yeah.” He’d priced them at the leather shop on the upper level of The Male Box, and they
weren’t
cheap. Plus he thought he looked stupid when he’d tried one on.

“But your bear would look hot,” Paddy said.

“You really think so?” Ron asked.

“You bet. And hey, you
are
the president now!”

Ron almost felt like giggling.

“Well, maybe we should see how they feel about our other ideas first,” Ron said.

“Sure, sure,” Paddy agreed.

They decided to get some ice cream at the Cold Stone Creamery next, and to Ron’s surprise, Paddy paid.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ron said, digging into his The Pie Who Loved Me, a supremely delicious and gooey combination of cream cheese ice cream, Oreo cookies, graham cracker pie crust, and plenty of fudge. It was heaven. An ice cream “with a license to thrill.”

“I did ask you out,” Paddy said.

Ron froze for one second, a dripping spoon halfway to his mouth, then shrugged it off. “But it’s business,” he said. Not a date.

He looked at Paddy, who was scooping a spoonful of Mud Pie Mojo (which did not include mud, just coffee ice cream, Oreo cookies, peanut butter, roasted almonds, and yes, fudge) into his mouth, and damned if his eyes weren’t twinkling again.

For a second Ron forgot to breathe.

They went and sat by the J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain, probably Kansas City’s most famous and beautiful—which was saying something since the only city that had more fountains in all the world was Rome. The four giant horses, along with their heroic horsemen, loomed over them amid the spraying water.

Ron found himself suddenly very nervous. He had been so at ease until Paddy bought him the ice cream. It had been all about two board members getting together and coming up with ideas for the club they were about to take over. Sure, it had started with a movie. So what? He went to movies (as long as they were musicals and chick flicks) with Billy all the time. But then there had been the compliments on his art, and yes, the ice cream and that strange comment about Paddy asking him out.

Ron couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Was this a date?

He rolled his eyes. Of course not.

“Want a taste?” asked Paddy, who was holding out his ice-cream-laden spoon.

Did Paddy want him to try it? Butterflies exploded in Ron’s belly.

Paddy nodded, and then surprising himself, Ron not only leaned forward and took Paddy’s offering, but offered one of his own.

Thankfully, Paddy turned the conversation in a totally different direction.

“I think we need to have the party someplace besides the VFW hall,” Paddy said. “I know Mel worked out some great deal with them, but the place is so… boring.”

“Paddy,” Ron said, keeping his tone as reasonable as possible. “I know the place isn’t all that exciting, but—”

“It’s boring!” Paddy said.

“Paddy,” Ron said, “I know the place isn’t all that exciting, but—”