Tradition

A Diversion Christmas Novella (Diversion 7.2)

Eden Winters

Warning

This book contains adult language and themes, including graphic descriptions of sexual acts which some may find offensive. It is intended for mature readers only, of legal age to possess such material in their area.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

Tradition © 2019 by Eden Winters

Cover Art by L.C. Chase

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission of the author, except as brief quotations as in the case of reviews.

Published 2019, Rocky Ridge Books

Books in the Diversion series:

Diversion

Collusion

Corruption

Manipulation

Redemption

Reunion

Suspicion

Relation

Tradition

Coming soon: Decision

Chapter 1

Lucky was getting too old for this shit.

Just where the hell could he find… Oh. Electronics. Target in sight, he wove this way and that. Only two of the shopping cart’s wheels worked, juddering his arms every time he pushed faster than a snail’s pace. Not that he could go very fast. Slow-assed people ought to get the hell out of his way.

Too bad flashing his badge here probably wouldn’t help.

Wham! Ow, damn it! Shopping cart collisions weren’t supposed to happen to him. Only to idiots not paying attention. Lucky rubbed his bad ankle, now growing a fresh bruise. “Watch where you’re going!” Department stores needed traffic cops, especially around the holidays, when every damned body seemed to lose their minds and head to the nearest shopping center.

The man didn’t even bother to apologize. Oh, if Lucky only…

“Down, boy. No growling in public.” Bo’s hand on Lucky’s shoulder hit the off switch on his temper.

Damn it! What was the use of mingling with those who didn’t plan far enough ahead if not stress relief? “We should’ve shopped online.” Lucky could be at the house, surfing the Internet with a lapful of cat. And a nephew shouting at a TV and playing a video game. Charlotte nagging Ty about homework.

And a house screaming for repairs.

On second thought, he might be better off here after all.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bo took over cart duties, winding around a woman stopped in the middle of the aisle. What the fuck? All four cart wheels rolled perfectly for Bo. Not fair. Bo continued talking, not noticing Lucky standing in shocked awe where they’d parted company. Lucky dodged small children to catch up, and settled in beside Bo like he’d been there the whole time. What had he missed?

Bo waved one hand in the air, pushing the now-cooperative cart with the other. “But we talked about starting our own traditions, and going out shopping at the last minute was something I did as a kid.” He stopped to watch a toy train circling a tree in the holiday department.

Amusing, yes, but not worth leaving the house for.

Bo brought out the big guns, using the three little words guaranteed to bend Lucky to his will. Okay, maybe not the three little words, but three little words Lucky couldn’t say no to nonetheless: “With my mom.”

Right then, Lucky’s spinning thoughts came to a screeching halt.

He didn’t ask, merely slipped his arm around his lover in a silent show of support. Words and Lucky didn’t get along too well sometimes. Better to show how he felt. They’d talked some of Bo’s mother, who’d died in a car wreck when he was young, leaving him to face hell with an asshole father who hadn’t deserved kids. He still carried around a load of grief and guilt thinking he could have somehow made a difference if he’d been in the car with her when she’d plunged into a ravine.

For the briefest moment Bo laid his head against Lucky’s, then pulled away when a man scowled.

“Don’t mind him. If he don’t wanna see PDAs he shoulda kept his ass at home.” Lucky turned, watching the offender watch him back. One wrong move, one flinch…

“Lucky!” Bo hissed.

“So, what other traditions did you have?” Lucky doubted brawling in the middle of the department store made the list.

“Me and Drew helped decorate the tree, and Mom played Christmas CDs from the sixties. She loved 60’s music.” Bo hummed a tune under his breath.

Sixties music. Check.

“What about your traditions?” Bo jumped back to let a family with kids by, nearly getting bashed in the head by an errant baseball bat one kid carried over his shoulder. Okay, Lucky’s head, Bo’s chest, maybe.

Lucky let his mind drift back to memories he usually shoved down to the back of his mind. “Mom got up early on Christmas morning and fixed a big dinner. Ham or turkey, sometimes both, macaroni pie, sweet potato casserole, pecan pie.” Lucky’s mouth watered at the memory—a memory soured a moment later when they passed the perfume counter and a thousand different scents battled for control of his sinuses. He held his breath till they’d gotten a safe distance away.

Cheesy Christmas songs blared over the store’s speakers, competing with laughter, sirens, bells, whistles and other noises from the toy aisle, and a dancing reindeer singing, “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.” The noise! He pinched the bridge of his nose. Headache coming in five, four, three…

Bo found an opening in the crowd and steered through. Lucky dashed behind him before the opening closed. “Here we are.” They stood side by side in front of a rack holding video games. Lucky had no clue what to get Ty, not being a gamer. Bo placed a box from the rack in the cart. “This one. Now for Charlotte.”

Two seconds? Bo picked a present in two seconds? Maybe their Christmas tradition should be Bo last-minute shopping and Lucky being anywhere people weren’t.

They’d filled the cart about half full so far, gifts for Bo’s family and Lucky’s. As much as Lucky loved having his family back, he sure saved more money around the holidays when they’d snubbed him.

Still, it was nice buying a present for the niece he hardly saw, knowing this year it wouldn’t be returned unopened. Or maybe not. His brother and sister-in-law might not like that he’d gotten her a keyboard. He couldn’t fight a smile, imagining the noise at his brother’s house. Yeah, a keyboard, because a drum set would’ve put him over budget.

“Do you wrap gifts or use gift bags?” Bo stopped by a wrapping paper display. He bypassed some of the gaudier choices in favor of shiny foil paper in greens, reds, and gold.

Lucky sidled over to the bags. “Bags. I can’t wrap worth shit.” Besides, he always wound up getting his fingers taped together, ripping the paper, or losing the scissors halfway through. Some he’d never found again.

Bo smiled and patted Lucky’s arm. “Why don’t I get some of both? I’ll help you if you want me to.”

But who would help Lucky wrap the presents he wasn’t supposed to buy for Bo this year, since they’d agreed not to exchange gifts and save the money for the child they hoped to soon have? That had better not wind up on the traditions list. Lucky liked presents, damn it, and was owed a backload of twelve years or so.

They found gifts for Bo’s aunt and the man who’d stepped into the role of uncle, Bo’s brother, and a gift basket of candy and cookies for Rett and her son. “Mrs. Smith will kill us if we encourage Walter to cheat on his diet,” Bo said, putting back the candy and cookies Lucky’d picked up and choosing a fruit basket instead.

Shopping cart piled high and Lucky’s feet in danger of falling off, they trudged to the front of the store and waited in an impossibly long line. Lines. Right up there with Monday mornings and palmetto bugs on Lucky’s shit list.

“Damn, what a line.” Lucky rapped out a beat with his not-exactly-a-wedding ring against the cart handle.

“Damn, what a line!” Bo repeated, like the line from hell was a good thing. He pulled out his phone and tapped a bit on the screen. “Hey! A gym!” He glanced at the mass of waiting shoppers again. “Yeah, I got time.” He leaned against the cart, tongue peeking out from between his lips.

With the light freckles across his nose and childlike eagerness, he looked downright cute. Not that Lucky would tell him so. He did like breathing, after all. “Catching pookies again?”

“Something like that.” Bo didn’t even glance up from his phone.

At last came their turn at the register—only because Bo didn’t see the three teenaged girls with two items each who wanted to cut in line. Bo would have let them.

Lucky piled items on the conveyor. Bo held up a finger. “One more minute. I almost got this.” By his third “One more minute” Lucky had paid and was heading out of the store.

Woodsmoke rode on the breeze. Better be chopped wood in a proper fireplace. He turned his jacket collar up against the cold.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Bo yelled, pumping his fist and making people back away and eye him warily. “I won. I am da man! Wait until I tell Ty!”

Wait until Lucky got his hands on some junk food. He’d gotten better at hiding, but had Ty discovered his latest Oreo stash?

He’d been through an hour of hell, he deserved empty calories, as Bo called anything tasty.

Lucky sighed when they got to Bo’s shiny new SUV, reminded every time he climbed in of what happened to Bo’s Durango. “Want me to drive?”

Finally, Bo tore his attention away from his phone. “Um…”

Here they went again. “Bo, I done told you, wrecking your truck wasn’t my fault.” Lucky couldn’t help if someone tried to kill him using a car for a missile.

Bo studied Lucky, cut his eyes to his phone, then regarded Lucky again. “Okay, but no driving over fifty-five, and no cutting lanes.”

Spoilsport. However, Lucky filed away “phone as a distraction” for later use.

The Bronco had a definite advantage over Lucky’s Camaro. No one feared the Camaro the way they did the Sherman tank disguised as an SUV. One honk of the horn changed several minds about which lane they wanted.

A familiar red sign came into view. “New tradition. The post-shopping sundae.” Oh, hot fudge sundaes. When had he last had one? He’d dealt with other people’s stupidity long enough to deserve a treat.

Bo glanced up from his game. “What?”

Without waiting for agreement, Lucky turned into the Dairy Hut. “You want anything?” Please, please, please, let Lucky not get a lecture on the evils of sugar.

“Yeah. Get me a small strawberry sundae.”

Do what? Lucky willed the car in front of him to move so he could place his order before Bo realized what he’d done and change his mind.

Lucky ordered and pulled the truck up, then inched along until he reached the window and had his hands wrapped around his reward for dealing with shopping idiots. He passed Bo’s over.

Bo stopped playing long enough to take a bite. “Oh, that’s good.”

“You? Eating empty calories?” Who was this man and what had he done with Bo?

“We’re making our own holiday traditions, remember? Can you imagine in a few years bringing our kids here?”

Kids. Bo and Lucky responsible for young impressionable minds. Lord help them all.

They returned home to an empty house, or empty except for the pets, one greeting them with a wagging tail, the other with a sleepy blink and a yawn from the back of the couch. Charlotte and Ty must still be stuck in shopping hell. Lucky loved his sister and nephew, but better them than him. “How much time we got?”

Bo checked his phone. “About another hour.”

An hour? The things he could accomplish in sixty minutes. Lucky waggled his brows. “Just enough time to…”

The staying hand Bo held up his way did not bode well for Lucky’s sex life. “We need to get these presents wrapped. If we don’t drop mine off at FedEx tomorrow, they’ll never get to Arkansas in time.”

“I can take off a few hours.”

Bo gave Lucky his best, “Oh, please” face. “Tomorrow is the last work day before the holidays. You can’t miss.” He pulled out wrapping paper, tape, and scissors. Lucky should warn Bo about his track record with scissors.

Nah, let it be a surprise.

May abstinence not be a new tradition.

Chapter 2

“We always watched A Wonderful Life. Don’t you remember, Ri… Lucky?” After a few months Charlotte still hadn’t wrapped her mouth around not calling Lucky “Richie” as she had when they were younger.

“My family watched A Christmas Carol.” Bo lazily aimed the remote at the TV.

“There’s a new Christmas movie on Netflix,” Ty chimed in, leg slouched over the chair arm and pecking away at his cell phone. As much as he used the darned thing, he’d wear the current one out before next Christmas.

In which case, Lucky already knew what to get him.

“Me and the boys always watched the Santa Clause movies.” Charlotte tore her attention from the latest embroidery/cross-stitch whatever she was working on and didn’t notice Ty roll his eyes and mouth, “Lame”.

Lucky had tolerated A Wonderful Life for his mother’s sake, and didn’t rightly remember any of the others mentioned. “Does Die Hard count as a Christmas movie?”

“Yes!” Ty shouted, offsetting Bo and Charlotte’s adamant “No!”

Charlotte let out a sigh. “I wish Todd would’ve come home for Christmas.”

“Why didn’t he?” The house was getting crowded, but as Lucky’s mom used to say, “Like a mother’s heart, there’s always room for one more.”

Ty yawned, never looking up from his phone. “He’s got a new girlfriend. He’s afraid if he leaves her alone too long, she’ll come to her senses and run.”

Trust Ty to hide missing his brother behind jokes.

“Ty!” Charlotte spat. “That ain’t nice.”

Charlotte expected a teenager to be nice? Did she not remember her own misspent youth?

“We’re going to pick him up on the way to the farm.” Charlotte jabbed a little harder than necessary at her needlepoint. “Or else.”

“I found it! Here we go.” Bo plopped down on the couch with a satisfied smile.

Lucky squinted at the TV, making sure to stand behind the couch so Bo wouldn’t comment on his vision. Just because he’d be thirty-nine in a few months didn’t make him old, damn it! More and more he’d been squinting and holding books away from his nose.

Or jacking up the print size on his computer.

A black and white movie showed onscreen. No one said anything.

“You know, I never really liked this movie,” Charlotte admitted, the first one in the room to be honest. “I’ve seen it at least twenty-five times.”

Bo and Charlotte both turned on the couch to face Lucky.

Lucky held his hands up, palms out. “I done told you how I feel.”

All eyes went to Bo. After a moment Bo grinned. “Die Hard, it is!” He clicked the remote.

***

“What we got so far?” Lucky stopped undressing for bed and peered over Bo’s shoulder at his iPad.

“Shopping, sundaes, Die Hard, decorations, tree up right after Thanksgiving, sending Christmas cards, the office Christmas party, and the Christmas parade.”

“Have we left off anything you want?”

Bo gazed up at Lucky with soulful brown eyes. “Those will come when we add more people.”

Oh.

Lucky took the tablet from Bo’s hand and placed it on the bedside table. “I’ve got a tradition for you.” He grinned and dropped to his knees, mouthing Bo’s cock through his jeans.

“Oh, damn. Feels so good.” Bo leaned back, putting his weight on his arms. Head back, eyes closed, a sexy wet dream come to life. “I won’t officially add it to the list, but oh, baby, this is so there.”

No argument from Lucky. He fumbled with Bo’s belt, underwear and jeans, easing them over the rounded mounds of his gorgeous ass and down his long legs, lightly covered with dark hair.

Ah, there was his true prize, nestled in a neatly clipped thatch of dark pubic hair: the uncut cock Lucky could suck forever.

Only semi hard. Lucky could fix that. Truth be told it gave him a little thrill to take Bo from soft to hard, then bring him off.

He ran his hands over Bo’s hair-covered thighs, pushing them farther apart and giving him room to play. Except…

Shoes and jeans had to go. Gathered around Bo’s ankles wasn’t working.

Bo lay moaning on the bed, wearing nothing but his bleach-spattered T. Lucky dug his fingers into the tail of Bo’s shirt. No, he had someplace better to touch. Moving his fingers to Bo’s ass, he lifted, taking Bo deeper.

Oh, yeah. Fully hard now. Lucky ran his tongue under Bo’s foreskin, lapped at the tip of his dick, and plunged the hardness towards his throat again.

“You are so damned good at that.” Bo let out a whimper, digging his fingers into Lucky’s hair and urging him on.

Lucky pressed the spot Bo liked under his balls, earning an, “Oh damn, oh damn, oh hot damn!”

Maybe he’d find a way to work the hot fudge sundae tradition into the Christmas blowjob. Lucky reached down and adjusted his cramped dick.

He pulled off Bo long enough to open his pants and give his erection room to grow. Bo’s cock glistened with Lucky’s saliva. Pretty. Lucky dove again, reaching down and stroking himself.

Bo bucked up, abandoning Lucky’s hair to dig his fingers into the comforter.

The muscles on Bo’s abs flexed, his muscles seizing. Any minute now. Lucky bobbed faster. His hand had to be a blur on his cock.

“Oh!” Bo arched off the bed, grabbed Lucky’s head, and spurted into his mouth.

Lucky took every drop, sucking until Bo flinched away. He stood, stroking himself harder. Keeping his eyes on Bo’s, he lost himself in the sight of one hell of a good-looking man lying in front of him, nearly naked.

Shudders began deep inside. Oh, yes, yes, yes! On the edge, just a little more… Yes! Lucky shot, pearly drops splattering Bo’s stomach.

So fucking good, every bit of tension leaving.

He crawled onto the bed next to Bo, wrapping his arm around his man. It wasn’t the proper loving he’d like to give, but they needed to get to bed.

“How about a post-Christmas-shopping shower for two?” Bo rasped once his breathing evened out.

Yeah, Lucky would save the full Monty for later. They both had to work tomorrow.

And didn’t it suck when work got in the way of Lucky’s sex life?

Chapter 3

The sun went down way too early. Lucky left for work in the dark, came home in the dark, thanks to his commute from his nice little house in the suburbs of Atlanta to downtown.

From a rundown farmhouse to a house in a gated community in the suburbs. How did that happen?

He approached the gate every bit as cantankerous as the chair from hell Lucky parked his ass in at work—when he spent a day at the office. Lately, more often than not he wound up on the streets, his pack of rookies following behind him like a bunch of slightly-below-average ducklings.

Except for Jimmy. The agent who’d followed him home from the Virginia office tried. Hard. Maybe too hard. Lucky might cut him some slack if not for the guy’s determination to date Lucky’s sister.

And Lucky’s sister planning to get pregnant by Lucky’s partner.

Nope, nothing screwed up about the situation at all. There had to be a Southern joke in there somewhere.

He idly tapped his not-quite-wedding band against the steering wheel, waiting for the damned holly-bedecked gate to open. Nothing. Okay, automatic reader wasn’t working. He tried the clicker. Still nothing.

He rolled down the window and punched in the code. Another car stopped behind him, blowing the horn. Asshat. Like impatience would magically open the gate.

The gate opened.

Still grumbling, Lucky drove slowly through the neighborhood. Last year Rett tried to decorate, but the house had still looked like a poor cousin next to the better dressed houses on either side. A few had no lights, but those who’d decorated went big.

Lucky pulled up into the driveway. Lights shone from the windows, and a wreath hung on the door, twinkling red, green and blue. Dang. Any bigger and it might pull the door out of the frame. Icicle lights hung from the eaves of the house. Even the mailbox sported greenery.

Ah, the joys of having a teenager around who could scale up and down a ladder without having a bum ankle screaming at them. Or rather, a nephew and a few friends who wanted to escape family the day after Thanksgiving by volunteering.

Cost Lucky four large pizzas and three two-liter drinks.

He’d spent the time relaxing on the couch.

Worth it.

The living room was dark except for the lighted tree placed strategically by the window to be seen from outside. The front bedroom lights were on: Charlotte’s and Ty’s rooms, for now, until Lucky got busy and built her an apartment in the double garage.

The decorations were hers. All Lucky owned were a few dollar-store baubles. He crept up the driveway and eased the front door open. Clomping footsteps approached at a run. Lucky braced for impact.

“Moose, no!” Lucky’s youngest nephew cried from his usual spot on the couch in front of the TV, game controller in one hand. One hundred-twenty pounds of dog skidded to a stop, barely missing taking Lucky’s legs out from under him, and sat with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

Wow. Quick save. Obedience training must be paying off.

“You’re welcome!” Never taking his eyes from the TV screen, Ty threw up his free hand. “Hey, Uncle Lucky.” The sound of whatever the hell took place on the game resumed. Ty kept all games even remotely military in nature in his room, so as not to trigger Bo’s PTSD.

Ty and Bo still wandered Atlanta on occasion, playing their favorite game on their phones. There were much worse ways for the kid to spend his time.

The scent of pine and something Christmassy hit his nose, with undercurrents of spice, and Spaghetti Friday at odds with the Christmas atmosphere.

The tree twinkled by the window, packages underneath the branches. Lucky swung his computer bag off his shoulder and dropped his keys into a bowl on the table by the door to join his sister’s.

She hadn’t used Santas and reindeer, but had filled glass bowls with brightly colored ornaments and surrounded the bowls with greenery. Candles, some real, some fake, sat in the windows, or on the mantelpiece over the fireplace.

Slurping brought his attention to the corner. Moose lifted his head from his water bowl, droplets spattering to the floor.

The reason they kept a mop handy.

Charlotte had strung braided garland over a blank spot on the wall, to which she’d taped Christmas cards. More today than yesterday. He stored his computer bag by the door and stepped forward to read the cards. Some were from aunts and uncles, names he didn’t know that had to be Charlotte or Ty’s friends, one from Lucky’s boss and Mrs. Boss. Rett’s son had made them a homemade card, with blocky crayon writing.

And, of course, he could’ve picked his former landlady’s card out of a lineup: a black and white cat wearing a Santa hat and batting at the ornaments on a decorated tree.

Throw pillows sat on the couch and chair, embroidered with green holly and red berries, or a red crocheted cardinal perched on a snow-covered branch, the result of Charlotte trying every single hobby in existence to find one she liked.

Greenery festooned every doorway, and the rug he normally wiped his feet on gave way to one stating, “Merry Christmas, Y’all!”

The whole house could’ve appeared in a magazine spread, advertising the perfect Christmas.

The perfect Christmas. Lucky gave a hard swallow. How long had he dreamed of the perfect Christmas?

At least three years. Three years in which he and the man in his life too stubborn to give up on Lucky hadn’t gotten to spend together as they’d wanted. No matter who Lucky had to shoot, they’d damned sure get their old-fashioned Christmas this year.

He stepped into the kitchen, with its festive Christmas curtains that hadn’t been there when he’d left for work. Or rather, not that he’d noticed. Maybe he wouldn’t mention to Charlotte he thought they were new, just in case.

A voice lured him across the floor and into the seldom-used dining room. Candles gave off a spiced apple aroma. More bowls of ornaments sat on the table and, like the decorations, the plates depicting a snowy winter scene had to come from Charlotte’s belongings.

“There you are.” Charlotte smiled, waved, and resumed her phone call. “Yes, Mom. No, Mom. Yes, I will. Okay. See you soon!” She rose from her seat at the table and gave Lucky two hugs. “The first one’s from me. The other’s from Mom.”

Charlotte Lucklighter was shorter than Lucky, who at five-feet-six-inches, didn’t find a whole lot of people he didn’t have to look up to—literally. They’d both had dark-blond hair growing up, but currently his younger sister wore her hair dyed a deep burgundy. The scent she wore brought back memories of Lucky at a perfume counter a few years ago choosing her Christmas gift.

“How is she doing?” Lucky had spoken to his mother earlier but, still piecing their relationship back together after years apart made her reluctant to tell him anything except, “Oh, I’m fine.” To Charlotte she’d spill the truth.

“Doing good. Or so she says. Daddy, too. The chunk of liver you gave him must be working.” She elbowed him playfully and smiled. The smile fell. “They’re still not doing so good together though. She’s still sleeping upstairs. But they do talk some, and meet with a counselor from church.”

She bustled past him, in her usual energetic flurry. “C’mon. Let’s get dinner. I was setting the table when Mom called.” In true Southern fashion, all Charlotte’s words ending in ing dropped the g sound. As in “settin’” the table.

Lucky followed her into the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”

“You take this.” She handed him a bowl full of lettuce, cut tomatoes, onions, peppers and carrots. Not a single penis carrot in sight, not that he’d do such around his sister and nephew. Just Bo. Spaghetti noodles and a pot of sauce sat on the stove, swiped up by Charlotte without her even slowing down.

Lucky chuckled to himself, remembering his creative vegetable carving from when he’d first met Bo. Ugh. Green stuff. He’d rather carry the family-size chunk of cheese or the sweet tea.

Bo showed up while they placed the bowls on the table, trailed by Ty. He yanked off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt. Oh, baby. He could keep going, but not in front of family.

Midway through dinner Charlotte said, “Mom wants you to come up for Christmas.”

Lucky stopped, forkful of noodles midway to his mouth. For years he’d dreamed of home, longed for home, his mother’s cooking, a houseful of relatives on Christmas day.

But now? He cut a glance at Bo, to find Bo staring back at him.

“What?” Charlotte asked.

Lucky let out a sigh. This conversation might not end well. “I appreciate the invitation, I really do, but…” How could he possibly tell his family he didn’t want to see them this year? Or more accurately, there was something he’d rather do instead.

“But? Lucky, neither one of us has been home for the holidays in ages. Mama’s got her heart set on this. Especially after Bristol.”

Bristol. Right. While Lucky saw a bigger picture, what his brother had done, up to and including trying to kill Lucky, Sheila Lucklighter lost a son this year. Oh, the guilt! It burned! On the one hand, he should go home now that the family would welcome him, or some of them might.

On the other hand, for years he’d longed for word, a letter, a phone call, a text, any damned thing. Nothing. He’d learned to live without them.

What he couldn’t live without, or who he couldn’t live without, squeezed his hand under the table and saved Lucky the awkwardness of having to explain. “My folks want us to come see them too. If we go to one and not the other, there might be hard feelings. But we spent Thanksgiving with my family, so it’s only fair we spend Christmas with yours.” Bo brought Lucky’s hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the knuckles, one simple, gentle gesture, promising one hell of a lot of support. His voice dropped to a whisper, a puff of breath across the back of Lucky’s hand. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh.” Charlotte dropped her fork into her salad. “I hadn’t thought about that. During the five minutes I was married, his folks lived close by. We went to one house for Christmas Eve and the other for Christmas Day. Maybe y’all could alternate Thanksgivings and Christmases at Mom’s and your aunt’s.”

The reminder of Charlotte’s brief marriage soured Lucky’s stomach. He still wanted to find the bastard who’d dared hit his sister and break a few of his bones.

Bo exchanged a look with Lucky, tagging him to step into the ring. Time for some honesty, even though Lucky couldn’t bring himself to say that being at his family’s home this year would only rub his nose in all the years he wasn’t invited.

No, there were other truths he could share that she might understand. “The year I met Bo our case wrapped up right before Christmas.” Lucky rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder. If he’d only known then what he knew now, he wouldn’t have put the man through hell. Or not as much hell. “I went into Walter’s version of witness protection, and Bo went through Christmas thinking I’d died.”

“Mama and Daddy did too. But I knew better.” She grinned. “I’m not so easy to fool, brother mine.”

Lucky gave his favorite sibling a smile. “Of course, you did. The next year Bo was on assignment. I spent Christmas alone.”

Charlotte arched a brow. “You could’ve come see me and the boys.”

Ty jumped to Lucky’s defense. “Mom, I think I would’ve had a heart attack or something if I’d opened the front door and found my dead uncle.”

Charlotte pursed her lips and mumbled, “But you could have.”

Lucky shook his head. “No, I needed to be here, to help if Bo needed me.” No way could he have enjoyed the holidays, worried about Bo. Besides, he’d put a lot of effort into his plans this year.

“Last year?” Charlotte asked, a touch of hope in her voice.

“Last year we got called down to Mexico. Spent most of the holidays on the road, then came back to this house, mostly empty ‘cause I’d just closed on the mortgage.”

Her face brightened. “So you and Bo want to spend Christmas together, just the two of you?”

Bo and Lucky answered in unison, “Yes.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Ty and I were planning to go up Christmas Eve, stop by and get Todd at Clemson, but we can go sooner if you want.”

“No!” Lucky loved his sister and nephew, wanted them here too. As long as he got his time alone with Bo.

Charlotte picked up her fork and speared a chunk of tomato, one of the few things in the salad Lucky tolerated. “See, you should’ve just told me the truth in the first place.”

Yes, he should’ve, and trusted his sister to have his back in this.

Like every time before.

Chapter 4

Guilt stung a bit when Lucky woke before everyone else to slip from the house, but a man had to do what a man had to do, and he was flat running out of time.

Damn, but it was hard, slipping out from under Bo’s arm when all Lucky really wanted to do was wake the man up for a good morning blow job. He tucked the covers under Bo’s chin, partly to keep him warm, partly to hide the man’s gorgeous body—too much temptation right now for Lucky to deal with. One good look at Bo’s thick cock and…

Lucky swallowed a mouthful of drool, forcibly turned away, and left Bo snoozing. He pulled on his boxers, grabbed an armful of clothes, and tiptoed from the room.

He slunk past his sister’s and nephew’s doors. Snoring emanated from behind one, Moose the Monster Dog likely taking up most of Ty’s bed. No telling where Cat Lucky slunk off too. Probably in bed with Charlotte.

Traitorous animals. But now Lucky and Bo could have sex without being stared at.

Saving them from the creepy. He dressed in the laundry room and stomped on the old boots he’d left there since he’d forgotten to grab his tennis shoes on his way out of the bedroom.

He snatched his keys off the table by the door.

“Where are you going?”

Oh, damn. Busted. Lucky turned. Bo leaned against the wall in nothing but a pair of running shorts, in all his sleep-tousled glory. Blanket creases marked his face. Nothing enticed Lucky to stay more than a nearly naked Bo, a warm bed, and a day off. But he had so much to do!

He steeled his resolve. He’d made plans, and by God, he intended to keep them. “Mrs. Griggs asked me to come help her move a few things.”

“Oh?” Bo perked up as much as 7:00 AM on a weekend allowed. “She must have begged to get you out of bed this early. I can get dressed and come with you.”

Lucky backpedaled so hard brakes should have squealed. “No, that’s okay. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Then why so early?” Bo cocked an eyebrow.

Why, indeed. The only way this could be worse was if Charlotte woke up and sided with Bo.

His sister! Family! “She’s got relatives coming in last minute, and they’ll be there around noon. She needs to clean out the guest room.” There! That sounded convincing, right?

Bo stayed silent, allowing enough time for Lucky’s heartbeat to kick up a few notches. “So, you’ll be back by noon?”

“Yeah.” Lucky closed the space between them, kissed his man, blurted, “See you then,” and raced out the door before Bo could get out another word—and before Lucky thought to grab a jacket. Oh, well. No going back now.

He’d use the excuse of helping Rett put together toys for her son to sneak out tomorrow.

***

Monday morning finally came, Christmas Eve. His plans could still go terribly wrong, creating twisty feelings in the pit of Lucky’s gut.

“Are you sure you won’t come with us to Mama and Daddy’s?” Charlotte stood by the front door, packed bags at her feet as Ty made trips to her car and back, ferrying brightly colored packages.

Lucky put on what he hoped passed for a sad face. “Tell them we’re sorry. Maybe next year. But we’ll be there by the weekend. Save us some leftovers.”

“We could always stay home with you.”

Ty stopped, arms full of bags, hopeful expression on his face. “Can we, Mom?” Not too long ago, Ty would have taken any opportunity to escape from his uncle. What a difference a few months… and having a local girlfriend, made.

“No, ya’ll go on,” Lucky said, a bit too quickly, ignoring Ty’s pleading eyes. “You haven’t spent Christmas with them in years.” Please let her not change her mind. Please, please, please.

“Oh, right. You. Bo. Alone time.” Charlotte’s grin turned sheepish.

Ty growled something Lucky couldn’t make out. Charlotte kissed Lucky’s cheek. “Merry Christmas!” She narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Don’t you dare even think about opening your gifts until Christmas Day.”

Bo strolled out of the kitchen, enfolding Charlotte in a hug. “Drive safe, now.”

“We will.” To her son, Charlotte said, “Let’s get movin’. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

The door closed behind them, leaving Bo and Lucky alone.

Hallelujah!

***

Roast beef and potatoes, with plenty of veggies for Bo, waited for them at the Smith’s. Lucky tried some of everything, green or not, and nodded each time Mrs. Smith asked, “How is it?”

No dessert, since Walter was on a diet, and Lucky followed Bo’s cue on how long they had to stay without seeming rude.

They drove through the Smith’s neighborhood, mostly stately old houses, many that time had forgotten, most with elaborate decorations. Bo looped through the neighborhood. “Oh, those are nice,” he commented, passing a house with white lights hanging from the tree branches out front and electric candles shining from the windows, also white.

The radio station they listened to occasionally broke from playing Christmas carols to give, “The Santa Report,” telling kids the last place Santa had been spotted.

While Lucky would never suggest to Bo they decorate in his preferred style, this wasn’t his idea of decorations. “Turn left up here.” The way led to a less affluent neighborhood.

Bo drove about two blocks in the direction Lucky indicated and let out a low whistle. “Damn. I bet when they plug up the lights at night the neighbors lose power.” He stopped the car and stared up through the windshield. “I swear there’s a plane up there fixing to land.”

Yeah, the place did have more lights than an airport. Every inch of the yard held some kind of decoration: inflatable penguins, plastic Santas, some old enough to be from the 50s and 60s. Lights hung from every tree, around the eaves, around the door, around the ’57 Chevy parked in the driveway. Blinking lights, solid lights, chasing lights, some strands with burned-out bulbs. Tackiest Christmas decorations since Christmas began.

Lucky fucking loved every shiny inch—not that he’d admit to his tacky lights obsession. Here were some people who didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought, they were keeping the holiday their own way.

As Ty would say, “You do you.”

They rode slowly down the street, some houses dark, others in competition with the display he’d already declared The Tackiest of Them All.

“Want some hot cocoa?” Bo slowed the truck near a diner with a placard out front that read, “Try our hot chocolate.”

Interesting. “Is this going on the list?”

“Only if you want it to.”

Lucky eyed Bo in the dark, the glittering of his eyes. He’d been a good boy, seen his sister off, had dinner with the boss, now he had plans to carry out.

Before he got too tired and fell asleep. “Can we get that hot chocolate to go?”

***

“Christmas Eve and all alone. Just the two of us. Whatever shall we do?” Bo murmured the moment he’d closed and locked their front door, turning his smile to full wattage and bringing out an appearance of The Dimple.

Their first Christmas alone. And maybe their last for a long, long time. With any luck they’d hang a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament on the tree next year.

But for now…

“Wait right here!” Without waiting for an answer Lucky dashed into the bedroom, yanked a shopping bag out of the closet, and ran to the bathroom. One by one he lit the candles he’d bought, hands shaking so badly he barely got them lit.

Why were his hands shaking? It wasn’t like his first time or anything. Next, he dragged out the plant he’d swiped from work earlier, arranging the Christmas cactus on the dresser, tendrils and blooms spilling over the flowerpot.

A rented house in Florida, and a wet-behind-the-ears rookie determined to make the most of the holidays. Instead of a tree, Bo had brought in the cactus. They’d placed gifts beneath the greenery, gifts Lucky hadn’t gotten to give the man who’d pinged on his nerves, but now made up the center of his universe.

Now, all these years later, he’d make up for a bad decision.

“Follow me.” Lucky returned to the living room, grabbed Bo by the hand, and practically dragged him to the bathroom off their bedroom.

“Wow!” Bo stopped in the doorway. Fat candles lined the edges of the jacuzzi tub, giving off the faint scent of what the package called, “Old-Fashioned Christmas.” Two wine glasses also sat on the ledge around the tub, filled with sparkling grape juice.

“You really went all out, didn’t you?” Bo stripped off his clothes in record time, of course folding his jeans and T-shirt and placing them on the bed.

Lucky was more of a let-them-lie-where-they-fall kinda guy.

At least he kicked the mound of clothes out of the way to avoid a tripping hazard. Bo slipped into the tub. “Oh, this is nice.”

Lucky climbed in behind him, pulling his man to his chest.

Bo leaned back, resting his head on Lucky’s shoulder.

Lucky lifted the remote he’d hidden by the tub and jabbed a button, cueing Otis Redding’s Merry Christmas, Baby.

Laughter reverberated through Lucky’s chest, a joyous, nerve-soothing sound from a happy Bo. “You remembered! You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Lucky surely hoped so. He wouldn’t get sappy and tell Bo how much this holiday meant to him. Instead, he laced the fingers of their left hands, angling to make Bo’s band catch the light. They might not be legally married in the eyes of the law, but Lucky considered them joined.

His and Bo’s opinions mattered, nobody else’s.

Bo sighed and brought his free hand up to stroke Lucky’s shoulder. Normally Lucky would have Bo on his knees by now. Or back. Or the sink cabinet. No, tonight he’d take his time.

The bath was only phase one.

***

While Bo dried off, Lucky put phase two into action, turning on the Christmas tree lights, putting the pets in Ty’s room, and dashing into the kitchen.

By the time Bo came out to see what all the banging and swearing was about, Lucky had moved the couch back and spread a blanket out in front of the fireplace, where a roaring fake fire made things homey.

Bo arched an eyebrow, lowering his chin and rolling his eyes upward in an “Oh, really?” gesture. Yeah, so all this romance crap didn’t come easy to Lucky.

For Bo he’d try.

And would keep right on trying.

To the tune of Eartha Kitt’s Santa Baby.

***

Firelight painted shadows and light over the smooth expanses of Bo’s skin. He lay on the quilt, stretched out, proudly displaying the wonder of his body to Lucky’s eyes.

The tousled hair, the come-hither smile. Every instinct screamed, “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” Lucky’s cock took notice. Oh, to plunge inside the tight heat of Bo’s ass, feel the shift and flex of muscles beneath him.

Nope. No hurrying. Not this time.

He sank to his knees, lifting the bottle he’d placed beside their pallet. He smiled, pouring out a bit of the contents and warming the oil between his hands.

Straddling Bo’s body, with both of their cocks well on the way to full hardness, Lucky placed his slick hands on Bo’s chest. Breathing in and out slowly to calm himself, he concentrated on muscle groups, the way he’d seen in the videos he’d been sneaking to watch.

Pecs, abs, farther down, stroking, kneading, working all tension from Bo’s body.

Bo arched up. “That feels so damned good.” His moans guided Lucky’s hands to the most responsive areas.

Lucky picked up one of Bo’s arms, reapplying oil and practicing the hand massage technique he’d researched on YouTube. If Bo’s happy sighs were anything to go by, he needed to go back to that video and hit the “like” button.

With every touch he longed to slick up and slide home. No! He’d invested too much time in making tonight perfect.

He rolled Bo over to work on his back, ignoring—for now—the mouthwatering erection tempting him to bypass the foreplay and get right to the main event. Summoning up all his willpower, he slid his thumbs along each side of Bo’s backbone. Bo bent one knee to give his swollen cock some room.

“I’ll give you three hours to stop that.” Bo’s words came out muffled by the arms he’d folded together to pillow his head.

Damn it! Lucky should’ve gotten Bo a pillow. Too late now.

Feet, head, hands, body, Lucky ignored the ache in his groin. He’d give Bo the loving of his life.

Tonight they didn’t have sex to fill a cup for baby-making purposes. Tonight was about them, only them, and a day too long in coming.

Languidly Bo shifted onto his back, jutting cock finally ready for direct attention. Lucky bent over his lover and swiped his tongue up the length of Bo’s shaft. Oh, what a sweet drop waited at the head.

He licked the moisture away, pausing to enjoy the taste on his tongue. As slowly as he’d caressed Bo’s muscles, Lucky now caressed Bo’s cock with tongue and lips, Bo moaning and bucking up into the heat of an eager mouth.

One hand aiming Bo’s cock, Lucky reached the other back behind Bo’s balls, pressing against the spot Bo once intimated he loved.

Bo writhed on the quilt, breathy pants escaping his mouth.

“Like that?” Lucky pulled off enough to ask.

“Like is a little too mild a word.”

Uh-oh, the ability to string together full sentences meant Lucky wasn’t doing his job. He ran his hands up Bo’s sides, fingers sliding in the oily residue.

Bo fisted his hands in the quilt, raising one knee only to lower it again, constantly in motion. With a groan and thrust, he threaded his fingers into Lucky’s hair. “Stop teasing and fuck me.”

Oh, yes, Lucky would.

But not right now. “Impatient much?”

“With you blowing me? Oh, hell yeah. I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you or not, but you’re damned good at sucking cock.”

“Sweet talker.” He hadn’t seen nothing yet. Lucky gave Bo’s shaft a few quick strokes with his hand, then alternated between hand and mouth, taking Bo to the very edge.

Bo gasped and tensed.

Lucky backed off.

“Stop teasing, damn it!” Bo ground out from between clenched teeth.

Lucky picked up the lube he’d dropped onto the quilt and slicked his own cock. Oh, damn. He paused, eyes closed and breathing hard. Who knew after so much of admiring Bo’s body Lucky would be ready to spill at his own touch?

“It’s about damned time,” Bo groused.

Lucky opened his eyelids, hoping Bo saw every bit of his desire reflected in his eyes.

Bo parted his legs, knees bent and feet flat on the floor. Harmonized voices and ringing bells filled the air from their bedroom. All the music Lucky needed was in Bo’s moans, whimpers, and chanted, “Oh my God!”

He slicked Bo’s hole, pushing in one digit and watching his finger disappear into Bo’s warmth. The sight made him stop again, fighting for control. If he didn’t get a grip this night might end before it had truly begun.

One finger became two, Bo grinding back against Lucky’s hand. The fake fire warmed Lucky’s back. What lay beneath him won the hotness contest.

At last he lined up and thrust forward, breeching the tight ring of muscle with the tip of his cock.

“Ahhhh!” Bo cried out.

Lucky stopped. “You okay?”

“Damn it, Lucky! Move!” Bo thrust back to make his point.

Weight held up on his arms, Lucky worked himself farther inside.

Bo clutched at Lucky’s shoulders, fingers scrabbling for purchase on sweat-slicked skin. Mental note: when planning a romantic scene in front of the fireplace, turn the heat down first.

Then the temperature no longer mattered, but the slide of himself into Bo, then tension in taut muscles, the scent of soap, cologne, sweat, and candles.

He lowered himself down, capturing Bo’s mouth. Slipping his hand under Bo’s arms, Lucky gripped his shoulders, leveraging himself to hit just right.

“Lucky! There! Yes!” Bo exclaimed.

Lucky could so do that. In and out, thrusting his hips, watching the sheer ecstasy on Bo’s face. He’d accomplished his goal of making this good for Bo, but Lucky had crossed the point where he could control his body’s reactions.

He kept the pace deliberately slow, reveling in every stroke, no matter how much Bo grabbed his ass and tried to quicken the pace. One deep thrust, one shallow, a few fast, others slow.

“Faster, damn it!”

“What’s your hurry?” Lucky murmured, faking complete self-control. Holding back took its toll. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, Lucky snapped his hips, filling Bo and withdrawing until only the head of his dick remained inside, only to slam back in again. How good it felt, how perfect.

“Oh, Lucky,” Bo rasped out on a heady moan. He snaked a hand between their bellies, grabbing his cock and pumping hard. “I’m gonna cum!” Muscles seizing, he stilled his hand. He jerked as though hit with a 220 current, shouting as he came.

Lucky thrust in once more, twice more, and added his voice to Bo’s in a heartfelt, “Oh, yessss!” Wave after wave of sheer pleasure nearly fried his circuits.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

How could it still be so good between them after years of monogamy?

Because they knew each other so well.

Lucky balanced on his shaky arms, panting to recover his breath. His cock slowly softened and he slipped out of his favorite place to be, collapsing onto the quilt and throwing an arm and leg over an equally wrung-out Bo.

Bo rested an arm over his eyes and laughed, a deep, right sound. “Remember when you asked me to count to see if you’d screwed my brains out?”

Vaguely. “I’m not sure I even remember my name at the moment.”

“You should. I spent the last half hour calling it.” Bo peeked out from under his arm, brown eyes intense. “I love you. That was awesome. Feel free to do a full repeat anytime.”

Anytime they had the house to themselves.

“I intend to. And I love you too.” Lucky sealed his words with a kiss. He’d gotten this right. Yay!

They lay on the quilt, alternately staring at the firelight or the twinkling lights on the tree. Lucky rose long enough to grab a bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses from the fridge. Technically, alcohol was neither of their drugs of choice, but why push fate?

Lucky sat on the quilt, Bo using him for a back rest.

“If I’d known spending Christmas with you would be this awesome, I’d have moved Heaven and Earth to make it happen.” Lucky ran his lips up Bo’s neck and skated his tongue along the shell of Bo’s ear. “And we’ve been living together for a year and haven’t killed each other yet.”

“Wow! Only took me three years to get you civilized enough to live with.” Bo’s gentle laugh softened his words into an endearment. “We’ve come a long way since Florida, haven’t we?”

Florida, the first case they’d worked together, when Bo had been no more than an annoying newbie with an amazing ass.

Lucky had been a snarky sonofabitch biding his time and counting the days until he could say goodbye to the SNB forever.

Now look at him, all domestic with that newbie, training more newbies, and pretty much married to the department of Diversion Prevention and Control’s next director.

Where once a nine to five existence would’ve been his idea of hell, now he couldn’t wait to come home in the evenings.

To Bo.

Maybe soon a little Bo too. Who the hell would’ve thought he’d be a happily married man with a kid, a dog, and a cat?

Certainly not him.

Bo turned and looked at Lucky over his shoulder, shifted his wineglass to the other hand, and poked his index finger between Lucky’s brows. “You’re thinking too hard. You’ve got that trench thing going on again.”

Lucky willed his face to smooth out. “Just thinking about the last few Christmases.”

Bo’s eyes sparkled in the firelight. “Don’t. This one and the ones to come are all that matter.”

This time, Lucky didn’t mind Bo being right.

Chapter 5

Lucky smacked the clock to silence the alarm.

Beside him, a sleepy Bo yawned. “Why did you set the clock? We’re off today.”

“Accident. I forgot to unset it. Go back to sleep.” Lucky held still until the snoring started, then carefully lifted Bo’s arm from around his waist without a moment to spare.

He fed the dog and cat, let them into the back yard, and headed out to the garage where they’d stored Charlotte’s belongings, in particular, the refrigerator toward the back that he’d plugged in and filled up.

The Tofurky needed to be first. He took the imitation turkey into the kitchen and turned the double oven on to preheat. In his bachelor days he would’ve looked inside first to make sure he hadn’t left a takeout container in there.

Moose and Cat Lucky waited at the back door. He let them in and secured them in Ty’s room with a water bowl and their favorite toys.. He’d have nothing left for dinner with those two moochers around.

With notes from his computer bag propped on the counter, he went to work, melting butter and adding herbs.

Three more trips to the garage and he had the cornbread dressing ready to pop into the oven—mostly made earlier under the watchful eye of his boss’s wife. While his boss sat nearby failing to hide a laugh.

Boiling water for macaroni pie was pretty easy, but he nearly wore his arm out grating two cups of cheese.

The recipe came from his mother. He retrieved the pecan pies he’d made at Rett’s. They didn’t turn out as pretty as hers and the crust was a little brown, but what could he expect from his first real attempt to cook?

Would Bo be impressed or horrified? What if he burned everything, or added too much salt?

What if, what if, what if.

He was mixing up the sweet potato casserole when Bo staggered into the room, knuckling one eye.

“What is this?” Bo perused the kitchen, taking in the mess.

Oh, crap. Why couldn’t Bo sleep a little longer and give Lucky more time to prepare his surprise? Pretty much every dish they owned lay on the counter, in various states of use. “I’m making Christmas dinner.”

“You what? I could’ve help you, I…” Bo’s brain caught up to the subject at hand. “You… cooked? Since when do you cook more than grilled burgers?”

Ouch. “Since I wanted to make everything perfect.” Over the years Lucky had changed his name a few times. His new name must be “Sap.”

Bo’s face stayed blank. Too long. Way too long. Did he love it? Hate it? A grin and The Dimple had Lucky whooshing out a pent-up breath. “You cooked? For me? Awww… But how?”

Heat crept up Lucky’s cheeks. “You know all the times lately I’ve had to go to Rett’s, Mrs. Griggs’, or the Smith’s?

“Yeah.”

Confession time. Which might earn a laugh. “Mrs. Griggs taught me how to do the sweet potatoes. Rett showed me how to make pecan pies. Mrs. Smith helped with the dressing. The macaroni pie is Mom’s recipe.”

Bo yanked Lucky into an aggressive kiss, plundering his mouth with a minty-tasting tongue. Why hadn’t he learned to cook sooner? “No one has ever done something so sweet for me.”

Sweet? Lucky? Bo better not even start that rumor.

Heat creeping up his face again, Lucky brandished a hand toward the living room. “Go on out and watch TV or something. I’ll finish up here and bring you a cup of tea.”

Bo tapped his fingers on the counter. The kitchen had always been his domain. He might not like surrendering his territory. Then again, he had allowed Charlotte in here. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Lucky scrambled around the kitchen, throwing dirty dishes into the dishwasher and wiping down counters. He finished the sweet potatoes and made a note of when the Tofurkey would be done enough for him to bake the other dishes.

He brewed coffee for himself and used Bo’s K-cup dispenser to make a cup of decaf green tea.

Now for the next part in Operation Perfect Christmas. Bo sat on the couch, socked feet on an ottoman. He took the cup. “Thank you.”

“Ready to open presents?”

Bo’s scowl would have made most men run. “I thought we agreed not to get each other anything.”

Lucky tried for an innocent look. “I didn’t get you nothing.”

Bo narrowed his eyes.

Lucky swallowed hard. His plans could soon go so wrong. He’d leave the gifts they’d gotten from family and friends for later. Before Bo could protest more, Lucky darted over to the tree and brought back a few badly wrapped packages. He placed the offerings between him and Bo on the couch.

Christmas called for presents. Bo deserved presents, no matter how small.

“Lucky,” Bo said in a warning growl, taking a gift anyway.

Lucky held up his hands. “It’s not from me. Read the card.”

Bo scoffed but lifted the card. “To Bo from Moose.” He shot Lucky a lifted-brow glare. “Really, Lucky?”

Lucky held up a package. “Hey, he got me one too!” Ripping into the paper might distract Bo and keep him from getting angry.

Though to be honest, he hadn’t even spent fifty bucks on all the gifts combined.

The sound of tearing paper had Lucky looking back up. Bo held a small dragon figurine Lucky had found at a discounter. “That can go on your desk at work.”

“Thank you, Lucky.”

Lucky shrugged. “Don’t thank me, thank Moose.”

“Now yours.”

Lucky opened his package to reveal a novelty medicine bottle with a label that read, “Fuckitol” and a list of situations that might make him want one. “Dealing with newbies” wasn’t listed, but should be.

“Let me guess. That’s for your desk?” Bo tapped a finger against his chin.

“How’d you know?”

“Moose gave you that?”

“Nah. Can’t you tell this is the kind of gift a cat gives?”

Lucky held up the card for Bo to read out loud, “From Cat Lucky. Now, go feed me.” He glanced up. “You’re lucky it’s not a dead mouse.”

Yes, he was. Or squirrel. Or the neighbor’s beagle if the cat got half a chance.

Bo shook his next package. “After that, I’m kind of afraid what I’ll get.” He opened the paper to reveal a small, worn box that snapped open to reveal an antique tie-tack, and gasped. “Where did you get this?”

Lucky kept his voice even. “Your aunt gave that to me… I mean, Cat Lucky. It belonged to your grandfather, the first William Patrick Schollenberger. She found it while going through your grandfather’s things she’d put into storage.

Bo stared at the tie tack a long moment and wiped moisture from his eyes. “I barely knew him. He died when I was little.”

“Well, now you have something to remember him by. She sent some pictures of him holding a baby you. I’ll show you later.”

Lucky opened his second gift, a coffee cup that read, “If assholes could fly, this place would be an airport.”

Bo’s tears turned to laughter. “You are not taking that to work, are you?”

Lucky shrugged, already visualizing the reaction he’d get. “Why not? Don’t you want me to show off the tasteful gift my dog got me?”

Bo shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “Only you.”

“I would hope so, now that you’ve gone and domesticated me.” Did that sound like complaining? Lucky wasn’t complaining, not really, merely pointing out fact.

Bo put his gifts aside, wrapping his arms around Lucky and pulling him close. They let the dog and cat out of Ty’s room, and wound up with laps full of fur.

Until Lucky retrieved more gifts. Moose carried his chewy bone to a corner, and proceeded to gnaw.

Cat Lucky batted his catnip mouse across the floor and out of sight down the hallway.

After dinner that wasn’t too bad except that Lucky forgot to pick up rolls at the store, wrapped in an old blanket, they watched Christmas movies until they both fell asleep.

***

Lucky let Moose in for the last time of the day and strolled through the house, turning off lights. A year they’d lived here. They’d done a lot of work, and more wanted to be done, but he had the home he hadn’t even known he wanted five years ago.

He started to turn off the tree. Nah, let it shine. Let the neighbors know the Schollenberger-Harrison-Lucklighter household loved Christmas.

This year.

Bo lay asleep in their bed when Lucky got there, so he opened up the small room off their bedroom and turned on the light.

Next year, at this time, they might be tucking a little one into bed. The thought thrilled and scared him in equal measure.

His life had ups and downs, but somewhere or other he must’ve done something right, because now, life was damned near perfect.

Lucky turned the light out and crawled into bed, nudging the cat out of his way to throw an arm around Bo. Bo gave off a sleepy mumble and wriggled into Lucky’s embrace.

Yup. Damned near perfect.

***

The next morning brought a heavy heart even the festive lights couldn’t penetrate. Christmas had come and gone. So many more things he’d wanted to do, to say, to add to their traditions list. He sipped his coffee at the kitchen table.

Bo sat next to him at the four-topper table, tablet in hand. “Riding through town looking at Christmas lights?”

Sight-seeing didn’t cost much, and they might be able to fold that in with the sundae thing. “Keep.”

“Sixties Christmas music?”

“Works for me.” Anything to cause an appearance of The Dimple.

Bo tapped his fingers against the edge of the table. “Office Christmas party?”

“Up to you.” For Bo he’d endure co-workers drinking too much, pretending they liked him, and eating a catered meal that made him want to go out and find a hamburger.

Bo rolled his eyes heavenward. “Why did I even ask? Okay, here’s one: sex on the rug in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve.”

Ah, one of Lucky’s personal favorites.

If they became fathers, they’d have to watch what they did. Then again, he could always send the young ‘un to Aunt Charlotte’s. Only, not on Christmas Eve.

“Whenever we can,” Lucky replied.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Bo bent over the table and captured Lucky’s mouth in a kiss. “I never was one to like coffee, but I swear, even passing a Starbucks and getting a whiff makes me want to kiss you.”

Kissing. “Mistletoe next year. Everywhere.”

“The berries are poisonous.”

Rugrats put everything they could into their mouths. Not to mention the pets. “Then the artificial kind from the craft store. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Family visits?” Bo shifted the tablet to one hand and took a sip of his green tea.

Family? Did Lucky really want to be covered up in relatives? “How about, at Thanksgiving, before and after Christmas, but we spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in our own home.”

Bo tilted his head to the side, staring at nothing. “Hmmm…” He gave a decisive nod and tapped on the screen again. “It could work.”

The list had certainly grown over time. Things they’d done this year, things they’d wanted to do but hadn’t gotten the time. Then again, no matter how carefully they planned, something always came up at the last minute. “Bo?”

“Yeah?”

“I know we want to start our own traditions, but all that really matters to me is us spending Christmas together.” Everything else fell to details.

Bo stood, held out a hand, and pulled Lucky to his feet. “Okay. Tradition number one is now written in stone. Someone will have to inform the boss. We must be together at Christmas. No assignments.”

“In a few months, you will be the boss.” Wouldn’t that be weird.

Bo grinned. “You’re right. Oh, it’s good to be the king!”

Boss and worker getting an annual review. Might be a nice role-playing game.

Not that Bo would ever abuse his power, one of the many reasons Walter chose him as successor.

They ambled out into the living room, arms wrapped around each other as they gazed at the beautifully decorated tree. A few presents waited for Charlotte and Ty’s return but most of the floor beneath the tree was empty. Well, empty except for a massive dog who’d managed to squeeze under the branches without knocking the whole thing over, and a cat patting a low-hanging ornament with one paw, doing a damned fine impression of Mrs. Griggs’ Christmas card.

Standing in silence, simply holding each other, made all right in the world. While Lucky would’ve liked to see his family, and would in a few days, the family that mattered most was right here.

Soon he’d return to work, Charlotte and Ty would be home, and Bo and Lucky’s schedules would keep them apart, but for now?

Bo pulled Lucky closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And Lucky did, with all his heart, mind, and soul.

Bo’s kiss put the finishing touches on the perfect Christmas.

About the author

You will know Eden Winters by her distinctive white plumage and exuberant cry of “Hey, y’all!” in a Southern US drawl so thick it renders even the simplest of words unrecognizable. Watch out, she hugs!

Driven by insatiable curiosity, she possibly holds the world’s record for curriculum changes to the point that she’s never quite earned a degree but is a force to be reckoned with at Trivial Pursuit.

She’s trudged down hallways with police detectives, learned to disarm knife-wielding bad guys, and witnessed the correct way to blow doors off buildings. Her e-mail contains various snippets of forensic wisdom, such as “What would a dead body left in a Mexican drug tunnel look like after six months?” In the process of her adventures she has written fourteen m/m romance novels, has won several Rainbow Awards, was a Lambda Awards Finalist, and lives in terror of authorities showing up at her door to question her Internet searches.

When not putting characters in dangerous situations she’s a mild-mannered business executive, mother, grandmother, vegetarian, and PFLAG activist.

Her natural habitats are airports, coffee shops, and on the backs of motorcycles.

For more information about Eden, please visit her website at www.edenwinters.com.

***

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There are good guys, bad guys, and then there’s Lucky.

Former drug trafficker Richmond “Lucky” Lucklighter flaunts his past like a badge of honor. He speaks his mind, doesn’t play nice, and flirts with disaster while working off his sentence with the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. If he can keep out of trouble a while longer he’ll be a free man–after he trains his replacement.

Textbook-quoting, by the book Bo Schollenberger is everything Lucky isn’t. Lucky slurps coffee, Bo lives caffeine free. Lucky worships bacon, Bo eats tofu. Lucky trusts no one, Bo calls suspects by first name. Yet when the chips are down on their shared case of breaking up a drug diversion ring, they may have more in common than they believe.

Two men. Close quarters. Friction results in heat. But Lucky scoffs at partnerships, no matter how thrilling the roller-coaster. Bo has two months to break down Lucky’s defenses… and seconds are ticking by.

At your favorite bookstore.

Dead men can’t love.

Former drug trafficker Richmond “Lucky” Lucklighter “died” in the line of duty while working off a ten-year sentence in service to the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau, only to be reborn as Simon “Lucky” Harrison. The newbie he trained, former Marine Bo Schollenberger, is now his partner on (and maybe off) the job. It’s hard to tell when Lucky doesn’t understand relationships or have a clue what any sane human is doing in his bed. Bo’s nice to have around, sure, but there’s none of that picking-out-china-together crap for Lucky.

While fighting PTSD, memories of a horrid childhood, and a prescription drug addiction, Bo is paying for his mistakes. Using his pharmacy license for the good guys provides the sort of education he never got in school. Undercover with his hard-headed partner, Bo learns that not everything is as it seems in the world of pharmaceuticals.

When a prescription drug shortage jeopardizes the patients at Rosario Children’s Cancer Center, it not only pits Bo and Lucky against predatory opportunists, but also each other. How can they tell who the villains are? The bad guys don’t wear black hats, but they might wear white coats.

At your favorite bookstore.

Winner 2014 Rainbow Awards Best Gay Mystery / Thriller.

Renegade biker. Drug runner. Recovering addict. Wanted by the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. But he isn’t a crook, he’s the law.

SNB Agent Bo Schollenberger’s solved his cases using his brains and not a gun, and with his partner, not alone. Now he’s handed a tough new case involving designer drugs that turn users violent. One false move could end his life as he immerses himself into a motorcycle gang to locate the source. His fate depends on how well he can impersonate someone else. Someone named Cyrus Cooper.

Cyrus is everything Bo Schollenberger isn’t, including the badass enforcer for a smuggling ring. He establishes pecking order with his fists and doesn’t take shit from anybody, not even the undercover agent who comes to help his case.

Simon “Lucky” Harrison’s always been the best, whichever side of the law he was on. Former trafficker turned SNB agent, he damned well ought to be undercover in this motorcycle gang, instead of hanging around the office going crazy with new policies, new people, and “inter-departmental cooperation” that sticks him in a classroom. Yet he’s passed over for the SNB’s biggest case in decades in favor of the rookie who shares his bed. A man Lucky thought he knew.

When survival depends on a web of tangled lies, lines blur, worlds collide, and a high stakes game turns friend to foe. Lucky knows the difference between Bo the agent and Cyrus the outlaw, but does Bo?

At your favorite bookstore.

Also in the series:

Manipulation

Redemption

Reunion

Suspicion

Relation

Coming soon: Decision

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Joshua Hannes, the concierge of the Vivaldi Central Park Hotel prides himself on fulfilling every impossible request. Tickets to a sold-out show? A purple dye job for a purse dog? A last-minute table at a premier hotspot? No problem.

But the penthouse guest wants what?

Self-made billionaire Craig Ridley’s in New York on business, but at the end of the day, he wants to relax with someone interesting. The concierge should be able to supply an entertaining companion. Just for a little conversation. Dinner and a card game, not sex.

Craig didn’t expect the concierge to personally volunteer to be a rental friend, and he really didn’t expect to get attached. How can a paid service ever turn real?

A billion reasons why they shouldn’t be together. A billion and one reasons why they should.

At your favorite bookstore.

The lights go down and stage lights up. The Dark Angels have arrived. With his come-hither voice and body made for sin, lead singer Angel Luv draws lovers like a magnet. And when he caresses and taunts shy guitarist Darius Stone on stage, well…it’s an act, right? But every touch lights a fire, and every flirtatious glance chips away at Dare’s certainty that he’s straight. No one else has so captured his imagination.

Temptation beckons. It’s hard not to notice the want in Dare’s eyes, the way he stares when he thinks Angel’s not watching. One wrong move might scare him away, but a work trip to exotic Bali might be the perfect place to let Dare explore his sexuality, with none to be the wiser. But their “friends with benefits” pact has an expiration date, that just might sour their friendship.

At your favorite bookstore

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the author

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