The Christmas Deal

“No, not at all,” Seth quickly assured him.

Logan cleared his throat. “You did a great job. Thanks.”

It was silly for Seth to be proud and pleased that Logan had taken his advice, but he was nonetheless.

Connor watched Logan warily. “Okay.” Then he waved a hand toward him. “Are you…?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Connor glanced at Seth, as if looking for affirmation, so Seth nodded and smiled. “Let’s get back to work! Team Caper needs to finish this kitchen, right?” He held up his palms for high fives, which was probably a nerdy thing to do, but he’d never pretended to be cool.

After a moment, Logan and Connor dutifully slapped his palms, and Seth grinned as they got to work.

Along the main street in town late on Sunday afternoon, fluffy flakes of snow drifted down, the sun already setting by four-thirty, the trees glowing in white Christmas lights. Red-ribboned wreaths hung from the old-fashioned streetlight poles, and other shoppers popped in and out of the antique stores and gift shops.

“I think that’s the one,” Seth said. “I can’t imagine we’re going to find another dining table in store without waiting for a custom build or warehouse delivery.” Although it made him a bit nauseous to think of buying a major piece of furniture without looking in all the stores in the area. And online. And after making an exhaustive list of the pros and cons.

Logan said, “Looked good to me. A table’s a table, right?”

Seth laughed. “You just want to finish shopping, don’t you? Your eyes glazed over in the second store two hours ago.”

“Guilty as charged.” Logan gave him a sexy little smirk.

Stop thinking about how sexy he is.

The struggle was real. As much as Seth tried not to think about how hot Logan was, his sexiness was right there. And aside from the way he looked, it was very attractive that Logan had gone furniture shopping with him and not complained once, even though all the talk of wood grains and rustic vs. classic vs. modern had surely bored him to tears.

Seth might have pretended once or twice that Logan was his boyfriend, and when a few shopkeepers had made the assumption, he hadn’t corrected them. He’d told himself it was only for practice purposes, but he was full of it. If he only cared about faking it, he wouldn’t be imagining what it would be like to hold Logan’s hand as they walked down the street.

Or what it would be like to steal a kiss under one of the boughs of mistletoe that hung outside the bookstore. Their lips cold and noses red in the frosty air… How they’d warm each other up, Logan’s arms strong around him and pulling him close…

Seth cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s look in one more store down here and—” Breath punching out of him, he staggered to a halt, almost tripping over his own feet.

Oh, merciful lord.

Or cruel and not merciful at all as the case may be, because there was Brandon. Seth blinked, willing the nightmare to end. But no, that was definitely, one hundred percent Brandon standing twenty feet away looking in a store window, snow catching in the bushy hipster beard he’d grown that year. Which Seth only knew about from stalking public Facebook posts.

He closed his eyes and opened them. Still Brandon.

Of course—because the horror had to be complete—Brandon was talking to Peter, who even at a distance in a parka was clearly still climbing ropes and lifting cars one-handed or whatever people did at CrossFit.

They were with Bethany and Jake—no, Joe—from the wine club, which shouldn’t have bothered Seth at all—he hadn’t even liked the pretentious wine club in the first place. Why should he care that Brandon had kept going with Peter? Why had he been Facebook stalking in the first place?

That Seth had been dumped and replaced, seemingly without missing a beat, hurt.

His feet felt locked in ice. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. With Logan stopped beside him, clearly confused, Seth had never wanted to make a run for it so badly in his life.

Chapter Seven

Squinting down the sidewalk, Logan tried to see what was making Seth look like he might puke, his face going red the way it had when Logan had shown up unexpectedly and met Angela Barker.

Seth’s mouth was open as he stared at four people nearby peering in the window of a store that looked like it sold candles and oil and that kind of froufrou stuff Logan’s long-ago ex Jacinta had loved. If Logan never smelled lavender and that sandalwood shit again it would be too soon.

Grabbing Logan’s arm, his fingers digging in through the leather, Seth took a step back. Then he froze as one of the people glanced over and did a double-take. She was a blonde around thirty and had a nice rack under her tight jacket.