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A loud groan left Noah when he tried to sit up, but he quickly stopped. Everything hurt. And not all of it was the good kind of hurt, even though there was a lot of that. His knees still felt like they were on fire from rug burn and his back was not loving the cold tile of the kitchen floor. Roughly rubbing his face in an attempt to clear his brain, Noah blinked and was a little surprised to find himself staring up at the underside of the kitchen table with Rowe laying half across him. He wasn’t completely sure how they’d gotten there. Thank fucking God Gretchen had agreed to babysit the dogs for the night. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to sneak in the fun they’d had since Rowe walked in the front door.
After one round of Mistletoe and two rounds of Find the Lube in the living room, they’d agreed to sandwiches to regain their strength before moving on to other activities. But then Rowe tackled him in a kitchen chair when he’d discovered another small bottle of lube Noah had stuffed in the flatware drawer and demanded that they had to play another round. Noah didn’t fight him. He briefly thought he should find the other two dozen small bottles he’d hidden around the house, but then shoved the thought aside. It would be interesting to see their friends’ faces when they randomly turned up an unexpected bottle in a strange location.
“I can’t move.” Rowe groaned. He turned his face into Noah’s neck, snuggling closer.
Noah lifted a hand, wincing slightly as he shoved it into Rowe’s hair, rubbing his scalp. “We never got to the third game.”
“Save it for later. I like the Mistletoe and Find the Lube games.” Rowe paused and then lifted his head a little so he could look Noah in the eye. “How many more bottles do you have stashed around the house?”
“About two dozen.”
Rowe’s grin matched the smile he could feel stretching across his own lips. “Good.”
Then again…maybe their friends wouldn’t get the chance to find the other bottles.
Rowe sat up, running one hand through his hair so that it stuck up in every direction. Noah watched the play of muscles under his tattoos. They were both naked now and sporting the beginnings of some new bruises.
“We never ate dinner,” Rowe announced, sounding a little surprised.
Noah shrugged. “You found lube.”
Rowe snorted. “Are there more bottles in the kitchen?”
“Three.”
With a shake of his head, he slowly pushed to his feet and then held his hand out to help Noah up. Noah found himself pulled tightly against Rowe’s body, his flushed skin chasing away the lingering cold of lying on the kitchen floor. Rowe’s strong hands rubbed his back, easing away lingering aches and pains. “Then you get to make the sandwiches.”
Noah laughed, shoving Rowe away. “Fine. Go. But you’re cooking tomorrow night.”
Rowe started for the living room and then stopped suddenly, his body tense. When he turned back to look at Noah, all the laughter was gone from his face. Noah’s heart jerked at the sudden worry furrowing Rowe’s brow. Had he said something to stir up an old memory to haunt Rowe? He’d been walking on eggshells for a few days, trying to keep Rowe’s mood up while not triggering any specific Mel-related memories.
“Rowe?”
“Grab some clothes. I need you to help me get something out of the truck,” he said gruffly.
“You don’t want to wait until after sandwiches?”
He shook his head, already walking toward his clothes scattered around the living room. “It’ll just take a second.”
Without another word, Noah hurried to their bedroom and grabbed the clothes he’d been wearing earlier and shoved his feet into the sneakers he wore to take the dogs out for their morning walk. When he rejoined Rowe in the living room, the other man was pulling on his coat. He flashed Noah a tentative smile as if trying to ease Noah’s worry, but it wasn’t enough.
Stepping out into the brisk cold, Noah flinched against the wind that whipped his hair around. But it was forgotten when he looked into the bed of the truck to find a bound Christmas tree along with a new tree stand and a bag containing several boxes of lights.
“You got a tree,” Noah said, his voice barely over a whisper. They’d hung no Christmas decorations. Well, none other than Noah’s mistletoe. Rowe hadn’t given any indication that he wanted to even celebrate Christmas in any way.
“Yeah,” Rowe said and then paused to clear his throat. “Mel never wanted a real tree. She was afraid we’d have to fight the dogs to keep them from drinking out of the reservoir or knocking it over.”
“Or peeing on it,” Noah added, earning a snort from Rowe.
“That too. But I always wanted a real one. I thought…I thought we’d try something new.”
