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“Of the tree, Paul. Of the tree.” He handed me my box from the attic before dragging more containers of ornaments over to the twinkling tree. “For your treasures. They should be up higher.”
“Ah. Yeah.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I tried to follow orders and hang a few pieces, but my brain kept wanting to leap back to sex. Sex was far easier than the memories the old ornaments sparked, that was for sure. Which Gideon seemed to sense because he laughed knowingly.
“If you’re asking, I wasn’t kidding the other day. My knees aren’t that creaky yet. And you can top whatever you’d like.”
I made a strangled noise. Outside of a few brief forays into the wild world of hookup apps, I hadn’t many occasions to quite so frankly discuss my bedroom likes. “Wouldn’t have figured you…”
Fuck. I needed to stop right there before I said the wrong thing. Or the right one.
“Ha.” Gideon stopped sorting a box of jewel-toned glass ornaments to pat my cheek. “You’re cute if you think I can’t be bossy and bottom at the same time.”
I swallowed so loud even the dog looked up. “Good to know.”
I liked topping, and in my limited experience, it was what people tended to ask for from me, but the one part I struggled with was trying to read the other person’s mind, figure out what they needed and when. With Gideon, there would be no such guesswork. He told. He directed. He managed. And lord, I wanted that. I licked my lips. He did the same.
“How long does the dinner need?” he asked huskily.
“Not nearly long enough,” I groaned and stepped away before I could kiss him until we both forgot all about the food.
“What?” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I was only asking for decorating reasons.”
“Uh-huh.” The dog wandered over to us, pushing her head against my leg. Good. Welcome distraction. “Hey, you.” I petted her soft ears. “What do you want?”
“Um. Will she eat the low-hanging ornaments?” Gideon cast a critical eye on the glass bauble he was holding. For all that he’d been over several times now, Gideon was still wary around Jim, giving her an almost comically wide berth.
“I seriously doubt it.” I moved from petting the dog to rubbing Gideon’s shoulder. “For all I joke, she has a pretty mild manner. I’ll still likely shut her out of here while I’m at work, to be safe.”
“Good.” Gideon’s spine was still stiffer than the pole at the center of the tree.
“How about you give her a treat?” Thinking fast, I dashed back to the kitchen for the zippered package of dog snacks. “She’ll be your buddy for life for these duck and sweet potato things I found.”
“Oh. Okay.” Gideon took a deep breath and plucked a treat from the bag. I was so proud of him for trying that I very nearly praised him, not the dog. Instead, I held my breath, watching, hoping this wasn’t a terrible idea.
“Here. You want?” He held it out, and Jim swept it up with her tongue, utterly delighted to not have to sit or otherwise do work to earn the reward. And when Gideon gave her a second, she nudged him with her head, giving him a big doggy grin. “She likes them!”
“Told you.” My heart thumped, a weird mix of adrenaline and joy at watching Gideon pet Jim for the first time. Damn it. Now I had to kiss him. No choice. Needed—
Beep. Beep. The timer dinged in the kitchen. “That’s the dinner.”
“See? Now the humans will eat.” Gideon talked to the dog as they both followed me into the kitchen. “Let’s break in your new table.”
Vivid images of how we’d christened the couch danced through my head, and I coughed.
“Dinner first.” His laugh was downright wicked.
“Good idea.” Working together, we fixed plates and carried them into the dining room, where the oval table that had looked so big when it was only me in the house felt friendly and cozy with him across from me.
“I didn’t know you cooked.” Gideon admired the dinner, which really wasn’t all that. Thick-cut pork chops. Easy mustard sauce. Oven potatoes with some rosemary. Roast carrots and onions tossed in next to the potatoes. But he seemed impressed, which was nice. “This is really good. We won’t discuss how much I live on delivery and takeout.”
“Yeah, well, eating out adds up fast with a growing kid like Brandon. And frozen is fine in a pinch, but I taught myself the basics if only to save us from scurvy. Had to get some vegetables into the kid.”
“You’re a good big brother.” His expression softened, more of that willingness to hand me a medal for simply doing what had been needed.
“Eh. More like I knew Mom would haunt me if I didn’t get some green stuff into him. She was a pretty good cook, making do with what we had. You would have liked her rolled sugar cookies. She did dozens every Christmas.”
“I’m sure I would have. Do you have a recipe?” Gideon leaned forward, all eager, pork chop promptly forgotten.
“Recipe? Not one of her own. She had this red cookbook, one of those old plaid three-ring binders everyone had back in the day. All her desserts came from there.”
