Three Dates of Christmas Read online

  THREE DATES OF CHRISTMAS

  KC BURN

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by KC Burn

  ISBN: 978-0-9981807-1-7

  Copyright © 2016 by KC Burn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art: Jay Aheer (www.simplydefinedart.com)

  Editors: Taylor Law, Emily Wells, Gayla Leath

  Created with Vellum

  There are a lot of memories of home and my experiences growing up in Toronto in this book, and therefore I have to dedicate this to Dottie who was there for all of it, and to Alex who does his best to curb my Scrooge-like tendencies, and to the fellow inmates of the sperm and rug mart… you know who you are.

  Also, special thanks to Dan who came with me and Alex on my mini research field trip, and to Sean Micheal whose Canadian care packages were fantastic little reminders of home.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ANTONIO DELVECCHIO PULLED out into Toronto’s rush-hour traffic, swearing under his breath. Normally, he was off work by four at the latest, but the fates—and a faulty batch of catheters—had conspired against him. This meant hitting the gym with the rest of the nine-to-fivers, which sucked. But if he didn't force himself to get into the gym today, he wouldn't manage to get there until the weekend, and the weekend was even busier than with the after-five crowd. Unfortunately, his sister's three kids all had some sort of Christmas school event every night this week and they were adamant that Uncle Tony attend.

  Not that he minded. His sister, Nicki, had raised some good kids, even with her husband frequently deployed, as he was now. During the few years Tony had lived in Vancouver, he hadn't seen nearly enough of them or his mom. Between his work schedule and living out in Vancouver, the last Christmas he’d been home for had been the one after his father had died, six years ago. Back then, his emotional state had been so discordant, he hadn’t realized how fiercely he’d missed his family. Watching his nieces experience the holiday now that they were old enough to be wowed by it was something he'd been looking forward to since he'd moved back to Toronto in August. Halloween with the little girls had been cool, but Christmas was his favourite holiday ever.

  A fat, fluffy flake landed on his windshield, quickly followed by another. He wasn't sure whether to bitch or smile, because snow was also something he hadn't seen enough of in Vancouver. Snow was awesome. Especially now, with recently mounted Christmas lights and no grey slush. On the other hand, driving in Toronto during rush hour was bad enough without adding snow.

  He turned on the radio, already tuned to a satellite station playing Christmas songs commercial free. If anything would put a smile on his face, it'd be Bing Crosby. It was the last week of November, but it wasn't too early to start wishing for a white Christmas. Although, he'd be just as happy if this snowfall didn't stick, not quite yet.

  After thirty minutes of humming and singing, he was in a slightly better mood and almost to the gym when he remembered the body wash. He'd used up his damned body wash after his last workout. Shit. There wasn't much he hated more than putting on his winter jacket over the sweat of exercise and squelching back out into the cold. He showered at home during the rest of the year, but winter required showers at the gym, and there was no compromising on that.

  Like a sign from the heavens—or maybe a Christmas elf looking out for him—the traffic parted, and he was able to cross three lanes and turn into a strip mall pharmacy with no skidding, no honking, and no one flipping the bird to anyone, despite the ever increasing snowfall. Thank all the Christmas spirits he only had to worry about the gym tonight. Once he got home, he could stay in for the night.

  The store didn’t belong to one of the chains he was familiar with—hadn't the independent pharmacy gone the way of the dodo? However, he didn't need a huge warehouse of bath and beauty products, just a simple body wash that wasn't too scented. Shouldn't be an issue for any establishment calling itself a pharmacy.

  He paused outside for a moment to brush snow off his shoulders and stomp his feet before opening the door. A bell tinkled, announcing his arrival, and he couldn't hold back a grin. How very old-fashioned.

  Then his jaw dropped. He didn't think he'd seen a retail establishment more decked out for the holidays, with the exception of the enormous, precise, and perfect decorations at the Eaton Centre downtown.

  This was fucking awesome. Over the top, yet with a homemade feel that made the excess forgivable. Along one wall, raised up on a platform covering an entrance to a stairwell leading to the basement, was a handmade... Santa house? Elf house? The whole scene was totally representing the North Pole, and so filled with Christmas cheer that Tony wanted to maybe live in this store. Although, his mom’s house, which catered to Nicki’s kids, was also kind of over the top.

  Some stores relied on the Christmas products they sold for sufficient decoration, but this place had green and red and gold as far as the eye could see. Wreaths and bows made with live evergreen leaves were hung everywhere. Synthetic snow coated almost every bare wall and corner. Fake holly with bright red berries provided the occasional accent. Glittering white snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Aisle end caps had been lovingly designed to make one feel as though they were entering a holiday wonderland.

  Even the lighting in the place was softer and not as harsh as most retail stores, which maybe had something to do with the real wood paneling along the back of the store where the actual dispensary part of the pharmacy was housed. This might end up as his regular store—it wasn't far from either his mom’s or his sister's, but he might never have driven past it if he hadn't been driving directly from his new client's house to the gym. He hadn’t bothered finding an apartment yet—bunking at his mom’s hadn’t started chafing—but this was another reason to start looking in the same area where his family lived.

  The Christmas elves were working overtime to look out for him.

  Tony drank in the homey perfection of the Christmas display for a few moments, letting it warm him inside. Whoever was responsible for the display was someone after his own heart. It had clearly been crafted with love and devotion.

  With a tiny smile on his face, he made his way to the skin care section. It wasn’t in his nature to be fussy about things, but his skin was annoyingly sensitive, and he hoped he could find a suitable product.

  He stood next to a couple of teenaged girls who, judging from the uniforms and dust cloths, worked in the store. They didn't even flick a glance at him as he perused the unexpectedly large section of male-oriented body wash and skin care products.

  As he skimmed labels, looking for one with the least girly scent, he couldn't help but overhear the complaints from the two girls.

  "Honestly, he's such an ass."

  "I know. The old fart is such a damned perfectionist. Who the hell cares if Joey calls in just to say hi while I’m with a customer? I’m still doing my job. Not like I really have to talk to the customers. They can see on the cash register how much money they owe."

  Tony lifted his eyebrows slightly. He wasn'
t sure he would fault "the old fart" for reprimanding her, but then again, he'd left his teens behind over fifteen years ago. Probably, his younger self would have agreed with these two; he'd been a little shit back then.

  "And it's so much worse this time of year."

  "It is? You mean he's not always such a picky dick?"

  The two girls giggled at the term. At least, Tony hoped that’s what they were laughing at and that they weren't infusing the same innuendo to the term that Tony himself would. Surely, they were too young…but then again, what the fuck did he know about teenagers?

  "Oh, he's always picky, but he's not such a raging ass about it once the Christmas season is over."

  "Really? Isn't Christmas supposed to be fun and, I don't know... jolly?"

  The other girl scoffed. "Not for old Scrooge, it isn't."

  Their conversation moved on to some boy in their class and what he'd said to some girl named Ashley. Fortunately, Tony located a body wash that wouldn't give him hives and headed toward the front of the store.

  Right by the Christmas display, a man with short blond hair blocked the aisle, crouching in front of a small blond kid standing with his mom looking on fondly.

  Tony really needed to get going, but he wasn't going to say a word to clear the aisle, because the ass attached to the blond man looked like a present designed just for him by the Christmas spirits. Taut, firm buttocks stretched charcoal dress pants. A silvery vest fit snuggly over a tapered torso. Pants and vest both perfectly complimented the lilac dress shirt, which looked crisp and freshly ironed.

  A slight frisson of sexual awareness electrified him. If the guy added a tailored suit jacket and his face wasn't hideous, he could easily fit the bill for Tony's suit-porn fetish. He hated wearing staid business attire, hence the full sleeve tats, small ear gauges, and a job that didn't fuss too much about appearances. But, holy hell, he did like a lover who dressed well. And there wasn't any harm in looking at a hot, straight dad.

  All too soon, the nicely built guy stood.

  "Thank you. Merry Christmas, Mr. Murphy," the mom said and turned away, tugging her son with her.

  Tony had a split second to process that Mr. Murphy wasn't her husband before the man whirled around, lips curled into a faint look of distaste, and nearly knocked Tony off his feet.

  Raising his hands defensively, Tony barely managed to avoid a collision. The guy's disdainful expression disappeared lightning-fast, only to be replaced by a plastic smile that might have fooled Tony if he hadn't seen the first glimpse. Faked expression or not, Mr. Murphy was one serious hottie.

  The mini candy canes hooked over the edge of both vest pockets appeared slightly out of place, but Tony wasn't complaining—he loved candy canes.

  "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? I should have been paying attention to where I was going." Mr. Murphy's voice was rich and buttery, like freshly baked shortbread, and Tony wanted to listen to the man all day.

  "No harm done." Tony couldn't keep his own voice from deepening, but he did manage to bite back the very suggestive "Mr. Murphy" that wanted out.

  "Oh, good. I'm so glad." Mr. Murphy let his gaze flick from Tony's chest to groin, then back up to his eyes so quickly that a straight guy probably wouldn't have noticed. The Christmas spirits were favoring him, big time. Sexy Mr. Murphy was gay, no matter how discreet his perusal had been.

  "Can I help you with anything?" The inflection came out with a slight suggestiveness and there was no hope. Tony was a goner. He was taking the opening, even though Mr. Murphy's suddenly pink cheeks indicated the slip may not have been entirely intentional.

  "My name is Antonio—Tony—Delvecchio. I've recently moved into the area and I could use a companion for coffee later tonight." Tony hauled out his best smile because, damn, he wanted to get to know Mr. Murphy, purveyor of candy canes.

  The pink in those apple cheeks intensified. "Welcome to the neighbourhood, Tony. I'm Dean Murphy."

  Dean Murphy. Yum. And the sound of Tony's name on those sexy lips made his cock wake up and take serious notice.

  Dean glanced around as though checking for eavesdroppers. "I don't... I finish tonight at seven."

  "Perfect. Gives me time to hit the gym. I'll meet you back here, and you can show me the best coffee place in the area."

  Looking slightly perplexed, Dean nodded.

  Tony stepped closer and hooked a finger into one of Dean's candy canes. "Can I have one of these, Mr. Murphy?" There was no way to keep the huskiness out of his voice this time, and he was rewarded by a slight hitch of Dean's breath as he leaned in ever so slightly.

  "Dean. Need you at the loading dock." The staticky announcement interrupted “Jingle Bell Rock,” making Dean jerk back, putting a more professional amount of space between them, and leaving Tony clutching only a candy cane and some body wash.

  For a moment, Tony feared the reminder of work was going to fuck everything up, but Dean gave him a smile vastly different from his first plastic one and said, "See you at seven."

  He spun around and dashed away, leaving Tony to admire the way his butt filled those dress pants, and Tony gave thanks that he'd at least partially zipped up his jacket. Scrubs were the fucking worst at hiding erections, even partial ones.

  Grinning widely, he took his body wash to the cash register. He'd be powering through his workout today, the dangling lure of a coffee date with Mr. Dean Murphy more than enough incentive.

  Dean paced outside the store, careful to stay out of the cashiers' sightline, wondering for the billionth time in the past two hours just what the fuck he was doing.

  He didn't do this. Sure, this wasn't the first time he'd had guys try to pick him up at the store. Even, shockingly, the married husbands of regular female customers. But in his five years as manager, he'd never said yes. Not once.

  It wasn't smart. It sure as hell wasn't professional, and his job was all he had. Risking it for a guy—a stranger—wasn't a decision he'd ever thought he'd make.

  He didn't know what made Tony different, but each time Dean thought about sneaking away immediately after his shift, he remembered Tony's laughing brown eyes and the swirl of coloured tattoos peeking out of the V-neck scrub shirt. Then, he'd change his mind right back. Which was why he was outside in the cold, hoping his employees didn't see him doing something so uncharacteristic. He wasn't even sure if any of them knew he was gay; he was extremely tight-lipped about his personal life—mostly because he didn't have a personal life.

  Of course, he'd also clocked out thirty minutes early—which he almost never did—so he could spiff up a bit and pace outside, questioning his sanity. If only he had someone he could ask for advice, but he didn't.

  Forming relationships wasn't something he did well. After years in foster care, he'd long ago come to the conclusion that the only way to make it in life was to rely on himself and no one else. Expecting someone else to be there for you only led to hurt. But there was something compelling and warming about Tony's bright smile and husky voice calling him Mr. Murphy.

  Dean checked the time on his phone again. Still ten more minutes to chicken out and escape. Ten more minutes to wonder if Tony had been full of shit when he said he'd be back. Ten more minutes before feeling foolish when Tony didn't show up.

  A sudden gust of wind swirled around the corner of the building, snaking icy tendrils underneath his coat. Fuck, it was cold. He rubbed his arms and turned his back to the wind. This was stupid. He should just go the fuck home. He had a great anti-Christmas movie ready to go. Changing his normal pre-Christmas, hermit behaviour also wasn't something he did. His breathing sped up as he waffled again over his decision.

  The wind died down and the crunch of a boot on de-icing salt made Dean turn around, and he barely held in a gasp. Or was it a moan that wanted out? The sight of Tony sucking on the candy cane—presumably the same one Dean had given him—like a tiny cock. Even the icy December wind wasn't enough to chase away his burgeoning erection.

  Tony slid the candy out of
his mouth, leaving his lips slick and shiny. Putting up with the sickly sweet taste of peppermint would be worth a chance to kiss those lips.

  Damn it.

  He'd never been a slave to his cock and he didn't know why his libido had chosen this man to ride roughshod all over his self-control.

  "Mr. Murphy."

  Shit. That should not be so fucking hot but it was. Yet another reason Dean decided to give this a chance, even though it was doomed to failure. Guys liked looking at him, but they sure didn't like sticking around.

  "Hello again." Dean didn't know what to say next. After all, he used honorifics with customers, but despite Tony calling him Mr. Murphy, Dean wanted to call him Tony.

  "You didn't have to wait out in the cold. I would’ve come in to get you."

  Dean shrugged. Like he wanted to hang about inside, avoiding explanations to his employees about waiting for a date. Especially when he half-expected to get stood up. The only thing worse than letting anyone see how nervous he was would be the potential humiliation of his date not showing up.

  "Where should we go?" Tony asked.

  That question had taken a lot of Dean's focus in between the swirls of indecision about actually going on the date. He didn’t usually buy coffee. His ratty old coffeemaker gave him a lift before he headed to work, and the pharmacists always had a pot going in the dispensary during the day. It wasn’t great but it was free. There were a couple of places around, so he might as well choose the one closest.

  "There's a place just a couple of blocks away. You're driving, right?" At Tony's affirmative nod, he continued, "You can follow me."

  Although Tony looked like he was going to say something, Dean raised his eyebrows slightly, daring Tony to suggest they drive together. That wasn't any safer than a random Grindr hookup, and no way was Dean getting in a car with someone he'd just met. Not that he expected Tony to be a serial killer or anything, but he might want an easy escape that wasn't terribly awkward.