Tic-Tac-Mistletoe - N.R. Walker Page 0,5

made me smile.

It smelled of love and hard work. It smelled like my dad . . .

“Here you go, Ren,” Carl said, startling me. He slid three takeout containers onto the counter and pointed to each in turn as he put them into a bag. “Pie. Roast beef, baked veggies, and gravy for you. And some roast offcuts for little Chutney.”

And that was just one of the reasons I loved this town. “Aw, Carl, you are a Christmas angel.”

He beamed at that. “Say, who are you spending Christmas with this year?”

“Just me and Chutney,” I said, knowing where this was going.

“You come and have dinner with us,” he said. “You know my Jenny would love to see you for the holidays.”

“I’m okay,” I said gently. “But thank you. It’s a very kind offer, but I’ll be fine. You enjoy your Christmas.” I took the bag and slid a twenty onto the counter. “And let someone else do the cooking for a change. Have a day off.”

“I have two pies to make tomorrow,” he said, and we both knew it was no chore. He loved every minute.

“Give everyone my best,” I said, heading back out into the cold.

“Be good!” he called out, and I heard him lock the door behind me. I made it back into my store and turned the sign from open to closed, then slid home the deadbolt. I pulled the shutters down and Chutney was soon under my feet, very interested in the bag of food I had.

“Soon, girl,” I said, giving her a quick rub on the head. “Let’s get home, huh?”

After everything was done, I pulled the back door locked and got Chutney and the bag of food into my truck and cranked the heat on, ready for three days off work. Three days of quiet, three days of watching movies, reading books, making soup, and pretending I wasn’t lonely.

And truth be told, I wasn’t lonely. Well, for 362 days of the year I wasn’t. But Thanksgiving, Christmas, and my birthday were the worst. I loved my life in Hartbridge. I’d spent time in Denver and even LA, but I was a country boy at heart.

I was a gay country boy, which seemed to add to my loneliness. Not that the good folks of Hartbridge had a problem with it. There just wasn’t a line of eligible gay guys knocking on my door. Hell, there weren’t any gay guys, eligible or not.

Most of the kids who grew up in Hartbridge couldn’t wait to leave, but the LGBTQ kids? They were gone as soon as they were able. I didn’t blame them. They needed more than what this town had to offer, and I got that. But my heart was here. I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to. I’d long ago made peace with a possible life of solitude, and I didn’t even miss sex that much. After a while, it wasn’t important.

Chutney yipped at me, probably wondering why we were still parked behind the shop and why I was staring out the windshield at the still-falling snow and not driving home already.

“Yeah, okay,” I grumbled. “I know you can smell what’s in that bag.”

Chutney grinned at me, so I gave her another quick pat, put the truck into gear, and made the slow drive home.

True to form, Carl had given me enough food to feed both me and Chutney for three days. Once we’d eaten enough, I stoked up the fire and decided I should cart some more wood up from the woodpile to the porch so it could dry over the next few days. The storm was coming in hard now and it’d be a few days before anyone was going anywhere. I had enough dry wood to last me a few weeks if needed, but I’d always been told it was best to be prepared for the worst.

I pulled on my coat and hat, snow boots and gloves, and went out to the side of the house and trudged through the snow toward the woodshed when I heard something. The snow and wind could play tricks with your mind, making you think you hear things that aren’t there, but I could have sworn there was a faint noise coming from the road.

I stopped and listened, hearing it again. I pulled off my hat and turned my ear to the sound.

A car horn.

Someone was in trouble.

I pulled my hat back on and ran to the house to grab my keys, then raced back