“Shut up,” Nick said reflexively. His thoughts caught up quick enough to say, “Don’t call her a broad.” He hated when Charlie’s usual buoyancy went flat.
Charlie’s tone warmed slightly. “Mom sent a box of goodies, including three dozen cookies I’m counting on you to come over and eat.”
“I might be able to do that. Brian will help.”
“Help what?” Brian asked from where he’d slid back into bed against Nick’s hip.
“Eat cookies.”
“For breakfast?”
“Hell, yeah,” Charlie said over the phone. “Best kind. I’ll even make you guys bacon. But don’t be too long or the dog’ll get your share.”
“We’ll be right over. In a bit.” Nick tapped off and set the phone aside.
“How much of a bit?” Brian rubbed his stubbled cheek against Nick’s arm.
“Enough for a snack. Take the edge off.” Nick pushed Brian over onto his back and slid down the bed. Mmm. Big, warm, soft, drowsy man. With a not so drowsy cock. Great Christmas present. Nick bent to his work.
Chapter 14
By the time they’d finished with each other, and showered and dressed, it was almost eleven. Nick debated going by the sheriff’s station first to get his gun, but Gannet had said ten. By now, she’d probably be home for her own Christmas. Wasn’t she supposedly married? Someone else would surely be there manning the desk, or womanning it, but he wanted another chat with Gannet. He drove them straight to Charlie’s place instead.
The duplex smelled of warm apple pie and vanilla as Charlie let them in the building. They’d barely crowded into the foyer when the Kings’ apartment door popped open, and Frank grinned at them. “Hey. Thought I recognized that engine. You need to get your serpentine belt checked.”
“Huh?” Nick frowned.
Frank tilted his head and tapped his hearing aid. “These things make background noises loud. That squeal you’ve got? Trust me on this one. Anyway, Helen wanted to make sure you know y’all are invited to come over for Christmas dinner. Around four.”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said.
“Now, you wouldn’t want to disappoint Helen. She’s been cooking for days.”
His wife appeared at his elbow. “Frank, they probably have their own plans. I love to cook. It’s a habit by now, and there’s nothing wrong with leftovers.”
“We’d like to,” Brian said, surprising Nick by speaking up. “Yasmin’s going to another potluck and we could come along, but I said no, but… this would be nice. If you really want us?”
“Of course.” The smile on Helen’s face went from polite to brilliant. “Oh, my. I’d best get ready then. How many of you? I’m making plenty.”
Brian glanced at Nick and Charlie, then said, “The three of us, and my s— cousin, I guess.”
Frank said, “And that black young man? He’d be welcome too. Helen does some mean collard greens.” He grunted and turned to look at his wife. “What?”
If she’d elbowed him, it didn’t show in her face. She said, “Everyone’s welcome. Come on by. Four o’clock.” Backing up a step, smile still wide, she added, “I have to put the turkey in soon. And the dressing. I hope y’all bring good appetites.”
Charlie said, “If it tastes half as amazing as it already smells, we’ll eat you out of house and home.”
Frank muttered something inaudible as his wife tugged him back and closed the door. Charlie gave Nick a wry look, then led the way upstairs.
The second-floor apartment was warm, and either Lori or Charlie had made an effort with holiday decorating, although it didn’t beat the aroma of baking pies. Lori turned away from the front window as they came in. The lights from the tree in the corner glinted off sequins on her big, red sweater. She looked like she was carrying triplets, although Nick didn’t understand how she got that much bigger in a few days. She’d gone from brown to auburn with her hair.
Brian had one moment to say, “Nice shirt, Lor,” and set the bag with gifts aside before Luger scrabbled out of the back room to greet him. The big dog skidded to a stop, rose to put front paws on Brian’s shoulders and swiped his face with a happy tongue. Brian hugged Luger, laughing, then pushed him down. “Sit, you lunatic. Sit.” He knelt and laid his cheek on the dog’s ruff. His eyes were wonderfully bright.
Nick cleared his throat. “You call that taking care of the dog, Connors? Making him forget all his manners?”