Page 1 of Celebrating the Season (Forestville Silver Foxes)

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BOAZ

T he scent of greasy fries and stale beer hit me as I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Four Foxes Bar and Grille. Bit of a pretentious name for what looked like a cliché bar in some middle-of-nowhere town in rural Washington, but whatever. It was where my father and Hawk had met, hence their choice to hold their bachelor party here. The bar was closed on Mondays, making it the perfect day to hold a private bachelor party there, my father had assured me.

The bar was decked out in Christmas decorations with strings of multicolored lights adorning the walls and ceilings while a large Christmas tree stood in the corner. Red, green, and gold tinsel was everywhere, making the bar feel festive and cozy. A faint pine scent did its best to cover the smell of fried foods but couldn’t quite manage. Mariah was belting out what she wanted for Christmas, her pipes easily rising above the chatter of the patrons.

I scanned the room, my eyes drawn to the center where my dad was laughing heartily at something Hawk had said. The crinkles around his eyes had grown sharper over the years, but he was still a handsome man, objectively speaking. And Hawk was downright hot. He might become my official stepdad in a few weeks, but I wasn’t blind, okay?

Hawk wrapped his arm around my dad, and Dad leaned into his space as they shared a moment. It made my chest ache a little, seeing how happy he was. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable with who he was, and I couldn’t be happier he’d found his forever man. Hawk was a great guy, and he loved my dad, which was all that mattered.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!”

I turned to see Jesse, my father’s best friend, sauntering toward me with his shit-eating grin that always spelled trouble. My stomach did a little flip—half excitement, half dread.

He was hot. Really hot. He was also trouble with a capital T. I would’ve considered tapping that if my father hadn’t threatened Jesse that if he ever touched me, my father would kill him with his bare hands—though he would probably outsource the job to Hawk, who was much more likely to pull that off. I liked Jesse too much to see him harmed, so off-limits it was. Sadly. Rumors were he fucked like a horny stallion, and I could really use some of that right now, but alas.

“Jesse! Hey, man, how’s it—” He cut me off with a bear hug that knocked the wind out of me.

“Boaz, darling! Fashionably late as always.” Jesse chuckled, releasing me from his grip. “But you’re still on time for the surprise entertainment.”

“Oh god,” I groaned, running a hand through my curls. “Please tell me it’s not another one of your infamous karaoke contests. I’m still traumatized from last time.”

Jesse’s eyes glinted. “Oh no, this is way better. Let’s just say Santa might be coming to town.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Santa? Jesse, it’s a bachelor party, not some Christmas shindig. Unless Santa is gonna strip, I doubt anyone will appreciate his presence.”

Oh, a stripping Santa. How much fun would that be? It would need to be a hot Santa, of course, but he’d have lots of layers to get through until the final reveal. Maybe a fur thong?

“Nuh-uh.” Jesse waggled a finger at me, and I refocused. “No spoilers. You’ll have to wait and see.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to read his expression. Jesse’s idea of “fun” tended to be hit or miss, usually veering toward the chaotic. But damn if my curiosity wasn’t piqued.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” I huffed, a grin tugging at my lips despite myself. “But if this ends with me bailing you out of jail again, I’m telling my dad.”

Jesse laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. “Trust me, kid. This is gonna be a night you won’t forget.”

What kind of Santa could Jesse have arranged? And why did I have a feeling I would end up regretting this? “If you say so.”

I stopped by my father and Hawk to say hi.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” My father hugged me tightly, as he’d been doing a lot lately. At only forty-six, he wasn’t old enough for sentimentality, so maybe it was wedding jitters? And yes, he was only seventeen when I was born. Guess he and my mom didn’t listen to the safe sex talk as teens.

“You too, Dad. This party is popping.”

He grinned at me. “No, it’s not, but that’s fine by me. You have no idea how many of Jesse’s ideas we had to veto.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “What else did you expect when you put him in charge of organizing this?”

My father leaned in. “I didn’t. He assumed, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him no.”

That was my dad for ya. He was such a bleeding heart. Good thing Hawk was an honorable dude who would never take advantage of that. I patted my dad’s shoulder. “Good luck with that, Dad.”

Hawk gave me a firm hug. “Thanks for coming, Boaz. It means a lot to us.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Which was true, even if I had low expectations of the level of fun—even more now that I knew Jesse had arranged for a fucking Santa to show up.

I sidled up to the bar, my fingers tapping an erratic rhythm on the sticky surface. It took a while before it was my turn, but I didn’t mind. Watching the bartender work was a pleasure in itself. Probably around my father’s age, he was a mountain of a man, built like a goddamn wall, and his muscles rippled every time he moved. His shirt was so tight that I feared one good flex would rip it, but I wasn’t complaining.

Was he straight? I prided myself on a near-perfect gaydar, but I couldn’t get a good read on him. Because seriously, if he was into men and liked twinks, I would happily let him pound me against a wall. Or over the edge of a table. Or even a restroom sink. I wasn’t particular about these things.

My eye fell on his ring. Of course he was married. The good ones always were. Sigh.

I waved to get his attention, and he came over.

“Hi, I’m Boaz.” I batted my eyes at him in case it wasn’t a wedding ring.

He flashed me a grin. “Jack.”

I pointed at his ring. “You taken?”

His face lit up with the goofiest, lovesick smile ever. Dammit. “Very much so. Sorry, kid.” He pointed at the guy rinsing glasses. “That’s my man, Sawyer.”

The dude was equally good-looking, though with a very different build. Damn, they grew ’em hot in this little town. “It’s a little unfair that two super-hot guys are together,” I complained. “Leave some for the rest of us, would ya?”

Jack laughed, a sexy, low rumble. “I’m way too old for you, kid.”

“Nah. I like my men well-seasoned.” I sighed dramatically. “Well, if you’re ever in the mood for some fun with a third, hit me up, okay? I do a mean spitroast.”

His eyes widened. “You’re direct.”

I shrugged. “No sense in beating around the bush when you know what you want, right? Anyway, can I get something sweet, fruity, and with plenty of alcohol?”

“Sure. Bahama Mama sound good?”

“Make it a Bahama Daddy, and it sounds perfect.”

He was still laughing when he handed me my drink two minutes later. “Here ya go, kid. Try to stay out of trouble.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“Boaz! There you are, you little troublemaker,” a familiar voice rang out. I turned to see Uncle Desmond—not really my uncle, but as Jesse’s father, he might as well be—waving enthusiastically. He was local to this little town of Forestville and was the reason my father and Hawk met. Which he reminded them of every chance he got.

“Hey, Uncle Desmond.” I leaned in for a hug. “How’s life treating you? Still terrorizing the Bingo hall?”

He swatted my arm playfully. “Watch it, you. I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champion six weeks running.”

I laughed, the sound mingling with the cacophony of voices and clinking glasses around us. At least everyone seemed to be having fun.

“So…” Uncle Desmond leaned in conspiratorially. “Any handsome fellas caught your eye lately?”

I groaned internally. He always asked. “Uncle Desmond, you know I’m?—”

The words died in my throat as the door swung open, a hush falling over the room. My jaw dropped, my drink forgotten as I took in the sight before me.

“Oh, Santa is here,” Jesse said.

Santa had arrived, all right. But this was no jolly old man with a belly like a bowl full of jelly. No, this Santa was tall, built like a linebacker, with biceps straining against the red velvet of his suit. The white trim accentuated broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and the beard—which was real and thus shorter and more salt and pepper than white—couldn’t hide the sharp line of his jaw.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, my heart doing a weird flutter. Was it hot in here, or was it me?

As Santa’s piercing blue eyes scanned the room, they locked on mine for a brief, electrifying moment. A jolt of excitement shot through me, mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity and…something else I couldn’t quite name.

I licked my suddenly dry lips, my mind racing. Who was this guy? And, more importantly, how the hell was I going to get him out of that suit?

Santa’s deep, resonant voice filled the room as he greeted everyone with a “Ho, ho, ho!” that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he made his way through the crowd, his movements confident and purposeful as he greeted the two grooms, wishing them well, before moving on to the other guests.

“Damn,” I muttered to myself, fidgeting with the condensation on my glass. My leg bounced restlessly as I watched him, my mind spinning with possibilities. That was one Santa I wouldn’t mind seeing coming down my chimney.

I watched as Santa had a short conversation with Jesse, who looked…disappointed? Had he expected someone else? I had no clue, but I was not complaining about this Santa.

Before I could overthink it, I set my drink down and wove through the crowd, my heart pounding with each step. I felt giddy, almost lightheaded, with anticipation as I approached him.

Santa turned, those sharp blue eyes meeting mine once more. Up close, I could see the hint of a smirk beneath his beard, which only fueled my determination.

“Well, hello there.” I flashed him my most dazzling smile. “I’ve got to say, Santa, you’re looking pretty fit this year. What’s your secret? Crossfit? Pilates? Or is it all the up and down the chimneys?”

Santa’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “It’s all about balance.” His voice was a low rumble that sent tingles through my body. “Milk, cookies, and plenty of…physical activity.”

“Oh, I bet.” I grinned, leaning closer to him. My heart was racing, but I pressed on. “So, Santa, I’ve been wondering, do you take requests for lap-sitting? Because I’ve got a few things I’d like to ask for this year.”

I held my breath, waiting for his response. Would he play along, or had I pushed too far? I had no idea if the man was even queer, but then he took me in, letting his eyes roam over my body without any hurry.

So, not straight.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

Santa chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he gestured to a chair next to the Christmas tree. “Well, aren’t you a naughty one? Come on then, let’s hear what you’ve got on your list.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as he sat down, I settled on his lap, aware of the warmth and strength beneath me. His thighs were firm, muscular—not your typical mall Santa. I shifted slightly, getting comfortable, and felt a jolt of excitement when I realized how close we were.

Leaning in, I lowered my voice to a teasing whisper. “You know, Santa, I’ve always had a thing for men in uniform. But I’ve got to say, the red suit is doing it for me.”

Santa’s arm wrapped around my waist, steadying me. His touch, even through the fabric of his gloves and my shirt, sent shivers down my spine. “Is that so?” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “And here I thought the beard was my best feature.”

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. It felt good to flirt like this, to let loose and enjoy the moment. “Oh, don’t sell yourself short. The whole package is pretty impressive. But I have to wonder. What’s Santa packing under that suit?”

My mind was racing a mile a minute, thoughts tumbling over each other like excited puppies. Santa’s gaze locked on mine, intense and unwavering. It felt like he was peering straight into my soul, seeing past all my usual deflections and witty comebacks.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Santa rumbled. Everything about him turned me on, including his voice.

“God, why are you so freaking hot? It should be illegal to be this sexy in a Santa suit. I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to concentrate on anything else when you’re sitting here looking like a snack? A whole damn meal, actually. I just?—”

Santa’s low chuckle cut off my rambling. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb tracing small circles on my hip. “You always this chatty?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Sorry, I tend to talk a lot when I’m nervous. Or excited. Or, well, breathing, I guess. It’s kind of my thing. My ex used to say I could talk the ear off a statue. Which is ridiculous because statues don’t have ears, right? Unless it’s, like, a statue of a person, I suppose, but then?—”

“What’s your name?”

I swallowed. “Boaz.”

“Mmm, that’s a pretty name.”

“Wanna find out how pretty the rest of me is?”

“Careful now,” Santa warned, but his tone was playful. “You wouldn’t want to end up on the naughty list.”

I bit my lip, my cheeks warming from a mix of embarrassment and arousal. “Maybe that’s exactly where I want to be.”

I felt more than heard Santa’s sharp intake of breath. His grip on my hip tightened, and when he spoke, his voice was low and full of promise. “Careful what you wish for, little boy. Santa’s got a big sack full of…presents for boys who misbehave.”

A jolt of arousal shot through me, making me squirm. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Santa’s eyes darkened. “Keep pushing your luck, and you might find out. I’ve got a firm knee and a fast hand that are perfect for naughty boys who can’t control their mouths.”

The bustling party faded into the background, becoming nothing more than a dull roar in my ears. My entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the feeling of Santa’s strong thighs beneath me and the intensity of his gaze. My heart raced, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

I bit my lip, torn between excitement and a tiny flicker of apprehension. “Maybe I need someone to teach me a lesson in self-control,” I murmured, my impulsive nature getting the better of me.

Santa’s grin was positively wicked. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you have no idea what you’re in for.”