Page 17 of Dragged Home for Christmas

“What do you mean,so?”

Ashley cocked her head. “If he did, that might answer one question.”

“And which one would that be?” Mike had a list.

She met his gaze. “What drove a wedge between him and your dad. Maybe having an older brother who wore dresses, heels, and a wig was something your dad couldn’t stomach.” Ashley bit her lip. “And maybe he didn’t want his brother giving you bad ideas. Leading you down the wrong path.”

Mike frowned. “But there’s nothing wrong with doingdrag.”

“Youthink that—maybe your dad doesn’t share the same opinion. You just don’t know what went on in his mind. Gay? That’s okay. Drag queen? Deviant. And the apple might not fall too far from the tree. Think aboutyourinitial reaction.” She closed the closet doors and looked around. “I wonder where he kept his makeup.”

Mike reopened them and stared at the rack of dresses. He sniffed. “That takes me back,” he muttered.

“What does?”

“I can smell butterscotch. It reminds me of Nick. He always had a bag of butterscotch candy on him every time he visited us when I was a kid.” He smiled. They were pleasant memories. Then he turned to see what Ashley was doing. She’d gone over to the drawers and opened the top one.

“I forgot how curious you are,” he observed. When she didn’t reply, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Not wrong,” she corrected. “I think I’ve discovered another of your uncle’s secrets, that’s all.” She reached into the drawer and removed a framed photo, then turned it around to show him.

Mike gazed at the photo. “Well, that’s Nick. As for who the other guy is, I have no idea.” He was younger than Nick, maybe in his thirties, with short, spiky hair and a kindly face. He sat in front of Nick, whose arms went around him, holding him close.

They meant something to each other.

He was glad Nick had found someone, even if it was a man who had to be half his age.Good for him.

Ashley set the photo frame on top of the chest of drawers, then removed another. “Oh my God. Iknowher.”

Mike moved closer to get a better look. The photo was Nick sitting in one of the armchairs in the lobby, andstanding behind him, leaning on the chair wings was a drag queen, her pink hair arranged in flamboyant waves, a pink feather boa around her neck, and her hands encased in pale pink satin gloves.

“Who is she?”

Ashley gasped. “Didn’t you watchHollywood Queen?”

“And what’s that?”

“It’s that Drag Queen reality TV show. You know, the one shot in LA.” She pointed at the photo. “That’s Polly Amoray. She won it about three years ago, and now she’s making mega bucks over there.” Ashley frowned. “Well, she was. I haven’t read anything recent about her, now I come to think about it.”

Mike peered closer. “I could be imagining it, but do you think the guy in the photo with Nick, and Polly Amoray could be one and the same?”

Ashley stared at it for a moment. “Oh wow. I think you’re right.” She grinned. “Sneaky old Nick. I wish I’d met him.”

Mike was beginning to think he hadn’t known Nick at all.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.” He stripped down to his shorts and then climbed into bed, snuggling down under the comforter. He’d left the space heater Sam had placed in the room on a low setting—the air in there had been frigid. Ashley wasn’t long in joining him, and as soon as she buried her nose under the covers, Mike switched off the lamp on the nightstand.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered. “You’re going to have your own space.”

“And what does that mean?” she retorted.

He chuckled. “I’ve lived with you, remember? I knowyour little ways.”

She gasped. “Are you saying I’m a slob?”

“No, I’mnotsaying that, but compared to you, Oscar the Grouch was a neat freak.”

She let out another gasp, and suddenly cold fingers pinched his arm.

---