Page 63 of Dragged Home for Christmas

“You could always help me wash it off in the shower.” Mike suggested, his cock rising at the thought of them under the jets, his hands flat to the tiles, arms braced while—

Sam coughed. “Want to tell me where your mind just went?”

Mike grinned. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll show you.”

Chapter 20

Thursday, December 19

The day before the first show

Mike seemed to be suffering from a permanently dry mouth, a sensitive stomach, and a lump lodged in his throat. He knew it was just the jitters. He also knew there was nothing to be worried about.

That knowledge didn’t soothe him as much as it should have done.

Everything was ready for the following evening’s performance, the first of five nights, but he still had palpitations every time he so much as glanced at his costume.

It didn’t help that the place was filled with noise either. Gabe had drafted in some friends to make sure every room was ready for the grand reopening that weekend, and the bathrooms were almost finished.

The new sign had arrived that morning, and Mike had to fight back tears when he saw the wordsNick’s Place. Anthony had organized a short unveiling ceremony, including a bottle of champagne, and the six of them had stood in a solemn little circle, their glasses raised to toast a new beginning—and Nick.

“Here.” Sam’s nudge and the aroma of coffee brought him back into the present.

“Thanks.” Somewhere, someone let out a loud expletive, and Mike chuckled. “Andanotherhammer lands in the wrong place.”

Sam stood behind him and slipped his arms around Mike’s waist. “We’ve gotten through the hard part. Everything’s coming together, just like I said it would.”

“We still have the shows to put on, Mr. Glass Half Full.”

Sam nuzzled his neck, sending a shiver through him. “And they’ll be awesome.You’llbe awesome. Just you wait and see.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, I’d have a better idea of exactlyhowawesome if I’d seen even part of your act.”

Mike laughed. “Nope. And you can stop fishing.” Elliott was humming to himself as he poured the tea, and Mike turned to stare at him. “Iknowthat song.”

He stilled. “Really? It was by a British band called—”

“Talking Heads,” Mike finished. “Road to Nowhere.” He smiled. “First time I heard that, Nick had taken me on a trip to…. I forget where. I must’ve been about seven. He’d turned up one day and asked my dad if he could borrow me. He played that song in the car.” He rubbed his chin. “Wait, I’ve got it. The Dr. Seuss National Memorial Sculpture Garden in Springfield. It hadn’t been open all that long, and he wanted me to see it.” His throat tightened. “That was a good day. For years after, every time I heard that song, it reminded me to that day. And then I forgot it—until now.” He smiled. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“My pleasure. Only, I have no idea why I chose to hum that particular song.” Elliott smiled. “One of those things, I guess.”

Movement out in the street caught Mike’s eye, and he scowled. “Looks like Ben Sharp isn’t giving up after all. Although I don’t think turning up in a limousine is going to impress anyone here.” The long black car came to a stop close to the front steps.

Sam peered through the window as the driver got out and went to open the rear door. He huffed. “I vote we don’t even let him in. That’ll get the message acro—” He froze. “Idon’t fucking believe it.”

Mike watched as a woman with shoulder-length brown hair climbed out of the car, smothered by a thick fur coat, her legs encased in the tightest jeans Mike had ever seen. “Whoisthat?” He glanced at Sam, surprised to see his jaw set. “Babe? Who is she?” There was something familiar about her.

“Thatis Polly fucking Amoray.”

“What?” Ashley squealed and launched herself across the lobby. “Lemme see.” She pressed her hands to the glass and let out a shriek. “Oh my God, it is!”

Polly teetered up the steps in outrageously high heels that had no place in such a snow-covered landscape. When she reached the door, she beamed when she saw Sam.

“Candy baby!” She flung her arms wide.

Sam took a step backward, and behind him, Mike heard the others hurry into the lobby.

“You have got to be fuckingkidding.” That was Jim.

Then Mike watched as the driver carried two fat suitcases up the steps.

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