Page 81 of Must Love Christmas

Garen’s face had turned pensive. “If you handled event registration, that means whoever’s currently signed up to do it could help Gillian host, showing the new curlers where to go and what to do. I suppose you could also help me commentate for the livestream.”

“Sure, though I hardly know anything about curling.”

“That might be for the best.” Garen nodded, seeming to warm to the idea. “This event is for brand-new curlers. Their friends and families will be watching, so you can pose all the questions our audience are dying to know but are too shy to ask.” He waved the tea towel again. “With our top-notch banter, we’ll be a hit.”

“And if I get tired, I’ll just order a car and come home by myself. You won’t need to worry about me.”

“I may notneedto,” Garen said, “but I’ll do it anyway.”

Simon’s arm had stopped throbbing, so he added the rest of the flour mixture to the bowl. The dough began to solidify, providing greater resistance to his efforts.

Garen washed and dried the beaters, then turned to Simon. “What can I do now?”

“Spread some flour on the table here. Just a thin layer.”

Garen did as he was asked, spilling half the flour onto the floor. “I’ll wipe that up.”

“Wait until we’re done. Things are about to get messy.”

“Messy is my specialty.” Garen pushed up his sleeves. “‘Messy McLaren,’ they call me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Simon lifted the ball of dough from the bowl and dumped it onto the floured table. “Would you like to knead it?”

“Oh aye. It looks so satisfying.” Garen jabbed at the dough with his knuckles. “Is this right?”

“Here.” Simon got to his feet, noticing that his legs felt rested already. He stood behind Garen and reached round to take his hands. “It’s about fluidity, see.” He interlaced their fingers and took Garen through the motions. “You want to stretch the dough with the heels, then fold it back with your fingertips. Then turn the dough ninety degrees and repeat.” He let go and rested his palms lightly on Garen’s forearms. “Now you try.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect,” Simon whispered, the proximity of Garen’s body making his head swim. He took Garen’s exposed earlobe gently between his teeth. “I can’t wait until my legs are stronger and I can just…”

“Just what?” Garen arched his back, brushing his arse against Simon’s crotch. “Bend me over this table and pound me senseless?”

“Something like that,” Simon said, though he would never in a million years have sex in a kitchen. He swept his lips over Garen’s bare nape. “Seems a more inspiring rehab goal than riding a bicycle.”

“Mmm.” Garen molded his body against Simon’s. “If you don’t stop, we’ll need to take a break, which I sense would be bad timing for this dough.”

“It would be.” Reluctantly, Simon let go of him and returned to the chair. “I can still watch you from here.”

Garen gave an adorable smirk, but remained unusually quiet as he continued to knead. Finally he said, “I’m sorry about last night, when I said you were fragile. I don’t want to make you feel weak.”

“Weakness is part of who I am right now, and the sooner I accept it, the sooner I’ll be strong again.” Simon rubbed his right arm, which still burned from the stirring. “Besides, wasn’t it you who told me strength was about character, that no illness could take that away from me?”

“Och, I was so stoned on those cold meds when I said that.” Garen kept kneading. “Looks like you’re the one growing up.”

Like I’ve got a choice.“It’s hard to be a control freak when you can’t control much of anything.”

“Would it help if you tied me up and had your way with me?”

Simon laughed, though the idea did have appeal. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Garen bobbed his eyebrows at him. “Whatever you need, love. I’m here for it.”

“Ta.” Simon reached out and poked the gingerbread dough. “I think this is done. Time to wrap it.” He watched Garen fetch the box of cling film from a drawer, then risked an awkward question. “So if I meet more of your friends at the rink Saturday, how will you introduce me now?”

“Welllll…” Garen tore a piece of film with a dramatic flourish. “How do you want to be introduced?”

Simon looked away and scratched his ear. “That’s a loaded question.”

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