Page 208 of Men in Shorts

“And he’s pulled it out of the bag in record time. He’s been under loads of pressure from—well, from life.” John seemed to be suppressing his natural gossip urge, so Brodie rewarded him by not pressing further.

“Right, then.” Duncan waved his hand high. “Team conference?”

All Through the House gathered at the end of the sheet. Between the roaring rocks and reverberating shouts from the rest of the rink, Brodie couldn’t hear what Duncan’s team were discussing. They were all nodding, though, which had to be a good sign.

They shared a group hug, then broke apart to rejoin the Herald Angels. Duncan beckoned to Luca and Garen through the warm-room window, and the two men hurried out to join the gathering.

“After a wee huddle,” Duncan said, “we’ve decided the first-place trophy should go to New Shores. They deserve it for all the work they’ve put into this tournament.”

“Aww, cheers, mate.” John gave him a one-armed hug. “You’re right, we do deserve it.”

“Besides,” Duncan said, “it’d look a bit dodgy for the event’s biggest sponsor to win the whole thing.” He gave Garen a little bow. “We’d be honored to accept your special second-place trophy.”

Garen beamed. “All right, then. Happy endings for everyone!”

“Happy endings!” they all cheered in more or less unison, then congratulated one another with a round ofgood curlings.

Instead of shaking Duncan’s hand again, Brodie pulled him into a hug.

Duncan held on so tight, his embrace was literally breathtaking. “Happy endings?” he murmured.

For a moment, Brodie could only nod. Then he loosened his grip and looked Duncan in the eyes. “That’s up to us.”

* * *

“You sure we’reallowed to be here in the middle of the night?” Brodie asked.

“Firstly, it’s just past eleven, hardly the middle of the night.” Duncan turned his key to open the back door of Harris’s Fine Interiors. “Secondly, where else can we go? Mum and Dad’ll be home soon, and you said you didn’t want to go back to Fergus and John’s in case things got ‘heated.’” Duncan wasn’t sure what Brodie had meant byheated—an argument or sex?—but he shared the desire not to have either in their friends’ flat.

Entering the cavernous stockroom, he switched on the overhead light, then frowned at the harsh fluorescent glow. Hardly a romantic setting. “Not here.”

As they walked out onto the shop floor, Brodie let out a low whistle. “They’ve outdone themselves this year.”

The shop did look magical, especially after hours. All the ambient lighting was dimmed, accentuating the faerie lights strung between and within the displays. Duncan loved how here in the shop, everything glimmered a tasteful silver and gold, while at home their decorations were colorful and tacky and fun.

“They hired a service for some of it,” he told Brodie. “The giant tree was still all us, though—my parents and me and the other employees.”

Brodie touched a branch on the five-meter-tall spruce. “Remember that time two years ago when I fell off the ladder into the tree while trying to put the star on top?”

“And I had to rescue you like a firefighter with a cat? I remember.”

To distract himself from his nerves, Duncan adjusted the elements on the smoked-glass surface of the extending dining table (£599), shifting one of the electric candles beside the LED-lighted birch-garland centerpiece (a steal at £29).

“Oh, the stockings.” Brodie touched the toe of the red-and-white-striped one with Duncan’s name stitched upon it. “I remember mine from when I worked here. It had a rainbow.”

“It still does.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’s in a box at Mum and Dad’s waiting for you.”

Brodie scanned the ceiling. “Why are all the lights still on?”

“So window shoppers can see the displays. The lights are on a timer to go off at midnight.” He pulled his arms in tight against his body to keep from shivering. “Thermostat’s also on a timer, which is why it’s so cold in here now.”

“It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’? I can practically see my breath.”

“Still warm compared to Saint Petersburg.” He gave Duncan a sly grin. “See, you’re not the only one who can casually slip a trip abroad into a conversation, Mr. I Spent My Gap Year in America.”

Duncan looked down, tracing the rug’s geometric shapes with his toe. “That’s the difference between you and me. I took a whole year to do nothing but party and screw my way across San Francisco, while you, you went where you were needed. You actually helped people.”

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