Page 30 of No Business Like Snow Business

Sterling and I went to Frosty’s for dinner and ordered quesadillas and nachos, because Frosty’s was that kind of place. It was warm and friendly and laid back, and had a family atmosphere. Christmas lights twinkled on the shelves of liquor behind the bar and on the Christmas tree in the window. A little paper bag sat on the table by Sterling’s elbow; he’d been carrying it since the museum.

I felt a little awkward, because I didn’t know if this was just a meal between two new friends, or if it was a date. Given that I’d straddled Sterling earlier and stuck my tongue down his throat in my grandma’s car, you’d think there’d be less ambiguity in the whole situation, But no, the ambiguity was hanging thick as a fog over the table, and I searched desperately for a topic of conversation before I did something unthinkable, like communicating like an adult.

“Did you buy something at the Arts and Crafts Fair?” I asked, nodding at the bag.

He smiled. “I did.” He opened the bag and pulled out a little wooden reindeer. It was painted green with red spots, and had sparkling gold antlers and, naturally, a bright red nose. “I’ve named him Rudolph.”

“Well, of course,” I said. “Look at the nose on him. I didn’t know Rudolph was part Dalmatian, though.”

“His spots are very striking,” Sterling agreed. “It’s so weird they didn’t mention them in the song when they’re clearly even more impressive than his nose.”

“Maybe it’s one of those things they figured they didn’t need to mention because everyone already knew. Except then everyone went and forgot about it.”

“Like your feast of medieval birds inThe Twelve Days of Christmas.” Sterling’s mouth curved into a warm smile.

“Well, to be fair, we’ve had a lot longer to forget about the birds,” I said. “Rudolph is less than a century old.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to tell me he never had spots, aren’t you?”

“Or antlers.” I picked up Sterling’s Rudolph and making him trot across the table through the forest of sauce bottles and salt and pepper shakers. “Rudolph’s story was commissioned by Montgomery Ward, the department store, as a promotionalcoloring book, so I guess you could have drawn your own antlers on.”

“And spots,” Sterling said, his smile growing. “You really are a Christmas encyclopedia, aren’t you?”

“It’s part of the job description.” I waited to feel the sinking sensation in my stomach I did whenever Steven made some comment about my interests. The feeling didn’t come, and I realized it was because Sterling had made an observation, not a criticism. There was nothing barbed in his tone, or sharp in his smile. I ducked my head to hide my sudden flush, and pushed the spotty reindeer gently back to his side of the table. “He’s very cute.”

“He’s not the only one,” Sterling said, stealing one of my corn chips and popping it in his mouth.

Well, I guess I knew what kind of dinner this was now?

Usually, the added pressure of this being a date kind of dinner would have made me even more awkward, but it didn’t with Sterling. Maybe it was his spotty reindeer or his nacho-stealing ways, or maybe it was because we’d already spent the last few days hanging around together, but this felt fine. And not dog-in-a-burning-room fine.Actuallyfine. This dinner reminded me of how comfortable I’d felt on my recent date with Jett, except there was an undercurrent of tension running between Sterling and I that had been absent with Jett. Not bad tension.Goodtension. It was the electric crackle of attraction and anticipation, and I hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever.

Even if Sterling was a nacho-stealing asshole.

We didn’t order dessert and, when we left Frosty’s, we walked so closely together that our arms brushed with every step.

The night was cold, but the street sparkled with lights. It was still early enough that Santa’s Village was full of activity, especially up toward Sugar Plum Park. At night, the park lookedmagical, and I sometimes liked to go there on my way home from work just to grab a hot cider and watch the couples ice-skating on the pop up rink that was installed every year. But we didn’t go to the park now; without discussing it, we walked out of downtown toward the Pear Tree Inn, arms still brushing.

Bells jingled as a reindeer pulled a sleigh along the street.

“This place is crazy,” Sterling said, but he said it with a smile as though he liked it.

We continued on to the hotel, and I followed Sterling into reception and along the corridor to his room.

Sterling’s room at the Pear Tree was nice in a cozy sort of midwestern way that didn’t suit him at all. The comforter was patchwork, in shades of green, red and gold, and there was a fabric hanging on the wall of an appliqué Christmas tree that was giving off some serious 1970s craft magazine vibes. Were those lights on the appliquéd treereal? I stuck my hands in my pockets before I succumbed to the urge to investigate.

No, the room didn’t suit Sterling, but it definitely suited Rudolph, who Sterling took out of his bag and set on the nightstand. Then he looked at me and gave a rueful shrug. “There’s not much in the minibar, I’m afraid.”

“Minibars are for suckers. There’s a gas station right across the street.”

He gave me one of those looks that reminded me we were from very different worlds. I wasn’t even sure how different they were, but it was pretty clear that Sterling Van Ruyven had never done an emergency snack run to the nearest gas station.

He glanced at the door though, as if he was considering it now.

“I’ll bet it’s not as dire as you think,” I said, and leaned down to open the wonky little refrigerator underneath the TV. A mini sized can of soda and a couple of candy bars stared back at me. “Score!”

Sterling gave me a dubious look as I helped myself to one of the candy bars that would probably cost him five dollars when he checked out. I assured myself it was fine; I’d seen the platinum card he’d used to pay for dinner. A candy bar wasn’t going to break the bank for him. Still, I put the candy bar back and straightened up again.

It felt as though there should have been a moment of profound awkwardness—my life so far had been punctuated by those, and never more so than in potentially intimate moments—but Sterling’s smile took up all the space my awkwardness would have filled. When he closed the gap between us, I felt nothing but that same electric crackle of anticipation I’d felt back at Frosty’s.

---