Page 67 of Ropers Can't Tie Knots
“I thought you said the crosswords were Greek mythology themed?”
He smirks and sets his now-empty glass of amaretto down. “Well…” He licks his lips. “I lied. A little. Those are somewhere, too, but I thought you’d appreciate this more.”
“You…” I reach over and pull him onto my lap. “Are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I love your dirty mind.” It’s almost hard to remember a time when I was so against even having him stay here temporarily. Now I never want him to leave. “I might have to thank Jamieson for pushing me to let you stay here. Maybe send him a lifetime supply of blueberries or something.”
Gabe swivels his hips on my lap with a suggestive smirk on his lips.
“Or you could not think of Jamieson right now and turn to page twenty-seven.” Gabe slides off my lap and sways, the amaretto clearly kicking in as he giggles like a child.
When I turn to page twenty-seven, I groan and close my eyes. “Gabe… goddamn, you’re trying to kill me.” Staring at the page and back at him, a thought occurs. “Wait a minute. Who took these pictures, and do you still have the toys?”
How did I miss this the first time? A naked Gabe with his legs in the air and a variety of sex toys spread on the floor around him fills the background for a puzzle themed for amusement parks, and honestly…it’s pretty clever.
“Don’t worry, I have a tripod and a camera with a timer. Nobody saw me, doll.” He smirks and turns for the stairs. “Yes, I still have the toys.” He takes the stairs faster while he laughs. “But they might be in the taped-up present you didn’t open yet!”
Already with my foot on the stairs to follow him, I pause and glance at the tree. One large box remains.
“If he thinks I’m not using scissors to double check this box…” I mutter under my breath as I grab the box and stab at it, past not caring if I hurt the contents because my dick is hard enough it might be difficult to walk.
It feels too light to contain all the toys in that photo, but I’d hate to get upstairs and find out they were in this box and need to come back again. Finally ripping it open, I find a single note card under a pile of tissue paper, written in Gabe’s neat cursive.
Merry Christmas, doll. By the time you read this, I’m already waiting for you upstairs…with everything in that picture. Gotcha :-)
With a laugh, I press on my erection and decide to take my time. If Gabe, a camera, and half a dozen sex toys are the rest of my Christmas gifts, I’ve been a very,verygood boy.
But not for long.
After refilling our glasses and unplugging the tree, I make sure the fire is dying down and head up the stairs, hoping to find Gabe in bed wearing nothing but a smile.
I laugh softly at the doorway of our bedroom. Gabe is in bed, at least. Snoring and buck naked on top of the comforter. The toys from his photos sit on the night table, and I shake my head.
I can’t even be mad. Instead, I grab a spare blanket off the chair in the corner and cover him with it before stripping down and sliding next to him.
“Still the best Christmas ever. I love you, counsellor. Don’t ever change.”
nineteen
Gabe
“Honestly, Riley, make sure we have hot dogs. I’m fine with it.”
My best friend huffs and glares at Hunter. “You can’t serve only hot dogs at a wedding reception. These people will be drinking and partying with you. Don’t you want something…nicer?”
Riley’s tone is full of hope, and I try not to laugh, but he won’t win this battle.
“You said it’s our wedding and we can do what we want,” Hunter says in an accusing tone. “I want hot dogs, and Gabe agrees.”
Riley groans, and I finally let the laughter break free. “Rye, I told you. It’s settled.”
Jackson laughs along with me as he and Hunter stand. “Have fancy pickles and mustard. Will that help?” Hunter adds, and Riley sags with defeat. “Whoever did the buffet you arranged at the first wedding was great. Just do that again. I loved it.”
His face softens as his gaze finds mine. The only thing we agreed to keep the same as the first wedding day was the hot dogs, because not only was it his favourite, but it was a gesture I made for him that he appreciated.
“I can’t believe I’m planning a hot dog buffet for my best friend’s wedding. What’s next? A build-your-own poutine?”
Hunter cocks his head as he considers.
“That’s actually a great idea,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
