“Um, sorry. Bad joke. Ha-ha.”
“Let me carry on with the tree in the main room,” said Rudy, backing out of the bathroom. “I’ll hang around until you’ve finished. Give you a hand with the decorations, as I promised.”
As soon as Rudy had gone, Trevor squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. Well done, Trevor. Not even a day in the place and he had already embarrassed the host and made a fool of himself.
Once he had figured out the shower controls, he undressed and stood beneath the water, wondering if he should apologise again, or write the stupid comment off as a bad joke. He decided on the latter.
After towelling off and changing into dry clothes in record time, he joined Rudy back in the main room.
Fortunately, Rudy seemed unfazed and appeared to enjoy the challenge of decorating. Over the next ninety minutes, with a quick break of tea and freshly baked mince pies from Mrs M, they hung up decorations and integrated the flora Trevor had collected. Even though their conversation had faltered, they worked seamlessly together. Most of the time Trevor directed Rudy, sending him to the top of a ladder and guiding him where to pin things, which worked well because Rudy knew his way around the room. Even using conscious effort, Trevor couldn’t help ogling Rudy stretched out at the top of the ladder, or when his muscular arms hauled boxes out of their way. Both were so caught up in the work that neither realised how much they had accomplished. Not until they heard Mrs M’s soft gasp from the edge of the living room. When Trevor turned, she stood there frozen in her flour-dusty apron, with a hand placed over her mouth.
“What’s wrong, Mrs M?”
“Beautiful,” she said through her fingers. “If only Mon were here. This is what she had always wanted. Come over and take a look, the both of you.”
Once they moved to stand next to her, Rudy drew in a sharp breath and, probably without conscious thought, placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. Trevor said nothing, and tried to dismiss the gesture as nothing more than kinship at a job well done, even though the warmth and pressure felt as nice as before. To distract himself, he cast a critical eye around the room.
Tartan bows of scarlet and green, or mauve and green, those they had fixed at regular intervals to garlands of fir, provided the central theme above the windows and around the circular fireplace. Bunches of purple thistle or sprigs of holly and mistletoe, arranged with simple gold ribbons, added another focal point. To one side of the window, the Christmas tree continued the simple theme, but with the bonus of white lights that twinkled and faded softly in and out. Rudy had accomplished that without his help. If anything, the overall effect came across as naturally rustic, exactly what Trevor had envisaged, totally fitting the lodge and the location. Not only that, but he knew the moment Cheryl returned and saw the decorations, and after her squeals of joy had died down, her entire repertoire of over five hundred Christmas carols and songs would begin to issue through her Bluetooth speaker.
“Pure dead brilliant, Trev. You’ve a rare talent for this,” said Rudy, and for the first time in his life, Trevor warmed to a nickname he usually despised. Perhaps because on Rudy’s tongue, with his soft accent, the word sounded nice, sexy almost. Heavens, he thought, what with that and the warm hand on his shoulder, Rudy could ask for anything right now and he would give it to him.
“Yes, well,” he replied, to keep his voice steady. “This is not all me. You did your bit, too.”
“Just what you told me to do,” Rudy said before absently checking his wristwatch. “Och, will you look at the time. I should be going. Mother’s calling the old house around four and I haven’t fed Troy yet.”
“Come on then,” replied Trevor. “We’ll see you out.”
On the way to the door, Rudy commented on the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, and Mrs M, a sucker for compliments, asked him to hang on while she picked out some freshly baked scones and cakes for him to take home. Trevor stood in the doorway, watching as Rudy went over to pet Troy, readying to mount again.
“So, Trev. What is it you’re wanting for Christmas?”
Be still my beating heart, thought Trevor unable to stop his smile, and for heaven’s sake stay my errant tongue. He could tell Rudy was teasing him, but he didn’t mind. Trevor almost asked him if he might have a gay twin brother hidden away that he could borrow for a Christmas fling.
“The usual. Peace and goodwill to all men. And women, of course. More to the point,” said Trevor, “what plans do you have for Christmas? Do you have someone cooking for you up at the—um—big house?”
“No,” said Rudy, and something fleeting passed across his gaze. Just at that moment, Mrs M appeared with a large brown paper bag. “It’ll just be me. Family’s away, but even when they’re here we’re not big on Christmas. As I said earlier, we tend to save our celebrations for New Year’s Eve.”
While Trevor’s mind wrestled for some way to respond, to offer up an olive branch and invite him over to join them, Mrs M must have been reading his mind as she walked over to hand him the bag of goods.
“Well, you’re not staying on your own,” she said. “You’ll come and join us for Christmas lunch, even if I have to squeeze into my boots and drag you here myself.”
“Seriously, Rudy,” said Trevor. “Decline an invitation from Mrs M at your peril. More to the point, if you think I’m good at decorating, you should taste her amazing cooking.”
As he bounced into his saddle, an incredible smile lit up Rudy’s face again.
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs M. Can I call and let you know?”
“As long as it’s to say yes,” said Mrs M, her arms crossed, making Rudy shake his head with amusement.
“I’d best be going. Let you get ready for your guests. Thanks, Trev. I really enjoyed helping. And thanks for the cakes, Mrs M. See you soon, eh?”
“I hope so,” murmured Trevor, lost in his smile again and almost convinced Rudy had winked. “I really do hope so.”
Chapter Four
Mary’s Boy Child
Just before six o’clock that evening, Cheryl and Trevor finished decorating and laying the kitchen table for dinner. While each enjoyed a glass of sparkling wine, they sang along to Christmas carols and played a game of ‘what would you rather?’ His mood had improved considerably since Rudy’s visit, although he had kept the details to the bare minimum when telling Cheryl and the boys. Mrs M worked quietly in the background, occasionally snorting at their responses but mainly concentrating on checking the progress of the lamb joint and roast potatoes in the Aga, and getting the Yorkshire pudding and selection of vegetables ready to be dealt with last.
