Talk Turkey (7 page)

Tom snickered but trotted obediently over to the counter to retrieve it.

The skin was crispy and brown, and it smelled amazing. He doubted it would have looked half this good without Tom’s help, and he told his parents as much.

“It’s good that the weather didn’t keep you from coming over this morning, Tom,” his dad said with a little too much cheer to be natural.

Tom looked from Carson to the laptop, unsure of what to say, and Carson took pity on him.

“He stayed the night,” Carson said, shooting his mother a quelling look when she opened her mouth to reply.

“I’m, uh, going to start carving this up. I think it’s rested, and everything else is ready,” Tom said. He put the turkey on the table with a clatter, but Carson’s mom started talking again before he could flee.

“It really is a beautiful bird. It looks like Tom really does know what he’s talking about when it comes to turkey,” his mother said with an approving nod.

Carson met Tom’s eyes and the two of them cracked up.

Tom managed to recover first, gasping out, “Thank you, Mrs. Saxton,” while Carson tried to catch his breath.

“I have a feeling we’re better off not knowing the joke,” Carson’s father said with an amused smirk. “Merry Christmas, boys.”

“I’m just glad you’re really not spending it alone. I thought you were just making Tom up. I’ve never heard you sound so smitten, and he sounded too perfect for you,” his mom admitted. “I’m glad I was wrong. Tom, I look forward to meeting you in person when we fly out in March. Dad and I will let you go now, Carson. Don’t let your dinner get cold. Love you!”

The call ended, leaving both of them staring at the screen.

Tom turned to him with a puzzled look on his face. “When did you talk to them about me? We’ve been together every minute since I got here.”

Carson cleared his throat and looked away, embarrassed. “Well, I might have told them about our conversations. Except I left out the part where you worked for a turkey hotline and were literally being paid to talk to me.”

Tom scoffed. “Only that first time. Every call after that was on my own dime, thank you very much.” He poked Carson in the side. “So you talked about me, eh? Let them think you’d met some guy who you were falling for?”

Carson’s cheeks heated. “I had met some guy I was falling for—just with a looser interpretation of the word
met
.”

Tom beamed. “I told my family about you too. Except I didn’t leave out the hotline part. They know exactly how we met and how I bungled everything by not telling you I was giving you my actual number.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

Tom nodded. “I felt like I had to tell someone, just in case you ended up being an ax murderer. Can’t be too safe, you know.”

Carson laughed, imagining that phone call. “And they didn’t tell you it was stupid to come?”

“Oh, they did. Or rather, my sister did. I texted her that everything was fine before I even took off my coat last night, along with the photo I took. You didn’t notice?”

He’d completely missed that. “No, can’t say that I did. I was a little distracted.”

“I suppose having your hand stuck in a dead bird would be a little preoccupying.”

Carson reached over and grabbed Tom’s hands, closing his own around them. “Actually, I hardly noticed that. It was more the gorgeous guy suddenly standing in my kitchen.”

“Gorgeous, huh?” Tom teased. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I know.”

“And so modest!”

Carson squeezed his hands. “You’re the one who said you’d swipe right for me last night.”

Tom tugged his hands back, bringing Carson tumbling closer, and stared into his eyes seriously. “I’ll swipe you any direction you want.”

They both erupted into giggles again. Carson ducked his head and nuzzled against Tom’s throat. “That was terrible.”

He could feel the rumble of Tom’s laugh in his chest. “Terribly funny,” Tom sniped.

“Terribly terrible.”

Tom squeezed his thigh and let his hand wander up higher.

Carson’s laugh turned into a groan. “The turkey’s getting cold,” Carson murmured against Tom’s neck.

“We’ll put everything in the fridge and eat it later. Leftovers are the best part of holiday meals, anyway.”

Carson leaned back. “Are they really leftovers if we never had the meal in the first place?”

Tom kissed him and grabbed him by the shoulders, swinging him out of his way. “Where’s your Saran Wrap?”

Carson lazed back against the table. “Your dedication to food safety is so sexy.”

“Shut up,” Tom said, rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. “Seriously, how do you not have Saran Wrap?”

“Is your dirty talk all about salmonella and listeria? I could get into that,” Carson teased. He crossed his arms and watched Tom as he moved around the small space.

Tom made a happy noise when he found what he was looking for and then turned and pointed the box at Carson. “I’m not letting all this food go to waste. You’ll thank me when I make you some of my famous fried turkey and mashed potato hash tomorrow morning. It’s the best morning-after-Christmas breakfast ever.”

Warmth washed over Carson at what Tom was implying. He knew Tom had to fly out tomorrow night, so he’d figured Tom would want to go home tonight.

Tom stiffened when he realized what he’d said. “I mean, if that’s okay. I get it if you—”

Carson pushed off his space at the table and crossed the few steps to Tom. He wrapped his arms around him, cuddling into his back as Tom continued to put away the food. Tom relaxed almost immediately, and Carson pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Remember that survey? You should ask me the questions again.”

Tom coughed. “The customer service survey? Seriously?”

Carson kissed him again, sliding his lips up from Tom’s neck to his jaw, and Tom dropped the Tupperware lid he’d been trying to put on the mashed potatoes.

“Okay, fine. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being excellent, how would you rate my service today, Mr. Saxton?”

“Definitely ten,” Carson said. He rubbed his nose against the prickly stubble on Tom’s jaw. “And a ten for being satisfied with my experience, and an eleven for will call again. I’m glad you want to spend the night again. I want you to, too.”

Carson was still pressed against Tom’s cheek, and he could feel him smile. “Then this might be the part where I admit that the Talk Turkey hotline doesn’t have a customer satisfaction survey. I just wanted to know if you liked me.”

Carson chuckled and pressed himself against the long line of Tom’s back. “No question there.”

He gave Tom one last quick kiss on the cheek and then started ferrying the leftovers Tom had wrapped up so carefully over to the refrigerator. He’d never had this much food in it before, but the thought of eating leftovers for days—or probably more like weeks—wasn’t as depressing as it had been just a day ago. Having someone to share them with made it a whole different experience.

Tom caught his eye as he was wrapping up the turkey, his own lips quirking in response to Carson’s goofy smile. “I’m glad you’re such a bad cook that you had to call the hotline,” Tom said, his tone teasing.

Carson laughed. “Me too.”

31 stories of holiday love!

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

B
RU
B
AKER
got her first taste of life as a writer at the tender age of four, when she started publishing a weekly newspaper for her family. What they called nosiness she called a nose for news, and no one was surprised when she ended up with degrees in journalism and political science and started a career in journalism.

Bru spent more than a decade writing for newspapers before making the jump to fiction. She now works in reference and readers’ advisory in a Midwestern library, though she still finds it hard to believe someone’s willing to pay her to talk about books all day. Most evenings you can find her curled up with a mug of tea, some fuzzy socks, and a book or her laptop. Whether it’s creating her own characters or getting caught up in someone else’s, there’s no denying that Bru is happiest when she’s engrossed in a story. She and her husband have two children, which means a lot of her books get written from the sidelines of various sports practices.

Website: www.bru-baker.com

Blog: www.bru-baker.blogspot.com

Twitter: @bru_baker

Facebook: www.facebook.com/bru.baker79

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6608093.Bru_Baker

E-mail: [email protected]

All in a Day’s Work (Anthology)

Branded

The Buyout

Campfire Confessions

Diving In

Dr. Feelgood (Dreamspinner Anthology)

King of the Kitchen

Late Bloomer

The Magic of Weihnachten

Talk Turkey

Traditions from the Heart

D
ROPPING
A
NCHOR

Island House

Finding Home

Playing House

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Island House

Dropping Anchor: Book One

By Bru Baker

Unable to move on after the death of his lover, British expat Niall Ahern clings to Nolan’s dream of living in the Caribbean by moving to Tortola. Once there, he finds that not even the beauty of the island can fill the hole in his heart. Broke and spent in nearly every way imaginable, Niall wants out of the lonely, miserable, guilt-ridden life he’s carved out for himself.

When Ethan Bettencourt, a wealthy tech guru, shows up in British Virgin Islands looking to purchase a second home, he gives Niall hope that he can move on. Both men fall hard and fast, but Niall finds piloting his yacht in the midst of a hurricane is nothing compared to weathering life’s simple misunderstandings. As their troubles come between them, Niall is left to wonder if he and Ethan are over before they’ve begun.

www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Finding Home

Dropping Anchor: Book Two

By Bru Baker

When an inheritance fell in Ian Mackay’s lap, he fled the high-pressure banking industry and didn’t look back. Since then, he’s spent four years living carefree on the island of Tortola, his life a series of hookups and hanging out with friends.

After his best friend moves to Seattle and gets married, Ian finds himself lost. His unapologetic existence doesn’t hold the same appeal, and he wonders if he’s throwing his life away. After visiting Niall in Seattle, Ian decides to stay, but that means taking his life off hold and finding a real job. Meeting Luke Keys, who is about as far from a player as possible, isn’t the plan but might be just what Ian needs. Luke and his values intrigue Ian, and he pursues Luke ruthlessly until Luke agrees to a date.