Sleigh Ride (Minnesota Christmas Book 2) (2 page)

“Excellent. Next time you’re over, we’ll pull it out and give it a look.” She pushed off the counter and nodded at the oven, where she’d tucked the roasting pan. “Give this until six, sweetheart, and you’ll have yourself a nice dinner. I’ll ask around too, see if anyone has jobs for you. It won’t be good for you to sit idle, not with the mill shut down and Paul moving on.”

The comment about Paul made Arthur worry this was a setup, that somehow agreeing to repair the sleigh was giving her a matchmaking opening, but no matter how he turned it around in his head, he couldn’t see how even Corrina Anderson could spin carpentry into happily-ever-after. So he settled into researching sleigh restoration with Thomas, holding baby Sue while Brianna got her bath, and in general picking up his ex-brother-in-law’s slack.

See? He got to be a dad, sort of, sometimes, and if he ever logged onto Grindr again himself, he could get his kink on. He told himself it was the best of both worlds.

Except every time he went home to his empty cabin, he had a hard time believing he had it all.

There were many things about small-town libraries Gabriel Higgins had acclimated to—micro-budgets, monthly battles over content, a library board full of retirees living out high school vendettas and grudges. But Corrina Anderson? He was fairly sure nothing in the known universe could have prepared him for the president of the library board.

When he’d accepted the position as director for Logan, Minnesota’s tiny, failing library, he’d done so knowing at some point it would come out he was gay, and his orientation would likely cause some friction. While that friction had technically come to pass as he predicted—some of his patrons definitely gave him side eyes, making it clear they fretted for the state of his soul—he also found PFLAG flyers displayed in the brochure area before he arrived, and of course there was Corrina. When she asked after his girlfriend and he explained he was gay, she became
excited
—and began suggesting potential partners. She never missed a chance to point out so-and-so was gay and unattached, and she always happened to have the phone numbers of the men in question. The fact that Gabriel had yet to do anything more than shred the phone numbers didn’t slow down the stream.

He couldn’t simply throw them away—she pulled the papers from the wastebasket, smoothed them out and left them on his desk.

For eighteen months he endured her efforts, willing to pretend he’d act on her suggestions for potential suitors in order to keep the peace. But in October she began hinting he consider her son, and Gabriel felt the time had come to be not only firm but unequivocal.

He stood in front of her, for once glad for his six-foot-three inches, because God knew he needed every advantage he could get over his personal termagant. “Corrina, I’m sure your son is a wonderful man, but I’m not interested.”

She crossed her arms, unbowed as ever. “You’re never interested, young man, not even in friends. I know for a fact Frankie Blackburn has invited you to movies and dinner dates and meals at his house with Marcus, and you always turn him down. I can’t so much as get you over for Sunday dinner. I know you aren’t refusing because you think you’re better than we are.”

That barb caught. “No, I don’t.” He sighed. “I’m not very social. It’s nothing personal to you or anyone else.”

“No one can be this antisocial.” She smiled and patted his arm. “Come for dinner. My house. You have to eat.”

Gabriel knew there was no way a dinner at her house would feature anything less than Arthur Anderson. “Perhaps another time.”

He was surprised how easily she gave in to his refusal, and he stood on guard all the rest of the week, waiting for another strike. It did eventually come, but it was so out of left field he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “You want to have…a sleigh-ride fundraiser?”

Corrina beamed. “Yes, I do. Everyone’s so excited about it. Oh, it’ll be a grand time. Old-fashioned sleigh rides up and down Main Street. It was my dad’s sleigh. He bought it from an estate sale when he came home from World War II, repaired it, and every Christmas he’d get it out, give us rides like the good old days. It’ll need some refreshing before we use it, but I thought some old-fashioned feeling might be just what we need around here, with the mill closed and winter coming so early. We could make it more than rides. Maybe we could have a party afterward.”

“That sounds…fine.” Gabriel kept trying to find the catch. With Corrina, there would be one. “Are you asking me to plan the party?”

“Heavens no. I’ll take care of everything. But I wanted you to know we were making plans. Hopefully we’ll make enough money to cover your salary if we can’t get the grant renewed.”

This was a recurrent conversation with the whole library board, and now the strange fundraiser made sense. “Corrina, as I’ve told you, I’m not concerned with the grant. If it runs out, I’m certain you’ll still find a way to pay me.”

She frowned, gesturing to his desk. “I’ve seen the job offers you get. I don’t want someone taking you away from us because we’re too cheap.”

“It’s kind of you to think of me, but I assure you money won’t be why anyone takes me from Logan.”

Corrina regarded him warily. “But why on earth would you stay, if you’re not attached to anyone here?”

Oh,
that
was why she was so fixated on partnering him up. Gabriel relaxed. “Remember, I’m from a small town too. I don’t really want to live in a city anymore, and small libraries are where my passion is. I like Logan, and I like your library. I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy here. I don’t need a boyfriend, period. I’m married to my job.”

He’d said the lie so many times now he almost believed it.

“But you’d be
happier
here with a boyfriend. Or at least a friend.”

Gabriel threw up his emotional walls before Corrina could barrel any more down. “The fundraiser sounds lovely. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some books to shelve.”

She didn’t bother him any further about it that day, and blessedly her matchmaking cooled down as well. She continued to update him on the fundraiser—he got an earful at the next board meeting, and she came to the library every other day with additional ideas. She showed him the Santa-suit pattern her friend was sewing, which briefly had him nervous, but thankfully the suit wasn’t nearly big enough for Gabriel’s long, lanky legs.

Just before Halloween she began to tell him about the sleigh, which apparently her son was restoring, and her dinner invitations now included encouragements to come see how grand the progress was. She showed him pictures on her phone—it was still mostly a mess from the look of things, but Gabriel could imagine it swishing through the snow.

Corrina smiled when he told her that. “I can’t wait to see it all finished.”

“Who’s driving?” Gabriel asked, starting to become enchanted by the scheme despite himself.

“Arthur’s going to take lessons from Mr. Peterson as soon as he gets it finished. Gary has draft horses who know how to drive. We need to teach Arthur, and we’re set.” She patted Gabriel’s arm. “I was going to ask you to learn, but it wouldn’t really look right, would it, to have the elf driving Santa?”

Gabriel’s heart thudded a terrible beat. “Elf?”

“Didn’t I say? You’ll be playing Santa’s helper. Your costume is almost done—it’s so adorable. The children will love it. They love
you
, and they’ll be so charmed by the idea that you’re friends with Santa.”

Gabriel realized how well he’d been played, how this had been a matchmaking setup after all. “I assume Arthur is playing Saint Nick?”

“Of course. His hair will be a trick to hide, with all that red, but we’ll make it work somehow. Frankie will help.”

Gabriel didn’t know where to start objecting, only that he had to extract himself from this
now
. “Mrs. Anderson, I’m flattered but—”

“It truly is going to be the most charming event we’ve had in Logan in years. My grandson is already so excited I can barely get him to bed at night. You’ll be perfect as you always are. Everyone loves you, you know this, and such a feather in our caps this will be. A big event like something they’d do in the Cities. Don’t you worry about a thing, either. Arthur’s a good boy—he’ll take care of everything. All you need to do is show up on the day of the fundraiser and be your charming self. I want the children’s home in Pine Valley to come, perhaps have a special gift delivery by Santa.”

Dear God, this was the train wreck to end all train wrecks. She’d waited this long to set her trap too, laying so much bait there was no way Gabriel could tell her no, he didn’t want to pass out presents with her son because he found Arthur Anderson to be a boorish, untutored oaf. And yet he
could not do this
. “Mrs. Anderson, I honestly can’t—”

She glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear me. Nine thirty already? Becky just took a new job, and Big Tom, bless his heart, isn’t much help with morning routine. I’ll stop by with them for afternoon story time, and I’ll chat with you then.”

Gabriel watched her go, torn between chasing after her and pleading for mercy, and shutting himself in his office to stick his head between his legs. This was worse than matchmaking. This was putting on a happy holiday face for the entire town, getting roped into a gala where he would stand along the wall as usual and watch other families and couples play and be happy while he remained alone. He
had
to find a way out of this.

Perhaps you won’t have to,
he consoled himself.
Perhaps Arthur will do the objecting for you.
Which, honestly, was the most likely outcome. Because the only thing more incredulous than Gabriel dating Arthur Anderson was that foul-mouthed man-whore playing Santa Claus.

C
hapter Two

T
he sleigh was, to put it mildly, a hot mess.

Half of it was rotted, all of it was rusted, and nothing remained of the cushioned seat. Technically Arthur knew how to repair it, but it was a lot of work and involved a great deal of trial and error and plenty of swearing. So much swearing that one afternoon in early November when the replacement plywood panel snapped in half yet again as they tried to wrestle it into place, Thomas said, “Son of a bitch” before Arthur could.

Arthur winced. “Sport, you can’t say
son of a bitch
.”

Thomas regarded him earnestly. “But you say it all the time. And fuck, and shit, and goddamn it.”

Shit.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I shouldn’t. Somebody should wash out my mouth when I do.”

“Okay.” Thomas crouched and frowned at the broken panel. “It doesn’t want to bend. That’s our trouble.”

“This is truth, buddy.” Arthur nudged the broken board with a sigh. “Let’s go get hot cocoa and see if we can’t find an idea on YouTube.”

Thomas brightened. “Cocoa with marshmallows?”

Arthur ruffled his hair. “And whipped cream too, and sprinkles.”

They made their drinks and hurried into the den, closing the door before Brianna wanted to join in or Corrina gave them something additional to repair. He’d love up his niece later, but he wanted some quality time with his best boy first.

Thomas climbed into Arthur’s lap and snuggled while they waited for the computer to warm up.

“I heard you were a fix-it man for Halloween,” Arthur said.

Thomas looked Arthur in the eye. “I’m gonna be a real fix-it man someday and work with you. And I’m going to have three babies. Little girls in dresses, like Brianna and April. Maybe a boy, but I want two girls for sure.”

Arthur melted. “That’d sure be nice.”

Thomas nestled his head under Arthur’s chin. “I’m going to live with a boy when I grow up.”

This was about the third time Thomas had said this, and he knew it was going over like a lead balloon with Becky. Trouble was, Arthur still didn’t know how to respond. He did his best to play it cool. “That so?”

“Yes. Girls are gross. Boys are more fun to play with.”

Arthur couldn’t stop a smile. “Yeah, they sure are. Keep your options open though, buddy. If you still feel this way at twelve, come back to me, and we’ll have a talk.”

Thomas sat up again, worried. “I can’t talk to you before then?”

Six-year-olds, the most literal creatures on earth. “You can talk to me any time you want, Thomas. Godfathers are always on call.”

Thomas visibly relaxed. “Okay.” He bit his lip, though, and Arthur could tell he had more to say.

Arthur chucked his chin. “What’s on your mind, squirt? I can see your head spinning.”

Thomas squirmed and stared down at his jeans, picking at a hole in the knee. “I tried to take Soupy to school for show-and-tell, but Mom said no. And now Soupy is sad.”

Out of one land mine, straight into another. Because Soupy was, essentially, the Anderson family Waterloo. The doll Corrina had bought for Thomas one day when they were out in Duluth, the doll Becky hated, which meant Soupy was also the toy Thomas wanted to take everywhere he went.

Arthur cleared his throat, squelching all the things he wanted to say in favor of the things he should. He didn’t see a damn difference between playing house with a dinosaur instead of a baby, except the baby was a hell of a lot more natural. Why did Thomas have to play nurturer to monsters and animals instead of faux humans? He couldn’t say anything, though, because this was his godson and nephew, not his kid.

“I’m sorry.” He stroked Thomas’s hair and bled out at the expression in the kid’s big brown eyes. “Maybe Soupy wants to help us fix the sleigh instead.”

Thomas gave Arthur a hard glare. “Uncle Arthur, Soupy
is a baby
. She’s too young for tools.”

Arthur held up a hand in apology. “You’re right. My bad. Well, what does Soupy want to do?”

The hesitation should have been his warning. “She wants to take a ride in your truck. She wants to go get fries at the café.”

Fuck. Arthur frantically tried to figure out how to play this. It wasn’t that he minded taking Thomas out in public with his baby doll. It was that Becky would pitch an unholy fit if she found out. But now Arthur was trapped, because if he
didn’t
take Thomas and the doll for a ride, he was taking a side in the war. His mother would back him up, but it felt wrong to go against Becky’s wishes.

He decided to play the middle. “I’d love to take you and Soupy. But if I do, your mom is going to be mad at us. No getting around it. I’ll ride it out if you want me to though.” He tweaked Thomas’s nose. “Your call, squirt.”

Thomas sagged. “Soupy doesn’t like it when people yell.”

Was it bad Arthur was disappointed? “I’ll talk to your mom when she’s home from work. Maybe we can make it a special occasion. Just this one time.”

Thomas shook his head. “Let’s fix the sleigh, Uncle Arthur.”

They didn’t talk about the doll anymore, but they worked on the sleigh every night as soon as Thomas came home from school. By the eighth of November, they had the whole body repaired, and Arthur brought his mother out to the shed to show her his handiwork. “We still need to repair one last floor panel and give it a fresh coat of paint, but it’s really close. What do you think?”

Corrina clapped her hands over her cheeks and beamed at him. “Oh, Arthur, it’s perfect. It looks better than it did when I was a little girl, and you aren’t even done yet. Gabriel will
love
it. You’ll have to show him. I’ll bring him out for dinner sometime, and you can give him a tour.”

Arthur winced, realizing the matchmaking hadn’t died off after all. And Jesus, of all the potential dates. Gabriel. The Logan librarian, openly gay. A sweater-clad stick figure complete with plastic-rimmed glasses. A
nice boy
if ever there was one, and so far from Arthur’s type he’d need GPS to get home to bear country.

Corrina threw her arms around Arthur, squeezing him tight. “Thank you so much. You’re going to be the perfect Santa to Gabriel’s elf.”

Horror temporarily shut every brain circuit down, and when Arthur was able to speak, he mostly sputtered. This was ten times worse than matchmaking. “Mom—what—
are you fucking kidding
—?”

Thomas popped out from behind the sleigh, his countenance grave. “Grandma Cory, you need to wash Uncle Arthur’s mouth out with soap.”

Corrina kept smoothing out Arthur’s coat front, looking so happy she might cry. “I have it all arranged. Susan is sewing the costumes, and I have it set up for you to take driving lessons with Mr. Peterson and borrow one of his horses. You’ll coordinate with Gabriel, of course—”

“
Mom.
” Arthur’s chest was tight with his need to stop this train before his mother got it up to full steam, and it took superhuman effort not to cuss. “Mom, I am
not
dressing up as Santa, I’m not driving a sleigh, and I’m certainly not coordinating with that—”

“Oh,
Arthur
. You have to play Santa. You’re perfect, and honestly, there’s no one else. Gabriel’s far too thin. Won’t you do this, sweetheart? For me? For the kids? For the library?”

Thomas stood beside them now, regarding Arthur with awe. “You’re going to play with Santa?”

Corrina crouched to Thomas’s level. “That’s right. Santa is coming to Logan. Uncle Arthur is fixing his sleigh, and he’s going to give rides to everyone all over town.”

Thomas took Arthur’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Uncle Arthur, can I play with Santa too?”

Oh shit.

Arthur cast a last, desperate glance at his mother, but she was too busy promising Thomas how amazing it would be to have Santa Claus giving sleigh rides in Logan.

If Arthur wanted out of this noose, he’d have to cut it on his own.

Gabriel loved opening the library.

It was his favorite part of the day, when everything was quiet and he had a chance to make sure the shelves were organized and perfect. He put things to rights before heading home each night, but he usually left before the library closed, and he liked to give one more pass through the seven rows of shelves before opening, straightening spines, taking in deep draughts of musty old paper and decaying glue.

The smell of books. If there was a scent more beautiful in the world, Gabriel didn’t know what it was.

The children’s section, three squat bins by the beanbag chairs, was its usual chaos, but a mother and her two girls had wandered in early while Gabriel was in the back. One girl raced trucks along a line of blocks while the other wheedled her mother into operating a felt hand puppet. It was still fifteen minutes to ten, but Gabriel didn’t have the heart to point this out. He went to his office instead, sank into his chair and shut his eyes. Then he opened his laptop, logged on to chat and prayed Alex would be online.

She was, and she greeted him as soon as his chat client fired up.
Hey, sugar. How’s the library time forgot?

He imagined her sitting in her sunny kitchen in Bloomington, her baby gurgling in the playpen, her toddler watching a video as she sipped coffee and browsed mommy blogs. He thought of when he’d lived down the street from her, when he’d been
her
librarian.

With a sigh, he curled over the keyboard and typed out a reply.
Corrina Anderson wants to sell sleigh rides as a fundraiser. I’m going to be an elf, and her son is Santa.

He could almost see the brightness in Alex’s reply.
Aww. I should come up. It sounds like fun.

It’ll be a nightmare.
He grimaced and tapped out the rest with angry fingers.
I can’t stand her son. He’s a big oafish jerk, and he’s a redhead. Angry carrot red. It’s ridiculous. What child will believe he’s Santa?

Kids are easy. They’ll believe anything. And the adults won’t care.

Gabriel would care.
She’s trying to set me up with him again. I would rather run naked down Main Street. May I remind you the high yesterday was nineteen degrees. Fahrenheit.

If you don’t behave, I’m sending you another Eeyore animated GIF.

Great. Now he’d sulked so hard, Alex was in mother mode.
Ignore me. I’m cranky today.

You’re always cranky, hon. You do seem a little extra so today, though. Is this guy that bad?

Yes, Arthur was horrible. He was rough and rude—and short. He was cute if one was into ruddy, roguish bears. Gabriel was not.
I wish Corrina would stop trying to fix me up with the whole county. It’s annoying.

She’s probably trying because she can see how lonely you are.

I’m not lonely.

Honey, I can tell you’re lonely from here.
There was a pause, and he knew what she was going to type before she said it.
You should come back to the Cities. Your old job is about to be open again. Think of the mayhem we could get up to.

He knew his old job was open because they’d offered it to him last week.
I don’t want my old job. I want to work in small libraries.

There have to be smaller libraries not located on the edge of the tundra.

This was an old argument, one Alex would never understand. He tried again anyway.
There are children up here who need me.

I know, I know. Children like you were on your Canadian border, lonely gay boys and girls who need saving. I just hope your sainthood keeps you warm. And I hope you’re not using this small town as your personal monastery.

Gabriel winced. Alex always went right to the heart of the issue, always seeing too much. But then, she knew him well, had seen all his screwups. They’d been friends since college, and she knew his train wrecks better than he did.

Still, he tried to justify himself.
I’m not being a monk.

Are you dating? Because if you’re not, that’s being a monk.

I haven’t had time. There’s so much to do.

I’m sure there is, Brother Higgins.

He rolled his eyes.
I don’t need to date anyone. I’m happy how I am.

I’ve seen you happy on four occasions, and each time you were drunk and letting go with a guy. Until you woke up in the morning and realized how far you’d unbuttoned. You should unbutton with the red-haired Santa making you so angry. Sounds like the sex would be fantastic.

Gabriel made angry sounds through his nose and began to explain why he would rather run
naked and wet
down Main Street than try to be Arthur Anderson’s friend, but Alex typed again before he could hit send.

Hey—baby’s up. I gotta run. Hang in there, sweetie, and keep me posted. Try not to hate everything so much. I’m serious about cutting loose with this guy. You don’t have to fuck him, but maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to make a friend.
She logged off.

Gabriel stared at the empty chat window a few minutes, feeling sorry for himself, then did another circuit of the library. The mother and her children had left, so he cleaned up their area. The entire library was clean.

He was about to be proactive, to hunt down some more community resource flyers and take another peek at
Library Journal
to see if he’d overlooked any potential new—cheap—titles, when the door opened. Gabriel turned, smiling, ready to give his new customer the library of their dreams. His smile died when he saw the red shock of hair over the ruddy, bearded face.

Arthur Anderson wasn’t smiling either. “Hey. If you’ve got a second, we need to have a talk about this stupid Santa shit.”

Gabriel wished he dared take a Vine video of Arthur to show Alex how ludicrous the idea was of doing anything with
this
. Biting back his admonishment not to swear in the library, Gabriel nodded at the closed door beside his office. “I can give you ten minutes in the conference room.”

He turned away, stopping by his office to grab a bottle of water and a couple of Tylenol before following Arthur into the room. Except something told him he’d be wishing for a sedative before this interview was finished.