“Not at all.” Asher turned to look at Zach, his smile turning soft. “I need someone to keep me on my toes so I don’t get complacent.”
“Zach will do that,” one of the sisters—Ellie, he thought—piped up. “We all learned to check our beds for things like frogs and slugs a long time ago.” She grinned. “Zach likes surprises.”
“Now don’t go carrying tales,” Zach said, giving his sister a stern look.
He seemed about to say more, but Katherine shook her finger at him, then shooed them over to a set of stools at the kitchen island. “Why don’t you boys have a seat? I’ve got fresh cookies and eggnog. I think Mikey went to get my husband. He’s been grading papers, trying to get caught up before the chaos of finals descends.”
“Dad is an English professor at Princeton,” Zach explained, walking with Asher toward the island. “Theirs is a mixed marriage. Mom lectures in economics and public affairs. The funny thing is Mom is the one who always corrected our grammar, and Dad won’t let her near the family checkbook.”
“Macroeconomics isn’t about penny pinching,” Katherine said, looking back over her shoulder and sniffing playfully. “A few million here or there. Who can keep track?”
“You see why I wanted to go into defense?” Zach asked him, shaking his head. “One day I’m going to have to get her out of jail, I just know it.”
Asher took a seat on one of the stools and leaned on the counter, watching Katherine work, and he wondered if Zach realized how lucky he was to have the type of mother who baked cookies and decorated for Christmas rather than hiring a professional to do it.
“Lucky for you, I can offer a family discount for our services,” he teased.
“That’s good to know,” Katherine replied, giving him a fond smile in return as she placed two mugs of eggnog on the island in front of them. “With all these children, I’m sure we’ll need it someday.”
Zach nudged him with his shoulder. “Keep your coat and scarf on, by the way. This is just a short reprieve. I did tell you she’s a slave driver, didn’t I? You’re getting the fluffy treatment right now, but we’re going to get put to work shortly.”
“She’s not a slave driver. A benevolent dictator is probably a better description.” The words came from the kitchen doorway, where a tall, middle-aged man stood, smiling slightly. He had dark hair silvering at the temples, and Asher suspected he was seeing a preview of what Zach would look like in thirty years or so. Zach’s father crossed the kitchen, holding out his hand. “You must be Asher. I’m Mark, and it’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Asher said, shaking Mark’s hand. Mark was definitely a silver fox, and if Zach looked like his father as he got older, Asher didn’t think they would have any problem keeping the spark lit… and where had that thought come from? He rarely thought that far ahead aboutanything, much less another person. To distract himself from that unsettling train of thought, he turned to Zach. “What are we being conscripted to do?”
Before Zach could answer, Mikey came bounding up. “You have to get the tree!” he said. “It’s Zach’s job to pick out the tree and cut it down and bring it back so we can decorate it.” He leaned close, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Zach said Santa tells him which tree to pick, but I don’t believe him. You watch and tell me if Santa really shows up, okay?”
“I’ll do that,” Asher said solemnly. “I hope it’s true, because I’d like to have a word with Santa myself about some Christmas presents.”
Which was true, he thought wryly. Despite having asked for Zach to be his secret gift exchange recipient, he still wasn’t sure what to get, and he hoped to gather some ideas or at least inspiration while he was here.
“Thanks, Asher. You’re cool,” Mikey said. “Zach never brought a boyfriend home before, but I like you.”
“I’m glad, because I like you too,” Asher said, and he meant it. Mikey seemed to be a bright kid, and Asher was amused by the way Mikey dropped truth bombs about Zach. “Never brought a boyfriend home before, huh?” he asked, turning to Zach with a smirk.
Zach flushed slightly and shrugged. “Didn’t seem to be much point,” he replied, then turned as his mother placed a fragrant plate of warm cookies on the island between the two of them. “Those look great, Mom. Thanks.”
Asher snagged a snickerdoodle and took a bite. “They taste even better than they look,” he said, then polished off the rest of his cookie. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a homemade cookie still warm from the oven. Martha had made cookies for him when he was a kid, but she stopped after he reached adolescence, and he never thought to bake cookies for himself. It seemed like too much of a waste since he was the only one in the house to eat them.
“I’m so glad you like them,” Katherine replied. “I’ll have a tin for you to take home with you, Asher. I always make too many, so you’d be doing me a favor.”
“She’s not kidding,” Mark said, picking up a cookie as well before pressing a swift kiss to his wife’s cheek. He patted his stomach, which looked pretty flat to Asher. “I spend a lot of time on the treadmill, working off her cookies—and cakes, pies, and cobbler. I think the woman has a secret fetish for fat men, since she keeps up her efforts to turn me into one.”
“Oh, you!” Katherine laughed, swatting her husband on the ass, not seeming at all constrained by Asher’s presence—almost as though he were one of the family. “If I stopped baking, you’d give me those big, soulful eyes and claim you were neglected!”
Asher watched their interaction with a twinge of wistfulness. Certainly his parents hadn’t behaved in such a way with each other. Neither had Asher behaved that way with anyone. He’d never let anyone get close enough before—until Zach.
He leaned over and shouldered Zach. “If you bake cookies as good as your mom’s, I might have to keep you forever,” he said. Although he meant it as playful banter, part of him was starting towanta forever with Zach.
“Really?” Zach stared back at him, eyes wide, then he looked away, his cheeks turning pink. “I have all my mom’s recipes. I guess you’ll have to be the judge about how good they are.”
“If you’ve got one for double chocolate chip that’s as good as these, I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” Asher said as he picked up his cup of eggnog.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Zach picked up his own mug. “Drink up, and then we can head out to get that tree.” He dropped his voice so only Asher could hear. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and Santa will jingle your bells.”
“Ho hoho,” Asher murmured, his interest in the tree expedition growing much greater now that Zach had provided extra incentive. He downed the rest of the rich, creamy eggnog and gave Zach an innocent smile. “I’m ready to go find a tree and meet Santa when you are.”
“I thought you might be,” Zach replied, his own smile a bit smug. He drained his mug, then rose. “All right, family, the intrepid tree cutters are off. We will battle all obstacles in our way, no matter how frightening or dangerous, in order to bring back the Tree of Trees.”
