John unlocked his front door and pushed it open. He was exhausted but also exhilarated. The heady scent of fresh pine wafted to him, reminding him they had a tree to decorate. Even with all the commercialism surrounding the holiday, he loved a fresh-cut tree. It had been two years since he’d decorated; last year he and Rico had been on the outs, although John had been in denial and Rico had demanded they go on a cruise for the holiday instead of staying home.

The ship should have been called a plague ship, as norovirus swept through and many of the crew and passengers fell ill, John and Rico included. Somehow that had ended up being John’s fault.

The kitten took a flying leap out of his hands, landing on the back of the couch where, after being momentarily stuck, it half fell, half climbed down and headed to the pantry, where its food was.

“Let’s get started, then.” Chance rubbed his hands together, heading for the tree.

Together they opened the boxes, then John arranged them in cascading order of how they went on the tree: lights, garland, heavy ornaments, then finally the lightest and most fragile. John didn’t have a theme, but he liked his tree to glow; he loved the gleam and glitter. The Pacific Northwest was dark in the winter. Lights of any kind made it easier to bear.

Chance left the room. John heard him rummaging in the kitchen and talking to the kitten before he returned with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. John recognized them from a friend’s wedding but had no idea where he’d had them stashed away. They stood back and admired their handiwork.

“Is it all right if I open the champagne?” Chance asked.

He grinned. “Yeah.”

Chance put the glasses down so he could pour the bubbly, then handed John his.

“Here’s to not letting a good chance pass you by.” He clinked John’s glass and downed the contents of his own while John stood there with his mouth gaping. “Aren’t you going to drink?” he asked after a moment. “Now I’m going to have to do it again. It’s bad luck not to drink after a toast, you know.”

“How,” John sputtered, “how long have you been waiting to do that? No, wait, how many times have you done that? Please don’t tell me that was your pick-up line?”

“Drink your champagne.”

This time John did. Chance immediately filled it again.

“How about, here’s to grabbing life by the horns?”

They both drank this time, John enjoying the elegant line of Chance’s throat as he swallowed. Yes, he was in deep. No matter how many times he told his heart to knock it off, that he couldn’t know something was real in mere hours, his heart rebelled against logic. His heart wanted Chance body and soul. He knew he could have him too, if he was brave enough.

That morning in the kitchen and then in his bed, it was as if Chance knew every sexual fantasy John had ever had. There was no shame in anything they’d done together. Then when they went looking for a tree, he hadn’t let John settle for an okay one; he’d insisted that John find the one he really wanted. Maybe others would find a Christmas tree a silly thing to focus on, but to John it mattered. Chance listened.

This past evening . . . so much emotion, John was still reeling. He hadn’t had a chance to tally the receipts, but the turnout had been a shock. It still was. Chance and Reed had put out the call that John needed help, something he’d been too proud to do, and because of them John had a little more hope than he’d had yesterday.

“Honestly, I’ve never used that line before. I’ve wanted to since I was about eighteen, but the opportunity was never quite right. It’s all about timing. There’s not much left; shall we kill the bottle?”

John nodded, holding his glass out.

“To the NorthStar,” Chance said. “To friends: old ones and those I haven’t met yet. To taking chances.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

After drinking, Chance carefully put his glass down on the sideboard before doing the same with John’s glass and taking John’s hands in his own.

“I meant what I said about taking life by the horns,” he said. “Both of us are damned lucky to be standing here together today. So much could have happened before we had the good fortune to meet; there was a great deal going against us. Yet here we are. My mother’s wish had a lot to do with it: If I hadn’t promised, I wouldn’t be here. And now that I am here, I don’t want to be anywhere else.” He tapped his chest with his free hand. “In here, I know I’m home. I have a lot to get to know about you and you about me, but that’s merely an extra, added on to the home part.”

Chance was rubbing his thumbs along John’s fingers, possibly a sign he was more nervous than he was letting on. John stared into his impossibly blue eyes, searching for the lie, but he didn’t see it.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

“Please tell me we are not parting ways at the top of the stairs?”

John smiled. “My room.”

---

His bedroom was a wreck from the morning and the night before, when he’d tossed his clothes on the floor instead of putting them into his hamper. If he was going to be completely honest, he’d let a lot of things slide in the past few months. Housekeeping was just one of them. Chance had already seen the bedroom, but John said, “I’m not actually an enormous slob. It’s just been a hard couple of days.”

“S’all right. I am an enormous slob.” John jerked around to look at Chance. The man was laughing. “Kidding, kidding. But I am going to add to the pile on the floor.”

Without further warning he proceeded to strip naked, tossing his clothing atop John’s. Smirking, he went and lay on the disheveled covers, waiting for John.

“Do you need an invitation?”

John snapped back to awareness, only slightly embarrassed he’d been ogling instead of getting ready for naked fun times.