LUKE
December, 2016
Luke Nash wandered down the aisle of Frank’s Feed & Fuel, looking for a new halter for his mare. He didn’t need a new halter, of course – he had a half dozen for her already – but dammit all, he was tired of being holed up at home. Usually, he could go weeks at a time out on his farm, ignoring the outside world, but lately, he’d started getting antsy.
It was probably because Christmas was coming, the most hated time of the year. The music, the bells, the lights, and worst of all, the fake cheerfulness that just meant that someone was trying to sell something to him. It was a sham, a marketing scheme.
And yet, how did he escape it? Shopping, with his dog no less, two days before Christmas.
It was like a cruel joke played on him by the universe.
With a sigh, he dismissed the halter choices and wandered over into the hardware department to eyeball new cupboard handles. Maybe he should remodel his kitchen this winter. That would give him something to do. Countertops and cupboard handles would make a world of difference to how his kitchen looked. He could—
“Hey, Luke!”
The greeting broke into his thoughts, startling him, and he whirled around to see his best friend, Stetson Miller.
“Did I give you a heart attack?” Stetson said, grinning.
“Oh hell, if Carmelita doesn’t stop feeding you cinnamon rolls every morning, she’s going to be the one giving you a heart attack,” Luke volleyed back. Carmelita was Stetson’s housekeeper/cook extraordinaire, a surrogate mother after Stetson’s mom died when they were in junior high.
And based on the roundness of Stetson’s stomach, it looked like she was trying to fatten him up like a Christmas goose.
“Damn, you should see Jennifer,” Stetson said. “She’s fattening up real nice.”
Luke bit back his grin. He was pretty sure Stetson’s pregnant wife would not be happy if she heard her husband say that.
“So, what are you and ol’ Willie doing for Christmas?” Stets asked.
Luke just stared blankly at him for a moment. Doing for Christmas? That made it sound like he was going to go out caroling or something. And with ol’ Willie to boot. The idea of his crusty, old farmhand singing Christmas songs was ridiculous, and Stetson knew it.
“What if you headed over to my house for the weekend?” Stetson continued when Luke didn’t – couldn’t – say anything. “Might as well take advantage of the fact that Christmas is on a Sunday this year. Carmelita would love to have someone else to hover over and cook for.”
Luke contemplated a whole weekend of Carmelita’s cooking – hams and gingerbread cookies and mashed potatoes and oh God, pies – against the idea of actually having to celebrate Christmas this year, instead of just treating it like any other day of the year.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything but a piece of toast with peanut butter on it all day. Well, toast and lots and lots of coffee.
Stetson heard the rumble and laughed. “I’m going to take that as a yes. Come over as soon as you can. I’ll tell Carma to set another plate at the table.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed for the cash register, a roll of copper wire in his hands.
Luke stared at his retreating back for just a moment, sighing in an odd combination of frustration and humor, and then snapped his fingers. Sticks, his black lab, headed back towards him from where he’d been alternatively sniffing and then licking the dog food bags. “Come on, boy, let’s go get our stuff. You get to guard the Miller farm this weekend.” Sticks wagged his tail with delight and trotted along behind Luke, his toenails clicking on the floor as they went.
Luke was only a little bit surprised that he’d somehow been shanghaied into spending Christmas with Stetson, without ever giving his consent to the idea. Stetson was a force of nature, and worse yet, he knew that Luke had nothing to go home to, no one to please. He knew the truth about Luke’s pathetic life, and so Luke couldn’t even offer socially acceptable white lies about being too busy to come over.
Dammit, sometimes it was a pain in the ass to have a best friend who knew him so well. Sticks jumped into the bed of the truck and Luke gave him a quick pat on the head before sliding into the cab.
It was time to go pack some clothes and then go eat Stetson out of house and home. At least he could exact his revenge on Stets for his high-handedness that way. Served him right.
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