Tis the season for a hopeless crush on my older brother’s best friend…
This year will be different. I’m all grown up, my gaming channel is a huge success, and I finally have the confidence to make my move on Atlas Orion, the hottest chief in the navy.
However, I don’t intend for my smooth move to be covering Atlas in cranberry sauce. Not at all how I want to reintroduce myself to my new roomie and coworker. Atlas is in town to help save Seasons, my family’s historic holiday gift shop and event space. Seasons is booked solid with catered parties, so we need to avoid any more disasters.
Like my malfunctioning air mattress. We’re down to one bed, two dudes, and a whole lot of holiday-fling temptation. Atlas has never been with a guy, but I don’t have to do much persuading. And what better way to explore than a secret romp? No strings, and no one has to know.
The problem? With every passing week, I fall harder for Atlas, who’s far more than his drool-worthy muscles and heroic job. He’s kind, funny, makes me breakfast in bed, and each midnight snowball fight brings us that much closer to heartbreak.
Atlas can’t stay in Kringle’s Crossing forever, and I can’t imagine leaving the only place I’ve called home. Our feelings run deep, but is it a holiday illusion? Can we find our way to a lasting future?
CATERED ALL THE WAY is a brand-new, full-length holiday romance from the beloved author of THE GEEK WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS. Lovers of stand-alone swoon-worthy Christmas stories will fall for this geek + military pairing. Full of spicy first times, bisexual awakening, quirky small-town residents, and guest appearances from some fan-favorite characters, this only one bed, brother’s best friend romance is sure to find a place under many trees! Dual POV and the happiest of endings guaranteed.
Chapter One
Zeb
THANKSGIVING DAY: 30 SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
“What do you mean Atlas isn’t coming?” I glared at my older brother, who always managed to bring out my grumpy side, especially this early on Thanksgiving. Not that it was the crack of dawn, but I was dragging because I’d streamed late into the night on an important collaboration with some popular Australian gamers. However, I didn’t dare mention my tiredness to Gabe. I’d already been scolded for being ten minutes late to help prep for the annual Thanksgiving dinner hosted at Seasons, our family-run gift shop and event space.
“There was some sort of delay again with his flight back to the States from wherever he’s been deployed.” Gabe sighed, the same world-weary sound he made whenever Atlas, his longtime best friend, had to cancel plans because the navy wanted to whisk him away. It was the same heavy exhale Gabe did when I disappointed him too. A natural manager, Gabe had been born precisely on time with high expectations for the rest of the world. “It’s okay. We can make do with a limited crew as long as no one else calls out.”
“And you wanted to lecture me about my reliability earlier?” I continued my work setting up the cold section of the buffet, which would house various salads and condiments, before leading into the dessert section full of pie slices. We’d expected Atlas to arrive two days ago, and I should have known better than to count on that timeline. “How many times over the years has Atlas let you down, Gabriel? Shouldn’t a freaking SEAL assistant be more reliable?”
“I don’t know, Zebediah.” Gabe matched my deliberate use of his hated first name. “He’s out there saving the world. More important things to do than play bartender for Seasons, that’s for sure.” For all Gabe’s good qualities, and he did have them, irony wasn’t his strong suit. “And the technical term is SEAL support, which is possibly even more mission-critical.”
“So what you’re saying is you’re fine with not being a priority.” I plopped a large green salad into the refrigerated buffet table. I wasn’t truly upset with Gabe. Or Atlas, for that matter. Gabe liked to paint him as some sort of superhero, which wasn’t that far off the mark. Atlas wasn’t a flake. All the times he’d had to cancel, he’d had world-hanging-in-the-balance emergencies. Couldn’t argue with that. And we could manage fine without Atlas’s help for the upcoming holiday season. But even so, I felt deflated, like an off-balance parade balloon sagging too low.
I’d had plans for his month-long leave, damn it. For the first time, I was ready for Atlas to see me as something other than Gabe’s pesky little brother. I wanted to impress him. I had no idea if he was into guys, but I was more than willing to find out. And all my plans required Atlas in the flesh, so yes, I was a little cranky.
And reckless. My unintended force made the salad contents dance around inside the clear bowl.
“Watch what you’re doing.” Gabe’s voice was as sharp as if I’d scattered greens everywhere, yet all the contents were perfectly safe under a layer of plastic wrap. “You’re going to drop something.”
“You think I don’t know how to set a buffet table by now?” I rolled my eyes because I, like Gabe, had grown up in this place. I could prep Thanksgiving dinner in my sleep. Speaking of which, I stifled another yawn.
“I don’t know, Mr. Priorities,” Gabe shot back. “You missed the Bauman’s annual Halloween party because of your gamer friends—”
“I was at a con.” I was exhausted by his constant minimization of my chosen career. And yes, I’d missed a couple of fall bookings, but I’d had good reason. “It was one of the largest gaming conventions, and I was on a panel—”
“Uh-huh.” Gabe sounded distracted, which was his permanent condition these days. And it wasn’t like I didn’t sympathize—the business was struggling, expenses were up, and he and Paige were expecting twins. Impending parenthood or not, I had a hard time keeping my cool when he started rearranging the items I’d laid out.
“What are you doing? The buffet looks fine.”
“The bowls weren’t spaced evenly, and they’ll look better grouped by size.”
“Whatever. Suit yourself.” I tried to let Gabe’s pickiness go, but he kept huffing as he moved items around. And every micro-adjustment served to remind me he hadn’t heard a word I’d said earlier. “Why do you keep acting like I’m still some couch-surfing slacker?”
“Because you’re too old to be working here part-time. Being a gamer is not a viable profession.” His big-brother-knows-best voice had grated even before our parents died in a car crash a decade ago, and now I chafed whenever Gabe went all paternalistic on me.
“It’s hardly like the small-business life is super stable.” The ongoing cash flow issue here at Seasons was a low blow, but he was the one who kept treating me like I was still seventeen, living on corn chips and energy drinks and playing games with other broke teens all night. However, I was reformed and on a mission to get the world, especially Gabe, to finally take me seriously. “And I’m making money now.”
“I know you are.” Gabe might as well go ahead and ruffle my hair. “But hospitality is evergreen. Just like Seasons.” He did love to tout the long history of Seasons. For all he worried about money, he also tended to ignore how trends changed and fewer people rented small-town event halls now. Proving my point, he thrust a giant crystal bowl of cranberry sauce at me. “Hold this.”
“WTF? The cranberry sauce was fine in the middle where it always goes.”
“Your placement wasn’t the middle.”
“Why do you have to be such a perfectionist about everything?” I used to wish I could be more like Gabe. Perhaps then we would get along better. Maybe if I developed a love of ironing, early mornings, and precise details, we wouldn’t fight so much. But these days, I liked who I was. I simply wished Gabe didn’t always manage to bring out my inner whiny kid.
“I don’t know, Zeb.” Instead of taking the cranberry sauce back, Gabe moved three other smaller bowls fractions of an inch this way and that. “Why do you have to be lackadaisical?”
“That’s right. Go for the ten-dollar word.” Trying to tamp down my ire, I managed half a chuckle. Gabe did love Scrabble and every other word game that came his way, having inherited our grandfather’s love of crosswords.
“Atlas.” Gabe’s eyes widened, and his gaze drifted over my left shoulder.
“Good one, bro,” I groaned. When Gabe wasn’t micromanaging the business, we had a long history of minor pranks on each other. Every now and then, the dude managed to find his sense of humor. “Act like he’s right behind me and could hear me ranting about him no-showing mere hours before—”
“Hey, Gabe.” That distinctive, deep, dark, and delicious voice could only belong to one person.
“Atlas.” I, on the other hand, squeaked like a freaking gerbil as I whirled around. The cranberries came with me, a tidal wave of cold red sauce that was no match for the thin plastic wrap over the top of the bowl. And oh my fucking God, Atlas Freaking Orion was right there, like mere inches behind me, and I crashed into him, sloshing berries everywhere, including all over the one guy I wanted to impress this holiday season.
“Zeb.” Gabe went straight for scolding me. “What did you do?”
“I told you the sauce was fine where it was.” I glared at Gabe because anger was far more practical than embarrassment. I’d had plans, and this unmitigated disaster was not in any of them.
“Uh, guys?” Atlas glanced between Gabe and me. “Some help?”
Oh, right.While Gabe and I were trying to score points off each other, Atlas was wearing gallons of sauce. Atlas was every bit as tall as I remembered and quite possibly broader. Paige and Gabe had visited him in Virginia a couple of times, but pictures hadn’t done the man justice. Ripped like an action star, he’d trimmed his black hair super short. The look was hot as hell on him, especially with his Mediterranean coloring and dark eyes. He had on the sort of everyday BDUs all the navy guys seemed to wear on duty unless it was a formal occasion. Sadly, the uniform was soaked and probably done for.
“Sorry—” I started, only to be cut off by Gabe.
“Sorry, Atlas. You probably remember my little brother, Zebediah. Always causing mayhem. But it’s good to see you.” He grabbed an entirely inadequate bar towel from the cart I’d used to bring in the salads and handed it to Atlas before clapping him on the one clean spot on his meaty shoulder. “Thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“Me too. I caught the last transport out of DC right before my phone ran out of power, then lucked into a ride heading this direction.” He sponged off his face before turning his attention to me. “And this is little Zeb? I remember you being a kid in high school—”
“I’m twenty-eight now,” I brightly informed him. My tone was too crisp, tinged by my irritation at Gabe. “Neither little nor a kid, despite what my elder statesman of a brother thinks. Time flies.”
“Huh. I guess it has been a while since I’ve been back.” Atlas rubbed his stubbled jaw. Probably hadn’t shaved or slept in a couple of days, given his tired red eyes, and I immediately felt bad for the dig at his lengthy absence. My shoulders slumped, and my gaze dropped to the messy floor.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Gabe said to Atlas before turning back to me. “You work on this mess, and I’ll help Atlas find a spare server’s uniform.”
“Guess I would have needed to change anyway.” Atlas was far more good-natured than either of us deserved. “But I might need hosing down first.”
“There’s a shower,” Gabe steered him toward the double black doors that led to the kitchen area. “I’ll show you.”
“I remember.” Atlas chuckled fondly. Why, oh why, did every damn thing on the man, including his laugh, have to be so sexy?
“Oh, that’s right.” Gabe joined in Atlas’s laughter. “Didn’t my dad catch you and Marla Kleinsdorf in there senior year?”
“She needed help getting glitter out of her hair after her birthday party.” Atlas sounded more factual than bragging, but my back still tensed. Maybe his perpetual bachelor status wasn’t the sort of clue to his sexuality that I’d hoped for.
“Sure, buddy, sure. She still lives in the area, you know.” The way my luck was running, Gabe would have Atlas and Marla, who owned a flower shop, engaged before December. Pausing at the kitchen door, Gabe turned back to me as I attempted to scrub the worst of the sauce from the carpet. “And, Zeb, don’t try to salvage the table linens. Fresh set. Our guests have high expectations of a Seasons’ Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I’m aware.” My voice was crouton dry, not that either of them would notice.
“And for God’s sake, smile.” Gabe gave me the widest, fakest grin ever. “It’s the happiest time of year.”
Uh-huh. More like about to be the longest month of my life.
Annabeth Albert grew up sneaking romance novels under the bed covers. Now, she devours all subgenres of romance out in the open--no flashlights required! When she's not adding to her keeper shelf, she's a multi-published Pacific Northwest romance writer.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
Emotionally complex, sexy, and funny stories are her favorites both to read and to write. Annabeth loves finding happy endings for a variety of pairings and is a passionate gay rights supporter. In between searching out dark heroes to redeem, she works a rewarding day job and wrangles two children.
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EMAIL: Annabeth@annabethalbert.com
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