The Christmas Accomplice

By Hank Edwards

A vacation mix up. A job promotion on the line. A fateful roll of the dice.

Welton Monroe is on his first vacation in a very long time. He's not a winter sport enthusiast, but the cozy cabin at the Snowcapped resort, and Reece Donaghy, the hunky employee who checks him in, seem perfect to finally put his relationship with Dean in the past. That is, until Dean arrives. In an effort to make up for past wrongs, Dean offers to help Welton win Reece's heart, an offer Welton grudgingly accepts.

 

Reece should be focusing on the Assistant Activities Director promotion he's put in for, but he's more than distracted by Welton. In a whirlwind week of activities, Welton and Reece discover the Christmas magic in snowman building, karaoke, and tobogganing. But when the secret Welton has been keeping comes to light, and a final, large-scale challenge is assigned to Reece for his chance to win the promotion, it seems a week's worth of Christmas spirit may not be enough to keep them together once the holiday is over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hank Edwards
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215291382

Hank Edwards

Hank Edwards has been writing gay erotic fiction for more than twenty years. He has written over two dozen novels and even more short stories. His writing crosses many sub-genres, including romance, rom-com, contemporary, paranormal, suspense, mystery, and wacky comedy. Find out more at www.hankedwardsbooks.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Everywhere Welton looked, he saw snow. Miles and miles and miles of snow. As the lodge shuttle growled along the winding mountain blacktop road—much too close to the drop-off for Welton’s peace of mind—he couldn’t help but be dazzled by the sparkling, shimmering muchness of snow. It had gathered in branch-bending heaps on the boughs of pine trees, and been plowed into dirty but somehow still beautiful mounds along the shoulder of the road. The seemingly endless white stood out against the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky, leaving him breathlessly impressed. Well, the view and the altitude, most likely. Whatever the reason, the view outside the shuttle’s window made a spot in the center of his chest ache with longing.

Just a week before Christmas, and he was about to arrive at the Snowcapped Mountain Lodge and Resort. On his own. He would be spending Christmas alone, but that was fine. He’d done that for years now, even when he was with Dean. This time, however, instead of holing up in his apartment like a hermit, he was going to spend the holidays at a mountain resort. For seven days, he’d rest and relax and enjoy all the activities the lodge had to offer.

Or, he was going to try his best to rest and relax and enjoy them. Okay, maybe just one or two of the activities.

Back in February when he and Dean made this reservation, everything between them had been fine and on track. At least Welton had convinced himself that everything was fine and on track. Now, with several months of quiet and solitary nights filled with too much thinking, lubricated by maybe a couple glasses of wine, Welton could see that there had been problems right from the start. What Welton had originally chalked up to an opposites attract relationship had actually proven to be their demise. It had taken three years for them to figure it out, but in early March they had both finally admitted what they had been holding on to in their relationship wasn’t enough to keep them together.

Welton had found a small one bedroom apartment across town, closer to his office for those rare times he had to go there in person, and packed up his things. Dean had helped him move into the new place, which Welton had originally thought had been kind of him to do. But in the weeks that followed, he’d started to wonder if Dean had just wanted to get him out that much faster. He especially reconsidered his thinking after seeing pictures Dean posted out in the bars with his arm around attractive men. Each picture was of a different man, but all of them looked the same: ridiculously good-looking, shirtless, with an open and laughing expression that seemed to be asking the question, What’s next?

Welton couldn’t help noticing none of them wore glasses or had brown hair that just laid across his head no matter how much he tried to style it. And none of them looked like they wished they were anywhere except the place they were at that exact moment.

None of them were at all like Welton.

After their time together, Dean had done what Welton had come to think of as a brand relaunch and reclaimed his status as an A-type extrovert to the gay population in and around Detroit. And that population had apparently grown in leaps and bounds since they had been together. And it seemed to have gotten a lot younger than Welton’s thirty-one, as well.

Sometimes Type A would only fit together with another Type A.

The shuttle driver slowed, and the shift in the transmission brought Welton back to the scenery and the moment at hand. It wouldn’t be long now until he finally stepped off the shuttle. This trip was going to be his turning point. He was going to work hard on making changes to himself during this time. He was going to participate in some of the lodge activities, and from the emails he’d received, there were many of them. He was going to talk to people he didn’t know and push himself so far out of his comfort zone it would become his norm. After this trip, he wasn’t going to be quiet and nerdy Welton who thought fun equaled reading science fiction and playing strategy board games. He would be outgoing and conversational Welton who liked to change up his activities and experiences.

Neither he nor Dean had remembered the Christmas trip they’d already paid for until they’d each received the first of many reminder emails at the end of September. Dean had texted Welton and asked him what he thought about the trip. There’d been some back and forth, with each of them telling the other to take it, and then saying they would take it, and finally Welton had said he would take the trip and send Dean his half of the payment after New Year’s when he’d receive his bonus at work, and that had been the end of it.

And Dean had posted more pictures of himself out and about enjoying the nightlife.

A quiet squeal of brakes and the loud ticking of a turn signal had Welton craning his head to see around the very tall woman in the seat before him. The shuttle driver was waiting for a traffic light to change so he could turn into a driveway. A sign topped by snow told all passers-by this was the entrance to the Snowcapped Mountain Lodge and Resort, and Welton’s heart beat a little faster. His palms felt a bit sweaty, and he wiped them on his khaki pants.

He didn’t need to be nervous. This was his chance to make positive changes in his life. He was in control of how he filled his days and the attitude he chose to face them. The time he spent here at the resort would be the starting point for a better, more outgoing lifestyle going forward. It was all up to him.

The light changed, and the driver eased the shuttle along the winding drive. The other passengers chatted excitedly about the beautiful grounds and the ski lifts lining the background. They sounded so happy and excited, Welton felt alone in a crowd again. It made him think about middle school gym class, when he was the odd kid out with the glasses and baggy shorts, sitting on the bleachers until some bigger and stronger kid was forced to pick him to be on his team.

Even though Welton was traveling on his own, he didn’t need to be lonely, he reminded himself. He had the opportunity to talk to people. He’d done such a thing in the past; it was how he and Dean had first met at a party thrown by a mutual friend. All he needed was to learn how to do it again.

Dean. Unsurprisingly, Welton had been thinking about him quite often the past week as he’d packed for and eventually embarked on the trip. While he and Dean hadn’t been perfect together, they’d always found something to talk about. Despite Welton’s somewhat reclusive tendencies, he’d enjoyed the connection he’d felt with Dean.

The young man sitting beside him suddenly leaned into Welton’s personal space to peer out the shuttle window, startling him out of his thoughts.

Look at all that glorious powder, the passenger whispered in awe.

He was part of a larger group with an uneven number, so he’d been forced to sit beside Welton. He’d been turned away the entire ride from the airport to talk to his friends across the aisle, so this was the first time he had spoken to Welton. Beer tainted the man’s breath, and a strong smell of evergreen body spray wafted off him every time he moved. Good Lord, was the guy trying to attract elves?

Determined to make a go of his change of attitude, however, Welton managed what he hoped looked like a genuine smile and said, Yeah, it’s really something.

The guy sat back, thankfully, but the evergreen smell lingered. You ski, bro?

Oh, you know, a bit, Welton said, then hurriedly added, Bro. He only held eye contact with his seat mate for a fleeting second before having to look away. The guy was way too handsome for Welton’s comfort.

They’ve got great powder up here, the guy said. On top of a really solid base.

That’s what I’ve heard, Welton said. The base is, like, the best base all around. It’s like if this place were a jazz musician, it would be Count Basie, it’s got so much base.

Silence greeted his attempt at humor, and Welton risked a glance at the guy to find him frowning.

What’s that even mean?

Welton was saved from having to respond as the shuttle eased to a stop under a porte cochere, and the doors at the front rattled open. All the other passengers stood up and surged into the aisle, Welton’s handsome neighbor included. Welton remained in his seat until the others had exited before he got up and stepped off.

After the warmth of the shuttle, the cold air stung when it touched his exposed skin. He rubbed his hands together and turned to where a couple of young men hauled bags out of the back of the shuttle. One of them smiled and pointed toward the entrance.

Go on inside and check in. We’ll bring in the bags, and you can grab yours after.

Welton thanked the man and approached the doors, which slid open as he neared. A second entrance contained a revolving door to help keep the cold from rushing into the lobby each time the outer doors opened. Welton pushed through it and stopped to look around the lobby.

It was different than he’d anticipated. He’d browsed some of the pictures on the website, but hadn’t paid much attention to the lobby, and he was happy to discover very little in the way of attempts at rustic charm. Some natural wood accents mixed in with tasteful stone and concrete gave the place a more modern feel. Comfortable chairs were arranged in groups around a large circular fire pit, but Welton was happy to see single chairs placed about the lobby as well. Perhaps not everyone who checked into the resort was an extrovert. Across the lobby from the registration desk was what looked to be a softly lit and cozy bar, and signs above hallways branching off in different directions indicated the way to dining areas as well as the fitness center, spa, and pool.

He queued up behind the other shuttle riders. All of them wore parkas or ski clothing, quite different than his khakis and cotton-blend pullover topped by an old winter coat he’d worn for over a decade. The majority of the other guests also looked more fit than he could ever hope to be, even under their winter clothing. Not that he was unfit. He just wasn’t their level of fit.

Early on in their relationship, Dean had asked about his workout routine. Welton had said he took brisk walks, then sat feeling foolish as he’d waited for Dean to stop laughing.

Sir? Are you checking in?

Welton looked up and discovered he’d shuffled along in line automatically and was now next up. Turning his thoughts away from Dean, he approached the young woman’s station.

Yes, I am. I’m Welton Monroe, and I should have a cabin reservation.

The cabins are very popular this time of year. You must have made your reservation early.

We did, indeed. I mean, I did.

I see here you’re in the Spruce grouping, cabin five. That’s a very nice one, with a loft master bedroom and a very nice sitting area with a fireplace. She tapped on her keyboard. And you’ll be with us until the day after Christmas. We’re glad you chose to spend your holiday here at Snowcapped.

Yes, well, thank you. Small talk always made him uncomfortable. Many times he responded with short statements because he didn’t want to risk boring people. And he never really knew what to say to common pleasantries, so he usually fell back on the response he’d learned attending church with his parents: And also with you. Which either made people laugh or give him a funny look and walk away.

Here are your key cards. She tucked two plastic entry cards into a small paper folder where she’d written his cabin group and number and handed it to him with a smile. Our team has lots of fun events planned for the holidays. I hope you enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Welton.

Mr. Monroe.

Oh, I’m so sorry. Mr. Monroe. You’ll find your bags by the entrance. One of the bellhops is driving newly arrived guests to their cabins in an enclosed cart. She looked past him and gestured for the next person in line.

Welton shifted position to catch her eye again, cutting off the next customer. I’m sorry, drive me to my cabin?

Yes, it’s a short distance down the road.

A short distance? How far is it? Will I be able to walk here for meals or will I need to summon a ride?

It’s really not that far, she said with a smile that looked as if she might have practiced it in a mirror. It’s only a courtesy right now since you have luggage.

She looked at the next customer, and Welton knew he’d been firmly dismissed. He turned toward the main entrance where a group of people were just leaving, following a young man he assumed was the cart driver. Welton approached the few remaining pieces of luggage and separated his two bags from the others. After several failed attempts to maneuver the bags through the revolving door, he stopped and let out an exasperated huff.

Can I be of some help?

Welton looked over his shoulder, a smart remark dying on the tip of his tongue at the sight of the man. He was tall with dark hair a bit wavy on top, and a trim beard that matched. Welton noticed the man had a slight overbite and wondered if he’d grown the beard to disguise it. It didn’t look bad on him, and actually it made him seem more approachable. A dark green blazer with Snowcapped Mountain Lodge and Resort embroidered on the left in yellow thread looked a little short in the sleeves for him but exposed the dark hair on his forearms.

I suppose so, Welton said. I could take one bag through the revolving door, and perhaps you could bring the other?

The man pressed a handicap access button and stepped back as a wing door Welton had failed to notice eased open. Does that help?

Well, where’s the challenge in that? Welton pulled both his bags through the door, saying over his shoulder, Thank you.

Enjoy your stay, the man called after him.

An enclosed golf cart was just pulling out from under the porte cochere, loaded with other passengers who’d been on the shuttle from the airport. Welton shivered in the biting wind as he stared after it, then he turned to go back inside. The man who had opened the door for him stood a short way behind him, blocking his path.

Oh. Hello, Welton said. I didn’t hear you come outside.

I think the cart drivers have all left for the time being. Would you like me to drive you?

Are you licensed to do that?

Drive a modified golf cart? He grinned, and Welton noticed how it made the corners of his deep set and warm brown eyes crinkle. Pretty sure I can handle it. Unless you’d prefer to wait for one of them to return?

No, no. I would like to get to the cabin and unpack. I’d appreciate a ride. Thank you.

He watched the man stride off to where a number of the carts were parked. Moments later, he pulled up in front of Welton and hopped out to load his bags in the back. Welton climbed inside and became instantly aware of the man’s scent. It was much better than his seat mate on the shuttle: musky and earthy with a wisp of woodsmoke. Welton’s heart pounded and his belly tightened. He was sensitive to smell, and this man smelled like sex and comfort.

Where to?

I’d like to go to my cabin and get settled a bit, if that’s okay.

He grinned, and it was sexy and kind of sweet and not at all condescending, and Welton thought this cart ride might simultaneously be the best and agonizingly longest few minutes of his entire life. I don’t know which cabin you’re in.

Oh! Welton’s face could have melted. He arched up off the seat to check his pants pockets for the folder with the key. When he realized what a sexual position he’d assumed, he blushed even more and dropped his butt back into the cushion. I don’t recall the number. I have the folder and keys here somewhere.

His entire head may as well have been the sun.

If I may? The man slowly, carefully extended a hand toward him as if Welton were a strange dog that might bite. He plucked the long, narrow paper folder the clerk had given him from an outer coat pocket and checked what had been written on the front. Spruce group, cabin five.

Welton looked at him for a moment as he accepted the folder back. Yes, that sounds right.

The man put the cart in motion, and Welton stared out his side of the soft plastic fastened around the seats to keep out the cold.

First time visiting Snowcapped?

Yes. First time.

Do you like to ski?

Does it look like I ski? Welton heard the sharp edge in his tone and made a face. "I’m sorry. It was an early morning and a long