Stocking Stuffers

Excerpt:
After clearing the snow from his driveway, he went around back and shoveled an area for Tillie. He ate a quick sandwich and lay down on his bed for a half hour or so. Normal routine meant getting back to the store by two-thirty, so Shannon had time to pick up the kids from school. He'd work until seven, head over to pick up Tillie, and often stayed for dinner with his mom. It was a comfortable life, even if it was boring as hell. But he'd be damned if he'd tell Dean that. As far as the other man needed to know, Ben had the best fricking life on the planet.

He'd decided not to call his ex. There was nothing to come of their getting together, hashing out the last couple years and talking about where they went wrong. It was unnecessary, and he suspected it could be painful. Best to avoid the other man altogether.

Dean apparently had other ideas. When he called the store in the afternoon, Ben read the Caller I.D. on the phone and chose not to answer it. He thought he'd escaped cleanly as he climbed into his truck later that night, until Dean stepped up behind him and grabbed the door.

"Must have been busy today. I tried to call a few times and you never answered."

"Really?" He acted surprised. "I'd better check the phone, make sure it's working, with the snow and all."

"Yeah, right." Dean looked at him. "You didn't want to see me."

With a sigh, he leaned back into his truck seat. "Not that I didn't want to, couldn't. It still hurts, Dean. After all this time, I can't believe that it still hurts to see you."

"We need to talk." Dean reached for his face, cupping his jaw in one hand.

"Oh, no." Ben pulled away. "The last thing I need to do is to be alone with you."

Dean chuckled and stepped one foot into the truck, their faces inches apart. "So you're afraid to be alone with me?"

"Oh, yeah." He sighed as their lips met in a kiss he could taste from memory. Feeling the strong mouth pressed against his, he almost relented and returned the kiss. When Dean's tongue nudged the seam of his lips, he jerked away. "Don't. I don't want this."

Dean ran one hand up his jean-clad thigh until he reached Ben's groin area, squeezing his growing erection. "Tell me again you don't want this."

Ben shoved the hand away, looking him firmly in the eye. "Okay. How about, I don't think we should do this."

Dean's face was still so close, he could feel his breath. "I hear you. But we need to talk. Can we get something to eat and just talk?"

"No, because we won't." He had to force himself not to return the kiss. The closeness was agonizing.

Dean backed away. "Yeah, we will. I'll promise to be on my best behavior and we'll talk. What do you say?"

Knowing it wasn't prudent but wanting it in the worst way, he gave in. "I've got some pretty good lasagna and some damn good beer."

"Great. I'll follow you, okay?" Dean smiled.

He couldn't smile back. Something about this felt like trouble. "Sure."