Hands-On Hanukkah

By Penelope Peters

David Nachem doesn’t actually hate Hanukkah.

David Nachem is living his best life. He loves his work, he loves his cat, he loves his family. Who cares if he doesn’t put up holiday decorations? He’s not actually a Grinch – it just feels that way, especially when his boyfriend up and dumped him four months ago with no explanation.

But when Tim reappears in David’s life asking for David’s help as a massage therapist, David can’t say no. Not when David still misses Tim – and Tim’s joyful exuberance about everything holiday-related.

Not when David still wants to know why Tim dumped him in the first place.

Tim Mason doesn’t actually hate his ex.

Tim Mason is living his dream. He’s dancing for a national company in the big city, on the brink of ballet stardom. So what if his ex-boyfriend lied to him? Tim dropped that funsponge like a bad pair of pointe shoes and he’s dancing into the sunset.

But when Tim’s ballet career is almost side-lined right before the biggest performance of his life, David’s therapeutic know-how might be the only way Tim can get to center stage. Tim knows David isn’t as much of a Grinch as everyone says – but even he’s surprised at the turn David’s taken since their breakup.

Can he save David – and save his heart from breaking a second time?

This Hanukkah, all it takes to heal a heart is a pair of willing hands...

Hands-On Hanukkah is a m/m romance. It features sweaty dancers, dubious Hanukkah decorations, and lots of super *ahem* sensuous massages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penelope Peters
• Release date: Nov 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005906498

Penelope Peters

Penelope Peters wrote her first story at the age of nine, based on a dream she couldn’t shake. This is probably why most of her romances usually include the weird and whimsical. Penelope has been happily married to her college sweetheart for nearly two decades, which is probably why her romances are practically guaranteed happy endings. Armed with her two kids, the cat, and her somewhat-trusty laptop, Pen’s traveled to more countries than you can count on two hands. (She’s very close to filling up that third.) Currently Penelope lives in Country of Residence #5, where she is surrounded by pierogi, pottery, and her collection of unfinished counted cross-stitch kits.You can find Penelope on Facebook (PenelopePetersAuthor), Twitter (@penelope_writes), Tumblr (penelopepeters), and her website (Penelope-peters.com), where you can learn about how to receive updates and ARCs. Sign up for her newsletter and receive a FREE BOOK! geni.us/pensmailinglist

Book preview

Hands-On

Hanukkah

by

Penelope Peters

Hands-On Hanukkah

David Nachem doesn’t actually hate Hanukkah.

David Nachem is living his best life. He loves his work, he loves his cat, he loves his family. Who cares if he doesn’t put up holiday decorations? He’s not actually a Grinch – it just feels that way, especially when his boyfriend up and dumped him four months ago with no explanation.

But when Tim reappears in David’s life asking for David’s help as a massage therapist, David can’t say no. Not when David still misses Tim – and Tim’s joyful exuberance about everything holiday-related.

Not when David still wants to know why Tim dumped him in the first place.

Tim Mason doesn’t actually hate his ex.

Tim Mason is living his dream. He’s dancing for a national company in the big city, on the brink of ballet stardom. So what if his ex-boyfriend lied to him? Tim dropped that funsponge like a bad pair of pointe shoes and he’s dancing into the sunset.

But when Tim’s ballet career is almost side-lined right before the biggest performance of his life, David’s therapeutic know-how might be the only way Tim can get to center stage. Tim knows David isn’t as much of a Grinch as everyone says – but even he’s surprised at the turn David’s taken since their breakup.

Can he save David – and save his heart from breaking a second time?

This Hanukkah, all it takes to heal a heart is a pair of willing hands…

Hands-On Hanukkah is a m/m romance. It features sweaty dancers, dubious Hanukkah decorations, and lots of super *ahem* sensuous massages.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

Thank You for Reading

About the Author

Also by Penelope Peters

Copyright

Chapter One

Sunday

DAVID NACHEM HAD BEEN AT the combination Hanukkah/Christmas party for an hour when the girl in the blue-and-silver elf costume took over his lap. David considered this a personal failure, as he’d spent most of the party avoiding her. This would have normally been difficult to accomplish, considering the size of the tiny apartment, but as every member of the National Capital Ballet Ensemble was also crammed inside, the task was a great deal simpler.

The entire ensemble… and assorted freeloaders such as David, who was there only because it was his cousin’s apartment.

It was easy to get lost in the over-stuffed apartment, especially since apart from the guests, it contained two Christmas trees in inconvenient places, three electric menorahs, one unused Kwanzaa kinara, a couple of very Middle-Eastern oil lamps, and one very real candlelit menorah, all of which posed fire hazards of varying degrees. The decorations were a varied mix of colors: red, green, blue, silver, gold. Plastic dreidels, plastic mistletoe, fluffy but probably plastic snowmen, and stacks of foil-wrapped chocolate coins littered every surface. There were the typical bowls of dried fruit and candy found at parties (though no nuts—one of the principal ballerinas was allergic), as well as empty and half empty red plastic cups marked with people’s names and nicknames.

Faced with the overabundance of holiday cheer, David had promptly grabbed a beer and found himself a chair tucked behind a Christmas tree, where he could sit and be grumpy in relative peace.

Combination Hanukkah/Christmas parties were one thing; David could deal with a tree and a menorah in the same room without blowing a gasket. Inclusion of other holidays was good, too—at least it made for a varied view.

The blue and silver elf, however, definitely crossed a line. Elves might have been universal for eleven months out of the year, but an elf in December was one of Santa’s helpers, even if they wore Hanukkah colors and talked about unions and fair wages and universal health care.

You know this outfit is vaguely insulting, David told the elf as she dropped into his lap and almost knocked the cup of beer out of his hand. I’m insulted, Kelsey. Seriously. I might have to lodge a complaint with the ADF.

The elf just scowled at him. For most people, having a curvy elf drop into their lap at an otherwise boring holiday party was probably a blessing. Especially when the elf’s ridiculous crocheted blue-and-silver outfit was almost indecent for the chilly weather outside, and the elf herself was kinda cute, in a girl-next-door sort of way.

Not David, though. He didn’t swing towards elves, or girls wearing inappropriate elven costumes. Or even girls.

Especially when the girl in the elf costume was also David’s cousin Kelsey, who he’d seen eat an entire baking sheet of orange-flavored Jell-O when they were both four years old.

"It’s cute," said Kelsey the elf defensively.

It’s ridiculous. As is a party on Sunday night.

"We open The Nutcracker this Friday, and tonight’s the second night of Hanukkah. If I’d waited until after opening, it wouldn’t be Hanukkah at all and you can’t have a Hanukkah party if it isn’t Hanukkah."

If Christmas parties are okay for the whole month of December, I’m pretty sure you can have a Hanukkah party whenever you want, said David patiently.

In that case, every weekend until the end of time, and you’ve got a permanent invitation, Kelsey said primly, grinning as David scowled at her. Grinch. Did you even take your menorah out of its box this year?

None of your business.

That’s a no. Kelsey poked him gently. Hanukkah used to be your favorite holiday when we were kids.

Yeah, well, I grew up, said David bitterly, poking her back. Kelsey retaliated in kind, and for a moment, they tousled more like the kids they’d been than the serious, staid adults they claimed they were.

"Ow, complained Kelsey, rubbing her stomach after a particularly vicious poke. You owe me a massage for that."

Kelfey! sang a Russian-accented voice from somewhere else in the apartment. The elf visibly winced. "Haha, did you hear what I did with your name? Kelfey?"

"Help," she hissed at David.

Look, you brought that nickname on yourself when you picked your costume, David told her.

Kelsey scowled as one of the male members of the ensemble emerged from the crowd of people. David recognized him from the countless recitals and shows in which Kelsey had performed.

There you are! said the dancer brightly. For a hardened Russian ballet dancer, he had an innocent, earnest way about him that almost made David feel sorry for whatever fury Kelsey was going to unleash on his poor, unsuspecting hopefulness. I look for you. I can bring a drink. Wine? Beer? Vodka?

Kelsey lifted her chin and gave him a death stare. David didn’t know what they taught in ballet schools, but every dancer he’d ever met had that stare perfected by the time they were twelve. I don’t want a drink, Vasily. I am the host, I cannot be inebriated lest the party go haywire.

David rolled his eyes—Kelsey was perfectly willing to get smashingly drunk at her own parties—but Vasily nodded solemnly. I do not understand that word, haywire, but in the context, I think it’s not good.

Very not good. Go away.

I’ll drink it myself then. Do you want to dance?

A world of no, Kelsey told him firmly. Besides, I found a perfectly acceptable partner already. Right here. Kelsey patted David’s knee possessively.

Ah, said Vasily, nodding his head. Your cousin. I thought he was gay.

Kelsey glared at Vasily while David tried desperately not to laugh.

Vasily kept going. David wondered if Vasily’s accent was thicker because he was actually drunk, or if he was just playing a part for Kelsey’s amusement. You should know, Kelsey’s Cousin, I do not mind the gay. I myself have wondered if I was the gay, and after much deliberation, have determined that I am not.

Great, said David, less because he actually cared, and more because every word out of Vasily’s mouth was making Kelsey less likely to stay on his lap. Even if she had started coughing, probably because she couldn’t think of anything better to do to get Vasily to go away. You know, I think she might need a drink after all.

I can do that, said Vasily quickly. Kelsey, my bunny, can I get you water? Juice? Vodka?

"Go. Away, Kelsey told him. Scat. Be gone!"

Water, of course. I’ll be back so soon!

Vasily disappeared into the crowd of people, and Kelsey slumped over on David’s lap.

"Oh my God, why is he so Russian?" she groaned.

If you were hoping to make him jealous, sitting on my lap was not the way to go.

"Ugh, grunted Kelsey. I hate you."

Join the club, said David dryly. He leaned in closer. "Did you put silver on your eyelashes?"

Maybe.

Uh-huh. Where’s your usual knight in shining leotard?

Kelsey bit her lip and shook her head. Tim’s a no-show.

David frowned, but tried not to look guilty. It wasn’t easy. Oh. Sorry.

"Not because of you, you self-obsessed idiot. He’s been sick the last couple of days, but he promised he’d be here. He’s weirdly excited about lighting Hanukkah candles."

Which was only weird because Tim wasn’t Jewish himself. He likes holidays, you know that. Remember how excited he got about Fourth of July?

Kelsey laughed. An all-day extravaganza on the National Mall, complete with fireworks over the Lincoln Memorial? Exhausting. Fun, though. I haven’t done that since high school.

Yeah. It had been a good day—a great day, if David was going to be honest about it. And watching the fireworks with his arms around Tim had been the perfect ending. In more ways than one, as it’d turned out—but David didn’t want to think about their break-up anymore. Don’t worry about Tim. He probably checked out so he could avoid me.

Kelsey punched his arm. "Stop that. He doesn’t hate you."

Beg to differ, said David dryly. Sorry. If you want, I can go so his coast is clear. Might leave you open to Vasily’s tender mercies, though.

Actually… Kelsey opened her eyes as wide as she could and clasped her hands under her chin, turning the full force of her innocent gaze at David. "You could go and get him for me."

David groaned. "Kelsey."

Kelsey batted her eyelashes at him. Five bats in, one of her false eyelashes started sticking, and she struggled for a moment, trying to open her right eye. "Oh, dammit."

David gently helped pry the fake eyelashes from her face and dropped them in the nearest empty plastic cup.

Mostly empty plastic cup.

"David, I could have put those back on," groaned Kelsey.

Why do you think I put them there? You could go get Tim yourself, you know. It’d even take you out of Vasily’s reach for a while.

I can’t leave my own party! Besides—you’re the only other person here who knows how to break into his apartment building.

Great. So he can call the cops on me when I do.

I don’t know why you’re so convinced that he hates you, complained Kelsey. "You were practically married when you broke up."

"See, and it’s generally the breaking up part that indicates one party despising the other, David pointed out, just before he took another swig of the awful beer. Wait a sec—did you add cinnamon to this?"

It’s mulled!

"You don’t mull beer, Kelsey."

"It’s my party, Davey, hissed Kelsey. I can mull the beer, I can serve the chocolate, I can dress up like a Hanukkah elf. Besides, you still owe me a Hanukkah present. I want Tim at this party. Go get him."

This is a trick, said David, scowling at her. I know it’s a trick. And I don’t appreciate it.

"Oh, please, Mr. Grinch, like you want to be here anyway. Just go, please? If he’s still too sick to show up, that’s fine, just get a sign of life and come back so you can reassure me he’s not dead."

Cheerful, said David.

And then Kelsey’s mouth quivered.

Oh no, said David, alarmed. Kels—

I’m worried, David, said Kelsey. It sounded quiet, which was impossible given how loudly Mariah Carey was singing about her Christmas wish list. Kelsey’s mouth quivered, though, and her eyes filled with tears. She was small and sweet and, dare David think it, elven, sitting there so innocently on his lap. "This isn’t like Tim. He loves holidays, you know that. He wouldn’t have missed this party for anything, even you. Plus the show’s opening on Friday, and Tim’s missed so many rehearsals—Madame’s saying she might have to recast Vasily as the Prince. You know how hard Tim’s worked for this. He wouldn’t just miss rehearsals without a good reason. I haven’t heard from him in two days, and I’ve been calling and calling and—"

Two days?!? repeated David. Because he knew Tim—and that was alarming. How sick was he?

I don’t know. He called out sick on Thursday, and I’ve been partnered with Vasily for every rehearsal since.

Shit, groaned David. He stood up, catching Kelsey by the elbow