After breakfast, they dressed and met at the sliding door. Lane and Braden were in jeans, Remy still in sweats—Lane grinned at his lover’s insistence on staying comfortable over the holiday. Seeing the grin, Remy asked, “What? I like these.”
“I like you in them,” Lane replied. “Nothing sexier than a man in sweatpants. It just all hangs out.”
Remy punched him playfully in the arm. “Not in front of my kid.”
Confused, Braden looked up at his father, then at Lane, then back at Remy. “What’s hanging out of your sweats?”
“Nothing,” Remy said, a little too quickly. “Come on, let’s go find a tree.
Outside, it was warmer than it had been when they arrived the night before, but they still needed coats. Lane felt a little nip in the air and wondered if that meant they might get snow, but he kept
