by Tara Lain
“Seriously, right now you’re just an attempted kidnapper. Kill me and you’ll fry.”
A police car swung into the gas station just as Blaise kicked backward and connected his leg with the guy’s balls.
“Ow!” The dude freaked, dropped the knife, and ran like a rabbit. A couple of seconds later, two big cops took off behind him, weapons drawn.
Blaise took a breath and piled into the truck. Llewellyn’s eyelids were fluttering as the women dribbled water against his lips. Blaise knelt in the seat well in front of Llewellyn. He whispered, “Hey, smart guy. Time to wake up and let me take care of you. Come on.” He leaned forward and gently kissed Llewellyn’s lips.
Minivan Woman cooed, “Oh, is he your boyfriend?”
“Yes, ma’am, starting this very minute.”
For a second the whole world was all about staring into Llewellyn’s eyes as they blinked open. Instantly, before he had a chance to think or worry or doubt or take it all back, he smiled radiantly up at Blaise. “Hi.”
Blaise kissed him again gently. “Hi.”
“Am I in heaven?”
“Yes.” He grinned.
He blinked some more. “Then why do I feel like I’m going to throw up? That’s not very heavenly.”
“You were drugged. Ether, I think.” Blaise cocked his head. “Hey, you didn’t stutter.” He pressed a hand against Llewellyn’s cheek and felt the soft skin and light stubble.
“No stuttering in h-heaven.” He closed his eyes and pressed his face against Blaise’s hand.
Minivan Woman shoved her head in the door, “Hey, mister, you should have seen what your boyfriend did for you. I mean, he punched out a guy with a knife! Talk about brave.”
Llewellyn frowned. “Knife?” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Boyfriend? W-what happened?”
An oh-so-familiar voice said, “That’s what I’d like to know.” Detective Holiday stuck his head beside Minivan Woman into the back seat.
Blaise pressed his forehead against Llewellyn’s. “All shall be made known.”
AFTER THE EMTs arrived, looked Llewellyn over, and pronounced him not much the worse for wear, he once again found himself in the police station. This time Blaise was beside him, not across the table.
Holiday shook his head. “This dude was really willing to perpetrate kidnapping and assault to get you to prove Jack the Ripper was a member of the royal family of England?”
Blaise snorted. “You actually used ‘perpetrate’ in a sentence.”
Holiday raised an eyebrow.
Blaise seemed to swallow his snark. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the guy had designs on parts of Llewellyn other than his brain, but his main motive appears to be historical.”
“Jesus.” Holiday shook his head. “I never knew I had to keep such a close eye on members of the history department. All of our recent crimes seem to center there.”
Llewellyn looked up. “We’re s-scary.”
“Yeah. I can’t let you loose without supervision.” Holiday barked a laugh.
Blaise sat forward on his chair and leaned on the table toward Holiday. “Yes, as to that, Detective, I think you should require that Dr. Lewis be held under close watch for, you know, the rest of his life.”
Llewellyn’s head snapped up, and his heart fell out onto the table.
Holiday visibly forced the corners of his mouth down. “Yes, I see what you mean. He needs a solid member of the—uh—” He waved a hand.
Blaise formed the words with exaggerated care. “Eng-lish—”
“Right, English department. Because after all, everyone knows that English teachers live very sedate lives.”
Llewellyn barely wanted to hope. Yes, Blaise had saved him from God knew what fate. Yes, he’d been wildly brave and chased after an armed psycho to rescue Llewellyn. But maybe it was just tit for tat. Llewellyn had saved him. Now they were even. “B-but you’re not an English t-teacher.”
Blaise took both Llewellyn’s hands in his. “But I will be, starting next semester. Dr. Rhule assured me if I wanted it, I can have the TA position and finish my doctorate. You can help me.” His eyes dropped. “Of course, I won’t be able to afford a place to live, and I will require cats, so you’d have to take me in.” His eyes snapped up, and he flashed that irrepressible Blaise smile. “But you require constant supervision from an English instructor as terms of your release, so hey, I’ll be serving a purpose.”
Breathing. Breathing would be good. Llewellyn tried to suck air into lungs compressed by a band of fear around his chest. Fear this might all be a dream. “Y-you’ll get tired of me.”
“Jesus, are you kidding? Since I’ve known you, my life’s been in jeopardy twice! Boring you aren’t.”
Llewellyn shook his head. “Usually I just d-drink tea and p-et cats.”
“And that’s what I want to do with you. Please, Llewellyn, let me be a part of your life.”
Llewellyn glanced up. Somehow Holiday had slipped out of the room. “Your mother—”
“Is figuring out how to come to terms with the new reality. Don’t worry. She’ll reconcile. She loves me.”
Llewellyn sighed. “Who wouldn’t?”
Blaise leaned in and stared into Llewellyn’s downcast face. “I’m sure there are lots of people who wouldn’t—but oh God, I hope you’re not one of them.”
“N-no.”
“No you’re not one of them, or no you don’t love me?”
Llewellyn let out a long column of air. “I’ve loved you, I think, since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
Blaise cocked his head. “And when was that exactly?”
Llewellyn started to laugh. “I’ll never t-tell.”
Together they laughed all the way out the door—to the future.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Three months later
LLEWELLYN STARED out the big Tuscan-style window into the expanse of vineyards beyond, his fingers entwined with Blaise’s on the patio table. He slowly released a breath in pure contentment.
The handsome waiter/sommelier at their favorite small winery in Paso Robles brought them their loved chicken, brie, and apple sandwiches and a crisp, cool glass of sauvignon blanc for each of them. The guy flashed a set of perfect teeth. “Enjoy.” With a little swing of his hips, he walked away.
Blaise chuckled.
Llewellyn looked at him. “What?”
“That crease between your eyebrows?”
Llewellyn pressed a finger to the spot. Sure enough. “What about it?”
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with the flashing teeth of El Cutie Pie-o, would it?”
Llewellyn snorted. “No.” Then grinned. “Well, maybe. I do notice that he s-seems to have about six extra teeth when you’re around.”
“And I happen to believe that he reserves those teeth for you.”
“Nonsense. Why would—” He stopped and said, “You’re p-probably right. I’m irresistible.”
Blaise extended his glass, and Llewellyn clinked it. Blaise said, “So true. And I totally agree. A fact I plan to prove when we get home.” He leaned forward and stared at Llewellyn expectantly.
Whew. PDA. He loved it, and it still made him blush. Llewellyn moved closer and pressed his lips against Blaise’s. Since there were two other couples on the patio enjoying their wine, this was a big step, but one it thrilled him to take. Blaise not only made Llewellyn love him, he made Llewellyn love himself, a much harder job.
Blaise slowly opened his eyes as he pulled away from the gentle kiss. “Sweeter than wine.” He sipped from his glass. “I have to admit, this is good too.”
“Nobody beats Bo’s wine.”
A low voice from behind Llewellyn said, “Would y’all say that into the microphone, please?”
He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Bo Marchand, the owner of the winery, who not only created treats for the palate, he was a treat for the eyes. A little taller than Blaise’s six two, he had wavy brown hair, pale green eyes, and dimpl
es you could lose a finger in. His voice dripped Southern honey, and his manner redefined charm. The dimples weren’t on display, however. In fact, he looked stressed. Llewellyn nodded. “Hi, B-Bo. We’re enjoying y-your cuisine.”
He stepped to the table. “May I join you for a moment?” His Southern drawl made join sound like jaine.
Blaise smiled. “Of course.”
Bo pulled another chair to the table and sat across from them. “You two look so happy, I should bottle it. I’d make a pure bushel of money.”
Blaise grinned. “We’re celebrating our three-month anniversary.”
“Well, it’s not diamonds yet, darlin’, but quite an accomplishment.”
“Yes, since I’ve been on the job, Llewellyn hasn’t received a single death threat.” Blaise took a swallow of wine.
Llewellyn snorted wine up his nose and coughed. “My h-hero.”
Bo laughed. They’d told him how they met on one of their visits to the winery.
Blaise gave Bo an appraising glance. “Besides, we hope you’re already making several bushels of money without our joy juice to bottle.”
Bo shrugged and rotated the small vase of flowers in the center of the table. “There’s a lot of competition in winemaking.”
Blaise glanced at Llewellyn with a little frown. Llewellyn shared it. “There’s n-no one as good as y-you, Bo.”
“Take our word for that. We’ve tried all the wine in the central valley.” Blaise laughed.
“Thank you, darlin’s. I’ll try to remember.” He finally flashed the dimples. “Let me get you both a glass of something new I’ve just added to the list this week. To celebrate your amazing longevity in love.”
“W-we’ll never refuse a t-taste of your wine.”
He stood. “I’ll get it.”
As Bo walked inside, Blaise said, “Excuse me, love. Men’s room. I’ll be right back.” He followed Bo through the door into the tasting room.
Llewellyn sat back, gazing at his glass. It might be empty, but his heart and his life were full. Though a little piece of his brain kept waiting for Blaise to get restless and bored, he was, if anything, even more settled into their quiet life of writing and petting cats than Llewellyn was. Blaise still held out for coffee, however. He seemed to enjoy his job, worked hard on his dissertation, and filled their days with laughter and nights with delicious sex. Even his mother seemed to be coming around. She could hardly believe her son was so settled. That was probably because she was such a restless woman. But she’d been flat-out scared by Blaise’s swipe against prison, so she gave him space to be happy his own way. Llewellyn actually liked her better than he thought he could.
The door to the tasting room opened, and Blaise backed out holding two flutes of a lightly pink sparkling wine, pretty as flowers. He walked over, being careful not to spill, and placed a flute at his place, then swept a bow and handed Llewellyn his glass.
“Thank you.” He smiled up into Blaise’s eyes. “So Bo is m-making bubbly?”
Blaise seemed to sparkle like the wine. His eyes danced, and the corners of his mouth kept curving up before he controlled them. “Yes. He says it’s pink but it’s still very dry. Look at that amazing color.” He held his flute up to the light and nodded toward Llewellyn’s glass. “Check it out.”
“Oh, okay.” Partly to humor his love, who seemed to want him to do this, he picked up the slim flute and held it toward the fading sunlight. Pretty. A very pale pink. Wonderful bubbles rising from the bottom and—
He gasped.
Blaise’s smile finally burst forth with full force.
Llewellyn brought the glass closer to his eyes so he could clearly see the shining platinum circle set with some sparkling diamonds inside the flute.
In the fight to hold in tears, he lost. In fact, they slid out of his eyes and down his cheeks until they dripped from his chin, no doubt looking silly, but he couldn’t stop. “R-really?”
“Please say yes. Please.” Blaise slid out of his chair, took the wineglass from Llewellyn, and sank to one knee. “Llewellyn Lewis, the kindest, smartest, most amazing man I know, will you marry me? It can be tomorrow or a year from now, whatever you say. Just as long as you say yes.”
“You honestly w-want to marry me?”
“More than anything.”
Llewellyn stared down into the face of beautiful Blaise. Believe. Just believe. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
Blaise stood and held the glass to Llewellyn’s lips. “Drink carefully.”
He did. It was probably delicious. He barely noticed.
Blaise drank the rest and dropped the ring into his palm. He took Llewellyn’s hand and slid the ring on his finger. It fit perfectly. “Marry me, darling, and we’ll spend our life unraveling the mysteries of love.” He wrapped his arms around Llewellyn and kissed him while the other guests and every person in the winery applauded.
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