by L. C. Chase
“I can live with that,” Marc said, peppering him with small kisses. “But say you’ll come to my house tonight for a . . . non-date.”
“Marc . . .” But Trevor smiled, the first genuine smile since Christmas. And then he couldn’t hold it back, and said what he’d wanted to say the second he’d turned to find Marc in the terrace doorway. “Yes.”
“Why are you so fidgety?” Trevor trapped Marc’s hands, stilling them against his chest as they rode in the back of a cab on the way to Trevor’s parents’ house.
“I have no idea.” Marc looked over at Trevor, who smiled at him like he could do no wrong. Marc understood the feeling because he felt the same. That first “non-date” after Trevor’s art exhibit had become an extended date, and now, a year later, the wonderment and joy of waking up every day with this beautiful man hadn’t lessened. In fact, it had grown.
“You’ve already met everyone,” Trevor said, passing streetlights flickering like blue diamonds in his eyes.
Yes, he had. Trevor’s mom and dad had stayed in Boulder during Trevor’s and Maria’s surgeries and all through their recoveries. All Trevor’s brothers and sisters had made the trip out too, and Marc had finally been able to make use of the guest rooms in his too-large-for-a-single-man house. A house the Morrisons had turned into a home, starting with Trevor.
“Maybe because this is the first time I’ll be facing the entire family together. Or . . . because I’m entering Morrison home turf.”
Trevor laughed and raised their joined hands to kiss Marc’s knuckles. “You realize there is nothing more you can do to impress them, right? You saved my life.”
“Maria did.”
“Because of you.”
“Because I love you,” Marc said softly.
Trevor leaned toward him, a hand sliding dangerously close to his suddenly too aware cock, and whispered, “I love you, too.”
Hot breath ghosted over Marc’s ear, sending a shiver of arousal racing through his veins.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Marc warned, a smile playing on his lips.
“That’s okay. I know a great lawyer.”
Marc shook his head and chuckled. “Incorrigible.”
“Yep. And you love me just the way I am.” Trevor pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Marc let his head fall back against the headrest and soaked in the man who’d become his everything. “I do. I love you more than I can ever say.”
“We’re here,” Trevor said, tilting his head toward the window beside him.
The cab slowed in front of a large colonial-style home set back on an oversized lot, surrounded by snow-covered trees.
The front door opened and half the Morrison clan, led by Trevor’s mom, spilled out onto the large veranda before their taxi had come to a full stop.
Trevor brushed another quick kiss on his mouth. “Ready?”
Marc nodded. “Ready.”
Trevor paid the cab driver, and they gathered their things from the trunk as a flurry of voices hurried them along. A good half hour’s worth of welcome hugs and cheek kisses later, they put their luggage away in the guest room that had once been Trevor’s childhood bedroom. After a quick refresh and change of clothes, they headed back downstairs.
Marc helped set the dinner table, but every time he tried to help in the kitchen, Mrs. Morrison—who insisted he call her Natalia—shooed him out. The dining room was set in an open-concept alcove that was raised up from the living room, and it wasn’t until everyone had sat down to the meal that Marc noticed something missing from the large space.
“Where is your tree?” He wasn’t asking anyone in particular, but he looked at Mrs. Morri—Natalia.
She smiled and glanced at Trevor, raising an eyebrow.
Marc also turned his attention to Trevor, who sat at his side.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Trevor said, leveling a mock-glare at Natalia before bestowing a smile on Marc that he would never grow tired of seeing. Every smile was a promise, and every promise brightened his life that much more. “I wanted to take you out to a live-tree farm tomorrow. I thought we could pick out a tree and dig it up together. Like last year. A tradition of our own.”
A tradition of our own . . .
Marc reached for Trevor’s hand and laced their fingers together. His voice was a little shaky when he said, “Every time I think I can’t love you more than I already do, you prove me wrong.”
Trevor placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”
“Oh my God,” Isaac, Trevor’s brother, laughed from across the table. “You’re going to make all the women cry.”
Everyone joined in on the laughter, but Marc didn’t miss Isaac’s dark, misty eyes. Knowing he’d been caught, Isaac winked at him.
“You boys just make sure you go early,” Natalia said. “The weatherman says a blizzard is on the way tomorrow afternoon. I don’t want you two getting caught up in it and getting stranded out there.”
Marc met Trevor’s gaze, and they both smiled. Worse things could happen.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading L.C. Chase’s A Fortunate Blizzard!
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Huge thank-yous are in order for some dear people who’ve helped me through the writing of this book, but most of all for their friendship and constant support: MC, Alec, Thorny, Anne, and Taylor. I love you guys!
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Riding with Heaven
Long Tall Drink
Cover artist by day, author by night, L.C. Chase is a hopeless romantic, free spirit, and adventure seeker who loves hitting the open road just to see where it takes her. After a decade of traveling three continents, she now calls the Canadian west coast home. When not writing sensual tales of beautiful men falling in love, she can be found designing book covers with said beautiful men, drawing, horseback riding, or hiking the trails with her goofy four-legged roommate.
L.C. is a two-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Pickup Men and Pulling Leather; an EPIC eBook Awards winner for Pickup Men; an EPIC eBook Awards finalist for Let It Ride and Long Tal
l Drink; Bisexual Book Awards finalist for Let It Ride; and a two-time Ariana eBook Cover Art Awards winner. She also received an honorable mention in the 2012 Rainbow Awards for Riding with Heaven.
You can visit L.C. at www.lcchase.com.
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