by Tara Lain
Micah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He petted the slightly rough old coat of fur and got an appreciative purr. Ancient cat wisdom. There was nothing quite like it. His eyes closed.
Chapter Seven
THE INFOMERCIAL chatted through his consciousness. A juicer guaranteed to keep all the vitamins in. Fat chance.
What? What was that? Jesus!
Micah threw off the covers and bounded a foot off the bed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Dharmaram sat up, which brought his highly erect cock into a full upright position.
“Fuck is the operative word, darling. I’m horny.”
“Ask me if I care. Get out of my bed now. Room and board does not include that board.” He pointed at Dharmaram’s stiffy. “Now get it out of here.”
“I can te-elllll.”
Micah’s hands on his hips probably looked pretty funny since he was stark naked.
“If you’re going to tell, tell. I told you I’d give you a place to stay for a while. No other benefits go with that arrangement.”
“You used to love me to fuck you.” Dharmaram stuck out a pouty lip.
“No I didn’t. I just said I did.” Micah stared at the handsome man he’d once thought he loved. Hell, next to Quentin, this guy was a joke—but not a funny one. And Micah had compromised himself and his life by having Dharmaram around. Quentin wouldn’t want that, Micah was sure. “Get out.”
“What? No. I’ll go straight to Grandma.”
“Do what you need to do. I need you to get out.” He balled his hands into fists. “Don’t force me to make you leave.”
Dharmaram’s eyes widened. The guy was six feet tall but still a coward. “Come on, Micah. Why wreck a guy’s life if you don’t have to?”
His breath caught. Was he doing that? Wrecking Quentin’s life? No, he wouldn’t listen. “It’s you who has the choice. You’re supposed to be this big, balanced person. That’s a joke. You’re a user who never got his life together. You’re a good teacher, Dharmaram. Grow up.”
“You uptight, self-righteous prig.”
Micah nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m working on that.” He took a step forward. “Get out. And this time for good.”
“Shit.” Dharmaram turned and walked out of the bedroom.
“Merwaor.”
Micah turned to the old cat still sitting in the piles of covers. “Thanks, buddy. We said I’d know what to do as soon as I woke up. You must have made me smarter overnight.”
But now he had to live with the consequences of his actions. He pulled on his underwear, jeans, and socks, threw a sweatshirt over his head, and walked into the guest room, where Dharmaram sat on the edge of the bed dressed in yoga clothes staring at his suitcase. Crap, it almost made Micah sad. Almost. “Do you need me to help you?”
For a second Dharmaram’s face looked lost. Then he scowled. “I don’t need anything from you, loser. I’m leaving and going to the studio. The second Mary Beth comes in, she gets the earful. Stick my stuff outside.”
“With pleasure. Give me the key.” Micah wiggled his fingers. Dharmaram fished in the pocket of his gym pants and pulled it out.
“All the locks will be changed tomorrow, so don’t bother using whatever copies you made.”
“Screw you.”
And for the second time in less than two weeks, Dharmaram left the building.
Micah ran to the kitchen, put out some cat food for Furtwangler, and gave the cat a quick pet. “Wish me luck, buddy. Hopefully I didn’t just screw up two lives.”
He hurried to the garage. No bicycle today. With a ping and whirr, he turned on the Leaf, backed out, and sped to the parking garage on Glenneyre. From there he ran to the cupcake shop.
Gasping for breath, he stopped outside the store. Locked. Of course. It was only eight thirty in the morning. At least Dharmaram’s class didn’t start until nine. If only Quentin would come here to the shop right after he dropped off his grandmother. Or maybe even before. Oh God. What if he went in and Dharmaram confronted them together? No warning. Just a smack in the face. Maybe he should run to the yoga studio? He took two steps down the pavement—
“Micah?”
He turned back to see that beautiful face. A beautiful face and body—dressed in men’s clothes. He’d seen Quentin as Queen. He’d seen Quentin naked. But this was the first time seeing him as a man.
“Wow.”
Of course, that masculine image was slightly compromised by the fact that Quentin wore an apron over his jeans and T-shirt—an apron covered in flour and dough. Micah wanted to lick it off. The first processed food he’d had in years.
Quentin wiped his hands. “What did you want?”
His eyes wouldn’t focus. He just wanted to keep staring at that loveliness.
“Maybe I could get one of your raw cupcakes?”
“You came here before opening for a cupcake?”
Micah shook his head. “No. I have something to tell you. Something pretty awful.”
Quentin frowned. “Something more awful than you going back to your yoga teacher a few hours after we had sex?”
Micah breathed out hard. “It’s related to that. Where can we talk?”
“There are people baking in the kitchen. You know, baking that poison I make and force on people?” He stood very upright.
“I’m truly sorry for that. Just, please, let me tell you what’s happened.”
“Okay.” Quentin stepped aside and pointed to the back. Micah walked into the shop, assailed again by the sweetest of smells. No, second sweetest, after Quentin.
Quentin walked through the door that led to the kitchen, and Micah followed. He turned right and stepped into a small office with a desk, computer, and a filing cabinet. Quentin pointed to a straight-back chair across from the desk. He took the desk chair. “So what did you want to tell me?”
Whew. Face-to-face, this is tough duty. His heart beat so hard he could feel it in his toes. “I, uh, I really care about you.”
Who knew Quentin’s face could get that angry. “You sure have a unique way of showing it, sugah.”
“Wait. I’ve done a bunch of dumb things, and I’m not sure which is dumbest. First, I did that whole priggish song and dance about the cupcakes being poison when I should have been telling you how much I admire you and appreciate how you take care of your grandmother. I really want to know why you created those raw cupcakes”—he held up a hand—“but first I have to tell you about my other idiot moves. The reason you saw me with Dharmaram is because he was blackmailing me. He figured out that the beautiful woman he saw me with is the grandson of his most proper Southern lady student, and he threatened to tell Mary Beth about you if I didn’t take him back in. What you saw was him moving his stuff into my guest room. That’s guest room.”
Quentin’s mouth literally hung open. “But why did you do that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Micah shrugged. “I knew if I told you, you’d immediately come out to your grandmother, and I didn’t want to force you to do something you didn’t want to do.”
“So you’ve been hosting that snake in the grass on account of me?” The blue eyes widened to saucer expanse.
Micah shifted in the chair. “I was. But that’s why I ran here so fast this morning. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I woke up this morning and he was climbing in bed with me. I threw him out—again.”
“Good.”
“Not good, because he’s going to go straight to Mary Beth and—”
“Who’s going straight to me, darling?”
The soft Southern voice came around the partly closed door, followed by a curly head and blue eyes that sparkled just like her grandson’s.
He would have smiled, but fear seemed to have frozen him solid. What could they say? All he could do was follow Quentin’s lead.
Mary Beth moved gracefully into the little room. She wore jeans and a frilly white blouse that created a perfect contrast of old and new worlds. She stuck out her h
and. “So you’re Micah, am I right? We didn’t get to meet properly on that day at the studio.”
He shook her soft, small hand. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
Quentin stepped over and kissed her cheek. “I thought you had yoga class this morning, dear.”
“No. George and I are switching to Pilates for a while until we find an instructor with better ethics.”
Quentin flushed. “Did he offend you in some way?”
“Not at all. I just find him a bit of a shady character.”
Micah couldn’t hold in a laugh. “You have that right. I’m sure you can find someone who’s as good a teacher but a better person.” Maybe that meant she wouldn’t hear about Quentin. The day was looking up.
She smiled. “So what are you two planning?”
Quentin glanced at Micah. “Oh, uh, nothing. Micah, uh, just wanted a raw cupcake.”
She beamed. “Good. I’ll get you a box. I was thinking perhaps we can work out a distribution deal with you. You can offer the raw cupcakes at your restaurant. Then your customers won’t be so enticed by our sugar and flour.”
Micah really laughed this time. “Quentin told me you were a sharp businesswoman. I see he was right.”
She put a hand on Quentin’s arm. “Oh, he’s far beyond me in so many ways. I’m very proud of him.”
Moisture glistened in Quentin’s eyes. “I’ll never be half the entrepreneur you are, NeeNee.”
“Nonsense. Plus you’re far more creative.” She took a step toward the door. “I’ll get those cupcakes. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally get to meet Quentin’s boyfriend. I knew you would choose well, dear.” She walked out of the room.
Pins dropping.
Quentin stared at Micah, his mouth working a little. Micah didn’t move. He’d been turned to stone.
Quentin shook his head like a swimmer coming out of deep water. “She didn’t mean that,” he whispered. “Just friends, as in boys who are friends.”
Micah leaned toward Quentin and hissed, “I don’t think so—”
Her voice preceded her. “Thank you, dear. These look divine.” Mary Beth walked back in the door carrying a pink cardboard box. “Oh my, the girls have included some of the new date and nut recipe.” She handed the box to Micah. “We’re having a grand time proving that raw food can actually taste good.”
“I, uh, always tell people that.” She beamed at him. Silence. Well, hell, who was going to address the boyfriend elephant in the room? Quentin stared into space, and Mary Beth just smiled. Shit!
“Ma’am, uh, you referred to me as Quentin’s boyfriend—”
Quentin put a finger on Micah’s arm. “Shh.”
He covered Quentin’s finger with his hand. “No shh.” He looked back at Mary Beth. “Can you tell me what you meant?”
She smiled. “Well, dear, where I come from, a boyfriend is someone who comes to call and pays attention and steals kisses in dark corners and maybe more if the opportunity arises.”
Micah swallowed. He didn’t even look at Quentin. “And, uh, you think that’s what Quentin and I do?”
“I think life is a lot harder for gay men than it is for women nowadays, but I sure hope you do.”
Quentin’s voice sounded serious. “You never told me you knew I was gay.”
She sighed and looked up at him. “I know, and I’m truly sorry. You know how good we are at pretending in the South. You didn’t seem to want to deal with it, and I just got into the habit of letting you be the way you wanted. I’ve known you were gay since you were twelve, dear. Maybe younger.”
Quentin’s breathing seemed rapid. “Did you move to California because it’s hard being gay in South Carolina?”
“I’m sure it’s hard being gay everywhere, dear. I wanted to move to Laguna Beach for both of us. But yes. I wanted you to have a better life, and most of all, I always hoped you’d find a young man who was so special to you that you’d finally be moved to bring him home and tell me you’re gay. But you never did. Until now.”
Quentin frowned. “Micah’s not my boyfriend.”
Micah’s heart thunked. Mary Beth put a hand on his arm as if to steady him.
“Don’t be silly. Of course he is.”
“He said we have nothing in common.”
She put her hand on Micah’s shoulder. “And I’m sure he’s very sorry he said such a silly thing when it’s clear you were made for each other.”
They were? Micah cocked his head. “I thought we were opposites. Quentin is this genteel, well-educated, gorgeous, talented guy, and I’m a skinny, rigid control freak from a dysfunctional upbringing.”
Quentin stepped over to him and put both hands on his hips. The Queen was on deck. “You are not. You’re incredibly accommodating and generous. Look what you did for me with that awful Dharmaram and how you sacrifice for your customers and for whales and trees. And how your cat loves you. And you’re so handsome and smart.”
Mary Beth smiled. “There, you see. Made for each other. Now, why don’t both of you take the day off and figure out this whole boyfriend thing. I’m sure your staff can do without you, Micah. I’ve always found them to be very professional when I come by.”
“You come to the Place?”
“Everyone in Laguna does, dear. Now, off with you and have a relaxed day. Eat some cupcakes, drink a little champagne. Maybe more than a little. And have some good hot sex.”
Quentin’s hand flew to his face. “NeeNee!”
“Oh, did I forget to mention? That’s another thing boyfriends do.” Her laugh followed her as she left the room.
Micah took a deep breath, and it came back out as a laugh. He took two steps across the room, grabbed Quentin’s head, and pressed his lips against the mouth that was still hanging open. He kissed hard, then pulled back. “Did we just get a lesson in how fear blows everything out of proportion?”
“No, I think it was a lesson in not underestimating one’s grandmother.”
Micah nuzzled that sweet neck. “Want to take her advice? Cupcakes, champagne, and clean white sheets?”
Quentin pulled off the apron. Man, he looked great in jeans. All lean hips and slim, muscled chest. “I’m not sure I can breathe.”
Micah kissed him again.
When he pulled away, Quentin grinned. “My place or yours?”
Micah gazed at him. “Actually, I have something I want to do first. C’mon.”
He took Quentin’s hand and walked out into the busy shop. Several of his regular customers were in the line that snaked out the door.
Annie, his early morning wheatgrass customer, waved and smiled a little sheepishly. “Hi, Micah. I came for raw cupcakes.”
He laughed. “Yes. I have my own right here.” He held up the box. “Say, Annie, have you met Quentin?”
“Sure. Hi, Q.”
Micah looked at the pretty guy beside him. “Q?”
Quentin nodded and smiled shyly. “Some of the customers christened me Q. I think it’s from the movies. They say I come up with great inventions.”
“Hey, I like that.” He raised Quentin’s hand to his mouth and kissed the backs of his fingers.
Quentin’s eyes widened, and he looked around quickly at the stares of the interested customers.
Micah nodded toward Quentin. “Q’s my boyfriend, Annie.”
“I gathered that. Congratulations, you two. I think if you guys can get along, it must portend well for relations in the Middle East. The peace treaty between wheatgrass and white flour.”
Chapter Eight
MICAH CHUCKLED and looked at Quentin, whose eyes still resembled the fabled deer-in-the-headlights. “Come on. Our adventures have just begun.” He took a bag from the counter, slipped the cupcake box in it, put it over his arm, and grabbed Quentin’s hand again. He led the way out into the bright February sunshine. “Where are we going?”
“I’ll show you.” He walked, holding hands, down the sidewalk beside the busy Pacific Coast Highway. A few people stared at th
eir clasped hands. Quentin kind of ducked his head at the glances, but Micah held tight. They reached a side street that led down to the beach, where Mica turned toward the water and bounced down the steps to the sand.
Quentin hurried after him. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” At the bottom of the stairs, Micah sat and took off his shoes and socks. Quentin followed suit. They tucked their shoes over beside the stairs and walked barefoot out onto the cool, rough sand. Micah extended his hand again, and Quentin took it.
The surf pounded against the beach while gulls screamed and sandpipers chased the sparkling water as it ebbed and flowed. Though Laguna Beach was made up mostly of hundreds of small inlets, this part of the coastline was wide and expansive.
Ahead, a number of men stood or sat on the sand. A couple wore bathing suits, but the cold water in February discouraged much swimming. One of the men looked up and waved at Micah.
“Hi, Yancy.” They walked up to Micah’s friend and his companions.
“Hey, baby. How’s it hanging?”
“Good. I think you know Quentin, don’t you?”
Yancy cocked his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. Hi, Queen.”
Quentin still looked a little shell-shocked, but he extended his hand. “Hi. Good to see you again.”
Yancy grinned. “You’re just as pretty when you’re not in drag. Meet the guys.” He introduced Quentin and Micah to several men, a couple of whom had been at the party.
Micah smiled at Quentin. “I’m just introducing him to the gay beach.”
Quentin looked around. “Oh.”
Yancy nudged Micah. “Hey, are you two an item?”
He got a big grin at that one. “We’re working on it.”
“Look, Ma, I’m a matchmaker. Son of a bitch, congrats, you two. Finally you’re with someone I approve of. Anti-Valentine’s has worked its magic.”
Quentin cocked his head. “I thought anti-Valentine’s was supposed to make us happy to be single.”