Decorated (The Art of Love #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

Alfie Spears didn’t like Christmas. He wasn’t an outright grinch. He did see the appeal in festive holiday lights, he enjoyed the bright and cheery decorations that turned otherwise dreary London streets into something worthy of a postcard, almost, and he loved a good mince pie. But when you didn’t have family to celebrate with and nowhere special to go where people were waiting for you with hugs and mugs of hot chocolate, it took the shine out of the holiday.

He could have counted his squadron in the RAF as his family, but after flying one too many harrowing missions in Afghanistan and the nightmares that he still had now of being shot at, he wanted to distance himself from the people who had surrounded him during that time of his life. It was nothing on them, he just needed mental space from that conflict and combat.

Besides, being semi-out in the military could still be a problem, depending on who you had to deal with. A couple of guys from his old squadron felt that who he wanted to go to bed with was more important than the decoration for bravery he’d received after rescuing several children from a house that had been bombed. He wasn’t inclined to give those people the time of day now.

Which was exactly how he’d landed a desk job back in England, where he’d been for a year now. After all he’d been through in active duty, he was more than happy to have an administrative role in logistics with the RAF now. He was equally happy to have just over two weeks left before transitioning back to civilian life, though what he would do when that happened was still worryingly up in the air.

His desk job, and the fact that he hadn’t been given any new projects, since his time left with the RAF was so short, was the reason he had driven out to Hawthorne House, home of the Hawthorne Community Arts Center, and was striding up their long, picturesque drive now, a large, folded, cardboard box under one arm.

Hawthorne House at Christmas belonged on a postcard. Its quaint, historic edifice was the picture of old British charm. Even with the antennas spiking up from various places on the roof, the large electrical transformer he spotted off to one side, hidden by shrubs, and the parking lot he walked in from, Alfie could imagine himself walking back into a previous era of history as he glanced up at the ivy-covered house.

Someone had decorated the house’s numerous windows with tasteful greenery, red ribbons, and electric candles. A few large wreaths hung at intervals around the front of the house, and a massive wreath was perched over the front door. It was the sort of decoration he liked, not the garish, plastic, loud decorations that too many people seemed to favor these days. It was exactly the sort of decoration he imagined the house would have had back in the day when his father attended school there.

That was the main reason Alfie had taken the job of organizing his office’s toy drive that December. He’d jumped at the chance to work at the place where his father had spent the formative years of his life. He could barely remember his father. The man had died when he was six. You could only learn so much from old photographs.

Alfie’s heart beat fast as he stepped up to the grand front door of Hawthorne House, then pulled it open with his free hand to reveal the piece of his past he might find inside. He immediately stepped back, holding the door for a trio of older women who were on their way out, standing at attention for them, then nodding as they smiled at them.

“Well then, this is a lovely new service Robert and Janice have provided for all of us,” the first of the ladies through the door said, her eyes glowing with appreciation as she raked him from head to toe.

“Stop it, Violet. You’re incorrigible,” the one who stepped out right after her said, giving her friend’s arm a playful slap.

“And so what if I still appreciate the male form in all its wonder at my age?” Violet asked her friend teasingly.

“Don’t mind her,” the third lady addressed Alfie, laughing. “She’s excited because Rhys found us a delicious male model to paint for our final assignment.”

“No offense taken, I can assure you,” Alfie said, smiling at the women as they walked on. Or, at least, smiling as much as he ever did, which wasn’t much. “Merry Christmas.”

The three ladies giggled as if they were teenagers as Alfie headed on into the house, shuffling the box under his arm. He didn’t mind their teasing at all. He liked seeing people happy, and if that came at his expense in a cheeky way, like Violet clearly intended, he could live with that. It was a harmless antidote to the conflict of war.

As soon as he walked into the huge front hall, he paused to take everything in. It was so easy to imagine that hall, with its tall ceilings, elaborate staircase, and antique furnishings hosting some sort of nineteenth-century Christmas ball. It was equally easy to imagine a hundred chattering, mischievous boys in school uniforms rushing about on their way to classes, plotting all sorts of trouble.

Alfie could almost hear centuries of laughter ringing off the walls. He drew in a deep breath filled with the scent of art supplies, but also that rich, eternal scent that old houses filled with aging wood and wallpaper had.

Hawthorne House had a good feel to it. It was a cheerful, open place. He picked up on the creative vibes without even trying.

“Can I help you?” a light, male voice asked, pulling his attention away from his surroundings.

Alfie immediately reassessed his initial impression when a strikingly beautiful and obviously nonbinary person stepped out of the glassed-in office to his right. They approached him like they already had an idea of who he was and why he was there.

“Corporal Spears,” Alfie introduced himself, shifting the cardboard box to his other arm so he could offer the young person his hand. “I’m here about the toy drive.”

“Yes, of course,” the young person said, shaking his hand. “I’m Early Stevens. I work in the office. Robert and Janice are expecting you.” They let go of his hand and gestured for Alfie to follow them to the office. “Give me a second and I’ll just let them know you’re here.”

“There’s no hurry,” Alfie said, continuing to look around, even as he followed Early. “This house is incredible.”

“I love it,” Early said, walking through the open glass door and around to the other side of the desk. “I took classes here years ago, then they hired me for the office, and now I’m dating Rhys Hawthorne.”

“Classes when the house was a school?” Alfie asked, then immediately realized that would have been impossible.

“No,” Early laughed as they reached for the phone. “The school closed down way before my time. The family has been offering art classes here ever since then. The arts center has expanded a lot since then, especially in the last couple of years. I’ll just let Robert know you’re here,” they ended as they picked up the phone.

Alfie nodded, then turned to glance back at the hall through the glass as they made the call. If he had to guess, he would say that the office had once been some sort of formal parlor for visitors to the grand estate, but it had been renovated beyond recognition. It almost felt like someone had plunked a glass cube of some sort around the parlor, extending into the front hall, to create the modern-feeling office.

The original inhabitants of the house would probably be appalled. He wondered if the change had been made before or after his father had been a schoolboy there.

“Robert is on his way down,” Early let him know a moment later. “Janice is teaching a class at the moment.”

“Thank you,” Alfie said with a precise nod, setting the folded cardboard box down against the desk. “Is it alright if I take a look around at the front hall?”

“Go right ahead,” Early said with a smile.

Alfie nodded once more, then stepped back into the older-feeling space. The more he looked around at the art-covered walls and the more he peeked down hallways and into side rooms, the more he could see how the modern world had completely eclipsed anything Victorian or older about the house’s interior.

There were modern fixtures everywhere he looked, which included a tall Christmas tree lit with electric lights in the front corner of the hall. At some point, someone had replaced the wainscotting and wooden panels down the long hallway on the left side of the grand staircase with much more practical plaster and paint, possibly when they redid the electric in the house.

There were two corridors, one on either side of the grand staircase. The refurbished one was busy with people who looked like they were coming and going to classes. Alfie could almost tell which classroom was which by the displays near each door. The walls were decorated with paintings, photographs, ceramic tiles, and even a few Japanese-style masks, all of which had the feel of student work. The hallway on the other side felt more private and was still decorated in an old-fashioned style.

He had just taken a step toward that corridor to have a nose around when a man in a bright, rainbow-patterned shirt and jeans that were shockingly tight came barreling straight into him. On instinct, Alfie twisted to grab the man and to keep him from falling over.

The man let out a grunt as he made impact, then wobbled in Alfie’s arms, like he was too stunned to stand on his own for a second. He wasn’t particularly small or light, but even after careening right into him, he managed to be lithe and graceful.

Well, maybe not graceful, since he’d smashed right into him.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” the guy blurted as he righted himself at last and twisted to face Alfie.

He stopped and melted into a smile as bright as his shirt as he glanced up into Alfie’s puzzled face.

“Are you alright?” Alfie asked, still holding him. He felt like the man would crumple and fall if he let go.

“I am now,” the man said, his smile flashy and hungry.

Alfie ignored the flirting. Yes, he was tall, muscular, attractive, and wearing a uniform. He was well aware of what that did to some people. Especially the sort of man who let the world know he was gay with such abandon in the way he dressed.

He wasn’t nearly as used to having the same sort of instant attraction in return. Especially not to someone who was as loud as the man in his arms was. It wasn’t just the way he wore his sexuality boldly on his sleeve, he was cute, fit, and had the sort of spark that Alfie liked. And those jeans hid nothing.

The moment between them seemed to last a beat longer than it should have before the man’s smile of attraction dropped.

“Shit,” he said again. “I can’t just stand here. He’s going to find me and kill me.”

Alfie let go with a look of alarm, then immediately regretted it as the man bolted for the hallway on the righthand side of the stairs. He obviously had to let the man go, but his instinct to protect overrode his good sense.

“Are you alright?” he asked again but for a different reason entirely as he strode after the man. “Are you in trouble?”

“Oh, no,” the man said with a breathy laugh, his voice managing to be both lilting and masculine, glancing back over his shoulder at Alfie. His playful look dropped again as he went on with, “Well, yes. Kind of. Maybe. Probably. Almost definitely. It’s a long story.”

Alfie paused, knowing it wasn’t any of his business. He should just let the guy get on with things while he waited for Robert Hawthorne and took care of the things he was there to take care of.

He hesitated too long. Before he could wish the man a good day and turn to go back to the office, the man grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side, pulling him into a small alcove under the staircase with him.

“I’m Blaine, by the way,” the man whispered, using Alfie’s body as a shield to block him from whatever was out in the hall. “Blaine Hawthorne.”

“Alfie Spears,” Alfie introduced himself.

He should have introduced himself as Corporal Spears. He should have walked away and left Blaine Hawthorne to whatever he was doing. But he couldn’t. Not when his insides were buzzing with amusement and the need for more.

Then he blinked. “Blaine Hawthorne?” he asked. “Are you related to the family?”

“Yeah, I’m one of the many, many cousins,” Blaine said. “Ssh!”

Alfie’s brow shot up. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shushed him. He wasn’t sure if anyone ever had. Certainly not in the last ten years, as he’d served his country. It was wild enough that he stood where he was, waiting to see what would happen next instead of extracting himself from Blaine’s tight grip on his arm and walking away.

Blaine leaned out from behind him, as if he were a sheltering tree, glancing back into the front hall like he was waiting for a tank to roll through the door. Alfie couldn’t help but lean and look with him.

“What are we looking?—”

“Ssh!” Blaine silenced him again.

Alfie didn’t know whether to be offended or to laugh. He was far more inclined to laugh. Instead of searching the front hall, like Blaine was doing, he took a better look at Blaine.

The man was half gay cliché and half totally unique. His rainbow shirt was probably by a big-name designer, not that Alfie knew anything about that world. His hair was a little long but in a flattering cut with a fair amount of product in it. He smelled good as well, like an expensive cologne that was supposed to be subtle but that you couldn’t stop thinking about once you smelled it. He clearly took care with his appearance, even though he exuded chaotic energy.

“Shit,” Blaine hissed again, then pulled back behind Alfie.

Alfie turned from assessing Blaine to glancing out into the hall. He didn’t see anything particularly alarming. People were still coming and going, presumably to classes.

There was one man, probably in his thirties, completely ordinary-looking, who stood in the middle of the hall, looking around with his eyes narrowed slightly. He was searching for something, and when he moved toward the office, Alfie wondered if Blaine was the thing he was looking for.

After a brief exchange with Early in the office, he stepped back out and headed in Alfie’s and Blaine’s direction. Blaine must have seen him, because he sucked in a breath and stiffened. Blaine shifted closer to Alfie as the man walked closer, and then right past them into the old-fashioned hall. The man didn’t stop or even acknowledge Alfie standing there.

“Is he gone?” Blaine asked, proving the man was after him somehow.

“He is,” Alfie said, twisting toward him. “I know it’s none of my business, but?—”

“Great,” Blaine spoke right over him.

Blaine shot out from behind him and hurried across the front hall toward the office, dragging Alfie with him for some reason.

He seemed to realize he’d taken Alfie’s hand and strung him along halfway down the hall and let go. Alfie wasn’t sure he liked breaking contact like that.

The whole thing was bizarre. He didn’t believe in having an instant draw to people, unless it was the sort of instant draw he had at a bar when he was looking for a hook-up for the night. Maybe that’s what this was. Blaine was definitely the kind of guy he would get a hotel room with for one night. It had been months since he’d hit up that scene. He could have just needed to give his libido a top-up.

He didn’t have time to question his reaction to Blaine before an older guy with an impressive, white beard who looked like a hippie came down the grand staircase and raised a hand to greet him.

“You must be Corporal Spears,” he said, reaching the marble floor and starting across it with his hand extended. “I’m Robert Hawthorne. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Mr. Hawthorne.” Alfie immediately switched back into business mode, taking Hawthorne’s hand and shaking it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Hawthorne made a dismissive sound and waved his hand when he let go of Alfie’s. “None of that ‘sir’ stuff. You can call me Robert.”

“Robert,” Alfie confirmed with a nod. “It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

“And with you,” Robert said. “I love the idea of this toy drive. We’re so happy to have Hawthorne House host the party to end it. Ever since this summer, my family and I have been looking for more and more ways we can serve the community, and this is a great one.”

“We’re glad you’re willing to host,” Alfie said. He intended to keep things all business, but his sentimental side got the better of him. “I’m personally happy to finally get a look at Hawthorne House. My dad attended school here in the late eighties and early nineties when it was Dormans Boys’ School.”

“Really?” Robert asked, looking delighted. “Then I’ll have to give you the full tour instead of just showing you the dining hall and where to put your donation box. Do you have the donation box here?”

“In the office,” Alfie said.

“Great,” Robert said, heading for the office.

Alfie followed, but instead of thinking only of the box and the toy drive, his thoughts zeroed in on Blaine when he spotted the man with his back plastered against the side of a filing cabinet, peeking out into the hall.

He wanted to laugh and shake his head, which, of course, he would never do in public. Something about Blaine Hawthorne entertained him, though.

Robert clearly thought so as well.

“Blaine, what are you doing in here looking like you’re trying to avoid a swarm of bees or something?” he asked.

“Hiding,” Blaine answered.

Alfie’s brow shot up. At least he was honest, even if he was bloody ridiculous.

“Hiding from what?” Robert asked.

“Er, um, it’s kind of a long story,” Blaine said.

“Well, why don’t you tell us as we give Corporal Spears here a tour of the house?”

For a second, Alfie was convinced Blaine would decline the invitation and continue hiding from whoever the man in the hall had been. But then he stood a little straighter, his face lighting up, as though going on a tour was a great idea.

“Sure,” he said, stepping forward to Alfie’s side. “Let’s go on a tour. Let’s go to all the distant, quiet, untraveled places in the house, places people don’t usually go without a very good reason.”

Robert sighed and smirked. “What trouble are you in now?”

“Trouble?” Blaine asked, peeking out through the office glass as if the man who was looking for him would show up at any moment. “I’m not in any trouble. What would make you think I’m in trouble?”

“Because you just said you were?” Robert suggested. He sent Alfie a look. “Sorry about him.”

“No, it’s fine,” Alfie said. “My father went to school here, and I imagine this is the sort of stuff that the boys used to get up to all the time.”

“Probably,” Robert laughed.

“Come on you two,” Blaine said, darting for the door. “The coast is clear. Let’s get this tour started before Dave…before…let’s get this tour started.”

Alfie let himself grin just a little. He had a feeling he was in for far more than an ordinary peek into the past.