Chapter 2
TWO
Blaine had, of course, stuffed up everything good and proper. First in his personal life, then in his business, and just now, with the gorgeous soldier who he’d slammed right into, and who he’d like to slam into again.
Or rather, have slam into him.
Multiple times.
In a horizontal position.
Or vertical, he wasn’t picky. It looked like Corporal Alfie Spears had the arm and leg strength to do it standing up. Blaine had never tried it standing up before, but there was a first time for?—
“The original house was built in sixteen-forty-five, smack in the middle of the Civil War,” Uncle Robert said as they crossed the front hall, Blaine keeping as close to Alfie as he could get away with.
Mostly so that he could hide behind the massive man again if Dave came looking for him.
“Our family tried to stay out of it,” Uncle Robert went on, walking side-by-side with Alfie up the grand staircase while Blaine darted and shifted from one side to the other behind them. “Not that it was possible to be an earl with a new title and to stay out of the war with Cromwell,” Uncle Robert went on with a chuckle. “You’d never think it to look at me, but I’m actually the ninth Earl of Felcourt.”
“You are?” Alfie asked in surprise, giving Uncle Robert a quick once over with his eyes.
Blaine wished he was the ninth earl so Alfie would rake him with a gaze like that. Preferably while he was naked and?—
Those ridiculously untimely thoughts were cut short as Blaine nearly tripped over his own feet as they reached the top of the stairs. He caught a glimpse of Dave walking out of the family corridor with a searching frown.
“Earls come in all shapes and sizes these days,” he blurted, rushing around to Alfie’s other side and using him as a block so Dave didn’t see him. “And they have all sorts of talents. The entire Hawthorne family, cousins and all, are engaged in the arts. Except my twin brother, Baxter. He’s an accountant, the bastard.”
Alfie’s luscious mouth dropped open a little as they turned and headed down the first-floor corridor and the classrooms it contained. “I see,” he said with a perfectly straight face. Something in his hazel eyes sparkled though.
Blaine prayed it was amusement and not irritation.
“We’ve never been your average, conventional aristocratic family,” Uncle Robert went on, watching Blaine with a wry look. “Definitely not in the last generation or two. My father is probably rolling over in his grave at the sheer volume of queerness in the family these days, but as I understand it, he was a massive closet case himself.”
“I…oh,” Alfie said, clearly overwhelmed.
“I’m gay,” Blaine said, slipping into a fae voice and posture. “In case you hadn’t guessed from the shirt. And the jeans. And pretty much everything about me.” He accidentally giggled and made eyes at Alfie, utterly unable to rein himself in.
Basically, he was ridiculous in almost every way. He was fairly certain he left a rainbow vapor trail wherever he walked, even when he was trying to be serious. He didn’t really mind. Except when no one took him seriously.
So maybe he did mind after all.
“I’d guessed,” Alfie stopped his train of thought. His voice betrayed nothing of his feelings on the topic, which made Blaine panic for a second. Corporal Gorgeous was in the RAF. No matter what the optics of the whole thing were these days, there was a fair chance a military man like him was homophobic.
Blaine must have let his worry show on his face. Uncle Robert cleared his throat and steered them toward the new photography studio that the arts center was in the process of setting up.
“Hawthorne House is a community arts center now,” he explained, “but this was a classroom in your father’s era, and it was a bedroom for centuries before that. Two bedrooms, most likely. Several walls were knocked down to make the rooms bigger when the school conversion happened in the late nineteen-forties”
Blaine knew the script of the tour by heart. It wasn’t a formal script, of course, but Uncle Robert and other members of the family had been called on to take people around the house so many times that all of them had developed a routine.
That routine involved showing off the current art classrooms first, then taking people around to a few of the rooms that had yet to be converted from the antique-looking classrooms of the past. Frankly, Blaine hoped they’d keep at least one of the rooms filled with old desks, dusty textbooks from the last century, and chalkboards just the way it was.
From there, they took Alfie downstairs to the more active classrooms and studios on the ground floor. That included a peek into Rhys’s painting classroom and Robbie’s ceramics studio. Blaine was on edge the entire time they walked that hall, however. At any second, they could run into Dave, and then his life as he knew it would be over.
“As you can see, the east wing is larger than the west wing,” Uncle Robert explained as they started up toward the front hall again. “I believe that’s why they converted the parlors on this side into classrooms to begin with. The ballroom that once took up the entire back part of the house was divided into more classrooms and a dining hall after the Second World War. That’s where we usually host events like the Christmas party for the toy drive the RAF is holding.”
Uncle Robert’s explanation stopped when they walked past his and Aunt Janice’s office. The old-fashioned desk phone that Uncle Robert still insisted on using was ringing, though Blaine couldn’t see it under the masses of art and mess that filled the room.
“Excuse me,” Uncle Robert said. “Let me just figure out what that phone call is about. Blaine, can you take Corporal Spears here on and show him the canteen?” He chuckled at his military term for the dining hall.
“Sure,” Blaine said with a smile, though he was looking frantically up and down the hall instead of focusing on his uncle. “Come on. We’ll take the secret hallway to get there.”
He caught Uncle Robert shaking his head and grinning as he touched Alfie’s arm, then gestured for him to walk back the way they’d come.
“Secret hallway?” Alfie asked, following like Blaine was a puppy who thought he was off his leash when he really wasn’t.
Blaine wasn’t completely opposed to that feeling.
“I think it was originally a servants’ hall,” he explained, opening one of the few doors on the corridor that didn’t lead into a classroom. It took them to a narrow staircase which they followed down into what had definitely been the realm of the Hatfield House servants of the past. “Sadly, most of the servants’ hall has been turned into storage. Especially after they divided and converted the ballroom and built a more modern kitchen in that part of the house.”
“I see,” Alfie said. He glanced around with apparent interest as they walked the long, dim corridor that led past a few rooms that had been piled with boxes, some of which contained supplies for various classes and some of which no one had looked at for twenty years or so, and on through the old kitchen.
“I think this kitchen could be a lot of fun to cook in,” Blaine said, turning lights on and off as they passed through the space. It dawned on him that the old kitchen was the very last place Dave would come looking for him, so he decided to stop and stall there. “Other than these electric lights that were installed in the nineteen-teens, I think, it doesn’t have a lot of modern conveniences. Can you imagine cooking a meal in an old fireplace like that, without electricity or any like that?”
Alfie looked at the hearth and raised a hand to rub the back of his neck with a wince. “People in Afghanistan cooked a lot more with a lot less,” he said.
Instantly, Blaine felt horrible.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a spoiled westerner like that,” he said feeling like, yet again, he’d stuffed things up. “Is that where you served? Afghanistan?”
“Partially, yes,” Alfie said, looking uncomfortable with the subject.
“I can’t imagine it was very fun,” Blaine said, moving on.
“War seldom is.”
Blaine winced and felt like he was going to combust with embarrassment on the spot. “No, I imagine it isn’t. I’m sorry for belittling your experience.”
“I didn’t think you were belittling anything,” Alfie said.
His honest tone of voice was enough to convince Blaine to glance over his shoulder at him as he turned a corner and led them up another staircase to the new kitchen.
“Not everyone has those sorts of experiences in life,” Alfie went on with a shrug. “I’m glad for that, too. I wouldn’t wish that kind of conflict or warfare on anyone.”
“No, the sort of conflict and warfare we have in our everyday lives is more than enough, thank you very much,” Blaine said with a nervous laugh as he opened the door at the top of the stairs. “This is the new kitchen,” he breezed right on, stepping into the much more modern room filled with the latest in cooking technology.
Alfie followed him into the room, but instead of looking around at ovens and refrigerators, he studied Blaine. Blaine couldn’t decide if he should pose or preen to show Alfie what was on offer, like he would at a club when he was looking to get lucky, or if he should make himself small and apologize for being such a disaster.
“I know I asked this before, but are you in trouble of some sort?” Alfie asked once Blaine had turned off the downstairs lights and shut the door at the top of the stairs.
He thought about denying it. Thinking about that only made him antsy. He stepped over to the swinging doors that led from the kitchen into the dining room and peeked out, just to be sure Dave wasn’t there.
That seemed equally preposterous, though.
“You must think I’m a complete nutter,” he said with a sigh, shifting to lean against one of the counters.
“Yeah, I do,” Alfie said stepping closer and crossing his arms. “But you’re an interesting nutter.”
For a moment, Blaine held still. Was Corporal Alfie Spears flirting with him? No! It couldn’t be! A big, strong, masculine, probably straight soldier like him? Flirting with a rainbow explosion like him? Never!
“So what’d you do?” Alfie asked. “Is that man following you the police? Are you an escaped criminal or something? Do I need to apprehend you, rough you up a little, and bring you in?”
Blaine couldn’t breathe. His already tight jeans felt even tighter. Corporal Alfie Spears was flirting with him!
And he had absolutely no idea how to flirt back with someone who was so completely out of his league.
“I, er, um, we are…used to be…are in business together,” he said, his voice hoarse with arousal as he stared at Alfie’s imposing form.
“Are or used to be?” Alfie arched one eyebrow.
Blaine would have done anything at the prompt of that one eyebrow.
“We have an interior decorating business together but…there was a thing last week,” Blaine explained.
“Thing? Last week?”
Blaine cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet. The pain is too deep and too new.” He tried desperately to use humor to cover how horrible he felt about the destruction. Self-deprecation had always been his go-to when he didn’t know what else to do or say. “Suffice it to say that I’m reasonably certain there would be an explosion if Dave were to find me.”
As soon as he said the words and then realized who was standing in front of him and what Alfie might have experienced in his time in Afghanistan, he rushed to blurt, “I’m sorry! That was the wrong word to use and an insensitive thing to say. Anyhow, this is the new kitchen, and the dining room is just through here.”
He pushed off the counter and practically ran through the door into the dining hall.
Strangely enough, the dining hall was a bit of a comfort. He’d been decorating it for Christmas for the last few days, since he didn’t have another job to go to anymore and because he was staying at Hawthorne House until things blew over with Dave. He’d had six tall pine trees brought in and lined up against one side of the room, and he was halfway through the process of decorating each one with different color ornaments to make a delightfully gay wall of rainbow trees. A single, larger tree had been set up in a position of prominence in the other corner of the room to serve as the main Christmas centerpiece.
The trees weren’t even half of it. He’d been up on ladders hanging boughs of greenery all day the day before, and he’d just started in on the lights that would be strung through the greenery. There was still a lot to do, but the dining hall would look like Christmas exploded in it—no, he’d have to come up with a better word—like Christmas had thrown up all over but he time he was done.
Nope, that word wasn’t much better. Particularly since he felt like he might throw up himself.
“This is what I’ve been working on,” he said, glancing around the room with a smile.
Alfie grunted by his side.
That single grunt made Blaine feel like someone had poured ice water down his back. “You don’t like it?” he asked, turning to face him.
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Alfie said with a shrug, crossing his arms and looking around. “It’s pretty.”
Blaine’s jaw dropped. “Just pretty? Just fine ?”
Alfie turned to look at him, his expression tightening, as if he knew he’d said something wrong. “It’s very nice,” he said. “I just don’t really like Christmas.”
Blaine’s mouth fell open even more. “Don’t like Christmas?” he repeated incredulously. “How is it humanly possible to not like Christmas?”
“I just don’t,” Alfie said, tightening his arms around his magnificently broad chest.
Blaine should have left it there, but Christmas was one of his favorite times of the year. It was bright and cheerful and full of hope and cheer. It was everything he tried to be but couldn’t quite achieve. He was borderline offended that someone he would definitely like to find wrapped up under his Christmas tree could be a hater.
“Christmas is the best time of year,” he argued. “It’s full of the best food, fun and frivolity, and if you’re doing it right, amazing presents. The Hawthornes all get together every Christmas, the entire, extended family, which is quite a crowd, believe you me. We have games, we set up a projector in here and watch a movie in our sleeping bags on Christmas Eve. We do presents on Christmas morning and have the annual family popcorn fight.”
“Popcorn fight?” Alfie asked. Blaine couldn’t tell if he was amused or offended.
“Yeah. We always say we have to just eat the popcorn, every year, but we end up throwing it at each other. It makes the floor look a little like snow, actually. And then we all sing carols.”
“Lovely,” Alfie said.
“It really is,” Blaine insisted, taking a step toward Alfie that might have been a little on the aggressive side.
Alfie looked surprised at Blaine’s advance. “No, I meant it,” he said, his stoic face softening a bit. “It really does sound lovely.” He paused, then went on with, “I don’t have any family to celebrate with.”
Blaine sucked in a quick breath. To him, as a Hawthorne, having no family was a completely foreign concept.
“You have to have some family,” he said. “Didn’t you say your dad went to school here?”
“He did,” Alfie nodded. “And then he died when I was six.”
“Oh, fuck.” Blaine shoved a hand through his hair, fidgeting as he realized how badly he’d screwed up again. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
Alfie shrugged. “Why would you know? I hadn’t told you yet. And while we’re at it, my mum passed a few years ago as well, and I’m an only child.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Blaine said, his heart feeling like it would bleed out for Alfie. “That really does suck.”
Alfie shrugged and went back to looking at the Christmas decorations. “It’s my reality, so there isn’t much point in getting worked up about it.”
Blaine was tempted to disagree with that but managed to keep his mouth shut for a change.
“Anyhow, that’s why I don’t like Christmas,” Alfie went on with a short sniff. “Christmas is for families, and for children. There’s not really any point in it for me.”
“You should spend Christmas with our family,” Blaine spilled out the invitation before he could think about it.
He paused, blinked, tried to have some sense about the whole thing, then shook his head and stuck to his original thought.
“Seriously. You should do the holidays with us. I’m sure Uncle Robert wouldn’t mind. We’ve taken in strays for Christmas before.”
Alfie had been looking at the trees, but he turned slowly to meet Blaine’s eyes. “Taken in strays?”
Blaine’s heart dropped to his feet. Why was it that he could never say the right thing to blokes that he fancied? And he definitely fancied Corporal Alfie Spears. Who wouldn’t, what with his movie star good looks, his fit, muscled body, and his honeyed voice? He didn’t have to know everything there was about the man to know that he’d like to climb his candy cane and stand under the mistletoe with him.
“Isn’t that what strays are?” he asked, deciding to defend himself, and maybe flirt a little, instead of backing down and racking himself with guilt over constantly saying the wrong thing. “People who don’t have a place of their own to go?”
“I have a place,” Alfie said, turning to face him fully.
Something about that sparkle in his eyes, despite his stern demeanor, had Blaine tingling all over. They were flirting. They were definitely flirting. Which meant there was a chance Corporal Alfie Spears played for their side after all.
“Is it as fabulous as mine?” he asked, resting his weight on one hip and being as camp as he could be.
Alfie stared at him for a moment, completely unreadable. That was when Blaine noticed his arms were still crossed and he was hugging himself tightly, like he was trying to keep something in and stop it from escaping.
“Well, you’re going to be around Hawthorne House for a while this Christmas anyhow, aren’t you?” Blaine asked, sidling closer to Alfie. “You’ve got this toy drive and Christmas party to organize, right?”
“I suppose,” Alfie said, his voice low.
Blaine treated him to his most winning smile as he slid to a stop just a foot or so in front of him. “That means we’ll be in each other’s company a lot, since I’ll be decorating for the party.”
“Is that so?”
Oh yeah, they were flirting hardcore.
“It is,” Blaine said, his heart racing. “That means I have plenty of time to convince you of the joys and wonders of the Christmas season.”
Alfie just grunted, like he didn’t believe it for a second.
For a moment, they just stood there staring at each other. Blaine felt like he was daring Alfie to do something. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him what the dare was, but he was going to win. All he knew was that he would so much rather spend his holidays trying to get under Alfie’s skin instead of running around avoiding Dave and the mess he’d made of his life.
The moment was broken when Uncle Robert walked into the room.
“There you are,” he said. “Glad to see you made it all the way to the room where your party will be held. What do you think?”
Alfie dragged his gaze away from Blaine and turned to Uncle Robert. “I like it,” he said. “It’s very festive and well-decorated. I’m sure my commanding officer will like it, too.”
“Good,” Robert said. “How many people do you think will attend the party?”
Blaine tuned out the answer. He was too busy staring at Alfie and reveling the spark that had ignited between them. It had just been a moment and they barely knew each other, but since when had knowing someone stopped him from a little ho-ho-holiday fun?
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as talk of the Christmas party went on. He was definitely getting laid by a soldier for Christmas.