Chapter 4
FOUR
Blaine nearly choked on his own tongue at Alfie’s declaration of boyfriendhood. He’d been on the verge of spontaneously combusting with embarrassment, especially since Charlie was the definition of everything he’d done wrong in his dating life.
He jumped on the ruse immediately, of course. How could he not when he remembered how Charlie had laughed at him in bed that one time, then ghosted him as soon as he wasn’t fun anymore?
“Yeah, Alfie and I have been together for ages,” he said with exaggerated sweetness. Even though Alfie’s arms were loaded with Harrod’s bags, he stepped closer and hugged one of them.
He nearly broke character at the thick, solid muscle he squeezed with the action. Good lord, Alfie was built! What he wouldn’t give to wrap himself around a firm, muscled soldier and ride him into battle like?—
He cleared his throat and forced himself to focus.
“We met when my car broke down by the side of the road and Alfie stopped to help me with it,” he went on, lying with a smile.
“Sure you did,” Charlie said in a smarmy voice, glancing between the two of them. “Wasn’t that the meet-cute in that movie we watched that one time?”
Blaine heated. He’d forgotten Charlie had watched that one with him. The memory came back to him now. He’d tried to get Charlie interested in the story, but all Charlie had wanted to do was get him undressed and splayed face-down in his bed. Not that Blaine had a problem with that, but he’d liked Charlie. He’d really hoped the two of them could have something more, that he could be more than a fuck-boy.
He hadn’t realized his smile had dropped and he’d sagged against Alfie in defeat until Alfie said, “That’s how we met,” like he was taking up some sort of challenge Charlie had issued. “I changed his tire.”
“And then you changed his tire , ammiright?” Charlie teased. Now he was trying to get on Alfie’s good side by belittling Blaine. Which made sense, considering Alfie was Charlie’s type, too.
“I accompanied him to the garage then gave him a ride home,” Alfie said, no humor in his voice at all. In fact, he seemed to grow in size and intimidation as he stared unrelentingly at Charlie. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Charlie took a step back. “No, no, of course. You two make a cute couple.” He laughed nervously.
“We do,” Alfie said in the least cute voice possible.
If Blaine didn’t know any better, he would have thought Alfie would growl and bare his teeth at Charlie, like he was protecting him.
It was really nice, actually.
“Anyhow, we have to go,” he said, tugging on Alfie’s arm slightly. “We’re decorating for the Christmas party today and we still have a ton of errands left to do. Bye, Charlie. It was so nice running into you. We should catch up sometime.”
He spouted all the usual pleasantries in as fake a voice as he could manage as he moved on, his hands still wrapped around Alfie’s incredibly thick arm.
“Merry Christmas,” Alfie said in the deadliest, most threatening tone Blaine had ever heard those words spoken in.
As soon as Charlie had turned the corner and gone on his way, Blaine burst into laughter. “That was amazing,” he said, beaming up at Alfie, his hero.
“You used to date him?” Alfie asked, still intimidating.
Blaine’s smile faltered, and he let go of Alfie’s arm. “Kinda, yeah. We went out a few times, had some fun. I liked him and wanted more, but I was just a snack to him.”
Alfie grunted. That brought Blaine’s smile back. Everything he had learned about Alfie so far said he was more than just a solid block of muscle without a brain, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate a protective grunt when he heard it.
“Smarmy little bastard, isn’t he,” Alfie said.
Blaine snorted. “You have no idea. He buttered me up and tossed me out when he got what he wanted.”
It was supposed to be a light comment, a joke, but it settled sourly in Blaine’s gut. Actually, Charlie, and a dozen other guys like him, had dented his confidence in so many ways. Was there something wrong with him that made guys want to bang him but not keep him? Or was he just so desperate to make a connection with someone that he would settle for the physical instead of trying for what he really wanted?
He scrambled for a distraction that would get him as far away from those depressing thoughts as possible.
“Ooh, Burberry,” he said as they passed the store. He let go of Alfie’s arm and moved right up to one of the windows, where an amazing, wool peacoat was on display with a signature Burberry scarf. “My favorite.”
Alfie almost walked on, but he stopped and turned back, joining Blaine at the window. “Do you want to go in and shop?” he asked. “I noticed you didn’t put on a coat when we left. Do you need to buy one?”
Blaine sighed, going so far as to lift a hand and place it longingly on the window. He’d left the house without a coat because he was in such a rush to be with Alfie. Standing at the Burberry window now, he felt like a kid looking in at a pile of toys, knowing he couldn’t have them.
“No,” he said after thinking about it. “Despite my taste in Christmas baubles, I really can’t afford it right now.”
He didn’t think much about that statement until Alfie asked, “Does this have something to do with your design business folding?”
Heat and yet more embarrassment flooded Blaine. “Yeah,” he sighed, stepping back from the window and continuing on with Alfie to where they’d parked.
“So no money for fancy things this year?” Alfie asked on.
Blaine shrugged slightly and thrust his hands into the pockets of his ordinary coat. “Not until I find another job or start another company.”
And not until he was certain Dave wouldn’t sue him for every cent he might potentially make for destroying their business.
Remembering Dave’s wrath had him standing a little taller and glancing around in case Dave had somehow followed him into the city. He was going to have to pay the piper for his egregious carelessness at some point, but he desperately prayed Alfie wouldn’t be there to witness his humiliation when he did.
“We need to get this haul back to Hawthorne House and put in a few hours on decorating the big tree,” he said once they reached Alfie’s car. They’d taken his car because, like Alfie himself, it was bigger.
He hadn’t said anything for nearly five minutes as they’d walked to the spot where they’d parked. Alfie hadn’t said anything either, but Blaine was certain he’d wanted to.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stop at Asda on the way home to pick up a few other ornaments?” Alfie asked with a straight face and dancing eyes once he’d put the Harrod’s bags in the boot.
Blaine got a thrill from the way Alfie was looking at him, especially now that he knew Alfie was gay. Or was he? Maybe saying he was his boyfriend was double pretend.
“You’re actually gay, right?” he asked as they stood behind the car.
The corner of Alfie’s mouth twitched. “Does me wanting to shop at Asda make me gay?”
“Quite the opposite, I’d say,” Blaine replied, breaking into a genuine smile.
They headed for the car doors, and once they’d gotten in and Alfie started the engine, he said, “I am actually gay. Always have been, as far as I remember.”
“Is that why you joined the military?” Blaine asked, fastening his seatbelt. “To be around a bunch of other men?”
“No, I joined the military to serve my country,” Alfie said as he backed out of the space and started on their way home.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Blaine blurted, his face burning with embarrassment.
“Yeah, you did,” Alfie replied with a smile.
Blaine covered his face with his hands. “You’re making me feel bad.”
“Why feel bad?” Alfie asked as he navigated traffic. At least that meant he wasn’t looking directly at Blaine for their humiliating conversation.
“You joined up to be all noble,” he said. “And here I was, insinuating you did it to get laid by a bunch of buff men.”
“I didn’t need to join the RAF to get laid,” Alfie said with the perfect touch of irony. He glanced at Blaine with wickedness in his eyes as he made a turn.
Blaine’s entire body went hot and his jeans turned uncomfortably tight. “No, I’m sure you don’t.”
“Apparently, you don’t either,” Alfie said.
“Pardon me,” Blaine said in an overly posh voice, “but there is a limit of three humiliating comments directed at me in this shopping trip.”
Alfie laughed. Blaine loved the sound.
So much that he wanted to keep hearing it for a long time to come.
“Actually, I prefer a softer, gentler sort of man to built ones,” Alfie went on after a pause.
“What, like twinks?” Blaine asked, cringing a little.
“Do you consider yourself a twink?” Alfie asked.
“No!” Blaine laughed.
A moment later, he caught his breath as he grasped the implication of the question.
“There’s no shame in being horny,” Alfie went on before Blaine could say anything more, which embarrassed him even more. “Sex isn’t Christmas baubles. As long as you’re safe, sane, and consensual, I see no problem in going out there and having as much of it as you’d like.”
Oh God. Safe, sane, and consensual? Was Alfie kinky?
Blaine suddenly couldn’t speak or think or function as the image of Alfie dressed in black leather, slapping a riding crop in one hand popped to his mind. Not that he’d ever tried anything like that before, which was a minor miracle, considering his past, but there was a first time for everything.
“Blaine?” Alfie asked, darting another concerned look his way.
“I’m fine,” Blaine wheezed. “Just trying to recover from an attack of overactive imagination.”
Alfie laughed again. There was something decidedly inviting in the sound.
The rest of the journey back to Hawthorne House was uneventful compared to those first few minutes. They talked about decorations and what Blaine had in mind for the rest of the dining hall for the party. Blaine asked about Alfie’s military service at one point, but Alfie shrugged and winced a little, mentioning he had planned to leave the service, but that had the potential to change, then changed the subject.
They stopped at Asda before reaching Hawthorne House on Alfie’s insistence. Blaine whinged and complained about being seen in the story, then proceeded to gasp and gape like a kid at the sheer variety of Christmas baubles, lights, and other decorations, and at the prices.
“I thought you didn’t like Christmas,” Blaine said as he loaded boxes of glittery, plastic baubles into the cart Alfie pushed.
“I don’t,” Alfie said.
“Then why is it that you know how to find the Mecca of Christmas?”
Alfie just laughed.
It was definitely a sound and sight Blaine could get used to.
By the time they returned to Hawthorne House and unloaded their haul, taking everything through the family section of the house and into the dining hall, Blaine was both exhausted and buzzing with delight.
“This might be the best decorating job I’ve ever done,” he said as he spread all of the boxes of decorations they’d bought across one of the tables, then turned to glance around the room, already envisioning where everything would go.
“How many parties have you decorated for?” Alfie asked, standing by like he was waiting for orders from Blaine.
“Hundreds,” Blaine said, making a decision about the big tree set up at the front corner of the room. “Before Dave and I went into business together, I worked with a party planner in London. I did a lot of weddings and high-end parties.”
“That explains Harrod’s,” Alfie said, following Blaine to the big tree with a smile.
“It was what that clientele expected,” Blaine said, glancing back at Alfie. “Fetch that ladder. We’re going to need it to string the lights on this baby.”
Alfie nodded and moved immediately to do what Blaine had asked. Blaine assessed the tree for a moment, then went to get the boxes of white lights he’d bought earlier.
A few minutes later, when Alfie was at the top of the ladder, wrapping lights around the fragrant pine while Blaine fed the string up to him, Alfie asked, “So you left party planning to become a different kind of decorator?”
Blaine hummed an affirmative, then said, “Interior decoration. I met Dave at an industry conference several years ago and we really hit it off.”
“Hit it off?” Alfie asked, pausing with the lights to send Blaine a knowing look.
Blaine laughed. “Not like that. Dave is straight, actually. Very straight.”
“A straight interior designer?” Alfie asked in surprise.
“A gay RAF pilot?” Blaine through the stereotype card right back at him.
“Okay, I deserved that,” Alfie said and continued with the lights.
“Our styles worked together, so we formed a company,” Blaine continued with his story. “A very successful company, I might add.”
“I’m sure it was,” Alfie said, stepping down a rung so he could position the lights lower on the tree.
“I really loved it,” Blaine sighed wistfully. “We shared most of the jobs equally. Dave was talented with style and big picture. I was good with color and shape and detail. We were actually featured in a home design magazine a couple years ago. It did wonders for the business.”
“Sounds nice,” Alfie said, reaching around the tree as far as he could. He wasn’t looking at Blaine when he asked, “So if your company was doing so well, why did it fold?”
Blaine’s face heated. His memory instantly conjured up that horrible moment when he realized what he’d done.
“We were working with a really tough client, Lucy Evers,” he said. “She and Dave used to be an item years ago, so he wanted everything to be perfect. We threw everything we had into that home redesign. It was a gamble, but we overextended our budget so that we could knock it out of the park for Lucy.”
“So what happened?” Alfie asked, coming down another rung.
The string of lights that Blaine had been feeding him ended, so Blaine had to run and fetch another. As he plugged the new string into the old, an all-too-familiar feeling of disaster settled over him.
“I burnt the house down,” he said quietly.
“You what?” Alfie asked, not because he didn’t hear him.
Blaine huffed, upset mostly at himself, and turned his face up to meet Alfie’s eyes for the first time in the conversation. “I burnt her house down,” he said. “The lighting fixtures I’d just installed were too much for the old electrical. I had everything in place, I turned the lights on, and they blew something out. It was late in the day and I’m no electrician. I fiddled around with it a little, then figured the problem would have to wait to be solved. So I left.”
He swallowed hard as he remembered the phone call.
“I got a call a few hours later that the entire house was engulfed in flames.”
Alfie came down the ladder the rest of the way to stand close to him. “Because you turned off the lights?”
Blaine shook his head. “I installed the wrong fixtures for the house’s wiring. When they blew, they sparked inside the walls and caused a fire. I didn’t see it or smell it before I left the house, but it was definitely there.” He shrugged, feeling awful. “I burnt the house down.”
Part of him really hoped Alfie would say something kind, like it wasn’t his fault, but he just crossed his arms, rubbed his slightly stubbly chin, and hummed. Just as Blaine thought he would die under Alfie’s piercing stare, Alfie asked, “When did this happen?”
“Last week,” Blaine answered in a weak voice.
Alfie gaped at him. “You burnt someone’s house down last week ?”
“Yep,” Blaine said.
He couldn’t stand Alfie’s look of incredulity, so he grabbed the string of lights and worked his way around to the back of the tree.
Alfie followed him. “Was there a police investigation? Are you certain it was the lights that caused the fire? Does your business have any sort of insurance to protect you against those things?”
Blaine winced and kept going around the tree, but Alfie continued to follow him.
“Yes to the police, yes to the lights, and no to the insurance,” he said, his voice faltering at the end. “I’d neglected to pay the premium, so they canceled it.”
“Oh, Blaine,” Alfie said.
That only made Blaine run around the tree faster to get away from him.
“Trust me, I’ve been ‘oh, Blained’ a lot in the last week,” he said. “Dave chewed my ass out, and not in the way I’m used to, when he realized what it meant for our business. That’s why he was here at Hawthorne House the other day, I’m sure. He was out for my blood.”
“You’re sure?”
“He wouldn’t have been here for any other reason.”
“And there’s nothing you can do?” Alfie asked. “No way to negotiate with the insurance company or talk to the client and resolve things?”
Blaine kept moving around the tree, but Alfie had stopped, so Blaine nearly ran into him as he looped around to the front. Just like everything else, there was no way he was going to be able to outrun or hide from his problems.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “After Dave yelled at me and said he would sue me into next year for negligence and incompetence, I came here, and I’ve been hiding ever since.”
“You can’t hide from problems like this forever,” Alfie said, reaching for the string of lights. “This isn’t some wanker ex-boyfriend you might meet on the high street.”
He ended up closing his hand over Blaine’s. “I know,” Blaine said breathlessly. “But I don’t know what else to do. There’s no way this situation is going to end well for me. I’ll lose everything. I might even end up in jail for arson.”
“It wouldn’t be arson if it was an accident and if you can prove you had no knowledge of the fire before leaving the building,” Alfie said.
Blaine managed a weak smile. “Thank you for being logical, but I don’t think it’s going to help save me from the gallows.”
Alfie broke into a kind smile. “I don’t think they hang people for incompetence these days.”
It was a nice thing to say, but it only made Blaine wither on the inside.
“I swear I’m not usually incompetent,” he said quietly. “I’m usually very good at what I do.”
Alfie nodded, then surprised him by holding his hand. “I’m sure you are,” he said. “Just look at this gorgeous room.”
He glanced around at the half-decorated room, then brought his eyes back to meet Blaine’s with a smile. It felt like Alfie was calling him gorgeous, which he certainly didn’t deserve.
More than that, for a second, as the two of them stood there staring at each other, Alfie leaned a little closer. His gaze dropped to Blaine’s mouth. For a few, dazzling seconds, Blaine was certain he was about to be kissed.
He could only stand there, head tilted up, lips parted, waiting. He wanted it. Badly. He wanted the kiss, to throw himself into Alfie’s arms, to tangle up in bed with him. He wanted a house and kids and an old-age pension to share with Alfie. He wanted everything.
Alfie pulled back at the last minute and cleared his throat. “We’d better finish with these decorations,” he said, letting go of Blaine’s hand and turning away. “There’s a lot of work to do before this party next Saturday.”
“Yeah, there is,” Blaine squeaked, his head spinning.
His heart raced with wants and his head swam with possibilities.
Of course, that tiny shred of reason within him warned him that he had a pattern with men and he was repeating it just then.
He cleared his throat and returned to decorating the tree. But if he could have one thing under the tree that Christmas, he would do whatever he could to make sure it was Alfie.