Dance With Me
(After Final Gravity)
Fittingly, it was another year before the stars aligned for a honeymoon. On their anniversary. And the only reason it happened then was because Lauren had blocked the days off in his and Cam’s calendars as soon as the new year had rolled over.
Nic had half expected her to present them with an itinerary too, but it had been Cam who’d eagerly volunteered to plan everything, and Nic had happily relinquished all decision-making on the topic.
As the US Attorney for the Northern District of California now, he had more than enough of those to make on a daily basis.
Today, however, he was just a husband along for the ride.
But as Cam continued to drive their truck south along Highway 101, ever closer to where their lives had nearly been upended almost three years ago, Nic was beginning to question his decision not to participate in this particular decision.
He held his tongue, though, trusting his husband more than anyone else in the world. Until Cam took the freeway exit for the same state road that led to the coastal town where Duncan Vaughn’s estate used to be.
He opened his mouth to question, but Cam’s hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, forestalled him. “Trust me,” he said.
Ten minutes later, Cam turned off the main road onto a gravel one that snaked through row after row of vineyards splashed in fall colors. Reds, yellows, and oranges, as far as Nic could see. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I thought the same when we were here last time. They’re vines, but the colors still remind me of fall back east. I wanted to bring you back here to enjoy it when we weren’t being chased or shot at.”
Nic covered his hand and averted his gaze out the passenger window, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. From almost losing it all the last time they were here to having it all now as husbands. “It’s perfect.”
Before long, they came upon a compound of Spanish-style winery buildings, their adobe walls a warm buttery shade and the tile roofs glowing red in the evening sun.
Cam drove right past them, following the narrowing road over several gently rolling hills of vines until a smaller structure, similar in style to the others, appeared atop the next hill.
It looked . . . peaceful. Not a word he associated often with their busy lives, but in moments like this, he realized how much they also needed it. A break from the chaos—and the casita that Cam parked the car in front looked like exactly that.
“Boston, this is perfect.”
Cam waggled his brows, the dark eyes beneath them twinkling. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
Which wasn’t the open and airy living room with its soaring ceilings, oversize furniture, stone hearth, and sun-warmed floors.
Which also wasn’t the spacious primary suite with its king-size bed, colorful quilts, and clawfoot table.
Which wasn’t even the Jamie-worthy gourmet kitchen and overflowing baskets of fresh-baked breads and seasonal fruits that waited for them on the island.
“This is the best part,” Cam said, holding open the back door for him.
Nic stepped into what could only be described as the most romantic setting of his life.
Fairy lights were strung along a vine-covered trellis, a stone fountain beside it gently gurgled, and a candlelit table for two, complete with a bottle of wine and glasses, set perched on a lookout over the hills of vines that were aglow with the evening sun.
Cam snaked his arms around him from behind. “Happy anniversary, baby.”
“This is incredible.” Beauty everywhere Nic looked, everywhere around him, including the man holding him in his arms. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“Give me some fucking credit.” He playfully nipped the crook of his neck, then rested his chin on his shoulder. “I looked online through all the vineyards I could find around here. I liked this one best. Glad it lived up to the pictures.” He shimmied his hips behind him. “Nice and private too.”
That fact had also not escaped Nic. “Are we here the whole week?”
“The whole week.”
Nic tipped back his head and angled his face, nuzzling the side of Cam’s. “A whole fucking week.” A proper vacation, in a beautiful, peaceful, private place, with his favorite person on Earth.
Whose hands were coasting lower, no doubt aiming to take advantage of said privacy.
Before Cam reached his destination, Nic turned in his arms, then laughingly kissed his pout away.
“We’ll get there,” he promised. “Every night this week. But there’s something else I want to do with you first.” Taking Cam by the hand, he led him under the trellis and into his arms. “Dance with me.”
Smile as affectionate as Nic felt, Cam wound his arms around him and brought them cheek to cheek as they swayed to the music of the breeze rustling through the vineyards. “I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the victory of us.”
“Me neither.” Nic brushed his lips over his husband’s. “Happy anniversary, Boston.”