I Do, or Dye Trying (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries,#4) Read online

  “Yes, that’s plenty of time.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I silenced him with a quick kiss. “I’m going to marry you on September sixteenth, Josh Roman. Instead of arguing with me about it, how about we just make it happen.”

  “Okay,” he said softly. “I will marry you on the sixteenth of September, but why that specific day?”

  “It happens to be my parents’ wedding anniversary,” I told Josh.

  “The sixteenth it is then.” I wanted to seal his promise with a kiss, but he jerked back and wagged his finger in front of my face. “Oh no, you don’t. If I’m going to marry you in three months, then I need to start organizing right this minute.”

  “It can’t wait ten minutes?” I asked whiningly.

  “When have you ever fucked me in ten minutes?” Josh replied. “Let me outline a plan, and then I’ll rock your world.”

  “How about I rock your world now and then you can outline a plan while I fix us something to eat for dinner?”

  Josh tipped his head to the side as if he was giving it some serious consideration. I unbuttoned the jeans he had purchased and snuck into my drawer. They weren’t the fit I preferred, but I had to admit I looked damn good in the tighter jeans and Josh went wild when I wore them. Lust replaced the determination that had been in his eyes as he watched me stroke my erection.

  “Okay, maybe I’ll squeeze you in,” he said as if he was doing me a favor.

  “You’ve never had a problem squeezing me in before,” I said, walking him toward the bed.

  “Never cheesy,” Josh said, repeating one of our house rules, but his lips twitched from wanting to laugh. Once we were naked, he handed me a condom then reminded me of another promise we made to one another during vacation. “Last night with condoms.” We decided to get tested and give up condoms if the results came back as we expected.

  There were several condoms left on the strip. It seemed like such a shame to waste them, so I didn’t give Josh the chance to start on our wedding plans that night.

  I WAS WIDE AWAKE at the ass crack of dawn, my head spinning with so many thoughts that I feared it would explode. I eased out from under Gabe’s heavy arm and tiptoed into the bathroom to start my day. I don’t know why I bothered being quiet because there was no way Gabe could hear me over the sound of his snoring. I was fairly certain that I’d want to hold a pillow over his head to buffer it someday, but we were still in our “everything is cute” phase.

  Buddy followed behind me with a wagging tail and a hopeful gleam in his eye that we were going for a run. “Yes, Buddy,” I told him as if he understood me, “but can a guy get a bit of privacy here?” I gestured to my cock with the hand that wasn’t holding it steady over the toilet bowl.

  It didn’t take me long to scrub my teeth then throw on a pair of running shorts and a tank top. Gabe didn’t even twitch when I dropped a kiss on his cheek before I left. I locked the back door then set out to clear my head—or at least organize and prioritize my thoughts—with a hard run. A guy couldn’t think about everything all at once for fuck’s sake. Food and fucking were usually the top thoughts on any man’s list, but I neglected both of those that morning.

  The biggest thing on my mind should’ve been planning my future with Gabe, but if Emory was correct, the life I wanted with him could be in jeopardy. It was a completely helpless feeling, and I had to find a way to come to terms with it or risk letting fear ruin every good thing in my life. I meant what I had said to Gabe; I was through with fear running the show. So, I decided I would examine what Emory said, look for any hints of what was left unspoken, process it, then tuck it away until I had solid evidence that I should be worried. What other choice did I have?

  Emory hadn’t said much, and it didn’t seem like he was leaving anything out, so I was tucking it away like a spent dick before I even made it out of my neighborhood. I looked down at my faithful furry friend and noticed how the sunlight caught the diamonds in the ring Gabe had slid on my finger. It was such a beautiful band and remembering the look in Gabe’s eyes when he asked me to marry him never failed to get my heart pumping. Damn, I am one lucky man!

  Wearing the ring while on vacation made it feel like we were on our honeymoon, which made me ponder if I wanted to wear the ring during our engagement or wait until after we were married. I was surprised how much I wanted to wait, even though the thought of taking it off made my stomach hurt. Gabe wasn’t going to like my idea, but I thought it was one of the times that I had to stand my ground about what felt right to me.

  The thoughts of our engagement led to the biggest source of my hysteria—the wedding! Yes, I know how shallow that seemed considering Emory’s prediction, but the wedding was something tangible I could grasp onto where Emory’s words were just words—and vague ones at that. Gabe demanded a wedding in three months and hell if I didn’t want to make it happen.

  I easily pictured an outdoor wedding in early September because fall was my favorite season. I would’ve loved an October wedding with the changing leaves in the background but the weather that month in southern Ohio was too unpredictable for an outdoor wedding. It could be sunny and seventy degrees, rainy and fifty degrees, or it could even snow. It was also possible to experience all of them before noon. September was the ultimate month for an outdoor wedding and ours would be spectacular.

  I pictured a beautiful arbor with flowers and greenery woven in and out of the white arches. I saw my gorgeous man standing in a sexy, charcoal suit with an aqua striped tie and matching pocket square. Behind him stood Adrian dressed in a similar suit in a lighter shade of gray. He was beaming with happiness as he watched us exchange vows. I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head, but I knew who would stand with me on my big day. There was no way I’d say “I do” without Chaz and Meredith beside me.

  Renting suits, chairs, and an arbor shouldn’t be that hard to do. The hardest part would be finding a caterer with only a few months’ notice. Luckily for Gabe, I had met an amazing caterer through the wedding series I filmed for Channel Eleven. Cliff had told me he’d be happy to cater our big event when Gabe proposed on set, but I was sure he expected more than twelve weeks to organize it. My nerves calmed considerably when I realized that I knew all the right people to make our big day go smoothly. I didn’t need a big binder with a detailed plan after all; I just needed to sit down with Gabe and find out exactly what we wanted on our special day before I called my new friends and begged for their assistance.

  I felt much lighter after my realization. I decided I could go home for my favorite two F’s when I heard someone calling my name behind me. I stopped and let Emory catch up to me.

  “Are we okay?” he asked me.

  “We’re fine, Emory,” I assured him and meant it. What Emory did the night before was done out of concern for his new friends. It was hard to be upset with him when he was only looking out for Gabe. “We expect to see you at dinner tonight. Gabe is grilling chicken and plans to wow us with his grandmother’s barbecue sauce recipe. Telling him that death is coming for him is okay, but missing out on his special sauce isn’t cool.” Emory paled, and I immediately regretted my brashness. “Not that kind of ‘special sauce.’ Only I get that,” I said teasingly, trying to undo the damage I caused. Filter, dumb ass. Use a filter.

  Emory chuckled a little, but I could tell he was doing it more for my benefit than his. “I have a feeling that I don’t want to miss it,” he replied.

  “I see what you did there.”

  I liked his little play on words. Emory was guarded when he moved in next door, and my nearly-hostile attitude hadn’t helped, so it was nice to see a bit of personality shine through. I’d witnessed his gut-wrenching pain the day I went to his house after he missed his hair appointment at my salon. I held him in my arms while he sobbed over the loss of his husband that occurred years before and the sorrow he felt after seeing a vision of himself with another man. I firmly believed what I told Gabe after Emory’s revelation. Emory wasn’t in Blissville to sav
e Gabe, he was there to be saved by Jonathon Silver.

  “Can I please bring something? Wine? Side dish? I’m not helpless in the kitchen. I can’t match your skills, but few people can.”

  I liked Emory even more. “No wine sales on Sunday here, but you can feel free to bring whatever you like. I’m going to make potato salad, baked beans, and corn on the cob. How about a dessert?” I asked him.

  “How does strawberry shortcake sound to you? I’m talking homemade, not that spongy, Twinkie-like substance people pass off as shortcake.”

  “You’re my kind of people, Emory. That sounds delicious.”

  We set off together on a jog once the decision was made. Emory was a tad taller than me, but our strides were equally paced, and it was a pleasant experience. Gabe preferred to lift weights over cardio and Chaz preferred to spin over running. Neither of us had anything to say so we ran in easy silence rather than fill it with nonsense. That’s how you knew you were comfortable in someone’s presence.

  We parted at our driveways with a small wave. Buddy and I eagerly ran up the steps once we got a whiff of bacon after I unlocked the back door. Sure enough, Gabe was standing at the stove making breakfast.

  “Did you have a good run?” Gabe asked without turning away from his task, which was good because he was cooking in his underwear. Sounds hot, right? In fantasies, it sure as hell was, but in reality, it made me shiver, but not in a good way. Bacon grease is very hot and not what you want to be splattered on your bare chest or cock and balls. His designer briefs were thin and offered no real protection from sizzling, popping grease, but they offered me one hell of a view. Oh yeah, my eyes locked on those firm, round ass cheeks and I imagined myself grabbing onto them while he pounded away inside me or even spread apart to receive my cock. “Josh, you’re making my dick hard by staring at my ass.”

  I snapped out of my daydream long enough to respond. “Your dick is always hard.” My gaze wandered up the broad expanse of his back to take in the wide shoulders where I often rested my calves while he…

  “Josh!”

  “I can’t help myself and don’t pretend like you didn’t wear that to get this exact reaction from me,” I said, marching over to the coffee pot to pour myself a cup. “Hey, can I have one of those Ninja coffee bar things Sofia raves about in our new house?”

  “Who’s Sofia?” Gabe asked.

  Just because he was gay didn’t excuse him from not knowing the world’s most beautiful woman. “Gabe, I just don’t know what to do with you sometimes.” I shook my head sadly for emphasis, which he didn’t see because he was still paying close attention to the bacon. And who could blame him with his magic wand and beans so close to the fiery pits of hell? “Sofia Vergara, Gabe. She’s an actress and is married to Joe Man…”

  “Oh, her.” I didn’t like his tone, not one bit. It was the same one I’d heard rolling off the lips of every jealous woman in my salon as they cattily tore her down when she and Joe started dating. I thought they were a beautiful couple and I was happy for them. Only people who wanted Joe for themselves sounded bitter.

  “Awwww, did she steal your man from you?” I asked mockingly. “Is he your celebrity crush?” Six months ago, the thought of Gabe crushing on a big, muscular guy would’ve sent me into a panic. Not anymore because I was certain of two things: there was nothing wrong with the way I was, and Gabe was crazy in love with me.

  “Was,” Gabe confessed sheepishly.

  “Awww, you dumped him because of me,” I cooed as I moved closer to him, but not so close that the grease was going to get me. He was cooking his meat on too high of a temperature and endangering my favorite meat in the process.

  “It was because he got married. I don’t lust after married people. It just feels wrong.”

  I shook my head sadly; it looked like he had further to go than I realized. I had three months to whip him into perfect husband material, which I didn’t think would be too difficult since he was already within striking distance of perfection. “Gabe, as much as I appreciate your honesty, there are times when it doesn’t hurt you to stretch the truth just a tiny bit.”

  He whipped his head around to gauge if he’d screwed up. “He got married a year before I met you, Josh. Had I met you first, that would’ve been the reason I gave.” He looked pretty damn smug about his smooth recovery.

  “Nicely played,” I told him as I gestured to the frying pan with my hand so that he’d pay attention.

  Gabe chuckled and turned his focus back to cooking. “Are you worried I’ll burn down your house or scratch the nonstick surface of your pan?” He held up the tongs that had a silicone coating on the bottom and around the edges. “Your skillet is safe.”

  “I was more concerned about your cock and balls getting splattered with hot grease,” I told him. “Take a damn step back or something.”

  “You don’t find this sexy?” Gabe asked, sounding a bit pouty.

  “Of course, I find it sexy, but that doesn’t mean I want you to risk your safety.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t cook in the nude,” Gabe grumbled.

  “Now that’s just gross,” I told him. “Nobody wants pubes in their food, Gabriel. I adore you naked, but not around my food.”

  “You didn’t seem to worry about pubes when you deep-throated my dick covered with whipped cream on vacation,” Gabe said to me.

  “That was different,” I said defensively.

  “How was that different? Your lips were against my pubes,” he pointed out.

  “It was dessert,” I said like that explained it. “No one is going to eat lobster bisque soup off your crotch.”

  “Ouch,” Gabe said.

  “Yeah, multiply that times a thousand to imagine how bad hot grease would feel,” I told him. The grease popped just then as if fate wanted to emphasize just how right I was about the dangers of frying bacon while scantily clad—no matter how good, or sexy, the intention.

  Gabe jumped back and yelled, “Son of a bitch!” Then he looked at me accusingly as if I made it happen. He moved the skillet off the burner and turned to face me fully.

  “Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!” Savage repeated while flapping his wings.

  “Just great,” I said. “Savage is going to be saying that nonstop.”

  “As if he doesn’t already say worse,” Gabe replied. “I seem to remember him propositioning me for a blow job the first night I was here. You can’t blame me for that one.”

  “Maybe he was channeling my thoughts,” I confessed a little shyly. I had mentioned to Gabe once that I had noticed him around town, but I never fully admitted to him—or myself for that matter—just how much I wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him. I looped my finger in the waistband of his undies and pulled him even closer to me. “Do you want to know who my celebrity crush was?”

  “No,” Gabe said petulantly like he couldn’t stand the thought of my attention directed toward anyone but him.

  “Anderson Cooper was my celebrity crush,” I told him, making sure to stress the word was.

  “The news guy?” he asked.

  “Yes, him. I love a silver fox.” I placed my hand over Gabe’s heart and said, “I forgot all about him the moment I laid eyes on you. It’s a fucking miracle I didn’t shave Kyle Vaughn bald when he sat in my salon chair, and believe me when I say it crossed my mind.”

  “Are you saying that you crushed on me for a long time?” He didn’t sound very convinced because I played my cards so well when we began interacting that I almost convinced myself I wasn’t crazy about him.

  “It’s embarrassing how much you starred in my fantasies or how badly I wanted you to be different from any other man I had met. It’s why I reacted so harshly when you were about to say I was too feminine for you. It wouldn’t have bothered me so much had I not cared what you thought about me.”

  “We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” Gabe asked. “There’s no more hiding our feelings behind snark,” I knew his
remark was mostly aimed at me, “or pretending that we don’t want to just crawl inside one another every free second of the day.”

  “No more games,” I replied. I raised up on my toes and pressed my lips to Gabe’s for a quick kiss. “Now feed me and fuck me so we can get on with our day. We need to go to the clinic for our tests before we stop at the grocery store to prepare for Gabe’s Big Barbecue Night.”

  Gabe tilted his head to the side and looked at me suspiciously. “You doubt my abilities.”

  “I do not,” I said honestly. “I know it’s going to be great. It’s our first big barbecue with all of our friends invited, so it’s an event worthy of a name.”

  “I’m going to show you just how good I am,” he promised in a rumbling, sexy voice. “Which do you want first—food or a fuck?”

  I knew I was in for a treat, regardless which of the F’s came first, which would set the tone for a day that held so much promise. I smiled up into the eyes of the man I loved more than my next breath and said, “Surprise me.”

  OH, I SURPRISED HIM all right. He was expecting me to throw him over my shoulder and carry him off to have my way with him, and under normal circumstances that would’ve been the case, but that day was different. I couldn’t stop thinking about being bare inside him once we had the sex without condoms talk. It wasn’t like we practiced abstinence while we were on vacation—quite the opposite actually—but I was hours away from having not even a thin layer of latex separate us. So, I chose to feed him before we headed out to run our errands to prepare for the barbecue.

  It should’ve been a crime that it took longer to drive to the closest clinic that offered HIV testing than it did for the rapid test results to come back. There was no excuse for making it harder for people to be responsible and get tested. As irritated as it made me, I focused on the delights that lay in wait for me that evening. I had another surprise for Josh up my sleeve, but I wouldn’t be sharing it with him until after the last guest left.

  Luckily for us, we got to the grocery store before church let out and back home in plenty of time to let my granny’s Coca-Cola barbecue sauce simmer on the stove for a bit before I refrigerated it to thicken. I heard Josh mumbling about something thickening as he put the potato salad together, but I ignored his complaints. Some things were worth waiting for, as he should damn well know since he tortured me for the longest time.