I Do, or Dye Trying (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries,#4) Page 9

  “No, you haven’t, Emory.” I knew my words wouldn’t bring him any comfort that night, but I could tell him how strong I thought he was and hope that it would at least reach through the grief. “What you do might seem unorthodox, but it’s a selfless act to make the world a better place. You set your sadness aside to help others, and that’s amazing. My brother died twenty years ago, and my family still doesn’t know who killed him. You bring closure to people so that they can start to heal, Emory.”

  “It’s not enough,” he said brokenly.

  “You act when you get information, and that’s all you can do,” I assured him.

  “Yeah, I was so helpful to you,” he replied sarcastically.

  “I know to make Josh answer the door when we move,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood with a bad joke. It worked because Emory snorted a bit. “You told me what you knew when you knew it. What else could I ask for?”

  “A description of the man for starters,” he said dryly.

  “That would be a good start, but I do know that someone is looking for me who might spell trouble. I know to be on the alert thanks to you,” I replied.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said then rose to his feet. “It’s starting to get dark, so maybe I should head home.”

  “We’ll walk with you,” I said, “unless you’re afraid you’ll get shot by mistake or something.”

  “That’s not even funny, Gabe,” Emory said, but I noticed the hitch of laughter. “Come on.”

  “Is everything else okay? Are you having any problems in town?” I asked.

  “You mean besides Mrs. Haskerville trying to set me up with her daughter?” Emory let out a soft sigh. “I broke the news to her gently.”

  “How’d she take it?” I asked with a smile

  “Pretty well. Mrs. Haskerville said she should’ve known by how well-decorated and clean my house was when she brought over cookies to welcome me to the neighborhood. I never get tired of hearing that people think all gay men know how to decorate or keep things tidy. River couldn’t match a pillow to a sofa if he was paid and never had I seen a bigger slob.” He let out a broken sigh before he said, “I’d give anything to trip over one of his shoes again.”

  “I wish you could have that too, Emory,” I told him.

  “Thanks, Gabe.” We were almost home before he cleared his throat and spoke again. “Have you heard from Jonathon Silver lately?”

  His question shocked me because I knew that Jonathon was the one person he didn’t want to discuss. He’d had a vision of the two of them, and although he didn’t go into great detail, I was sure it was intimate. Since then, he cut his hair and made certain that Silver wouldn’t be at our house before he accepted an invitation. Silver had only been there the one time they’d met, and I didn’t expect him to turn up again. “No, why do you ask?”

  “I feel like there’s something wrong,” Emory answered.

  “Like he’s in danger?” I probed.

  “No, that’s not the vibe I get. It’s more like loneliness,” Emory told me. “I think he could use a friend.”

  I thought back to what Josh said about Emory’s purpose for moving to Blissville; he said it was because of Silver, not me. Between the vision Emory had of Silver and the connection they shared, I was starting to agree with him. I wasn’t about to play matchmaker like my guy though. “I’ll give him a call and check on him.”

  “Thanks,” Emory said before he turned up the sidewalk to his front porch.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said, making sure he knew we expected his attendance at the barbecue.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said with a sigh that made me smile.

  Buddy and I headed home to find that our apartment above the salon was empty. The music coming from the attic let me know where I could find my man. I gave Buddy a treat then filled his water bowl before I went upstairs.

  Josh was lost in the music and didn’t know I was there. I happily watched him spin around to Pink’s “Try” so naturally that it seemed like the pole was an extension of him. I was always caught up in his spell no matter what he was doing, and I’d never choose for it to be any other way. When the song ended, I clapped softly.

  “I didn’t hear you come back,” he said breathlessly. “You boys have a good walk?”

  I rose from the chair and went to him. Later, I’d tell him about my run-in with Emory but not until after I got my most pressing thoughts out in the open. “You were right,” I said.

  “No, I wasn’t,” Josh replied. “I acted like you’re trying to be the man and own me and that’s not what you were trying to do.”

  “You tried to share with me your most treasured possession, and I resisted. I was wrong, Sunshine. Let’s talk to your banker next week and figure out a way to make this work so that we only have one mortgage and we jointly own both properties. It’s not yours and mine; it’s ours. All of it.”

  “Yes, that’s what I meant, but I should’ve worded it better,” Josh said softly as the tension faded from him. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his forehead into my shoulder. “I’m sorry that I upset you so much that you needed to leave. Thank you for coming back.”

  I tipped his chin up so that he was looking in my eyes. “Never doubt it,” I told him. “Especially when you’re about to bake pies.” His laughter warmed my heart and was happy that our argument was over.

  “There’s something else I want to talk about, but I don’t want to ruin this happy vibe we have working right now.” Josh bit his lips nervously while he looked down at his hand that sported the ring I gave him.

  “You can tell me anything,” I replied, even though I knew for a fact I was going to hate the words that came out of his mouth next. I listened patiently as he explained that he wanted us to remove our rings until our wedding day. I bit down my frustrated response because I didn’t want to undo the progress we made that night.

  “That pulsing vein on your forehead tells me how much you hate the idea,” Josh said. “Can I ask exactly why it bothers you?”

  “Because I want the world to know that you’re mine,” I told him, sounding like a jealous knuckle dragger.

  “I’m already yours and nothing will change that,” Josh said patiently. “I just want our rings to be a symbol of that special day.”

  I blew out a frustrated sigh and nodded my head. I thought he had a valid point, even though I hated the thought of him taking off his ring. “Fine, but I’ll slap a collar on your neck if I start seeing the dudes sniffing around outside our door.” My remark eased the tension and I was rewarded with a sweet kiss.

  “It better be shiny and pretty,” Josh replied.

  “Black leather with metal spikes,” I countered.

  “Oh, I saw one of those at Brook’s Pets! That’s much more cost effective than the one from Tiffany & Co. that I was picturing,” Josh told me. “Maybe I’ll just ink your name on my forehead or something.” From there it went downhill with one ridiculous suggestion after another.

  “Why don’t I smell baking pies?” I asked suspiciously after we were done laughing at ourselves.

  “They’re soaking in my secret sauce,” Josh told me, waggling his eyebrows.

  “What’s your secret sauce?” I asked.

  “Follow me, and I’ll show you something that I’ve never shared with anyone else,” he said mysteriously. There was no way that I could resist an offer like that! Downstairs in the kitchen, Josh pulled out a large bowl covered in plastic wrap from the refrigerator. I knew exactly what was in his secret sauce the second he peeled back the plastic wrap. The apples were soaking in bourbon.

  “Deanna doesn’t stand a chance,” I said smugly.

  WE SURVIVED OUR FIRST little tiff as a couple and came out stronger on the other side. It couldn’t get any better than that. Thinking that Gabe and I would never argue was stupid because we both had strong opinions on just about everything and we were both stubborn. I also learned that I fell back into old habits and was quick to strike out when
Gabe hurt my feelings. Striking and counterstriking was not an effective way to resolve issues and would never lead to a happy union.

  Gabe, as usual, was onto me and knew my insecurities had once again reared their ugly heads and was leading the assault when he didn’t immediately jump all over the offer to co-own my salon. Besides my heart, Curl Up and Dye was the most precious thing that I could share with him. Note the growth here! I want it on record that I didn’t say a damn thing about my pleasure portal. When he rejected my suggestion outright without a discussion, I took it the absolute wrong way and snapped at him.

  Watching him walk out the door with Buddy nearly killed me. The kiss he gave me before he left expressed his intentions of coming back to me, but how many times had life fucked over someone’s plans to return home? I was sure the evil bastard had lost track of the number of lives he had ruined. I couldn’t dwell on that—or Emory’s prediction—and retain my sanity, so I went upstairs after soaking my apples in bourbon and cinnamon.

  I got lost in the music and found comfort in the way it rolled through me, blocking my thoughts and worries, which was good unless I wanted to risk a nasty injury. I didn’t mind so much if Gabe caused me to pull a muscle during an enthusiastic sexual performance, but I wasn’t too excited about the potential of a broken bone—or worse, a broken neck—from falling off my pole. I couldn’t imagine explaining that one to the hospital and doubted they’d believe it, which could mean another IA investigation for Gabe. Luckily, none of that happened.

  My intense focus on the routine also meant that I didn’t know Gabe was in the room with me until he clapped. The heartfelt discussion that occurred afterward was adorable, the secret sauce reveal was fun, and the make-up sex was phenomenal. There were not enough adjectives in the English language to do it justice but toe-curling and life-affirming were the first two that came to mind. The only rough spot came when it was time to put our rings in the drawer until our wedding day. I had only worn the ring for a short time, but my finger felt naked without it. Still, I meant what I had told him and stood by my decision.

  The next afternoon, Gabe hovered while I made the crust for the pies. “Just seeing what other magic you have up your sleeve.”

  “Baby, you’ve been up my sleeve plenty of times to know what magic it holds inside for you. It’s the Magic Cumdom,” I said. Yeah, I hadn’t grown that damn much. Gabe’s response was to pinch my ass hard enough to make me yelp.

  “You know damn well I’m talking about secret sauces,” he told me. “Don’t even,” he said when I opened my mouth for rebuttal. Come on! How can I resist when he leaves himself wide open for such remarks? “Do you add alcohol to the crust or is it just the filling in a boozy apple pie?”

  “Drunken apple pie,” I corrected him. “No booze in the crust and the alcohol bakes out in the oven and just leaves behind a rich flavor that takes the pie to a whole new level.”

  “I’ll say,” Gabe replied. “Um, are you making an extra pie just for me?” The hopeful look in his eye and the way he bit his lip was so damn adorable. My man loved his apple pie almost as much as he loved me.

  I divided the dough into four pieces so I could make two pies. “Of course, I am.” I pointed to the empty saucepan on the stove and the ingredients he set out. “Don’t you think you should start whipping together the new barbecue recipe you found?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said like he hated to look away from the pie. “Don’t get too distracted by my awesomeness at the stove and fuck up the pie. I’m sure Deanna is a nice woman, but she married a mouthy man who needs a set down. He thinks he’s going to bring his wife over here and beat my guy at pie baking. Does he think because you have a pair of balls that you can’t bake?”

  God, I have created a monster. “Babe, has John ever talked about either of us in a demeaning way?”

  “No, but he’s a smug punk just the same. I invited him to our home, and he wants to throw down with a bake-off. I’m going to wow him with my special sauce too so that he knows not to challenge my grilling abilities.”

  I had a feeling that a barbecue battle the likes that Pitmaster had never seen would soon occur. I stood ready with my bottle of liquor to help Gabe achieve master grilling status for all to fawn over. “What kind of sauce did you decide to make today?” I asked as he poured a can of crushed pineapple into the pot with soy sauce, liquid smoke, and tomato paste before he added brown sugar and some more liquids.

  “It’s a Hawaiian barbecue sauce,” Gabe told me. “I was thinking that Hawaii would be an awesome place to go on our honeymoon and it got me looking for sauces I could make today for the chicken.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I replied.

  Gabe looked up from stirring the sauce and captured my gaze with his charming, boyish grin. “The sauce or the honeymoon destination?”

  “Both,” I replied. “How long would you like our honeymoon to be?”

  “Hmm,” Gabe said, rolling it around in his brain. “I’d like to hop from island to island, so I was thinking between ten and fourteen days.”

  “Wow, that’s a long honeymoon.” I loved the idea of just the two of us for two whole weeks. Our week in the Bahamas for my birthday was amazing but ended too soon. “I love it.”

  “We should probably make travel arrangements right away,” Gabe said, turning back to his sauce. “How about tonight after everyone leaves?”

  “After I get my victory rim job,” I told him.

  Gabe snorted. “Like I need a special occasion to munch on your ass.” He tapped the spoon on the edge of the pan then pointed it at me. “Remember that one time you licked your own ass?” he asked, reminding me of the time I called him Detective Butt Munch and he pointed out that I kissed him afterward so it was like I licked my own hole.

  “I did not,” I said after my fit of laughter. “It was diluted by your saliva.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Gabe said smugly, “but I know how much you liked it.”

  “Keep thinking it,” I replied just as sassily.

  “You always need to have the last word, don’t you?” Gabe asked.

  “Do not,” I fired back.

  “Do too,” he responded just as quickly. I saw the challenge in his eyes, and it nearly killed me not to take the bait. Instead, I blew him an air kiss and went back to assembling the pies.

  “See!” he said.

  “What? That was an air kiss, not a word!” I argued.

  “It made a noise and was more than a cutesy gesture. It was just a sweeter way of flipping me off,” Gabe contested.

  “You are out of your mind, Gabriel,” I said, but my mock anger wasn’t convincing when I couldn’t keep the smile off my face or humor from my voice. He was also right so I couldn’t protest too much.

  “Mmmmmm hmmm,” he replied.

  I would not take the bait. I would not take the bait. I would not… “You sure didn’t mind my mouth opened this morning when I wrapped it around your dick.”

  Gabe laughed so hard that he had to step away from the stove. He reached for me, but I evaded him by stepping back until there was nowhere for me to go with the kitchen counter behind me. “Gotcha,” he said dramatically.

  “Yeah, you do.” I smiled up into his face.

  “Don’t ever change, Sunshine,” he said, mirroring words I’d spoken to him another time. There were no more words after that because the tender kiss that followed rendered me speechless.

  I was so glad when Adrian, Sally Ann, and Adrianna arrived before everyone else so I could fuss over the little sleeping princess. I couldn’t resist taking off her little hat so I could see all the dark hair she’d inherited from her daddy. I was forced to give her up once Meredith and Willa arrived because they hadn’t met the little angel yet.

  Gabe smiled crookedly when I interrogated the ladies to make sure they had washed their hands before I passed her over. I knew he was thinking about what a nitpicky dad I was going to be and he was right. My little Gabriels and Gabriellas wouldn’t
be held with rough, germy hands.

  Emory arrived with a peach cobbler that looked and smelled good enough to rival my apple pie. Gabe told me about the conversation he’d had with the man the night before, and I tried my best to hide the sadness I felt over his heartbreak. I refused to believe that happiness was out of Emory’s reach and his comment to Gabe about Jonathon Silver made me smile. Whether Emory knew it or not, he connected with Jonathon on a level beyond the physical one he’d envisioned, but that was something he’d have to come to terms with in his own way and on his time frame, not that of an annoyingly happy friend.

  John, Deanna, and their three kids were the last to arrive. I was happy to meet the man that Gabe talked about so much. He was every bit of the jokester that Gabe said he was and their kids were too freaking cute for words. Buddy barked and bounced happily at having children to play with, and it was obvious he was good with them.

  Deanna Dorchester was one of the sweetest persons I had ever met. She set her covered pie on the picnic table and threw her arms around my neck for a hug before she did the same with Gabe. “I’m so happy to meet you both. Thank you so much for inviting us to your home,” she said. You’d think it was an invite to the White House or something by how happy she seemed. “Where can I put my pie?” she asked. I could tell by the way she rolled her eyes that she wasn’t pleased with her husband.

  See, I had puffed out my chest and strutted about like Foghorn Leghorn from my Saturday morning cartoons when Gabe entered me into the bake-off. Deanna looked mortified that John would do something like that to her. I felt a little shitty and a whole lot shallow when she followed me upstairs to put her pie in the kitchen.

  “We don’t have to do this, you know,” I said once she set her carrier down. “We can tell the guys we refuse to play along with their silly games.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Deanna said. “Your pie is going to trounce mine and John will learn to never do this to me again. In a marriage, one spouse’s humiliation is also worn by the other.”