Christmas of White

Copyright © Devon Rhodes 2013. All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing. Blaise was coming back. Apparently for good. The usual din from his nephew and nieces eating Thanksgiving dinner around the kitchen table faded into white noise as the world receded around him. Owen struggled to process Kent's unexpected news—not only was his brother taking on a partner in his up-until-now solo large animal veterinary practice, but it was to be the very man Owen'd thought of every day for the past year. Or should he say, tried not to think of every day. Blaise Wilcox. Before Blaise, Owen'd had no idea men like him existed outside of movies and books. Long and lean, as tall as Owen but much slimmer, he kept in shape by running—even marathons, Owen had heard. He'd surreptitiously watched Blaise running the ranch roads during his internship that summer, those fit legs chewing up the distances, and had to admit it was obvious he was a natural. Just how he planned to keep it up in the forbidding Montana winter, Owen had no idea. Blaise had landed in his house for the summer a year ago. Since Owen had plenty of room living alone on his part of the ranch, he usually housed the veterinary interns his brother periodically took on. Owen could tell from the first hello that Blaise was different from the rest—for one thing, he was around Owen's age and had already been a practicing DVM for years. But that was the least of the differences. He'd had no idea that every facet of his existence was about to be turned on its ear. Blaise had bullied Owen into keeping recyclable goods lying around for weeks until he could faithfully and happily run them into the city to the recycling center. He drove a hybrid, didn't eat meat—this mystified Owen, who'd grown up in a family that ate meat three meals a day, how could that be healthy?—and walked around barefoot whenever he could get away with it. Blaise always bypassed the general groceries for the very small organic foods selection and had spoken with pleasure about his composting and year-round gardening back home in Oregon. His shoulder-blade length, dark blond hair was usually pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses through which his sky-blue eyes invariably regarded the world with humor and interest—when he wasn't wearing his stylish prescription sunglasses, that was. In other words, he was the antithesis of every man Owen had ever known. And he was gay. It was this last fact which had, surprisingly, been the easiest to deal with when Owen had gotten to know Blaise. After all, it wouldn't affect him any—but trying to plan meals without meat? Rinsing out cans and crushing them instead of tossing them in the trash? That was a pain in the ass. And Blaise was unrepentantly gay. Oh, he didn't swish or anything. In fact to look at him, he was as masculine as any other guy...other than the longish hair. But he openly talked about boyfriends he'd had, admired athletes on the television when Owen had a game on, and had been nothing more than polite to every woman Owen had seen him interact with. And then there had been that time in the barn... The air between them had been simmering all day long, and the hot weather didn't help one bit, because while they were both in work jeans and boots for the task, they'd long ago lost their shirts. Blaise might look slim with clothes on, but he had a tight, defined musculature that was definitely masculine and made Owen a bit self-conscious of his own slightly beefy torso. It was Sunday and technically a day off—at least as much a day off as a rancher and a vet could get, that was—but...