Rainbow Hill (22 page)
Quinn swatted Ethan’s ass and squeezed a handful. “You know, I’m glad that idiot ex of yours showed up uninvited.”
“Why?”
“Because he forced me to fight for you, to have the balls to say I love you.”
“I’m glad too, but mostly for the part where you say you love me.”
Pulling Quinn into his chest, Ethan met Quinn’s eager lips. They ignored the sound of Randall’s footsteps descending the stairs, the sound of his car’s engine coming to life, the sound of the tires against gravel fading into the distance. All they heard instead were each other’s whispered promises and moans and pitches of desire late into the night. And when morning came, they woke wrapped in each other’s arms, safe, secure, and deeply in love.
Snuggling into his lover’s slumbering arms, Ethan pondered the chain of events that brought him home. If it weren’t for his mother’s death and Frank’s drinking, he wouldn’t be here, with Quinn.
Out of bad comes good
, he thought,
sadness comes joy
.
He couldn’t help but feel that his mother played some part in bringing them together, pulling celestial strings from the other side. It was definitely his mother’s style.
Whatever the case, Ethan nuzzled closer into Quinn, breathing him in and said, “Thank you.”
* * * *
“Over to the left,” Nikki directed, her hands firmly planted on her generous hips.
“Will you make up your mind,” Ethan yelled back at her. “My arms are getting tired, and I’m getting dizzy.”
“Why is it that gays can’t do ladders?”
Quinn chuckled, standing on a ladder of his own, arms stretched overhead. “Please don’t clump me into that statement. I’m doing just fine.”
Tomorrow was the grand opening of Oak Hill Farm, and it appeared that hanging the temporary sign over one of the three new retail spaces packed to the rafters with artful and unique stock was proving to be the hardest part of the entire project.
Ethan waited for Nikki’s direction as he gazed at Quinn directly opposite him, his muscular tanned arms flexing in the midday sun. That funny fluttery feeling buzzed in Ethan’s belly, and he willed his growing erection to stop filling the front of his pants for everyone to see. He went down his mental checklist to take his mind off of Quinn, who was now smiling that megawatt smile at him, which wasn’t helping the situation.
They had worked the entire summer, opening day finally coming to fruition. It had felt like only yesterday when Ethan pulled his Range Rover into the driveway, but the intended short visit turned into months, and the high-end sport ute was now a two year old Honda CR-V bought off a friend of Frank’s, who owned a used car lot on the edges of Jefferson. Honestly, Ethan didn’t miss the lavish luxury of the Range Rover. That wasn’t the only thing he didn’t miss.
In the beginning, the separation had been bitter, but in the end, Randall and Ethan decided to remain on friendly terms, splitting their exclusive client list over a final passionless kiss. Ethan reserved his passion for only one man now, and at that very moment, he was less than four feet away.
“Hello,” Nikki sang out. “Earth to Ethan. I said move the sign a little to the left.”
Redirecting his attention from the man he loved to the plastic banner flapping in the breeze and clutched in his hands, Ethan mumbled an apology and moved the sign over a few inches.
“How’s that?” he asked.
Nikki clapped and jump in place, excitedly. “It’s perfect. Simply perfect.”
“No, it’s not.” Frank and Tucker walked up and eyed the banner that read Oak Hill Farm. “It has the wrong name on it,” Tucker said.
Ethan reread it just in case he’d missed a typo. “Where are your glasses?” Ethan asked Tucker. “It’s not misspelled.”
“I didn’t say anything about it being misspelled,” he corrected. “But the name doesn’t fit the place anymore. Oak Hill was a dairy farm, this place is a destination.”
“A virtual shopping extravaganza for people who have money burning a hole in their pockets. It can’t be called Oak Hill.” Frank stuck out his tongue. “It sounds too old and stodgy. And it doesn’t want me to break open my wallet.”
Quinn scoffed. “Nothing makes you want to break open your wallet.”
“You’ll be eating those words when we show you what we got.”
Confused, Ethan, Quinn, and Nikki watched as Tucker and Frank pulled a banner larger than the one that they’d just hung out of the bed of Tucker’s truck. The two men handed one side to Ethan and the other to Quinn.
The banner now fully unraveled, Ethan read aloud, “Rainbow Hill.”
“What do you think?” Frank asked. “I thought it was a more appropriate name.”
Emotion choked Ethan, but he managed to find his voice. “I-I-I think it’s perfect, the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“Me and Tucker figured since you two boys were the masterminds behind the project—which we greatly appreciate, mind you, you and yours should get the credit. Pot of gold’s a nice thought too.”
“Plus the way you boys tell it,” Frank began, “we’re going to have a lot of gay clients meandering about so we should try making them as welcome as possible.”
Nikki’s laughter rose above the rest. “Although not exactly politically correct, renaming the farm Rainbow Hill is a great idea.” She turned to Ethan and Quinn who were making the final adjustments and hanging the banner. “Boys, what’s your opinion?”
Climbing down from the ladders to join the rest of the group, they gazed at the fanciful script and the colors of the rainbow stretching across the background of the banner.
“I think it’s amazing,” Ethan said. “And a step in the right direction.”
“I agree with Ethan,” Quinn said, “and I think you two are amazing.”
At that moment, Scout came trotting up. Looking up at the sign, he barked three times in rapid succession. Quinn reached down and patted the mongrel on the head. “I think Scout approves too.”
Ethan wrapped one arm around Quinn, drawing him in, and draped the other over his father’s still-broad shoulders. Quinn brought Frank into the group by doing the same. “Thanks for giving me a new life,” Ethan said. “One with a promising future filled with more days like today. I love everyone here more than you’ll ever know.” And he meant every word.
Nikki clapped her hands loudly and shouted, “Picture,” before reaching into her jeans back pocket to pull out her phone. “Line up, keep showing the love, and smile because this one is going on the website.”
The four men posed under the banner swaying in the breeze, and for the first time in Ethan’s life, the farm where he grew up finally felt like home.
THE END
Trademark Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following places and items mentioned in this work of fiction:
7-Eleven: 7-Eleven, Inc.
Architectural Digest: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.
Benadryl: Johnson & Johnson Corp.
Bruno Magli: BRUNOMAGLI S.P.A.
Bud Lights: Budweiser: Anheuser-Busch. Inc.
Cadillac: General Motors Company
Chevrolet: General Motors Company
Craigslist: Craigslist Inc.
Diet Coke: The Coca-Cola Company
Dumpster: Dempster Brothers, Inc.
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Ford: Ford Motor Company
G-Star: G-Star RAW Ltd.
Hallmark Channel: Crown Media
Henredon: Heritage Home Group LLC.
Honda CR-V Honda Motor Company Ltd.
Hoover Upright: The Hoover Company
Irish Spring Soap: Colgate-Palmolive PLC.
John Deere: Deere & Company PLC.
Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co.
M&M’s: Mars, Inc.
Mercedes E-class Sedan: Benz: Daimler AG.
Mountain Dew: PepsiCo
Naugahyde: Uniroyal Engineered Products, LLC
Neiman’s: Neiman Marcus: Neiman Marcus Group
New York Magazine: New York Media, LLC
Range Rover: Land Rover: Jaguar Land Rover Automotive
Saks: Saks, Inc.
Sears: Sears, Roebuck & Co.
Showtime: CBS Corporation
Stairmaster: Core Health and Fitness
Subaru: Fuji Heavy Industries
Twitter: Twitter, Inc.
Vogue Magazine: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.
Vuitton: Luis Vuitton: LVMH Moët Hennessy • Louis Vuitton S.A.
Walmart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.
Alex Carreras
Writer of M/M erotic romance, Alex Carreras believes there is nothing sexier than a hot, naked man with a cocky attitude and a sultry smile. Always on the hunt for inspiration, you will find Alex wherever there are attractive men hopefully in a state of undress. And since he lives in South Florida where the average yearly temperature is a balmy 82 Fahrenheit, there is certainly no shortage of inspiration.
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