Rainbow Hill (4 page)

“If I wasn’t so damn hung over, I’d reach across this table and shake you until that ugly thing you call a face fell off.”

“Well, there’s always tomorrow.” Tucker’s smile slid slowly across his lips.

Ethan looked at Quinn. “Is this normal behavior, or should I be worried?”

“Normal,” Quinn assured. “If that’s what you can call it. I sometimes wonder where the hell we came from.”

“Your mothers,” Frank and Tucker answered in unison.

An unexpected bout of laughter escaped from Quinn, Ethan laughing along. Catching his breath, Quinn said, “On second thought, Ethan, if you intend on staying sane, you might want to take that fancy ride back to the city. There’s no telling what will happen to you if you don’t.”

“It’s obvious that I’m insane because I want to stay and make this plan work.” Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “My business can run itself, and I can do a lot from here if need be, assuming, that is, we have Wi-Fi?”

“First thing I did when I moved in,” Quinn said. “Can’t live without it.”

“Good. Neither can I,” Ethan said in a tone of growing confidence, his eyes firmly planted on Quinn. “And who knows, this might be the inspiration I need. My creative juices have dried up lately, and this could be the project that gets them flowing again.”

Quinn returned Ethan’s gaze, full of intent, his own juices beginning to flow. He shifted to a more favorable position, his growing erection snaking down the left leg of his jeans.

With a gust of breath, Frank stood, pushing the chair out from under him with the backs of his legs. “All this talk about juices flowing is making me uncomfortable. I say it’s time to wrangle that mess of a backfield. You coming, Tucker”

“You don’t want anything to eat?” Quinn asked.

“Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite.”

Tucker stood and reached for his John Deere cap on the kitchen counter. Placing it on his head, he stopped in front of Ethan. “I’m glad you’re staying, son, but let’s keep that sort of language to ourselves, okay. I don’t like you getting excited. You’ll break out in hives.”

“I stopped getting those in elementary school,” Ethan said. “Plus I take a daily antihistamine.”

Tucker placed his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “That’s good to know, and let’s keep it that way. Don’t let your prescription run out.”

As the two elderly farmers walked away, chatting amicably, Quinn stared at their retreating figures. “Do you think that’ll be us in thirty years?” he asked Ethan.

Now, standing shoulder to shoulder by Quinn’s side, Ethan seemed to ponder the question. “You? Maybe. But me? Doubtful. I’d never be caught dead in faded denim and plaid. It makes you look ten pounds heavier.”

Quinn eyed Ethan. “For some reason, I don’t think that comes into consideration when they dress.”

“It should,” Ethan scoffed. He paused, twisting his mouth to the side. “You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“They almost look like two aging queers. I know some guys downtown who dress like that.”

Quinn groaned. “I have enough to contend with, so please, keep any future thoughts about our fathers being gay to yourself.”

“They’re also living together.”

“Do we have a deal?”

Ethan’s mischievous smile caused Quinn’s pants to tighten even more. “Deal,” Ethan responded, his eyes glimmering.

Something told Quinn that he was in a whole hell of a lot of trouble and that Ethan was going to be the source.

Attempting to clear his mind from the gutter, Quinn said, “Speaking of living together, where are you sleeping? Dad’s in yours and I’m in the bedroom adjacent.”

“So I guess that leaves the library.”

“That sounds like an overblown description for the room upstairs next to where I’m sleeping, the one with the bookshelves crowded full of outdated Vogues and Architectural Digests.”

“This is my house so I’ll call it what I want.” Ethan arched his brow in a look of blatant defiance.

Quinn lifted his hands in surrender. “Let’s move one of the twin beds out of my room and into the…uh—” He paused, purposely mirroring Ethan’s expression. “—library.”

“And after that, maybe you can take me into town so I can get something to eat. I hate baked beans from a can, and I don’t do carbs so toast is out of the question. And although the stew was a nice thought, it looks questionable.”

“I thought you said—”

“I lied,” Ethan stated, matter-of-fact. “But only because I was being kind and accommodating to Frank.”

“If you keep that up, we’ll make millions.”

“Let’s hope so, and in record time too. I don’t intend on staying any longer than it takes to get this place up and running.”

“But I thought you were excited.”

“That was for my father’s benefit. It looked like that was what he wanted to hear.”

“So that was you being kind and accommodating again?”

Ethan nodded. “I’ll teach you how to do it after you move me in. It’s not as hard as it sounds.”

“I’m glad something isn’t too hard,” Quinn mumbled under his breath, slowly taking a careful step.

“What was that?” Ethan asked.

“I said I can’t wait.”

Chapter Four

After some skillful maneuvering, Ethan was now settled. When he was a kid, the room that he liked to call "the library" was his second favorite room in the house, his bedroom topping that list. On unpacking his bag, he realized he wasn’t prepared to stay more than the weekend, so a trip into town would have to come sooner rather than later if he intended to uphold his end of the bargain.

Anxiety pulled at his chest. What in the hell was he thinking exactly when he agreed to not only stay on at the farm but transforming it into a viable and successful retail business? What did he know about what people wanted to buy when spending the weekend in the country? He hated the country, always had. Even as a child, he hated the constant rotation of allergies he suffered: hay fever, animal hair, leaf mold, ragweed; the list had been endless. But once he moved into the city, the constant pollution and smog seemed to be the solution to ridding him of all his childhood ailments, allowing him to actually breathe. Life was full of little ironies, and Ethan figured that this was one of them.

Gazing around the room, memories flooded him. Several of his mother’s watercolor paintings hung from the walls, brightening the musty room that needed a good airing out. He remembered when she had signed up for the class. Her excitement seemed to fill the entire house for a while, but like any mother with an overabundant workload, she had left her brushes behind when other things took precedence over painting. Only now did Ethan realize how much she had sacrificed for him, when it was too late to say thank you.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the sound of the running shower coming from the bathroom on the landing. He thought of Quinn, wet and soapy under the steady stream of warm water sluicing down his muscular body. He had grown from a cute teenager into an attractive and strong man. Ethan touched his fingertips to his lips, remembering the kiss they'd shared so long ago. It was warm, moist, and tender. It had also been his first kiss.

He shook his head, hard, attempting to clear his mind of the memory of that kiss. He was with Randall…kind of. Ethan was sure that his partner was going through a phase, and he intended to be there for him when Randall recovered from it. They had too much invested, emotionally and monetarily, to throw it all away. Randall would soon figure that out for himself and come back with a big bouquet of flowers and an even bigger apology—that, Ethan was sure of. They belonged together. It made sense. But until then, he planned to keep busy, and this was the place to do it.

While standing to open the window, he heard the shower shut off. Maybe a long hot shower was exactly what he needed, anything to wash away the anxiety of the last few months. Bending to feel the summer breeze against his face, Ethan closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of honeysuckle.

“Shower’s all yours.”

Quinn’s baritone voice caused Ethan to knock his head against the windowsill. He spun, rubbing at the sore spot.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ethan blinked, focusing on Quinn’s tanned, sculpted chest with the perfect amount of chest hair, rivulets of water snaking down into his low slung, terry towel. He felt dizzy, either from the half-naked body standing at his door or from the bang on his head, Ethan wasn’t sure which.

Ethan licked at his parched lips. “You startled me. I was smelling the honeysuckle.”

Quinn smiled, causing Ethan’s pulse to pick up speed. “You won’t get that in the city,” Quinn said, wiping a hand slowly across his chest. “It’s not so bad to be back, is it?”

Ethan nodded before he knew what he was doing, mesmerized by each minute gesture on Quinn’s face and every subtle move of his body.

Swallowing as best as he could, with the sensation that his tongue was growing thicker by the second, he managed, “Not that bad at all.”

“Listen,” Quinn started. “I was thinking that maybe you and me could go into town, show you around. It’s changed a lot. After you freshen up from the trip out here, that is.”

Ethan nodded again. “And after you get dressed.”

Quinn laughed that low unnerving laugh. “I was intending to. Don’t feel like getting arrested and permanently placed on a list.”

Flushed with embarrassment, Ethan tore his gaze away from Quinn’s lean, sinewy abdomen. “Of course you were,” he replied, almost apologetically. “I need to go into town to get a few things. Nikki said there was a new men’s clothing store that sold more than what our fathers wear.”

“Nikki?”

“Carmichael. From school.”

“The chubby girl with the big boobs and red hair?”

“It’s blonde now, the hair not her boobs.”

“I figured that’s what you meant.”

If Ethan got any hotter, he would pass out.
Where was that breeze now?

“So around ten minutes or so?” Quinn wiped a bead of water off his forehead. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

Before Ethan could protest the absurd time limit, Quinn stalked down the hall to his bedroom.

Kicking off his shoes, Ethan raced toward the bathroom. If he wanted to remain cool-headed, he knew he needed to take care of the heat in his underwear. It had been a while since any man had made him feel this horny, including Randall. For a passing second, he thought an ice cold shower might be the better alternative,
but what harm was there in masturbating to thoughts of Quinn, wet and naked? There was nothing wrong with a sexy daydream starring a man he’d never recovered from. Or was there?
Closing the bathroom door behind him and stripping off in seconds, Ethan then turned on the taps and waited for the water to warm as he stroked himself to a much needed release in record time, hoping that he wasn’t moaning too loudly.

* * * *

“You all right?”

Quinn stood with his hip against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed comfortably over his chest. For a redneck, he didn’t look too much like one. He wore a snug fitting, forest green polo shirt and well-worn Levi’s, which were faded in all the right places.

“Why would you ask me that?” Ethan said, stepping into the kitchen.

“I heard a moan coming from the bathroom. Did you stub something?” Quinn’s unnerving gaze hovered around Ethan’s crotch for what felt like an eternity, then rose up again meeting Ethan’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Ethan took a few steps, feigning a limp this time. “Not used to that bathroom anymore. It’s been a while since I used it. It’s smaller than I remember.” He reached down and rubbed his knee and winced. “Normally when I visit, I use the one in my old room.”

Quinn cocked his head. “Sorry about that. Maybe when he’s feeling better, you can get your room back. You can bump into things in more roomier surroundings.”

“No worries.” Ethan fought back the urge to blush. “And I don’t plan on staying that long. I figure I can get this place up and running and turning a profit in a matter of a few weeks.”

“I like your optimism, but technically, we are up and running. Cows don’t milk themselves.”

“I’ll leave that up to you. I left that part of my life behind long ago.”

“And yet, here you are, discussing cows and trying to make this farm profitable. If you left it behind, you could’ve fooled me.” Quinn’s tone was bordering on sarcastic.

“I’m here for my dad.” Ethan met Quinn’s gaze. “No one else.”

Judging by the look in Quinn’s eyes, Ethan wasn’t so sure if Quinn believed him. And if Ethan was being honest with himself, Ethan did enjoy seeing Quinn again after all this time.
There was no harm in admitting that to himself was there?

“You all right, buddy?” Quinn took a step forward.

“Yes,” Ethan returned, annoyed. “So stop asking me that.”

Quinn lifted his hands in surrender, arching a brow. “Your eyes glazed over for a second, and you’re… kinda… sweaty.”

“I’m sweating because it’s hot in here. No other reason.”

“What other reason would there be?”

Ethan swallowed hard, thinking for a viable excuse. “Low blood sugar.” He angled his chin and shot Quinn a look of defiance. “That would be a reason.”