Rainbow Hill (11 page)

Nikki looked around, showing more interest. “A few of our alma mater have been tripping around tonight.” She jutted her chin toward a man and woman sealed at the lips in a neighboring booth. “Remember Jeremy Fartham and Jenny Prince?”

Quinn nodded, and Ethan asked, “Is that them?”

“Not exactly,” she whispered as low as she could in the noisy space. “That’s Jeremy, but that is not his wife, Jenny, who he married the summer after graduation. The woman who he’s attached to at the moment is Shelly Sanderson.”

“Nooo,” Ethan said on a long exhale. “That’s Shelly “The Slut” Sanderson? She hasn’t changed a bit, except maybe for a few extra pounds and an even trashier wardrobe. Just look at that top. It leaves nothing to the imagination.”

“It’s not exactly imagination she’s after.”

“Oh you never know,” Quinn shared, getting into the spirit of gossiping. “I hear she’s very imaginative in the bedroom.”

“From who?” Nikki almost choked on her tongue.

“I probably shouldn’t say anything but,” Quinn continued, “Allison Harmon admitted to having a threesome with Shelley and her ex-husband when she was still married. Apparently Shelly is not exclusively hetero.” He waggled his brows, the playful action making Ethan even hornier.

Nikki’s mouth hung open. “Are you suggesting that Shelly is the reason Allison got a divorce?” She looked at the couple still going at it hot and heavy. “What a slut.”

“Well…” Quinn began, his lips curving to a devilish smile. “She didn’t exactly break up the marriage, but she didn’t help save it either. She and Allison had a six-month fling until Allison caught Shelly with another couple at the Sleepy Time Inn out on route three-forty.”

Ethan gasped. “Oh. My. GOD!” he said. “How does she have the time?”

“How does she have the energy?” Nikki added. “I must speak with her before we leave, see what vitamins she’s taking.”

“I’m sure it’s all the protein she’s ingesting,” Ethan said, forcing back a chuckle.

“Gross!” Nikki swatted at Ethan, missing him by only an inch. “Only
you
would have to go there.”

“In Ethan’s defense,” Quinn began, “I was thinking it.”

Nikki took another swat but at Quinn this time, making contact with his forearm. Quinn and Ethan laughed, Quinn’s muscular shoulder brushing Ethan’s.

Lust formed in Ethan’s throat as he leaned in closer in the hopes of another chance brush from the handsome man. It was a bit desperate, but Ethan didn’t care.

He was desperate.

Plus he was drunk.

They sat in silence, lost in the action of Rascals until Quinn said, “Ready, lady and gent?” He fished into his front jeans pocket and took out his truck keys, jangling them in the air. “Jefferson might be progressing, but we still only have one taxi driver and he’s standing at the bar double fisting at the moment so…”

“Okay, funny guy,” Nikki said, sliding and standing by the booth. “This princess is turning into a pumpkin anyway, but I was serious when I wanted to talk to Shelly. Be back in a sec.” She ran off before Ethan could protest.

Quinn turned to Ethan, brushing against him again. “Sorry to have to get you out of bed so early, but Tucker’s been burning the candle, picking up the slack for Dad. I keep telling Tucker to call him out and ride him a bit, but your father is a softy.”

“D-d-dad?” Ethan scoffed. “A softy?”

“His crusty exterior is only for show. Deep down he’s like a little girl who found a lost kitten. All heart.”

Quinn’s observation of his father’s personality was shocking to say the least. Tucker Stokes was many things, but “a softy” was never one of them. It was eye opening to see his father through Quinn’s eyes.

“I know I tease and scoff about handling the chores on the farm, but I really don’t mind.” Ethan shrugged. “I’ve done them many times before, and it appears that I’ll be doing them many times again.”

“Good,” Quinn lowered his chin and gazed from under thick brows. “I have to admit, I was pretty skeptical about us working together, but we’re making a pretty good team so far.” His eyes glimmered in the dim lighting, Ethan’s pulse ratcheting up. He wanted to kiss him right then and there, but he had to coerce his drunk brain into choosing a better time and location if there ever was going to be a time. “Are you feeling the same?”

I’m feeling something all right
.

Ethan swallowed, which was not an easy feat. “Absolutely,” he said. “But you might change that opinion after tomorrow morning’s milking.” He smiled like a helpless imp at a comedy club who had been hypnotized by a magician for the sheer pleasure of entertaining a crowd. “I’ve been surrounded by the finer things in life lately and might’ve gotten spoiled.”

“Once a farm boy, always a farm boy.” Quinn winked.

Unable to withstand it any longer, and abandoning all rational thought, Ethan leaned in and kissed the man he’d been wanting to kiss ever since landing eyes on him standing in his parents’ kitchen less than forty-eight hours ago. His brain soared, and his lips burned. The sounds around them faded, and all Ethan could hear was the beating of his own heart, strong and quick, pulsing in his ears. The kiss felt better than Ethan had remembered, Quinn’s rough, chapped lips searing into his. Ethan didn’t care about the consequences, not anymore. This is what he wanted, what he deserved after enduring Randall’s infidelity and public embarrassment. Ethan kissed harder, pushing his tongue between Quinn’s parting lips, the warm wetness igniting every cell in his aching body.

Breaking though the thrumming sounds echoing in his ears, Nikki’s voice squelched Ethan’s passion as effectively as an ice-cold bucket of water being tossed over him, dousing him entirely.

“I can see that Shelly’s not the only slut here tonight.”

* * * *

After dropping Nikki off safely at home, Quinn and Ethan sat in silence as Fleetwood Mac played quietly on the radio. Quinn hummed along, staring straight at the road, refusing to address what had just happened back at Rascals. Did he necessarily mind that he could still taste Ethan on his lips? He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, reliving the moment.

“Quinn?”

“Yep,” Quinn answered.

“Are we going to talk about what happened?”

“Do we have to?”

“I guess not,” Ethan answered.

They drove a few more miles, and then Ethan reached and turned off the radio. “I really think we should, uh…talk about it.”

Quinn groaned, accelerating, doing anything in his power short of saying no, to cut their discussion short. He never liked to talk about his emotions. He always ended up saying things he didn’t mean or want to say in the first place.

Quinn cleared his throat. “You were drunk. I was there. Not much to talk about.”

“That’s not the way it was.”

Crap
. Quinn had hoped that Ethan wouldn’t take it much farther. Apparently, he didn’t mind discussing his feelings.

“Okay,” Quinn acquiesced. “How was it then?”

“I wanted to kiss you, back in high school and tonight. Seeing you has taken me by surprise, and the last thing I expected when I came for a visit was to see you.” Ethan scrubbed his hands over his face and exhaled hard. “Or having you as my new roommate.”

“Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. You’ve had a lot thrown at you over a short period of time, and it’s apparent that you have a lot on your plate with your business in the city and your boyfriend.”

“W-w-what?” Ethan scoffed. “Why are you bringing that up? Nothing is wrong with that part of my life.”

“I’m not implying there is.”

“It certainly sounds like it to me.”

“You’re drunk and emotional.”

“For the last time, I’m not drunk anymore.” Ethan paused and licked his lips. “I’m sorry, I was out of line. Back at the bar, I got swept up by the moment and by our past. It won’t happen again.”

“No worries. It was only a kiss, although, I’m sure that by tomorrow we’ll be the talk of the town.”

“Great,” Ethan sighed. “I’m sure our fathers will appreciate that.”

“They’ll survive, and so will we.”

Quinn slowed the truck and indicated left to head for home. Deep down he hated to call attention to himself, especially when it came to his sexuality. Quinn wasn’t ashamed of being gay, but he wasn’t exactly the type of guy who would be waving the rainbow flag above his head at Washington’s annual gay pride parade either. Also, with starting a local business, any negative chatter could create obstacles that might hurt a business before it even began. Tomorrow all of this will be in the past, he thought, and Rascals wasn’t exactly the clientele that would frequent country bazaars and buy artisan pottery and organic scented candles while sipping locally grown berry antioxidant smoothies.

Now home and pulling into the drive, Quinn noticed a possum scurry across the lawn before coming to a stop, its eyes reflecting against the headlights. “We’re here,” he said, half expecting Ethan to be passed out cold and slobbering on his shirt. Quinn shut down the engine and reached for the door handle, but Ethan’s voice caused him to freeze.

“Wait,” he said, his voice nothing but a whisper.

Quinn relaxed against his seat. “Yeah?”

“Did you feel anything…when we—”

"Kissed?” Quinn was hoping that Ethan wouldn’t ask that question. If he answered yes, things might and more than likely would escalate, and if he said no, he could offend Ethan possibly to the point of making him so angry or embarrassed that he might return to the city, abandoning their plans. Bottom line, Quinn needed him. Here. This was where that little inner voice implored him to tell the truth. “I want to lie and say no,” Quinn began, cautious at first, “but we have to remember why we’re here, what our goals are. Also I was under the impression you’re not single.”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Really, because it seems easy to me? Either you are committed to someone or you’re not. Pretty damn simple from where I’m sitting.”

Ethan made a choking sound. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

Quinn turned and looked at Ethan’s face illuminated by the soft glow of the nearly full moon. He wanted to see Ethan’s reaction to the question he had wanted to ask but never felt that the time was an appropriate one. The time had now arrived.

“I thought you and Randy were happy?”

“Randall,” Ethan corrected, his voice weak.

“Right.” Quinn paused to give ample time for Ethan to explain. He didn’t. Quinn probed further. “So what’s going on?”

“A whole crap storm of crap.” The words tumbled from his lips. “I can’t even pretend to dress it up. It’s just…shitty.”

“That sounds pretty darn smelly. Do you want to talk about it?”

Quinn realized he was the one asking, but if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t so sure if he wanted to talk about it, at least not when Ethan was under the influence and all Quinn wanted was to see the back of his eyelids.

“No. Not really.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Quinn opened the door to the truck. “Let’s get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Ethan groaned. “Damn I hate cows.”

“They’re not so bad,” Quinn said, stepping out of the truck and into the cool night. “You have to know how to handle them, make them your friends. Coexist.”

“I don’t want to make friends with anything that does their business right where they stand. Disgusting creatures.” Ethan’s upper lip curled into an obvious snarl.

“Are you positive you grew up on this farm, because it doesn’t sound like it to me?”

“I’ll prove it tomorrow.” Ethan opened the door and stumbled out of the cab of the truck, cursing under his breath. Quinn’s first reaction was to run to his side and lend him support if he needed it, stabilizing him, but that was his heart talking. His brain told him to keep walking.

They walked across the yard and entered the house quietly. Distant sounds of snoring came from the darkened upstairs, Frank and Tucker fast asleep.

For an instant, Quinn imagined taking Ethan into his arms and pressing the handsome man against his chest to steal another kiss, a kiss too memorable and too sweet not to want more of.

Ethan was vulnerable, and Quinn was horny.

Instead, Quinn removed his boots and walked toward his room by memory, navigating the darkness. “Night,” Quinn mumbled over his shoulder, moving as quickly as he could before he changed his mind.

Chapter Nine

Ethan stood in the center of the fifty-stall barn, each one filled with a tail-swaying cow, wondering why in the hell he had agreed to this. He peered at Quinn dressed in a tight navy blue T-shirt, faded denims that hugged his well-developed thighs, his thick, dark hair raked away from his broad forehead, and the answer came to him.

He wanted Quinn
.

Then last night, what he could remember of it, turned over in Ethan’s head. Certain events might still be foggy, but he remembered the touch of Quinn’s weathered lips against his own, the warmth of his breath racing across his cheeks when Quinn pulled away, moist and smelling of peppermint gum. Ethan exhaled, watching Quinn out of the corner of his eye, squatting to adhere the milking machine to a cow’s teats, his pants waistband riding down low and exposing his tan line. Feeling light-headed, Ethan was unsure if it was due to lack of sleep, being hung over, or getting an eyeful of milky skin heaven. He gripped a nearby metal divider so he wouldn’t fall facedown into a cow patty.