Rainbow Hill

by Alex Carreras

  “You’re drunk.”

  “So what if I am.” She stuck out her tongue. “You’re horny. Remember that incident in the shed this afternoon? What do you think would’ve happened if Quinn walked in and caught you spanking the monkey? Do you think he would’ve walked away, or joined in?”

  “He walked away.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. You are only guessing he saw you, but I have my doubts.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think he has a thing for you.” Nikki arched her brow. “I saw some sexy twinkling in those gorgeous eyes of his, and it was aimed at you.”

  “Stop it. Don’t fuck with me because my ego can’t take it.”

  “Well, tell your ego to buck up because I’m telling you that I think Quinn’s interested.”

  “It’s the alcohol talking.”

  “Yeah, but when I’m sober tomorrow, I will say the same exact thing.”

  A nervous flurry of excitement mixed with anticipation fluttered in Ethan’s chest, building. Could Nikki be right? She had always been spot on about most things except when she convinced him into getting blond highlights that turned out more copper than blond. He cringed with the memory.

  “Are you sure, because I don’t see it?”

  “You never see it. You're—” Nikki shifted against her seat, a look of concentration on her face. “—you!”

  “Thanks,” Ethan mumbled, taking a sloshy sip from his cocktail. “I notice things.”

  “But you never notice when the good guys look your way, only the ones who want to steal your soul and leave you feeling like roadkill.”

  Ethan accepted her observation. Nikki was right. It had been his experience that Mister Right always turned out to be Mister Wrong. Always. “Okay, let’s just say that you’re right about this. I don’t want to move to some state where there is tons of fresh air and hiking. Fresh air doesn’t agree with me, and it makes me… wheeze.”

  “If that happens, you fool, allow Quinn to supply your oxygen.” She puckered her lips and made kissing noises. “Those lips can breathe life into me any day, that is if I was a gay man and he was into me.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes and took another drink. “It would never work. We’re too different. We don’t want the same things out of life.”

  “And what would that be? A Range Rover? A fancy wardrobe? The must-have limited-edition cologne of the moment? You already have those things and look at you, drunk off your butt in a shithole bar crying in your cocktail. You don’t look ecstatic to me. Actually you look kinda pitiful.” She smiled tightly. “Just sayin’.”

  “This night out was supposed to make me feel better about myself.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I don’t feel any worse.”

  “That’s something.”

  He shrugged again. “But I am not pursuing Quinn Kincade. Definitely not.” Ethan shook his head drunkenly. “No way.”

  “Then let him pursue you,” Nikki advised. “Allow things to happen organically.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then you’ve lost nothing.”

  “But I just wished that I really knew if things were over with Randall. It would be so much easier if I did.”

  “Has he called to check on you? See if you arrived in one piece and you’re not dead along the highway somewhere feeding vultures.”

  “He hasn’t.” Ethan’s voice was weak with shame.

  “A text?”

  “No.”

  “Huh,” Nikki delivered. “I’d say it’s over.”

  Ethan knew that too, but he hated loose ends. He just needed to hear it from Randall’s lips and then he could move on. He searched the room looking at no one in particular, lost in his thoughts.

  Quinn.

  Chapter Eight

  “What was that?” Nikki asked, sitting up and jerking her head around. “Did you just say that Quinn’s here?”

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “Yes, and he’s coming over right now.” Nikki reached across the table and finger-combed Ethan’s hair.

  “What are you doing?” Ethan hissed, pulling away from her styling efforts.

  “Trying to make you look sexy.”

  Quinn appeared by the table, his unsettling chocolate-brown eyes looking down at them. “This looks like trouble.” His lips curled up at the corners, and his gaze rested on Ethan. “Mind if I join you?”

  Nikki answered first. “Scoot your butt over,” she directed to Ethan, “and let the man sit down.”

  Anxiety ripped away at Ethan, and the heat level in the crowded bar notched up a few degrees. Beads of sweat formed on Ethan’s forehead as he slid over to make room for Quinn.

  “What ya drinking?” Quinn asked. “And how much have you been drinking?”

  “We just got here,” Nikki lied. She hiccupped. “What would you like? I’m buying this round.”

  “Soda’s fine.”

  “Oh c’mon, party pooper,” Nikki said. “Get something harder.”

  “Tomorrow comes very early,” Quinn returned. “And having a hangover makes them that much earlier.”

  Nikki nodded, eyeing her drink. “I’m positive I’ll regret doing what I’m doing when the alarm goes off at six a.m. Trying to coax two preteens out of bed and onto a school bus is hard work with or without a hangover.”

  Ethan chuckled. “Better you than me.”

  Quinn turned and looked at Ethan, that sly smile still in place, the same smile that made Ethan grow hard in a second flat. “You game for helping out in the morning, give Tucker a break?” Quinn asked.

  Helping Quinn and his father was something he was genuinely interested in doing, but rolling out of bed before the crack of dawn to wrangle cows, to clean udders, scrape cow dung, not only once but twice in a row, the herd too big for only one milking, was the last thing he wanted to do when he agreed to stay on to help at the farm.

  He groaned. “What kind of son would I be if I said no?”

  Quinn’s smile grew as he considered. “A truthful one?” he answered.

  Nikki snorted and polished off her drink, apparently amused.

  Ethan’s plan of distancing himself from Quinn seemed to end before it began. “Okay,” he agreed. “But only this once, and you have to clean the center aisle by yourself. I refuse to hose poop out of the barn.” He stuck out his tongue, reliving the boyhood memory. “Disgusting.”

  “May I make a suggestion?” Quinn asked.

  Nikki rested her elbows on the table, angling for a better vantage point. “You certainly can,” she said, answering for Ethan.

  Ethan shot Nikki a dirty look and stepped on her foot under the table. “What she said,” he returned.

  “Finish up that last drink and call it a night.” He turned to Nikki. “I insist on driving you home.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I didn’t drive, he did.”

  “I’ll be driving you both home.”

  “But you just got here,” Nikki said.

  “I only stopped by because I haven’t been able to sleep. Thought I might burn off some steam and catch up with some old classmates. Haven’t had much time to do that since I’ve been back.”

  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 tho
ught, 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.”