The Rhubarb Patch
Page 30
“Mmm, I can already taste it.”
“A year ago you didn’t even know what rhubarb was,” Phin teased with a chuckle.
Sniffing in agreement, Scott went back to work and plucked another stalk from the moist spring earth. After he cut away the leaf, he tossed it in the bucket with the others.
Had it only been a year since Scott was that floundering mess, desperate to get his life together? He’d seen the move to Gilead as a chance to find himself and more importantly have the confidence to be himself. The move had done that and so much more.
It brought him to the love of his life.
Glancing at his lover, his fiancé and best friend, Scott smiled. Yesterday, they’d picked asparagus and Phin made a delicious soup while Scott worked on his latest novel. Not another Shi Knight book, though Sharon was trying to talk him into it again because Book Four was a huge success. Rather, this book was set in a new world, an agrarian planet with talking trees. After a city boy is robbed by a highwayman, he’s rescued by a sexy farmer who feeds him from his garden while he hides from a cousin trying to steal his family fortune. The words were flowing easier than anything else he’d ever written.
Warm sunshine heated Scott’s back while he worked, and he turned his face into the cool May breeze. Though he was on a roll with his new book, it was a beautiful afternoon to be outside.
I can’t believe this is my life.
They were planning a July wedding—the slowest month of gardening season. Not wanting to rent a reception hall or have the ceremony in a church, Scott and Phin would get married where they fell in love.
At their small slice of heaven in the middle of nowhere on a country road in Gilead, Ohio.
They’d spent the last few weeks cleaning out the old white barn beside the rhubarb patch. The rough-looking structure was sounder than it appeared, according to Phin, and it would make a beautiful reception venue once they were done. They planned to paint the inside white, then string white Christmas lights along the rafters. Sheets of plywood painted a pale gray would cover the dirt floor, classing it up so their guests wouldn’t get dirty shoes and no heels would sink.
Just the other day, Davis had texted about adding a “plus one” to his RSVP. It thrilled Scott to no end that his brother had found a nice guy. Davis had been seeing Aaron for three months now, and Scott was looking forward to meeting him. But hopefully, Davis wouldn’t be too distracted with his new man that he’d forget his number one job as best man was running interference with Mom.
So far she’d been more help than hindrance in the wedding plans, even paying for the catering, DJ, and bartender. She’d also rented chairs with fancy white bows, round tables with white linens, and real dishes and silverware. Though it was in a barn, she refused to allow their wedding guests to eat off paper plates. Scott was keeping his fingers crossed they didn’t have some sort of blowout. He’d been pleasantly surprised that she liked his idea of a homemade pie bar instead of wedding cake. There was an Amish bakery in Gilead called Millie’s that had the best pies, from apple to cherry—and of course rhubarb! Scott liked the idea of sharing bits of his new life with his family and friends, and wanted to keep their wedding uniquely them.
Davis insisted on doing the flowers himself and making all the centerpieces. Scott had no doubt they would be stunning. Phin’s parents had sent a nice fat check, which Phin wanted to use for their honeymoon—location TBA because Scott loved surprises and Phin loved to surprise him.
Weather permitting, the ceremony would be outside at sunset, right where they had their first kiss. White chairs with bows and more flowers by Davis would circle a beautiful arbor as they said their own vows and shared their first kiss as honest-to-goodness husbands.
Scott couldn’t wait.
He wanted it to be as magical as that first night when the fireflies had danced around them, bestowing love and good fortune on the happy couple.
A shimmer of excitement traveled down his spine, but it was for so much more than the fairy-tale wedding they had planned. Scott was looking forward to starting a new life with his new family.
It was interesting how two men—city mouse and country mouse—could be so different yet such perfect complements. Scott always assumed he needed a man exactly like him to be happy. But he had learned he needed someone to challenge him. A confident man in his own right who pushed Scott into being true to himself.
And Phin did exactly that.
A cold, wet nose prodded Scott’s hand, drawing his attention down.
He chuckled at the little gray puppy—Scott’s birthday gift to Phin last week.
“You’re just a nosy little thing,” he told the four-pound dog, scooping the wriggling ball of fur up. “Just what are you looking for in the rhubarb patch?”
“She’s probably on the hunt for that toad I saw a few minutes ago.” Phin smiled, his expression already full of love for the schnauzer.
Scott had worried it might be presumptuous to present Phin with a puppy when it hadn’t been a year since they lost Sister Mary Katherine. But Phin wept with happiness when the big-eared bundle of joy had popped her head out of the gift bag Scott presented him. Scott had been ready with his phone and captured a pic of the pink tissue paper framing her tiny, mustached face. He was no longer posting Country Updates, but the puppy made her Facebook debut with Phin’s full approval. They hadn’t agreed on a name yet. So far she was “Puppy,” “Puddin’ Face,” “Little Missy,” “Little Girl,” and “Baby Doll.”
Not very original, but Phin assured Scott they would come up with the right name eventually.
“You don’t need to find that toad,” Scott told her, but she just barked and struggled more.
“Good luck telling a schnauzer what she does and doesn’t need.”
“You’re gonna have to learn some obedience if you’re gonna be the flower girl in your daddies’ wedding, Little Sassafras,” Scott told her. He’d found a pink tutu and a tiara online that would be adorable. Mom and Davis had flipped when he told them, and Phin just rolled his eyes. But Scott knew Phin loved the idea too.
“Oh, she will be on a leash during the ceremony,” Phin said.
Scott laughed and set the squirming puppy down. As predicted, she immediately wormed her way underneath the big rhubarb plant, sniffing loudly. Memories of another, older schnauzer sniffing around the same plants not so long ago warmed Scott’s heart.
Before she got too far out of reach, Scott set her in the grass out of the way so he could finish picking. When she headed back under the plants, he grabbed her gently. “Hey now, go snoop somewhere else, Nancy Drew.”
When Scott plopped her back in the grass, he froze. Then he and Phin looked at each other.
“No… you don’t think?” Phin said.
Scott smiled. “I don’t know, why not?”
He cocked his head to the side. “You think we should name her Nancy?”
Jutting out his lower lip, Scott shrugged. “I kinda like it.”
“Do you think it’ll piss off your mom?” Phin wanted to know seriously.
Immediately Scott waved his hand in dismissal. “What doesn’t piss my mom off unless it’s exactly what she wants when she wants it?”
Being a young single mother, Mom had always floundered back and forth between being Scott’s BFF and his parent, which he now realized had led to a lot of the dysfunction in their relationship. That dynamic would probably never change, but Scott had managed to take an emotional step back, separating himself from the choices she made in her life and not allowing them to intrude on his happiness. She would always be there for him, of that he had no doubt, but that didn’t mean he needed to get upset about her decisions.
Like letting Joe move back in.
Ugh!
Scott was still furious that Dumbass would be at his wedding, but Phin had reminded Scott it was her life and her choice. They had their own lives to worry about.
Scott was still holding out hope they would break up in the next
two months.
“You sure about the name?” Phin asked.
“I like it,” he insisted. “It’s perfect.”
“Fancy Nancy, Nancy Pants,” Phin mused. “I could nickname the heck out of it.” Wearing a bright smile that lit up his blue eyes, he picked up the tiny dog. She struggled but there was no way she was escaping those large hands. He looked her square in the eye. “Do you wanna be Nancy?”
She barked.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Though Scott knew she just wanted down to find that toad.
“What do you think, Katie?” Phin asked the mound of dirt by the barn’s corner.
Scott glanced over. Sister Mary Katherine’s grave was now marked with a concrete stone and ringed with pink impatiens—because Phin said she was always impatient for her yummies.
“You think the real Nancy would approve?” Phin asked his long-gone pup as he placed their new one down.
New Nancy darted right back under the rhubarb, sniffing loudly.
Scott had found it odd the first time he heard Phin talking to the grave, but now it didn’t seem as heart-wrenching as he’d first thought. Rather it felt perfectly natural for Phin to include her in the conversation. Phin had been wearing a brave face all winter, but Scott knew his grief was still bone-deep and just as fresh as it had been that warm summer night when they laid her to rest. That’s why Scott had scoured the internet, looking for puppies, hoping a new love would help heal the wounds of a lost one.
Loss was a sad but continuous part of life. For every perfect summer day, there would be the rainy ones where the world seemed to drown you. But just as the greenness of spring cleansed the land of winter’s barren chill, brighter days did come.
Phin and Scott were living proof of that.
Love found Phin again, though he’d resigned himself to being alone. And Scott had finally found true happiness and acceptance with a man who loved him for who he was and everything they didn’t have in common. With the addition of a sassy new pup, Scott knew his little family would have more days of sun than rain.
Overcome with a deep affection for the big man beside him, Scott crawled over and kissed Phin on the cheek.
Phin flinched in surprise. “What was that for?”
“Because I love you.”
A smile lit up Phin’s face as he plucked another stalk of rhubarb. “I love you too, Mouse.”
More from Deanna Wadsworth
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Readers love Naughty Cupid by Deanna Wadsworth
“Naughty Cupid is a great read. It’s light, often funny, and occasionally deeply moving…”
—Sinfully: Gay Romance Book Reviews
“Oh my goodness! This was an amazing story.”
—Open Skye Book Reviews
“I’ve read this twice now, because it was just too much fun not to read again!”
—Alpha Book Club
“…this was a funny, quick, sexy romp of a book that managed to be light while still having some character growth and emotional drive behind it, and I enjoyed reading it!”
—Moonlight and Metaphors
DEANNA WADSWORTH might be a best-selling erotica author, but she leads a pretty vanilla life in Ohio with her wonderful husband and a couple adorable cocker spaniels. She has been spinning tales and penning stories since childhood, and her first erotic novella was published in 2010. When she isn’t writing books or brainstorming with friends, you can find her making people gorgeous in a beauty salon. She loves music and dancing, and will often be seen hanging out on the sandbar in the muddy Maumee River or chilling with her hubby and a cocktail in their basement bar. In between all that fun, Deanna cherishes quiet times in her garden when she can let her wildly active imagination have the full run of her mind. Her fascination with people and the interworkings of their relationships has always inspired her to write romance with spice and love without boundaries.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/deannawadsworthauthor
Twitter: @DeannaWadsworth
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By Deanna Wadsworth
Easy Ryder
Naughty Cupid
The Rhubarb Patch
Wrecked
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Rhubarb Patch
© 2017 Deanna Wadsworth.
Cover Art
© 2017 Anne Cain.
annecain.art@gmail.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
ISBN: 978-1-63533-661-0
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63533-662-7
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017904701
Published July 2017
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America