“I don’t know the guy, I’ve only formed an opinion of him with what you’ve shared. My opinion of him is: he stinks.”
Ethan dressed quickly, almost slipping on a condom that was thrown to the floor in a fit of passion. He retrieved the prophylactic and tossed it in a small wastebasket beside the bedside table.
“Get rid of any of the evidence.”
“Evidence?" Quinn scoffed. “We made love, not committed a crime.”
On hearing the words ‘made love’ come out of Quinn’s lips, Ethan paused before coaching himself to regroup. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to explain. “You’re right, wrong choice of words.” He walked toward the bed, feeling a swelling warmth inside his chest, Quinn’s naked body covered only by a sheet, a breathtaking vision. “I need to wrap my head around what happened between us last night, and having Randall here—downstairs, with our dads, drinking—isn’t helping me grasp the situation.”
“I can understand that.”
If he could, all Ethan wanted to do was slide between the sheets and into Quinn’s arms to hide from the world, postponing the inevitable. He couldn’t.
Checking his zipper and hiking his pants higher on his hips, Ethan turned to head downstairs.
“Ethan.”
Ethan paused but did not turn around. He waited to hear what Quinn had to say.
“Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Ethan returned.
“And don’t feel you shouldn’t have a drink yourself, some Dutch courage might make whatever you need to say a little easier.”
Chapter Twelve
“Baby!”
Ethan hated when Randall called him anything but his name. He didn’t know why exactly, he just did. Ethan walked into the kitchen but refrained from giving Randall a friendly welcome.
“What are you doing here?” He could hear the impatience in his voice.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Randall’s slurred words betrayed his drunkenness. “It’s where you are, and I wanted to be with you.”
Ethan forced a smile, more for his father’s benefit than for anyone else’s. “How nice.” He eyed the glass of liquor clenched in Randall’s hand. “Isn’t it too early for a drink? Why don’t I pour you some coffee instead?”
Lifting a tumbler of what looked like bourbon to his lips, Randall sipped before answering. “I had coffee at home. This seems to be hitting the spot just fine.”
“Did you add bourbon instead of cream to that coffee? You appear to be…foggy.”
“Baby, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he returned almost too quickly. “When did you turn into a teetotaler anyway?”
In one swift movement, Ethan stalked up to Randall and took the drink out of his hand, discarding it into the stainless steel sink behind him. “I see that you’ve met my father, Tucker, and his friend, Frank.”
Randall looked at Tucker, then to Frank, and back to Tucker. “Ethan, did you forget to tell me something about your family? The proverbial fruit not falling far from the tree.”
“Frank’s a neighbor, but he lives here now” is all Ethan felt like explaining at the moment.
“Neighbor?” Randall said. “Where? I don’t see another house for miles. How have you survived being out here as long as you have? The word remote comes to mind.”
“We like it that way.” Frank might as well have said fuck off, his tone bordering on surly. Tucker followed up with a derisive sound that sounded like an audible exclamation mark.
Randall lifted both hands in a gesture of peace. “Oh don’t get me wrong, this place is charming.”
“You already said that.” Tucker crossed his arms over his chest, opting to stand rather than sit at the table with Randall and Frank.
Randall shot a look of disdain toward Tucker but refrained from commenting. Instead, he gave Tucker a close-lipped smile. “Ethan, can you help with the bags outside in the car?”
“Bags?” He looked at the Vuitton duffel on the floor by the door. “How many do you have? How long do you intend on staying?”
“Are you not happy to see me, baby? I thought you would be after our last chat.”
You mean the time you told me that we were over and you had moved on, so I might as well accept it? “I’m always glad to see you,” Ethan responded through a clenched jaw. “We just didn’t expect you, that’s all.”
“This house looks pretty big, certainly enough for another guest.”
Frank fiddled with his bourbon, ice cubes clinking against the glass. “All the rooms are full. Quinn’s here too.”
“Quinn?” The mention of a male name made Randall’s voice pique with interest. He sat up straighter in the chair. “And who is that? Let me guess, another neighbor.”
“My son,” Frank said, his breath smelling of liquor. “He’s staying in one of the guest bedrooms, and I’m staying in Ethan’s old room, so we’re full.”
“And where is Ethan staying?”
“There was some talk about some bags,” Ethan said, already moving toward the door to the outside. The sooner he got out of this room and away from Tucker and Frank, and the conversation, the better. He couldn’t take one more second explaining himself in front of them. He realized how fucked up everything sounded, and watching Tucker’s eyes ping-ponging between him and Randall was unnerving to say the very least.
The scraping of the chair’s legs against linoleum told Ethan that Randall was following behind him.
After walking through the screen porch and then jogging down the short flight of stairs to the lawn, Ethan stopped dead in his tracks. Parked by his Range Rover was a slate gray Mercedes E-class Sedan that still had that new car smell even from fifteen feet away.
“Whose car is that?” He already knew the answer but hoped he was wrong.
“Mine.” Randall slid up beside Ethan, placing a proprietary hand on the small of his back. “You like it?”
“Why didn’t you call, telling me that you were coming? I know that car has blue tooth. You were never one to buy a stripped down version of anything.”
“Why should I get a lesser model? I deserve only the best.”
Randall’s hand slid lower, coming to rest on Ethan’s buttocks.
“So you decided to take a spin all the way out here, drunk as a skunk?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Maryland State Police are known to be ballbusters so if you’re planning to drive anytime soon, you had better sober up first.”
“I’m not afraid of a couple of country bumpkin cops.” Ethan stepped away from Randall, disgusted. The last thing he wanted was to get fondled in his own yard while his father peered through the kitchen window. Ethan swore he could hear Tucker cursing under his breath now.
“You have to take risks,” Randall continued. “That was always one of your problems.”
“What are some of the others?” Ethan narrowed his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest, mainly to keep himself from wiping that self-righteous smirk off Randall’s face. “Being gullible, or trusting, or foolish enough to believe that we had a committed partnership?”
“Look—” Randall took a tentative step forward.
Ethan stood his ground, balling his fists against his body, his nails cutting into the palms of his hands.
“Ethan, I’m here to make up, not fight,” Randall began to explain. “What happened with that guy is over. He wasn’t for me. Never was. You’re the only man for me. We have too much to lose if we break up. The house, the business, our fabulous lifestyle.”
“Our lifestyle might be fabulous,” Ethan spat out, vitriol in his voice, “but our life together is not.”
“It was once.” Randall risked placing his hand on Ethan’s forearm. He began to stroke. “Remember how much fun we had in the beginning? How we loved each other?”
Ethan could feel his steely resolve lessening. “That was a long time ago. I’m tired of your affairs.”
“Affairs?” Randall scoffed. “I would hardly call them that.”
“Then what would you call them?”
“Mistakes.” Both of Randall’s hands moved to cup Ethan’s face. “I love you and want you to come home so we can be together. So we can get past this.”
“Yeah, until the next time.”
“There will be no next time.” Randall came a little closer and dropped his chin to look into Ethan’s eyes. “I promise.”
“And why should I believe you?” Ethan jerked his head to free himself of Randall’s unwelcomed grasp.
“Because we belong together. Our life can be perfect again.”
Randall was right. In the beginning, they were perfect.
The excitement of a new relationship mixed with a new business was intoxicating. They traveled to all the gay meccas—Key West, Provincetown, Miami, Palm Springs—as the business grew profitable. They bought original art for their townhouse in the toniest part of town, and shopped at Neiman’s and Saks, places Ethan had only dreamed about when he was a young boy, mucking stalls and bailing hay.
Ethan turned his attention to his Range Rover and Randall’s Mercedes parked side-by-side, gleaming in the morning sun, the two vehicles complementing each other. They spelled success, accomplishment, and triumph to anyone who saw them. He was now like the people in the magazines he had once combed over, and he intended to stay that way.
Sadness tugged at Ethan’s heart as he swept his gaze from the vehicles to Randall’s hazel eyes, tears brimming soulfully in the corners. He took Randall’s hands in his. “If I agree to this, agree to take you back, will you promise me that you’ll never cheat again?”
“I can’t believe that you’re asking me this.”
“Believe it.”
“Never.” Randall touched his lips to Ethan’s, soft and gentle. “Ever.”
Ethan kissed back, believing Randall’s whispered promise. They wrapped each other in a loving embrace, but for Ethan it lacked the passion he had experienced just a few hours earlier with Quinn. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing Quinn out of his thoughts, and focused on the man in his arms. Ethan tightened his embrace as if to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m having difficulty breathing.”
Ethan loosened his grip. “Sorry.”
Randall smiled, the scent of bourbon lingering between them. “Would you like to take a look in the car?” He waggled his eyebrows. “The leather seats smell divine.”
“What did you do with the other Mercedes?”
“Traded it for this one?”
“Why? The other car was only a year old.”
“I was depressed and needed something to help cheer me up.”
“Did it work?”
“It did,” Randall admitted. “But having you standing here in front of me beats the initial high of buying a new luxury car.”
“You do say the sweetest things.”
* * * *
“Where have you been?” Frank asked Quinn, Frank still seated at the kitchen table.
“Showering,” Quinn answered nonchalantly.
Quinn walked to the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice, then hunted for a glass. Tucker beat him to it, reaching into a cabinet and handing Quinn a glass.
Quinn shot a quick glance at Tucker, looking for any sign of disapproval in the man’s face when he accepted the glass. What he saw was indifference.
“You missed the pleasure of meeting Ethan’s young man,” Tucker said as Quinn poured the orange juice.
“I have a feeling that opportunity will arise once again.” Unfortunately. He sipped the sweet juice, hoping it would remove the bad taste of Randall.
Frank patted the tabletop with his hand and kicked out a seat beside him. “Why don’t you sit and tell us how your night went,” he suggested.
“Not much to tell,” Quinn said and shrugged his shoulders, taking a seat. “We recovered the cows without much effort. Think they just wanted to go for a midnight stroll.”
“They weren’t the only ones busy last night,” Frank said.
Quinn coughed, the acid of the orange juice bubbled into his throat. “What are you referring to?”
Tucker lifted both of his hands, palms out. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t mutter a word.”
“He didn’t have to,” Frank interrupted. “These walls aren’t as thick as you think.”
Quinn wanted to slide under the table and never come out. Heat crawled into his cheeks, and he was quite literally hot under the collar. He tugged at it, hoping to cool off.
“Don’t be embarrassed, son. It’s only natural to want to get your rocks off when you’re a young man.”
“How much have you had to drink this morning?” Quinn asked, his temper starting to get the best of him.
“Enough to have this discussion, I reckon.”
“Well, I haven’t so let’s not have… it.”
“But he’s with that guy out there.” Frank indicated to the front of the house with his chin. “He has a boyfriend.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“That fellow who drove all the way out here seems to think so,” Frank returned.
“That fellow,” Quinn spat,” broke it off weeks ago.”
It was Tucker’s turn to speak. “I knew it,” he said. “I sensed that something was wrong with Ethan in the romance department.”
“Randall’s been cheating on him.”
Tucker mumbled something under his breath, and he gripped the kitchen counter.
“Tucker, don’t worry,” Quinn said. “Ethan won’t fall for any of his BS. He’s too smart for that.”
“You think so?” Frank angled in his chair, looking out the door into the yard. “From where I’m sitting, I can see the two now. Randall has is arm locked around Ethan….and wait, here is where it gets even better, they are now kissing.”
Quinn stood, practically knocking the chair over with the backs of his legs. He stalked toward the door and looked out.
His father wasn’t making it up.
Ethan was kissing Randall.
He was even hugging Randall.
And it looked like he was enjoying it.
Quinn felt Tucker’s hot breath on his neck. “What is he thinking?” Tucker said. “I thought I taught him better than that.”
“Apparently, you didn’t.” Quinn’s jaw ached from clenching. A tremor of hate and anger raced over his body. “I should go out there and break that fancy ass’s nose.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Frank suggested. “He’d just sue you for a new and improved nose, and you would come out looking bad, and he would come out looking better than ever.”
“Plus,” Tucker added, “I don’t believe that would win any points with Ethan.”
“Who said I wanted to win any points?” Quinn protested. “Ethan can have him. Besides we’re not serious. We were having some fun, that’s all.”
“If that’s the case,” Frank said, “why do you look like you got a porcupine shoved up your butt?”
Quinn relaxed his fists to his side and took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Ethan’s a big boy and obviously knows what he wants.”
“He has never known what he wanted,” Tucker clarified. “Always looking for bigger and better and fancier. I have no idea where that comes from. His mother and I were never those people. We were always happy with what we had. We never chased rainbows.”
“There’s nothing wrong with chasing rainbows,” Frank said, “but that guy out there is not the pot of gold at the end of one.”
Quinn turned and looked at Frank, shocked at his father’s insightful comment.
“What’s the matter?” Frank asked. “I might like to bury my feelings in the bottom of a bottle, but I can still see what’s happening around me no matter how hard I try not to. For whatever reason, Randall is taking advantage of Ethan. He’s always been a good kid, too good, and people like Randall can see that. If you ask me, that fellow kissing Ethan out there has a heart of sto
ne.”
Now Tucker’s jaw began to pulse. “Frank, I know you're right, so what do we do?”
“Wait a minute,” Quinn said. “I’m not doing a damn thing, and I suggest you two do the same. Let Ethan make his own choices. It’s his life, and we’re not interfering.”
“Son, one can surely tell that you’ve never been a parent.” Frank chuckled softly, shaking his head. “That’s what we do. We interfere. Right, Tucker?”
Tucker looked at Quinn. “Interfering is a parent’s job, and no matter how old or stupid that kid will be, I’ll always be his father, so I intend to let him know I do not approve in his choice in partners.”
“You do that, and you’ll lose him forever,” Quinn warned.
“So I should stand by and let him keep messing up? If Randall is fooling around on Ethan, he could place Ethan’s health at risk, and I won’t idly stand by and allow that to happen. It’s a father’s duty to protect his son.”
Quinn ran his fingers through his hair and shifted his weight from foot to foot, frustrated. “Just don’t go charging in because you’ll lose him. Let Ethan figure it out. Please. These last few days, he’s been having a good time. He’d probably never admit it to you, but he did to me. Randall showing up is only a minor setback. He wants Oak Hill Farm to succeed, for us to be a success. I like Ethan, a lot, but I don’t want to manipulate him because if we do, that would make us no better than Randall.”
Frank grunted, and Tucker inhaled slowly through his nose, his broad chest swelling under his plaid shirt. He gazed outside at Randall and Ethan now talking amicably by Randall’s car.
“I guess you’re right,” he said on an exhale. “I don’t like it, but you’re right.”
Quinn followed Tucker’s gaze. He recognized something in Ethan’s face, a forced smile, a tense brow, an overall expression that didn’t exactly translate to I love you. If Ethan was truly pleased to see Randall, why did his body language say something else entirely? Or was it that Quinn wanted to see signs of unhappiness between them and was reading too much into nothing, his imagination getting the most of him? Dismissing the thought, Quinn excused himself, choosing to skip breakfast. He slipped out the screen door noiselessly and headed to the springhouse to bury himself in work.
Rainbow Hill Page 13
