Cloudy With A Chance Of Love

by E M Lindsey

  “I don’t know what I want. I want to hold you both, to kiss you. To be with you. But I also really want to see the goats. And I want beans on toast. Is that weird? Of course it’s weird.” Through sheer force of will, Spencer made himself shut up.

  “How about this? I make us beans and toast, after that it’ll be time to check on the animals.”

  “And after that, we get to the kissing part?” Spencer asked hopefully.

  “All the kissing,” Max promised him with a brush of lips across the back of his neck.

  Spencer was sure heaven was a cabin in the woods with the two men he loved pressed against him, and the promise of a future with both of them and a baby goat. Or two. He really wanted two.

  Chapter 27

  Maxwell Caldwell vs. Grant Hugh

  “Is this real life?” Spencer leaned against him and craned his neck to watch Collin heating beans in the kitchen.

  “Yeah.”

  Max closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. This whole thing was absolutely absurd. Everything had moved so fast in the last twenty-four hours. He’d shown up at Spencer’s, and they’d agreed to come after Collin, and now here they were again, back on Collin’s couch while an array of smells wafted through the air around them.

  Collin’s cabin smelled like it had two weeks before. Like soap and detergent, an underlying taste of food that made Max feel like he was at home, all wrapped in the smell of wet goat. He smiled and rolled his head to the side to watch Spencer watch Collin.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked Spencer.

  Collin spooned beans onto toast, then balanced three plates on his forearm and navigated his way back to the couch. He set the plates on the coffee table and inserted himself between Spencer and Max. Max appreciated the way Collin sought affection when he needed it, and Max pressed a kiss on the scruff of Collin’s exposed neck.

  “Time to eat,” Collin announced, rather gruff. He cleared his throat and passed one of the plates to Spencer, who forked a piece of the bread off and shoved it happily into his mouth.

  “Way to avoid the question, sweetheart.” Max chuckled and took the plate Collin offered him.

  “What was the question?” Collin asked.

  “I asked him if he was sure about this.”

  “I think that’s settled,” Collin offered, and Spencer’s cheeks flushed.

  Max bit his lip and leaned over, setting his plate on the couch. He hated feeling this way. He was happy, and he wanted to be happy, but a bundle of desperate nerves tangled themselves up in his stomach and threatened to ruin everything.

  He’d done the right things.

  Gotten Spencer.

  Come for Collin.

  Offered to...offered to upend his entire life for these men who barely knew him.

  “You don’t even know me,” he said.

  “I think we know enough.”

  “A month ago, I was planning to get married,” he snapped, pushing off the couch. He braced his hands on his hips and paced across the living room, giving Collin and Spencer his back, hoping it would hide his insecurities.

  “This is much more romantic and spontaneous than that,” Spencer teased through a mouthful of food.

  “What if I’m not ready?” Max asked.

  He stopped in front of Collin’s desk and looked down at the mess of papers. Goat sanctuaries, mountain resorts, and a yellow post-it that drew his attention and forced the nerves inside him to constrict even tighter.

  He peeled the sticky note off the desk and read it twice before he turned around and held it up.

  “What if you’re not ready?” he asked, pointing his finger—and the note—toward Collin.

  “I am,” Collin said, eyes drifting from Max’s face to the note and back.

  “London?”

  Spencer’s face blanched and he looked at Collin, then set his plate down on the table next to Max’s untouched meal.

  “London?” Spencer repeated. He walked away from Collin and snatched the sticky note from Max’s hand.

  “Home. No goats. Familiar. Safe. Grant Hugh. Question mark. Question Mark. Question Mark,” Spencer read the list and flicked his stare back to Collin. “You want to move back to London?”

  “I had thought about it,” Collin admitted.

  Spencer stepped around Max and pushed the sticky note back onto the desk. He stared at it a little longer, then reached up and grabbed Max by his shirt and yanked him down into a kiss.

  It was so out of character for Spencer, it caught Max off guard. He stumbled and had just regained his balance in time for Spencer to wrap his arms around Max’s neck and climb him like a tree.

  Max grunted and gripped the backs of Spencer’s thighs, holding him up and letting himself fall into the unexpectedly passionate display of affection. Spencer moaned into his mouth, and Max turned, pushing Spencer’s back into the wall. Any questions he’d had before about whether he’d done the right thing by going after the man in his arms were long gone.

  His cock reacted the way it always had, and it throbbed and pressed against Spencer’s body as Spencer’s tongue invaded his mouth. Max tore his mouth away from Spencer’s and buried his face in the delicate curve of Spencer’s slender neck, nipping and kissing his way up to his ear.

  “London?” Spencer rasped, digging his heels into Max’s ass. “You’d rather have London than this?”

  “Are you using me to prove a point?” Max laughed into Spencer’s shoulder, lowering the man back down to the ground.

  “He makes a good one,” Collin answered, his voice much closer than when he’d been on the couch. Spencer was still pressed against the wall and Collin now pressed against Max, the three of them being more whole together than they’d ever be on their own.

  “I’m not moving back to London,” Collin said, sliding his hands past Max’s body and holding Spencer’s waist. “I decided that before you showed up here.”

  “You thought about it, though,” Spencer pouted.

  “I thought about it so I wouldn’t think about you.”

  Spencer made a thoughtful sounding little whimper over Max’s shoulder, and Max was pretty sure Spencer smiled at his words.

  “You didn’t run,” Max said, leaning back against Collin so he could see Spencer’s face.

  “Where would I run to?”

  “I don’t know,” Max admitted. “But it wouldn’t have been the first time.”

  “I was scared before,” Spencer slipped out from their hold and moved across the room, back to the couch. When Max turned to face him, Collin reached down and threaded their fingers together. His hand was big, rough, meaty and calloused, and he held Max in a way that...he held Max in the way he’d always hoped to be held by a partner.

  “And now?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Is it so easy?” Max asked.

  Collin squeezed his hand. “Isn’t it?”

  “Two weeks ago, I had a ring in my pocket meant for someone else,” he reminded them both.

  “I have blisters on my feet that have lasted longer than that ring,” Spencer quipped, and Max couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him.

  “Do you, my darling?” Collin dragged Max back toward the couch. He pushed the plates out of the way and sat down on the edge of the coffee table. He picked up one of Spencer’s feet and removed his shoe and sock, then lifted his leg, studying the smooth expanse of Spencer’s heel.

  “Just the one,” Spencer pouted, leaning over and pointing to a small blister on the side of his big toe. “Right there.”

  “Mmmn.” Collin raised Spencer’s foot to his mouth and pressed a kiss against the lingering wound.

  “That is surprisingly not gross,” Spencer murmured.

  Max expected him to lean back and let Collin go to town on his foot, but he pulled his leg back and leaned forward, pulling Collin in to face Max.

  “There’s a wound here too, I think,” Spencer said, his face a mask o
f calm solemnity that looked out of place. He reached forward and pressed his palm flat against Max’s chest, over his heart.

  “Shall I kiss it, too?” Collin asked, folding onto his knees on the floor so he was chest level with Max.

  “You don’t need…”

  But Max was cut off by Collin’s hands pushing up his shirt and kissing him. It was a gentle press of warm lips against his chest, and his heart slammed around like it was trying to escape.

  “Are we all better now?” Collin asked, leaning against Spencer’s legs.

  Max rubbed the spot on his chest where Collin had kissed him and found he did feel better. The single kiss had wiped his doubts. Trent had been safe and expected, at least that’s what Max had always thought, but in the living room of this cabin with one man on either side of him, he knew for the first time what it meant to be sure about someone.

  “Much,” Max rasped, clearing this throat. “Thank you.”

  “Weeellll,” Spencer said, drawing out the single syllable with a tease. “Almost.”

  “Does his highness have a pain between his legs that needs kissing?” Max laughed.

  “Well, yes. But that’s not it.”

  “What then?” Collin asked, worry coloring his face.

  “We need to talk about the name.”

  “The name?”

  Max huffed out an amused sound, and nodded along with Spencer.

  “Were you really thinking about moving across the lake for someone named Grant Hugh?” Spencer asked.

  “The pond,” Collin corrected.

  “Grant Hugh,” Max laughed again.

  “Oh, like you’re one to talk, Maxwell Caldwell.” Collin rolled his eyes.

  “Wait a minute.” Spencer held up his hands. “Your name is Maxwell Caldwell?”

  “Yes,” he grumbled.

  “I don’t think you get to make fun of Grant Hugh.”

  “Everyone can make fun of him,” Collin interrupted, smacking Spencer’s hands out of the way. “His loss is your gain.”

  “I think he’s only with us to get a better last name,” Spencer whispered conspiratorially.

  Max growled and pushed off the table and onto the couch. He flattened Spencer onto his back, wrists held secure in his hands.

  “You’d take my last name and you’d like it,” he assured Spencer.

  Spencer grinned and nodded vigorously, the familiar light playfulness returning to his features.

  “I know,” Spencer agreed.

  “So, no London,” Collin promised.

  “No regrets over engagements that never happened,” Max added.

  “That’s nice and all, but I’m still mad about the painted goat.”

  “You have your very own goat. Goats, actually, and they’re out in the barn if you want to go see them.”

  “Robert!” Spencer pushed Max off of him and shoved his foot back into his sneaker, foregoing his sock.

  Max and Collin followed behind him, joining him inside the barn. Robert was there, munching on an apple, and Dudley slept beside him. The new goat, Morticia, stood on top of a hay bale, with large horns and a belly slightly round with the kids inside of her.

  “I bet baby goats are adorable,” Spencer said, clutching his hands together in front of his chest.

  “They are.” Collin sighed. “I don’t want to move to London.”

  “I know,” Spencer said, “we agreed already.”

  “But I can’t stay here. The land is already sold.”

  Max swallowed and glanced worriedly at Spencer, who had his fingers already brushing their way over Morticia’s black coat.

  “What then?” he managed to ask. Max caught the wobble in his voice, but Spencer’s face didn’t betray him.

  “There’s this town, not terribly far from here. It’s a resort town. Small except during tourist season. It’s called Cherry Creek,” Collin said.

  “And what about it?”

  “I had been looking at some property out there, too. In addition to London.”

  “And?” Spencer approached them cautiously.

  “I like it.”

  “And?”

  “And I mean, if you’re willing to give up city life for an old man past his prime, maybe you could give up this cabin, too. We could…” Collin paused and rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous. “We could build something new.”

  “New?” Max asked.

  “Yeah. New. Like, for the three of us.”

  “There’s six of us,” Spencer corrected, narrowing his eyes. “They’re family.”

  “The six of us then,” Collin corrected. “If that was something you wanted to do.”

  “You know it is.” Spencer walked into Collin’s open arms and held him tight.

  “What about you, then?” Collin asked him.

  “There’s nothing for me in town,” Max finally admitted to himself. “Everything I want is here.”

  “Cherry Creek, then?” Spencer asked, blinking up at them hopefully.

  “Cherry Creek,” Max agreed.

  Epilogue

  Collin apparently has some ass eating in his future

  Pulling the Jeep into an empty space, Collin braced both feet on the pavement and stretched his back from side to side. He snapped, crackled, popped like a bowl of cereal, but he no longer felt old. Well, that wasn’t true—he did feel old. When his boys had to spend the morning slowing down for him after long nights awake in bed performing damn-near acrobatics, he felt old. But he felt cherished too. He felt unafraid that his age was standing in the way of actual happiness.

  Cherry Creek helped, the mountain town tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the bigger cities. It was just enough like the preserve that his homesickness and grief over leaving behind what his father had built hadn’t choked him. Of course, having two gorgeous, younger men warming his bed didn’t hurt, either. And neither did being in love with them both—because he was. Head over heels. Utterly smitten.

  They hadn’t said it yet, not in so many words, but he didn’t need it either. Watching them pack up their lives and upend everything safe and familiar for him--for the only reward being his company--that said enough. They’d been there eight weeks, setting up Spencer’s new shelter and cat cafe, building a barn, spending late night hours drawing up plans to build their dream house on the five acres that stretched across small, rolling hills. It would have a place for the goats and for Dudley, with his lame wing, to waddle safely to the pond. There would be a narrow road leading down to Max’s new car repair shop—the rest of the town relieved to have a new mechanic in the area since they were sorely lacking.

  And Collin...he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself just yet. He’d tried to find inspiration at the Cherry Creek Farmer’s Market on Thursday afternoons, but nothing hit him. It was maybe because he was too content, or maybe because he’d never quite let himself want things that weren’t for other people, and now he had that chance.

  The place was a dream, and it was terrifying only because Collin had spent too many years finding contentment, only for the other shoe to drop. But he didn’t mind being afraid. He’d let Spencer and Max walk away once, and he knew now he’d fight to the death to keep the three of them together.

  Swiping his hands on his pants, Collin reached the door to the little bakery—the faded sign Bette’s Chametz crooked in the window, giving it that old, homey feel. The smells inside were rich, sweet honeyed challah and something savory just beneath it. The glass case displayed a variety of goods, from breads to cupcakes and cookies, but his order was tucked neatly in a small, pink box just behind the register.

  Max’s birthday was that Friday, and he’d spent the entire month insisting that birthdays were pointless, and he never celebrated. He made it very clear the last thing in the world he wanted was to do anything about it. So naturally, Spencer had made plans.

  Their darling sweetheart found the bakery, and though he wouldn’t tell Collin what he had ordered to be put on the cake, he ins
isted it was perfect for their grump. It worried Collin only a little—mostly because he knew Max adored Spencer beyond all reason and wouldn’t really be angry.

  Annoyed, yes, but it was hard to want to avoid that when it led to the kinds of sex they had when Max was irritated.

  The shop was empty, but only for a second. The swinging doors which led to the kitchen hit the wall as a shorter man with dark curls bustled through, holding a large tray of rolled pastry covered in glistening sugar granules. He looked startled to see Collin standing there, and his cheeks pinked, making all of his freckles stand out.

  “Sorry, didn’t know anyone had come in,” he said. His voice was deeper than Collin thought it would be, and raspy.

  “I’m here to pick up a cake from Levi,” Collin told him.

  The guy’s eyes widened, and he nodded. Tilting his head back, he shouted, “Levi! Come here!”

  The response came as a disembodied voice from the kitchen. “In a minute!”

  “Bo hena! Yalla!” the baker shouted back with an embarrassed flush, then turned his attention to Collin. “Sorry. He’ll be with you in a second.”

  Collin nodded, shoving his hand into his pocket, and he meandered to the end of the counter. The place was dated, but sweet. Straight out of the sixties with the patterned tiles and the metal picture frames. He recognized the baker in a few of them, obviously younger with a little gap between his teeth as he mugged for the camera. Beside him was a shorter version of himself, and two women behind them, clearly related with their tight curls and full grins.

  “Was this you?” Collin asked.

  The baker looked up, then gave a sad smile. “Yeah. Me, Levi, Mom and Bubbe.” He swiped a smudge off his forehead. “I’m Simon. You new in town?”

  Collin nodded. “My boyfriends and I bought that property up near the lake a couple months ago. Just got sorted in the trailer whilst we’re waiting for the builders.” He braced himself for something—a sneer, a grimace. Here he was, big, English, gay, with two young men on his arm.

  But Simon only offered a small grin that made his eyes sparkle. “My bubbe loved when new people moved in. She was always complaining about the same old faces.”