by Pelaam
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Pelaam
ISBN: 978-1-77130-855-7
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Kerry Genova
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To family and friends who continue to encourage me.
GOLDEN SHEARS
Romance on the Go
Pelaam
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
A tap on the door caused Eric to look up from his book. He set it down and glanced at his watch. Standing slowly, he grumbled to himself as he went to see who it was. He could only imagine it was John, the motel owner, calling to see him. He didn’t know anyone else around there. He opened the door and looked out.
And stared.
“Evening, Eric. Sorry about this, but John said we’d need to share with you. Hope you don’t mind.”
Eric didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Of all the people in the world knocking at his door, to see the man who’d haunted his dreams for the best part of two years simply robbed him of his voice, his wits, and even his breath. He gave a choked cough and stood back.
However, Justin wasn’t alone, and the word we flared brightly in Eric’s mind as another man trailed in behind him.
“Evening, bro. How’re you?” The stranger stuck out his hand.
Eric automatically returned the gesture. “I’m good,” he replied. His hand was clasped rather than shook, and as the stranger released it, he raised his own as if to wave.
“Apparently John has double booked somewhere along the line. He said this unit has two bedrooms, and that since we were friends he was sure you wouldn’t mind. This is Pita. He’s in the shearing competition, too.”
Eric gazed at Justin.
Justin had just finished college when Eric had last seen him, almost two years ago. Beautiful, blond, perfect. They’d met at the Golden Shears competition while Justin was travelling the country before setting off on his OE. A vision of them writhing together flashed into Eric’s mind. He was fifteen years older, and when Justin had professed his love, Eric had felt it necessary to force a break up.
Justin was young and intelligent, as well as drop-dead gorgeous. He had his Overseas Experience trip to do and a life to live. Justin had been too young and with too much ahead of him to be stuck with a weather-beaten sheep farmer like Eric.
His gaze slowly moved back to the man whose hand he’d just shook, dressed in a singlet, shorts, and open-toed sandals. Pita stood an inch or so lower than Eric’s own six foot three. He was Maori and muscular, with a tattoo from his shoulder to his elbow. Eric could just picture the solid six-pack beneath the loose-fitting singlet. Glancing lower, he saw another tattoo on Pita’s solidly muscled calf.
An image of Pita on top of Justin, his muscles bunching and flexing as they made love seared into his brain. Jealous! Geez, I’m fucking jealous. “A fellow competitor. Good to meet you.” Eric had no idea how he kept his voice calm.
Justin smiled at him. Dear God, he’d been beautiful two years ago, but now…now words failed Eric. Justin had been more boyish, gangly even, the last time Eric had seen him. He was still slender, his platinum blond hair in the same short, gelled style as Pita, but his sleeveless T-shirt showed solid biceps.
“You too, bro. Justin told me he knew you, said this would be sweet.” Pita almost bounced from foot to foot as he spoke as if he had an excess of energy that needed an outlet. “I’m really stoked to be here and to meet someone who does a lot of shearing. Hey, bro, that’s cool, eh?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Eric decided that short replies, until he got his brain into gear, were probably best, and safest.
“You still drink tea?” Justin asked, and then he laughed. “Awesome, I can see the box. Want some tea, Pita? I’ll make it while you stow the gear.”
“There’s only a double bed in the other room.” Eric moved as though he was going to block Pita from going through to the bedrooms.
Both Pita and Justin looked blankly at him for a minute, and then both laughed. “It’s cool, Eric. I’ve shared a bed with Pita before. Apart from the fact he snores louder than a swarm of cicadas, it’s fine.” Justin punched his friend’s shoulder.
“Yeah? Cicadas sound musical, bro. You sound like a pig in mud.”
The banter continued as Eric watched helplessly. Justin headed towards the kitchen area, and Pita hesitated between the doors.
“Which room is free, bro?” Pita asked.
Eric pointed to the one on the right. The good news was his room had a small en suite consisting of a toilet and washbasin. The bad news was that the three of them would share the main bathroom for the shower. He swallowed hard. Justin now had a light, golden-brown tan, in contrast his own darker, more leathery skin. He found himself wondering whether the tan was all over.
“You’re staring. You okay?”
Justin’s voice, soft and sultry, jerked Eric from his lust-ridden thoughts. He glanced over, the heat of a blush burning his cheeks. “Just a little on the back foot here. Never expected to bump into you.”
“Again?” Justin asked. His face hardened a little, and his brows drew into a slight frown. “Last time we saw each other, you almost shoved me out of your house. I thought we had something. Something special.”
Eric shook his head, and turned away, unable to speak if he continued to look at Justin. “You were fresh from college, with big ideas. You were going to throw away your OE to stay with me.” He shook his head. “You needed to go. See the world. That’s what an Overseas Experience is all about. You were too young.”
“Really.” Justin’s voice was flat. “And was I too young to make up my own mind? You suddenly stopped being my lover and decided to be my father? Except my dad never made any of my decisions for me after I hit puberty. At least he and I discussed things.”
“Maybe you were too young. Maybe I’m just too old.” Eric snapped the words as he rounded on Justin. But his building anger was derailed by the warm look in Justin’s clear blue eyes.
“Fifteen years older. It’s not that much. Look at you. Buzzed haircut, dark tan, solid muscles, and I know how much fur you have under that T-shirt even without the tuft that peeks over. Don’t run yourself down. I never did. I never will. I was angry you threw me out. I’m over that.” Justin continued to make the tea as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“All sorted, bro,” Pita called from the doorway. “Mind if I hit the shower?”
“No. Help yourself,” Eric said. He went and flopped in his chair. Everything seemed to be totally out of his hands anyway.
“Still a big All Blacks fan?” Justin called over from the kitchen.
“Yep.”
“And the Hurricanes?”
“Yes.” The sight of Pita with a small towel wrapped around his hips temporarily diverted Eric’s attention. Pita waved at Justin as he headed into the bathroom. “Uh, why the interest? You were into league.”
“Oh, I expanded. I still like League and the Warriors, but I watch Union, too. The ‘Canes are my favourite.”
Eric stared at him as Justin put down a steaming mug of tea.
Justin smirked and cocked an upswept eyebrow at him. “What? I can’t appreciate it both ways? Lots do.”
Eric was thankful
he hadn’t taken a mouthful of tea. He’d have sprayed it everywhere. Justin just winked and walked away. He tapped on the bathroom door and then went inside. Eric could only stare at the door. What the fuck? Was that a come on? Couldn’t be. Uncaring of the heat, he picked up the mug, blew over the steaming contents, and took a sip.
He was definitely having a word with John in the morning. He couldn’t survive two more nights like this. He glanced up as Justin and Pita emerged from the bathroom. He couldn’t stop himself from checking Justin to see if he was now damp from being hugged or kissed. This is ridiculous. I’m being an idiot. This was over two years ago. Build the bridge and get over it, Eric. Justin clearly has.
Justin came and picked up the mugs he’d set for Pita and himself. “We thought it best if we gave you some peace, Eric. I remember you saying you like to be at the competition early to see everything as well as compete. See you in the morning.”
“Yeah, thanks. See ya.” Eric waved at the two men as they headed into the bedroom. He picked up his tea in one hand and the remote for the TV in the other. He turned the sound up marginally. He couldn’t go back to his book, and there was no way he was going to bed early now. No way at all.
Chapter Two
Stretching until his spine popped, Eric rubbed at his eyes. He’d struggled to get to sleep, even though all he’d heard from the bedroom next door were deep, rhythmic snores. Then when he had slept, he’d dreamt of Justin. This time the younger man had been leaving him. He’d been the one bewildered, hurt, and pushed away.
He rolled onto his belly and punched the pillow several times. He’d convinced himself he was over Justin. But a part of his heart had always known that was a lie. Seeing the man again had blown the doors wide open on the desire he’d tried to bury.
Now he had to try and focus on a competition his heart was no longer interested in. It was interested in something, or rather someone, it could never have. Justin. He didn’t know how long Justin and Pita had been together, but they seemed happy enough. There was happiness in Justin’s eyes whenever Eric looked at them, that amazing shade of blue that could look so warm and inviting, or as cold as chips of ice.
Eric swung his legs out of bed and headed into his en suite. He waited a few minutes before pulling on a pair of boxers, and heading to the kitchen. He flicked on the jug, and put a tea bag in a mug while he waited for it to boil.
"Hey, Eric, can you give me a hand in here? The shower isn't working.”
Justin's voice jerked him from his thoughts of the shearing. He hurried over, only to stop and stare. His dick appreciated the sight, even as he tried to regain control of his growing erection. Justin stood bare ass naked, his perfect bubble butt flexing and relaxing as Justin wrestled with the showerhead and switch.
"I think maybe Pita turned it too tight." Justin glanced over his shoulder.
"Let me see." Eric tried the dial for the shower. It was tight, but he knew it had been working just fine until Pita had been in there. He grunted slightly as he twisted the dial, refusing to let it defeat him. For a few seconds, nothing happened, so Eric increased his efforts.
A powerful jet of water hit him in the face as the dial finally moved. Justin laughed and twisted the showerhead as Eric turned away and reached for a towel.
"Thank you. My knight in black boxers."
Eric rubbed his face and glared at Justin but then smiled at the affectionate look on Justin's face. "Thanks. Enjoy your shower."
Eric headed back into the kitchen and finished making his tea. His breakfast of juice, cereal, and toast was already on order and due to arrive in five minutes. But with visions of Justin's tight ass still in his mind, he wasn't that kind of hungry.
At the knock on his door, Eric hurried over, but it was the motel manager's wife who stood smiling, tray in hand.
“Morning. I’m Hine, John’s wife. Here’s your breakfast.”
Eric muttered his thanks and headed back to his table. He poured the cereal, added the milk, and began eating.
He could hardly believe the spark was still there. Apart from Pita's presence, when he and Justin were together, it was just like old times. Except you threw him out two years ago. You've stayed a farmer, but he's moved on. Just like you wanted for him. Eric sighed. He'd ignored every text, every email, and even refused to reply to any telephone calls at home, until there'd been nothing. It had taken four months for contact to stop. He pushed the bowl away. He couldn't eat any more.
He left his breakfast things on the table and hurried into his room. He would grab his clothes, shower, and dress in the bathroom. He craned his ears until he heard the door of the other bedroom. Peering around his door, he scurried into the bathroom.
He lathered himself from head to foot with his gel, rinsed, dried, and dressed. A quick peek showed the room still empty. He dashed to the table, threw away the uneaten food, and poured the juice down the sink. He hurried back into his bedroom, threw his toilet bag on the bed, grabbed his bag, and car keys and made it to the door before Justin's voice stopped him.
"You leaving already?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Umm, would you run us over there? We'll make our own way back. Just five minutes while Pita finishes in the bathroom?"
"What about breakfast? You not eating?" It was the only excuse Eric could come up with, and it made him feel like a parent.
"We'll grab something at the competition, bro." Pita spoke as he dashed bare assed naked from the bathroom to the bedroom.
The sight of his muscular butt did nothing for Eric. He just rolled his eyes. "Fine, just hurry the fuck up."
****
During the journey to the competition, Eric was torn between being glad Justin and Pita sat in the back and wishing Justin sat next to him. In times gone by, Justin would have rested a hand on Eric's thigh, just above his knee. He'd loved the intimacy and his leg seemed to recall the touch, feeling cold and bare when he heard Justin's voice behind him.
Despite everything, when he parked up in the area designated for competitors, he turned to Justin. "Give me your cell number. If we’re leaving at the same time, I might as well take you back.
"Thanks." Justin recited the number. His voice was soft, and for a moment, Eric was certain he was going to say something more.
"Cool, thanks, bro. See ya." Pita almost pulled Justin from the car.
Eric frowned, but he was too slow to react. Justin was already out of the vehicle and following Pita. Eric gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles went white.
Not my business. Not anymore. I gave up that right two years ago. Thank God my involvement in the competition doesn't start until the afternoon. Gives me time to sort my shit out.
Eric wandered around aimlessly and tried to absorb himself in everything going on around him while he waited for his part of the competition to start.
Finally, time ticked around until his competition was called. Eric was in the intermediate class of sheep shearing. That meant qualifying heats today, semis tomorrow, and the finals the day after. He headed for the sheds. As he went in the smell hit hard. The pungent aroma of lanolin, sheep shit, and sweat assailed his nostrils.
As he moved through, the occasional waft of aftershave hung in the air. But once the shearing began in earnest, that smell would soon be overpowered. Fortunately he acclimatised quickly, becoming riveted at the sight of the other competitors. When his name was finally called, he tried to push everything from his mind and focus on the sheep, its fleece, and his clippers.
At the end of his set, he knew he hadn't performed as well as he could. He waited anxiously for the scores to be announced, and thankfully he'd scored well enough to get through to the next round. He couldn’t blame anyone or anything but himself. Normally once he started to shear, his focus was entirely on the animal and his clippers. Today, however, he’d thought he’d seen Justin at the back of the shed watching him.
That had been enough to take him out of his normal mind-set, and Eric knew he’d have to
do much better the next day. He headed out of the shed. Normally he’d enjoy the other activities. He wandered over to watch some wool pressing, hoping he could dodge his maudlin thoughts.
He stood and watched as a young man, his shirt open to bare a smooth chest adorned with tattoos and shining with sweat, stamped down on his fleeces.
"G'day, mate. Thought for a minute there you weren't going to get through to the next round. Never seen you so distracted."
Eric recognised the voice without having to turn around. Tan was a grizzled farmer who'd immigrated to New Zealand over twenty years previously, but who remained as staunchly patriotic to his Australian roots as Eric did to his Kiwi ones. He was also extremely competitive.
"Hi, Tan, how're you?" Eric didn't feel like getting into conversation with him, but he could hardly ignore the man.
"Good. Especially after that showing."
Tan wore a grey singlet and black shorts that reached mid-thigh. His dark bronzed, leathery skin spoke of years working out in the elements. Eric's skin was still several shades lighter and his skin less weather beaten. Tan’s wide, easy grin revealed a glint of gold.
"Tomorrow's a whole new day," Eric said. "Don't be counting your chickens yet."
Tan threw his head back and laughed loudly. "I'll be in the finals as usual, mate. You need to pick up your game though. See you tomorrow." Tan waved and headed outside.
Eric tried to focus on the solid muscles of the wool presser as he stamped down on the fleece. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and chest. For a moment, Eric didn't see the man stamping. An image of Justin came into his mind, naked, flushed, and sweaty as Eric thrust into him.
He closed his eyes. Visions like these had haunted his dreams long after he’d made sure Justin had gone on his OE. Eric turned away and headed out of the shed. He couldn't keep his attention on the wool pressing any more than he had on his shearing when he thought he'd caught a glimpse of Justin in the crowd.
