The Rhubarb Patch

by Deanna Wadsworth

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “COME ON, baby,” Scott encouraged softly.

  Late summer sunlight streamed through the thin white curtains of Phin’s bedroom, illuminating their lovemaking. Scott rolled his hips, moving up and down on Phin. Gripping those tits, he devoted himself to giving Phin pleasure, desperate to make him release. To bring him a small moment of joy after everything he’d lost. Anything Scott could do to bring the sparkle back in his eyes.

  With a grunt, Phin’s eyes closed, and his head rolled back. His pelvis rocked up, and the hands on Scott’s hips tightened as he emptied his hot load. Warm, slick wetness filled Scott, smoothing his movements. His belly twinged at the new, wonderful sensation of just Phin inside him. He pressed his hips down, loving how there was no barrier, no latex separating them anymore.

  It was just them, united and together.

  A sleepy smile graced Phin’s face, something Scott rarely saw these past three weeks. That brought more happiness to Scott than Phin’s hand stroking his cock. Phin’s expert touch, the slickness inside his ass, and that decadent little twist and squeeze Phin did at the end of the upstroke brought Scott to the finish.

  “Oh yeah,” he cried out as he sprayed his passion across Phin’s hairy chest. When his breathing returned to normal, Scott leaned down and kissed him. “Thank you.”

  “I should thank you.” Phin ran a hand over Scott’s arm, across his chest, his thumb trailing down the line in his abs. “You are by far the sexiest man I’ve ever made love to.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” Phin’s blue eyes grazed over him, as if committing his body to memory. “You’re like a piece of art. So muscled and ripped. Tom was really skinny. I’ve never—” Suddenly those eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  Scott kissed him quiet, then propped himself up with one arm so he could look down at him. “It’s okay to mention him. You loved him.” His voice cracked a little, but he swallowed and composed himself. “Were you thinking about him when we were having sex just now?”

  He sat up at once, pulling out and forcing Scott into his lap. “God, no!”

  Phin seized his arms with such sincerity that Scott let out a relieved breath—he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. A warm trickle of cum slipped out of him, and he shifted in Phin’s lap. “Good to know.”

  Phin stroked Scott’s cheek. “I would be lying if I hadn’t had passing thoughts of him the first few times we were together. I didn’t want to think about him, but I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t imagining you were him, if that’s what you’re worried about. If anything, I was thinking how much better your body is. I was admiring you and… well?” He shrugged, wearing a bashful smile. “I’ve never been with someone so sexy. I mean, you could be a model. It’s just hard to believe you’re mine.”

  He laughed. “Stop it!”

  “I’m being serious! Every time we make love and I get to enjoy your body, I’m in awe.” His hands ran down Scott’s chest to his abdomen, making him tremble. “You’re so sexy.”

  Scott had never been as vain as a lot of his friends. He worked out because he wanted to be fit and to make up for his height. But to know Phin thought Scott’s body was better than Tom’s meant more to him than he’d expected. He didn’t want to be jealous, but Tom would always be part of Phin—a part Scott could not compete with.

  “Scott?” Phin whispered, searching his face and caressing his back. “When we make love, I hope you can tell… that you can feel how devoted I am to you. How much I love you and want to make you happy.”

  He studied Phin’s sincere expression. There was no doubt about Phin’s prowess between the sheets. He was a god among men when it came to rimming, and those fingers? Good Lord…. Scott shivered. No, there had never been a man more devoted to Scott’s pleasure. In fact, he now questioned the sincerity of every lover he’d ever had in lieu of Phin’s passion.

  Knowing Phin waited for assurances, he smiled. “Since we’re in the ‘comparing each other to past lovers’ mode—” He held up a finger on point. “—not that we need to have this conversation ever again. But being with you is different. Brent was always tit for tat, BJ for BJ. And when we had sex, my orgasm sometimes felt like an afterthought. Sort of an ‘I’m done so you can finish yourself’ kinda thing.”

  “Asshole,” Phin muttered.

  “Totally,” he agreed. “I’ve had great sex in my day, but until you, I don’t think I’ve ever made love.”

  “Every time I touch you, I want you to feel that love.”

  Scott caressed his cheek. “I do.”

  “I love you, Mouse.”

  “I love you too, Phin.”

  “ARE THESE eggs certified organic, non-GMO, and gluten-free?” the young girl asked.

  Brows shooting up, Phin had to bite back a chuckle at Karen’s young customer. But the pretty girl’s bright green eyes and round welcoming face were genuine as she waited for Karen’s answer.

  “Well, yes,” Karen finally said with a big smile that dripped of sarcasm the girl in the yellow sundress and cowboy boots didn’t seem to read. “My chickens are free-range. During the summer, they eat bugs and worms, and we make sure that those bugs and worms are gluten-free and non-GMO.”

  The young girl’s face brightened, and she picked up a carton. “Awesomesauce.”

  Checking the bottoms of the bell peppers for male and female fruit, Phin shook his head at his friend’s teasing. Karen ran a small produce stand in the vacant lot beside Mama Rosie’s Pizza in Gilead. The village council wanted to buy her lot for parking, but Karen’s uncle had owned the candy shop that burned down there, so she was stubbornly holding on to the lot for a produce stand. Mostly she refused to sell to stick it to the village administrator. None of the old-time locals really liked Chad Hoffman.

  The girl’s boyfriend joined her with a jar of honey in hand. He wore black skinny jeans, a tank top, and a billowy paisley scarf, which had to be uncomfortably warm in the hot August heat. Phin sweated just looking at him.

  He set the honey and two peaches beside the eggs. “Are the peaches gluten-free?”

  The girl in the yellow dress smiled and leaned forward. “We’re trying to avoid gluten. It’s totally bad for you.”

  Phin and Karen exchanged a glance once more. “I don’t know,” Karen said. “Phin, are peaches gluten-free?”

  Not wanting to tease the poor city folks, he smiled at the young couple. “Yes, peaches are almost always gluten-free.” He bit back the impulse to explain where gluten came from and what it was, but they were so confident that he didn’t want to be patronizing.

  He’d leave that to Karen.

  “Is that it for you guys?” Karen asked the two customers.

  “Yeah.” The guy held up his cell phone. “Do you take Apple pay?”

  “No, sweetie.” Karen gestured at the long wooden tables covered in gluten-free vegetables and fruits to the brown eggs chilling in the cooler. “This is a produce stand, not Whole Foods. We only take cash. That’ll be ten even.”

  The guy’s eyes widened a little, but he nodded and exchanged a look with his girlfriend. They fished in their pockets and managed to come up with eight dollars in bills and change for the balance.

  Karen added the money to her till, bagged their purchases, and then smiled at the couple. “You folks have a great day. Hope to see you again.”

  “Have a nice day too,” the girl said, and then they walked off, hand in hand, smiling and pointing at things around town.

  Karen put a fist on her hip and gave Phin an incredulous stare. “What the hell is wrong with this town anymore? Gluten-free peaches?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Karen, be nice. You know most folks don’t really understand where their food comes from or what’s really in it. They just know what marketing groups want them to know.”

  Scoffing, she gave a throwaway gesture. “You’re nicer than me, Phin. I say, ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer.
Come on, I got a bushel of peaches for you. You won’t believe how amazing this season was.”

  Phin set down the three bell peppers he’d stopped by for—his pepper plants were not happy this year—and followed Karen to her pickup.

  “They’re real sweet,” Karen promised, dropping the tailgate. She slid out a cardboard box overflowing with peaches and tossed him a sly look. “Does your new gentleman friend like peaches?”

  “Yeah,” Phin said. “I’m sure he loves them.”

  Phin had known Karen and her husband, Sam, for some time, having bought his first chickens from them. They’d developed a genuine friendship ever since. When Phin stopped by their produce stand several weeks ago, he’d mentioned that he and Scott were dating. His friends had been really happy for him.

  Karen’s sun-weathered face softened with a smile. “So things are still going good with you guys?”

  He tipped his head to the side and nodded. “Yeah, I think things are going great.”

  Her smile widened, and she hoisted up the box of peaches. “I’m so happy for you. Me and Sam both are. Maybe when canning season is done, we’ll have you guys over for dinner. And I’m assuming you’ll both come for Thanksgiving, right?”

  As a middle-aged couple with no children, Sam and Karen enjoyed picking up all the strays for holidays, especially their “Friendsgiving.”

  “I’ll have to see what Scott’s family does, but it’s definitely a possibility.”

  “My table’s always open,” she said, handing him the box.

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Some sort of jelly concoction from your pantry. Sam loves that hot-pepper jelly. And you know I can’t get enough rhubarb jelly.”

  Phin chuckled. “Sounds like a deal.”

  Since Karen didn’t have any customers, she followed him to his SUV and watched him load the peaches. He gave her money for the bell peppers, which she tried to refuse but eventually stuffed in her pocket.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Katie with you. It’s a perfect day for a car ride,” Karen said innocently.

  A sharp stabbing pain of loss sucker punched him, but he managed to maintain his composure. “No, I was just driving past. Wasn’t a planned trip.”

  Karen didn’t seem to notice his nonanswer because there were people approaching her stand. “All right, then, I’ll catch you later. You have a good one,” she said with a wave as she hurried back to her customers.

  A wave of guilt went through Phin. He couldn’t quite explain why he didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell his friend he’d lost his beloved Katie. But he didn’t want to hear condolences or to have to explain, and he couldn’t handle a sympathetic hug right now.

  Frankly he just didn’t have the emotional strength to even think about it.

  It would be three weeks tomorrow, but it still felt unreal.

  And it had not gotten any easier.

  Sometimes if he had a little too much to drink, he would cry and get depressed. Scott was a good sport about it, always toasting to the little schnauzer to bring him out of the funk, or being quick with a hug. That was what Phin needed the most. And those damn animal abuse commercials—they just killed him. But then sometimes there was no trigger. Phin would find himself in the shower crying and unable to stop.

  He’d lost so many people in his life, and a dog hurt just as bad as the people. Maybe more because they had such a short life. To deal with it, Phin made pickles or jelly, canning tomatoes and green beans. Anything to keep his hands busy so his mind would be focused on something other than loss.

  Brushing at the stinging in his eyes, he took a deep breath and got behind the wheel. As he aimed his truck out of town, the water tower caught his attention.

  Looking closely, one could still see the painted-over heart around the initials J+A. Phin had never heard who those two letters referred to in all the years he’d lived here, but everyone had their guesses. The graffiti had been covered several times, but the symbol of rebellious love refused to be hidden. When the light caught it just right, it was as clear as day.

  As it did every time he saw the faint memory of love, it made him smile.

  Love never died.

  Maybe it changed, but it was always there, just waiting for the next season and the next chance to find it.

  And Phin knew he had found it again.

  He took a left out of town, the sweet fragrance of peaches filling his SUV. His smile widened. If Sam enjoyed the jalapeño jelly, perhaps Phin would make him some with the peaches from their farm.

  Yes, that would be a great way to spend the afternoon.

  Whatever lay ahead for Phin and Scott, he was sure their love could never be painted over either, just like the heart on the water tower. An urgency filled him and he pressed on the accelerator. Phin wanted nothing more just then to be back on his little patch of land with the man he loved. The man who made every day better than the last.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “LOOK AT all these peaches,” Phin announced when he returned home. He held up the big box overflowing with fruit.

  Scott glanced up from his computer, and his eyes widened. “Did you buy produce?”

  “Traded for it, actually,” he said. “I’m gonna make jalapeño-peach jelly.”

  “Is that even gonna be good?”

  He blew a raspberry. “Of course it will be. Just like the tomato jam I made the other day. You thought it sounded weird, but it’s delicious.”

  “Okay, you are the expert jelly man. But all this sugar is gonna make me fat. Then I won’t be very sexy anymore.”

  Phin scoffed. “You’ll always be sexy to me.”

  The jelly he didn’t send home with Sam would more likely end up in Christmas gifts, not on Scott’s waistline. Not that it mattered. Phin just needed to keep busy. The only thing he had to keep his mind off losing his little furry best friend was gardening and canning.

  He didn’t want to think about how lost he would be if it weren’t for Scott. Phin could’ve easily fallen back into that deep abyss he’d lived in after losing Tom.

  He glanced across his kitchen. Scott’s face was barely a foot away from the computer. No wonder he used those glare-blocking glasses. He was all but crawling inside the screen in his urgency to put down whatever wild imaginings were in his head, lost in his own world of aliens and romance as he tapped away on the keyboard.

  Though Phin wasn’t supposed to be comparing the two men, his romance with Scott was so different than it had been with Tom. He and Tom had learned that to stay in love, they had to be best friends. Scott had become his best friend before their first kiss. The love he felt for Scott went beyond passion and into something deep and lasting.

  Perhaps his future, despite everything, was bright.

  Phin prepped the peaches for the stockpot. He loved the domestic bliss of Scott working on his computer while he put by the food to feed them in the coming year.

  Deep in his heart, Phin knew Tom was happy he’d found love with Scott. He could almost imagine Nancy, somewhere in heaven with a margarita in one hand, smiling down at them too. Maybe Aunt Nina was there, hand-screwing tomatoes with Edmond in that big garden in the sky.

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  Then a shimmer of apprehension rolled down his spine.

  They were all gone, everyone he’d ever loved the most.

  What if he lost Scott too?

  The sheriff had no real evidence on Mike, but Phin knew in his gut Mike had been in that playhouse watching Scott.

  And he would be back.

  Without telling Scott, he’d put his loaded .357 back in the nightstand.

  Yes, Phin had lost everyone, but he would not lose Scott.

  Soon a big pot of yellow peaches bubbled away on the stove. He chopped six jalapeños in the food processor, not wanting this jelly too spicy. He added them to his mixture, whistling while he worked. But there was something definitely missing from the canning experience.

  A l
ittle gray schnauzer under his feet, hoping for scraps.

  “You know, Katie used to steal jalapeños when I was cooking.”

  A grin splashed across Scott’s face. “Really? I bet she regretted that.”

  Chuckling, he stirred the fruit. “Oh yeah. She’d be drinking water and licking her paws to make the burn go away for an hour. She was such a piggy, sometimes I found jalapeños in the yard with little doggie-teeth marks.”

  “She ate them off the plant?”

  He chuckled. “Yup, she always eats stuff in the garden. I had to move the green beans out of the ground and into a raised bed because she ate them all.”

  “And she didn’t get sick?”

  “Nope. She has—had an iron stomach.” Phin glanced at Scott, but if Scott caught the slip, he had the good heart not to mention it. He cleared his throat. “One night she was outside for a real long time. Usually, she would go out, do her business, then hurry back in because she wanted her night-night cookie. I was wondering what took her so long, so I called her. Took her forever to come, and when she does, she prances right in the house with a purple mouth. The little booger dug up a whole row of beets and ate them, greens and all.”

  “That’s crazy!”

  Phin’s amusement faded into sadness.

  She’d never do that again.

  Brushing away a treacherous tear, he removed the hot jars from the dishwasher. His jelly had thickened, so he busied himself ladling it into the jars. A little splashed on his arm, and he cursed, quickly wiping off the burning sugar. Canning season always gave him a few war wounds. Burns and cuts from the knives or broken glasses. Just last week, Phin had removed a batch of bread-n-butter pickles from the water bath only to have one shatter when he set it on the cooling rack. Pickle juice, onions, and cucumbers landed everywhere, with no little thief to steal one away. Phin had cleaned it up, but Scott swore he could still smell vinegar.

  Fifteen jars of peach jalapeño jelly and only nine people on his Christmas list. Adding rhubarb jelly, a jar of salsa, and pickles to each gift basket meant Phin would be done holiday “shopping” as soon as he made apple butter in the fall. Well, almost done. He’d have to get Mom and Dad something else, or they would feel “cheated” because they always sent him a fat check. Maybe he’d add a large gift card for that fancy restaurant they liked. Or a wine of the month club. As long as it was monetarily equal or above the check they sent, they’d be happy.