My Hometown E-Book

SJD Peterson

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 356

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Jimmy Brink and Eric Halter grew up together in a small country town. While Eric has always been content with life as a rancher, Jimmy wanted more and moved to Chicago early on to pursue a medical career. Life has a way of coming back around. When Jimmy's parents decide to retire in Florida, Jimmy returns to his hometown to finish his residency at a local hospital. Flamboyant boyfriend Oliver in tow, Jimmy bumps into his old friend. Eric quickly takes a disliking to Oliver, though, and for good reason. Oliver proves he's not only self-centered but also a cheater. To complicate matters, Eric finds it more and more difficult to hide his attraction to his best friend. When the opportunity arises, he needs to decide whether to risk their friendship to pursue his feelings... but maybe Jimmy will see there's more for him now than ever before in his hometown.

Leseprobe

My Hometown

By SJD Peterson

Jimmy Brink and Eric Halter grew up together in a small country town. While Eric has always been content with life as a rancher, Jimmy wanted more and moved to Chicago early on to pursue a medical career.

Life has a way of coming back around. When Jimmy’s parents decide to retire in Florida, Jimmy returns to his hometown to finish his residency at a local hospital. Flamboyant boyfriend Oliver in tow, Jimmy bumps into his old friend. Eric quickly takes a disliking to Oliver, though, and for good reason. Oliver proves he’s not only self-centered but also a cheater.

When Jimmy finds out, he sends Oliver packing, not knowing Oliver is vengeful and maybe even teetering toward insane. Soon Jimmy and Eric are fighting to take back their hometown, while Eric finds it more and more difficult to hide his attraction to his best friend.

For Boobear and the rest of the Frances Road shuffle crew.

Chapter One

GROWING UP on a small cattle ranch, James Calhoun Brink III—Jimmy to his friends and family—had always dreamed of the bright lights and excitement of the big city. At the ripe old age of eight, he’d sworn animal shit of any kind would not be in his future. It was part of the reason he’d turned down the academic scholarship from the University of Tennessee—much to his parents’ dismay—instead heading for the University of Chicago to begin his studies in premed.

Now as his tires tore up the pavement leading to the old homestead, his heart was beating fast in anticipation of returning to the place he’d yearned to escape for much of his life. He’d had the same physical response the day he headed for Chicago, strange that. But this time he wasn’t just returning home for a visit. Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder if the years had lessened his dislike of the farm. Hell, maybe it was the fact that his mom and dad had sold most of the cattle last year in anticipation of retiring to Florida and the only shit Jimmy would have to clean up was from a couple of old coon hounds.

He glanced over at Oliver, who was staring out the window with wide blue eyes as he took in the scenery, his longish blond hair blowing wildly and accentuating the expression of excitement on Oliver’s delicate features. Jimmy reached over and entwined their fingers, smiling at his boyfriend’s animated glee. The two of them had had their problems—the last year had been a struggle, to say the least—so it was great to not only feel his own happiness, but witness it in Oliver too.

He’d met Oliver Francesc during his second year of med school and it had been lust at first sight. Jesus, had it been nearly two years already? Oliver was at UC studying history, a subject that seemed out of character for the flamboyant, full-of-life man. Jimmy would have thought Oliver would be more suited for studying song and dance or theater, but ancient history…. Nope, he wouldn’t have ever guessed that one from looking at Oliver. Jimmy also never would have guessed he’d have such a powerful physical reaction to Oliver. He’d always liked more bearish men, a preference he’d had since a young teen, but there was something about Oliver that had drawn Jimmy, and even with their ups and downs and glaring differences, they were still together. Jimmy still scratched his head over it, rarely finding the answers why. While Oliver might not have been studying dance and theater, he was still passionate about it, and the most infuriating aspect for Jimmy was the show tunes Oliver constantly listened to and sang aloud.

Recently Oliver had been hinting of marriage, but Jimmy wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was one thing to spend the weekends together and the occasional weeknight, but marriage? Living together for the first time would be a test. If they could handle each other on a daily basis and fears and trust issues could be resolved, then maybe he’d consider marriage. But first there was the little matter of getting settled back home.

“Oh my God, that is the cutest little country store ever,” Oliver squealed.

Jimmy slowed the car and looked to where Oliver was pointing. “That’s Old Man Burker’s store.”

“Can we stop?”

“Sure, but it’s really nothing special, just your typical convenience store.”

Oliver cocked his head and grinned. “It’s not like any convenience store I’ve ever seen. It’s adorable.”

“You’ve lived a sheltered life. You need to get out of Chicago more often if you think this is special.”

“I get out plenty, just rarely out in the country.”

Jimmy pulled to the side of the road in front of Burker’s and cut the engine. “Well, you don’t get much more country than this Podunk town.”

Oliver brought their joined hands to his mouth and placed a kiss to the back of Jimmy’s knuckles. “Good thing I’ve always had a thing for country boys, huh, sweets?”

Jimmy gritted his teeth. He hated it when Oliver called him sweets, such a stupid endearment. But he wasn’t going to point it out again, not today. He sighed silently, knowing it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Rather than respond with words, Jimmy nodded and smiled before opening the door and stepping out. He ran around the front of the car and opened the passenger side door and held out his hand.

Oliver took Jimmy’s hand and allowed him to help him out of the car. “Do I look okay?” Oliver asked as he smoothed his hands down his tan shirt and slacks. “Road trips are hell on linen.”

“You look great,” Jimmy assured him.

“Thanks, baby.” Oliver pecked Jimmy on the cheek and then slicked back his hair, tucking it behind his ears before sashaying into Burker’s.

Lord, the folks in the little town of Hale weren’t going to know how to take Oliver Francesc. “Should be entertaining,” Jimmy muttered and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

While he was content to have Oliver with him, he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t nervous about the reaction people in town would have to Oliver’s over-the-top ways. Hell, he was freaking out over wondering how said folks would react to him. When he’d left home for college, he hadn’t actually been out. His family and close friends knew he was gay—he’d never hidden the fact—but he’d never thrown it in their faces either. Until now. Having Oliver with him was definitely throwing it out there.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Jimmy Brink,” Charlotte Burker said in greeting as soon as Jimmy stepped through the door, causing the little bell to jingle.

Charlotte was sitting with a book in hand on one stool, feet propped up on another. He and Charlotte had grown up together, graduated from high school the same year, but had never been what he’d call friends. Not that there was any kind of animosity between them, but Charlotte was a true introvert, would rather read than interact with people. Being an only child, however, she was expected to work in the family store.

“Hi, Charlotte.” Jimmy stepped up to the counter and fingered the binding of the book. “Reading anything good?”

Charlotte pushed her glasses up on her freckled nose and brushed her mousy brown bangs out of her eyes. “Umm… nothing special.” Her cheeks turned pink as she shoved the book under the counter. Her gaze settled on Oliver, who was wandering among the homemade pastries.

“That good, huh?” Jimmy teased.

“Who’s that?” Charlotte nodded in Oliver’s direction.

“A friend from school. He thought the store was and I quote”—he made air quotes—“adorable.”

“This old place?” Charlotte sniffed without taking her eyes from Oliver. “He doesn’t get out of the city much, does he?”

“Oh. My. God! Jimmy, we have to get some of these,” Oliver declared, holding up a mini jar of jelly. “They are so cute.”

“That obvious, huh?”

Charlotte giggled. She seemed fascinated by Oliver as he scooped up jar after jar, her expression one of amusement rather than distaste.

Walking out of Burker’s with a bag full of mini jellies, local pastries, and an organic energy drink, Jimmy had to admit, Oliver’s first introduction to the folks—or in this case, folk—of Hale had gone well. Mind you, it was only Charlotte, who had never been one to join in on rumors or talk negatively about anyone. That’s not to say he had any false hope that the rest of the town would be as accommodating; most didn’t like strangers. Plus, being smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt, for many, Oliver wouldn’t only be a stranger, but a sinner.

Still, Jimmy let out a small sigh of relief and smiled as he held the passenger door open for Oliver. Jimmy handed him his bag, ran around to the other side of the car, and slid in behind the wheel.

Next test—stop—home.

WALKING THROUGH the front door, Jimmy was amazed by how unchanged his childhood home was. Yet it struck him as odd. It was now going to be his home to run and maintain. He didn’t feel like the home owner, though, not when the familiar sights catapulted him back to his youth. The scarred wood floor in the foyer where he’d worn his skates in the house. The crack in the coat closet that no one else could detect without a closer look except his best friend Eric who had helped Jimmy fix it with wood putty after he’d pushed the guy into it as they raced in after a hard day of chores. Dad still sitting in the old brown threadbare recliner, the TV turned to CNN, which he’d say he was watching even though his eyes were closed. The delicious scents of pot roast and potatoes wafted from the kitchen the same as they had on more occasions than he could count. It was a welcoming he’d never tire of.

Jimmy toed off his shoes near the door and laid a finger over his lips. “Shh, Dad’s sleeping.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just resting my eyes,” Dad responded with his familiar argument.

“Hi, Dad,” Jimmy greeted, entering the living room. “Good to know your hearing is as good as ever.” He leaned in close to Oliver’s ear. “The man has the hearing of a bat.”

“Foiled more than one of your plans.” Dad pushed the foot of the recliner down and sat up. “Good to see you, son,” he added as he stood and held out his hand.

Jimmy shook the offered hand, and in that instant, Dad’s age came rushing back to him in a snap. Mom was his dad’s second wife. Fifteen years her senior, he met and married her nearly two years to the day after his first wife had died in a car accident. Jimmy was born nine months later. But Dad hadn’t been robbing the cradle by any stretch of the imagination. Mom was just shy of her thirty-first birthday when she gave birth to Jimmy. At fifty-seven she was still a stunning beauty who could work circles around women half her age. The years hadn’t been so kind to Dad, at seventy-two; he was a shell of the man he once had been thanks to the colon cancer he’d suffered a few years back. He was now in remission, but still the disease had ravaged his body and taken its toll. Jimmy was glad the stubborn shit was finally giving up the farm and going to spend his time having fun and enjoying the sun in the land of oranges and retirees.

“Dad, this is Oliver; Oliver, James.”

“Nice to finally meet you, sir,” Oliver said politely and held out his hand.

Dad shook it. “Well, aren’t you a flashy little thing.” He looked over at Jimmy with a scowl. “Jimmy, you’re going to have to take him over to the feed store and get him a pair a boots. Can’t trust a man who don’t wear cowboy boots. Barbara, Jimmy’s home and he’s brought his flashy fellow with him.”

Dad shuffled off toward the kitchen.

“I warned you,” Jimmy said to Oliver. “Don’t pay him no mind, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“No offense taken. I am flashy,” Oliver responded with a wink.

“That you are, Mr. Francesc. Let’s go meet Mom.” He put his arm around Oliver’s waist and led him to the kitchen.

“Jimmy,” Mom squealed and rushed to him. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Jimmy grabbed her in a bear hug and gave her a tight squeeze. “It’s good to be home.”

Mom pulled away and settled her gaze on Oliver. “Oliver, this is Barbara. I gotta warn ya, she’s a hugger.” Jimmy had barely gotten the words out when Mom threw her arms around Oliver.

“It’s so good to finally meet you. You’re just the cutest thing ever.”

“Oh Lord, Mom. His head’s already big enough. Stop it.”

“You just don’t pay him any mind, Mrs. Brink. Is that pot roast I smell?”

“Call me Barbara, and yes, it is. You and Jimmy have just enough time to wash your hands while I get it dished up.”

“You sure you don’t need any help?” Oliver offered. “I’m pretty handy in the kitchen myself.”

“Nope. Now you boys go on and get washed up.” She slapped at Dad’s hand as he started to reach for a slice of fresh-baked bread from the table. “Don’t you dare. You too. Ain’t nobody getting so much as a morsel with them grubby hands.”

Jimmy left the kitchen laughing. Mom ran a tight ship. No grub until the chores were done and the hands washed. That went for the old man as well.

“You ever worked a farm?” Dad asked Oliver once they were all sitting at the kitchen table with plates heaped high with meat, potatoes, carrots, and a large slab of Mom’s homemade sourdough bread to sop up the juice.

Oliver wiped the corners of his mouth daintily before returning his napkin to his lap. “No, sir. I have a bit of an aversion to getting my hands dirty.”

Dad froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What was that? You got a problem with dirt?” He dropped his fork to his plate with a clank. “No boots, don’t like dirt, boy, what are you good for?”

Oliver started to open his mouth, but knowing the man as well as he did, Jimmy was sure something about Oliver’s prowess in bed would pop out. Oliver had a faulty filter at best. Jimmy kicked him under the table and shook his head.

Oliver snapped his mouth shut and bit his bottom lip. From the smirk on his face, Jimmy knew Oliver was struggling to hold back the witty response that wanted to escape.

“He’s a bit eccentric—most history professors are—but he’s great in the kitchen,” Jimmy piped up, hoping to defuse the situation and give Oliver something else to talk about that wouldn’t cause Jimmy to turn ten shades of red and crawl under the dining room table.

“History, huh?” Dad asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m smart and I cook.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. What kind of things do you like to cook?” Mom asked.

Mom and Oliver began discussing recipes while Dad continued to scowl at Oliver. Jimmy knew his dad didn’t have an issue with Oliver’s sexuality—his own son was gay and he’d never given it a second thought. It was the lack of hard work that was no doubt causing the disgusted expression on Dad’s face. The man was old-school. If you were a hard worker, he liked you; if you weren’t, he didn’t. There was no gray. Everything was black and white to James Brink.

Jimmy sopped up the last of his gravy with a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth, talking around it. “Hey, Dad, I was thinking I’d check out the barn after dinner. You want to come with me?”

That was enough to pull his dad out of his thoughts and focus him back on Jimmy. “I suppose since you’re going to be running the place, it’s best I give you a rundown of what needs to be done after I’m gone.”

“Jeez, don’t sound so happy about it. You’re not dying, only retiring.”

“Same damn thing if you ask me.”

Jimmy didn’t comment further. Dad had worked his entire life on a farm, and with his belief that a man’s worth was the amount of work he put in during the day, he’d been struggling with his own limitations.

Mom and Oliver continued to chat as they cleared the dinner plates and dished out warm apple pie and poured coffee. Jimmy should have known the two of them would hit it off. The only question was going to be how much they’d actually learn from each other. Lord, neither of them took a breath between words.

Jimmy and Dad finished their desserts in silence. With the way Mom and Oliver were going on and on, they couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise. When they excused themselves and walked out onto the back porch, his dad let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, you went and done it now, son.”

Jimmy tilted his head and studied his dad. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You done found someone who talks as much as your mama. You ain’t never going to win another argument the rest of yer life.”

Jimmy laughed and followed his dad out to the barn.

Chapter Two

THE SUN creeping up on the horizon cast the dew-covered fields in an array of glistening shades of red and gold. Jimmy sat in a rocking chair on the back porch, enjoying the view. All those years he’d taken this for granted. It took eight years of living in a concrete jungle to wake him up to the beauty that had been right outside his back door.

The squeaking of the screen door interrupted the quiet. “Good morning,” Mom whispered and handed Jimmy a mug of coffee.

“Thanks.” He accepted the steaming mug and blew into it before taking a tentative sip. “Exactly like I like it.”

“Of course it is,” Mom sniffed. She took her own coffee and sat in the rocker next to him. “Oliver still sleeping?”

“Yes, ma’am, he’s not much of a morning person.”

“That makes morning chores rather difficult, doesn’t it?”

Jimmy nearly choked on his coffee with the thought of Oliver up at the crack of dawn to feed critters and shovel shit. It took the man three cups of herbal tea, a half hour of yoga, and a hot shower before he was fit to speak to.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Let’s just say I’ll be keeping Scott around for the time being.” A thought occurred to Jimmy and he tensed. Jesus, why hadn’t he bothered to ask before now? “Scott is staying, isn’t he?”

Scott Hyatt was his dad’s foreman who kept the other hands and the bulls in line. Ten years Jimmy’s senior, he’d looked up to Scott since he was a teenager. Scott was a great guy, hardworking, fair, and Jimmy envied him for living in the small cabin at the back of the property. Not that Jimmy had dreams of living there when he got older, but it would have been cool to have the space as a hangout. He wouldn’t trade the work Scott did around the property for a party pad, though.

“We weren’t sure if you’d be keeping him on since most of the livestock’s been sold. The other hands have moved on to other farms, and I know Scott has been looking at other options, but I’m not sure he’s found anything to suit him.”

“He can stop looking,” Jimmy insisted. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at the hospital, so I’m going to need someone to help out.” Jimmy leaned over and in a stage whisper added, “Not only does Oliver not do mornings, he’s not real keen on manual labor.”

His mom’s eyes went wide for an instant as she stared at him, and then she smiled. “Well, at least he’s cute.”

“He does have that going for him,” Jimmy agreed.

“Which reminds me, I ran into Peg Halter at the market yesterday. She said Eric’s been asking about you.”

“And why does Oliver’s cuteness remind you of Eric? I think he might take offense to that.”

“You don’t think Eric’s cute?”

“That’s not what I meant, but no, not even a little bit,” Jimmy drawled.

“Boy, there is a special place in hell for young’uns who lie to their mamas.”

“Good thing I’m not lying, then, isn’t it? Eric is far too manly to be cute.”

“He is very handsome, isn’t he? And he doesn’t mind mornings or hard work either.” She took a sip of her coffee without looking at him.

Jimmy recognized the suggestive tone in her voice. “He’s also my best friend.”

“Your dad is mine.”

“Yup, he is. He and Dad have another thing in common.”

“Something more than being manly and hard workers?”

“Straight,” Jimmy pointed out.

Mom waved a dismissive hand. “A small inconvenience considering all his positive attributes, wouldn’t you say?”

Jimmy chose to respond by laughing and shaking his head. It wasn’t the first time Mom had hinted about Eric as a good match for Jimmy. His parents adored Eric, but his best friend’s sexuality was more than a small inconvenience. It was a huge barrier, one that couldn’t be overcome no matter how much he or his mom wished otherwise.

Downing the rest of his coffee, Jimmy pushed to his feet. “I’m going to grab another cup. Can I get you one?”

“Sure,” she said and gulped down the rest of hers before handing him the mug. “I set some muffins out on the counter. Grab a couple of those too, will ya?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Being quiet so as not to wake anyone, Jimmy loaded up a tray with a carafe of coffee, some cream, sugar, spoons, napkins, and a couple of blueberry muffins. He brought his load out to the porch and set it on the table between the rockers before returning to his seat.

“I would have thought Dad would be up by now,” he commented as he filled their mugs.

“He’s already up and gone.”

“Really? I didn’t hear him get up.”

“That’s ’cause your sorry tail was still in bed sleeping half the day away when he left,” Mom teased.

“Six in the morning is not wasting half the day. Besides, I was up much later than the old man’s eight o’clock bedtime. Where’d he go anyway?”

“He and Mr. Burker went to the cattle auction.”

Jimmy pulled the paper from one of the muffins and popped a small amount into his mouth as he went back to enjoying the sunrise. “He’s really going to miss this place, isn’t he?”

“How could he not? He’s farmed this land for forty years. But if we stay, he’ll never relax. There’s too much to do around this place. He’s getting old, Jimmy. It’s time for him to put his feet up and enjoy life, and he can’t do that here. He won’t.”

“But—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Mom interrupted. “And the answer is no, I did not pressure him into moving to Florida.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was just curious as to how Scott was with power tools and building permits?”

“Not sure, why?”

“Seeing as there might not be enough work to keep Scott busy, maybe he could spend some time building an addition. You know, sort of like an in-law suite but in this case for a grumpy old man and a meddling mother.”

“You know you’re not too old for me to turn over my knee.”

Jimmy popped the rest of the muffin in his mouth and held his hands up in a defensive gesture at his mom’s scowl. “Now, now, Mrs. Brink, simmer down there.”

“Then I suggest you mind your p’s and q’s.”

Washing down his muffin, Jimmy turned to his mom and with all seriousness asked, “So I take it you don’t approve of Oliver?”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re still trying to hook me up with Eric so it’s only logical I’d come to the conclusion you don’t feel as if Oliver is right for me.”

“He’s nice.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Mom was silent for a long time, nursing her coffee and staring out over the landscape, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Well,” he nudged.

“To avoid the risk of becoming that meddling mom, I’m simply going to say, if you feel he’s right for you, then that’s all that matters.”

Jimmy wanted to push the issue, but it was pointless when Mom added, “There’s Scott. Why don’t you go see if he needs some help?”

Jimmy set his mug aside, grabbed his boots, and pulled them on. “I know when I’m being dismissed, but this isn’t over.”

“Yes, dear,” Mom responded with a curt nod and a tone that had surely frustrated his dad for many years. It was one that screamed “I’m agreeing with you for now but just to make you shut up.”

Jimmy trudged down the back stairs with a wave and met Scott in front of the barn. “Hey, Scott. I’m all yours to boss around today as long as it doesn’t involve any kind of shit.”

Scott cocked his head and chuckled. He took the offered hand, shook it, and patted Jimmy on the shoulder with his other hand. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Sure I have,” Jimmy assured him with a sly smile. “Being back home and smelling that wonderful aroma coming from the barn has made me appreciate you all the more.”

“Uh-huh. I already let the horses out, so only one more chore to do. C’mon, I have a pitchfork with your name on it.”

“Why did I know you were going to say that?” Jimmy grumbled and followed Scott into the barn.

“Stop your fussin’. You sound like one of those pansy city slickers.” Scott handed him a pitchfork and then pointed toward the corner. “Wheelbarrow’s over there.”

“That’s because I am a city slicker,” Jimmy responded.

“No, you’re a wannabe, but you’re home now and we got chores to do.”

Jimmy pushed the wheelbarrow into the first stall, rolled up his sleeves, and retrieved the pitchfork. “You know, I was going to ask you to stay on, but I’m now having some serious reservations. You’re too bossy.”

“I’ll take the job,” Scott said with a grin. “You’ll thank me later.”

It was the same argument Scott had made numerous times when Jimmy would complain about having to do chores before school. He doubted he’d ever be thankful for shit. Jimmy huffed out a frustrated breath and got to work.

“You know, you sound like a broken record.”

“Gonna keep saying it too until I get my thank-you.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Jimmy teased.

“You made any plans for what you’re going to do with this place once your dad moves?”

“Honestly, I haven’t really thought about it. I only have a couple weeks off before I start my residency, and then I’m not going to be around a lot. Figure when I’m home, I’ll be catching up on sleep, studying, and hiding from you and your obsession with shoveling shit.”

“Now who’s sounding like a broken record?”

The two of them finished filling the wheelbarrow and Jimmy pulled it from the stall, moving it to the next as Scott spread fresh straw.

“I have time,” Scott commented when he joined Jimmy.

“Time for what?”

“To run this place.”

Jimmy propped his arm on the handle of the fork and rested his chin on it. “We already sold off the livestock.”

Scott hopped up on the top rung of the gate. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, even before your old man considered retiring. He was making a decent living each month, but this land is a gold mine that was never used to its full potential.”

“Really?” Jimmy asked, his interest piqued. Scott had become the backbone of the farm while Dad had been battling cancer. Without a complaint, he’d stepped up and done twice the work, never asking for a raise or any kind of recognition. No doubt, Scott loved this land as much as the old man. Jimmy was sad he hadn’t ever felt the same way.

“Yup, I even have a financial plan. I’ve been doing that hunt and peck into one of those computer programs. Nothing official, just something I’ve been playing with for the past year.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“Really?”

“Sure, I don’t have an aversion to gold mines.”

“Just shit.”

“Bingo. Now let’s get this done and I’ll check out your plans for this place.”

“Cool.”

SCOTT HADN’T just been playing with numbers, he’d put together an impressive portfolio. Farming trends and predictions. Costs vs. profits, each item broken down into daily, weekly, yearly, and future projections.

Jimmy sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “Wow, I’m truly impressed.”

Scott met Jimmy’s gaze, looking pleased as punch, but humbly said, “Like I said, I was just playing with it.”

“Playing or not, this is really good.”

“Can’t take all the credit. Eric’s the one who got me thinking on it.”

“Eric Halter?” Jimmy asked in surprise.

“Yeah, he was bitching about pesticides and the effect on the environment. Asked me about organic methods he could use instead of that toxic shit.”

“Has Eric seen this?” Jimmy pointed to the computer.

Scott shook his head. “I was going to approach him about it. You know, a backup plan if I lost my job.”

“I think you should show him. I’m not saying you’ve dreamed too big, but to pull this off, you’re going to need this land and his. Do we have the funds to set this in motion?”

“I got a couple of bucks in my piggy bank.” Scott looked dejected.

“I meant the farm,” Jimmy clarified, already running numbers in his mind. He was tapped out, the college fund his grandpa had left him nearly spent after eight years of school, and he was going to need every dime he had left and then some before he was finished. Although he’d now be pulling a paycheck from the hospital, it wasn’t much.

“I don’t know,” Scott said and pushed up from his chair and started to pace. He bit at the side of his thumb, a scowl on his face. “I never felt comfortable talking to your dad about stuff like this. Didn’t feel it was my place, and once I found out he wanted to retire, I figured the point was moot. It’s just a dream anyway. You know, in case I won the lottery.”

Jimmy stood and laid his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to Dad, but I really think you should talk to Eric about this too. In fact, why don’t you give him a call and ask him to come out and the three of us can discuss it after I’ve talked to Dad.”

“Okay, any certain day or time?”

“Whenever it’s convenient for you and Eric. Just let me know and I’ll make sure Dad and I are there.” Jimmy checked his watch, surprised he’d spent two hours with Scott. Oliver should be getting up soon. “I gotta get back up to the house. Holler at me when you have it set up.”

“Will do.”

Jimmy waved good-bye and walked out the door. He stood on Scott’s porch for a moment, the sun now fully above the horizon and the cool morning starting to give way to the warmth of the sun. For all he’d bitched about this place when he was growing up, yearned to get the hell away from it, the idea of seeing it prosper and grow put a huge smile on his face. The fact that Eric would be involved was icing on the cake.

His friendship and the good times he had with Eric while growing up were some of the best he had. A chance to relive some of those good times caused his heart rate to kick up, and he strolled toward the house, feeling better than he had in a very long time.

Chapter Three

ALREADY KNOWING the answer, Eric looked down at the display on his phone to make sure by some remote chance he hadn’t heard his cell or felt the vibration. Sure enough, there was no missed call or waiting text notification. He shoved it back into his pocket before he could give in to the urge to throw it across the room. Jimmy had been back in town for two days and he hadn’t bothered to give Eric a call. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, considering Jimmy hadn’t even told him he was moving back home. Only reason he knew about it was from his mom.

Growing up they had been inseparable, their friendship the one thing that broke up the monotony of working the farm. Hell, when he and Jimmy did chores together, it had hardly felt like work at all. Sure, he still ended up with blisters on his hands, a sore back, and stinking by the end of the day. But they’d kept each other laughing, pulling foolish pranks on each other and making what should have been a miserable job fun.

That was a long time ago, he reminded himself.

Jimmy had moved on to fulfill his dream of being a doctor, and Eric…. Well, he was still here doing what he’d always done, but with much less enthusiasm than he once had.

“Hey, Eric, you want to come give me a hand?” Eric’s dad called from outside the barn.

“Be right there,” he yelled back. He finished coiling the ropes at his feet, hung them on a nail, and joined his dad, who was fiddling with the old tractor.

“What’s up?”

Dad pushed his cap back on his head and wiped his brow with the back of his forearm, his hands covered in black grease.

“I can’t figure this darn thing out. I’ve changed the plugs, checked the battery, and I can’t get it to turn over.”

“Did you check to make sure there’s gas in it?”

“It’s got a full tank, you smartass. I filled it up before I put it away last week.” Dad set his hat back on his head, pulling it down over his brow and shading his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. “Damn thing’s so old it’s probably best to put it out to pasture.”

Eric pulled up the hood and checked the tank. “It’s out of gas, you old fart,” Eric teased. “Maybe it’s you who needs to be put out to pasture.” He jumped just in time to avoid the hand his dad aimed at his head.

Dad didn’t chase him, instead he looked beneath the tractor and stood up with a scowl marring his brow. “I don’t get it. I know I filled that damn thing up and it ain’t leaking.”

“Did you happen to notice the mud on the wheel well?” Eric pointed out and ran his finger over the back tire, picking up a glob of it and holding it up.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“That ain’t no week-old mud. It’s fresh. My guess is that Josh has been mud boggin’ your tractor again.” Eric wiped the mud on the seat of his jeans.

“What the hell is wrong with that boy? I done told him I’d beat the tar out of him if he did it again,” Dad countered, his frown deepening.

“Nothing wrong with him. He’s sixteen, disobeying your parents is mandatory.” Eric patted his dad on the back. “Besides, your threats don’t hold the weight they once did. You’re getting soft in your old age.”

“Old age, my ass,” Dad grumbled. He pulled a bandana from his back pocket and wiped his hands. “You never gave me half the trouble your brother does.”

“Only ’cause I was a lot sneakier than he is,” Eric muttered and went and grabbed the gas can from the shed.

“What was that?”

“I got your gas,” Eric announced with a smirk, ignoring his dad’s question.

Regardless of what Dad said, he was going soft or maybe he was just plumb tuckered out. Josh was the youngest of five boys and he and Josh were a lot alike, both getting into the same kind of trouble and neither of them could imagine ever living anywhere else but Hale.

It still boggled Eric’s mind how he and Jimmy had become such good friends. They might have been in the same grade, but Hank was only a year older than them and he had the same types of goals as Jimmy did. Hank was currently doing his residency up in Michigan. Or why Jimmy hadn’t been drawn to Phillip or Garrett who were both nerds too, but of the computer type.

Didn’t matter the reasoning, he and Jimmy weren’t the best of anything anymore.

“You’re all set,” Eric announced once the tractor was full of gas and the engine running. “Now, unless you need me to point you in the direction of the grass, I’m going back to work.”

Once again Eric jumped out of the way of his dad’s response and laughed as he headed back to the barn. He’d just picked up a rope and started rolling it up when his phone rang. His heart began to beat fast, but when he pulled it out and recognized Scott’s number, his hope fell.

Disgusted at himself, he flipped it open. “Hey, Scott, what’s up?”

“You busy?”

“That’s a stupid question. I live on a fucking ranch.”

“Good point,” Scott snorted. “I’m gonna need about an hour or so of your time. Want to talk to you about going organic.”

“About damn time you finally listened to me.” He cradled the phone between shoulder and ear and went back to rolling up the mess of ropes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re as bad as me. We dream big, but we’re broke.”

“So you finally won the lottery?” Eric asked.

“I wish. But then again, I’d have to actually buy a ticket before I could win. Next best thing.”

“And that would be?”

“Jimmy loved the idea and wants to have a powwow with us about financing it.”

Eric was shocked and pissed in equal measure, and he tensed. The phone dropped to the ground. “Shit, hold on,” he yelled out and snatched it up. “Sorry, dropped the phone. Did you say you’re calling to set up an appointment with us and Jimmy?”

“Yeah. He liked our ideas and wants me to stay around.”

“It’s great, Scott,” Eric gritted out while he tried to swallow down the bile that had risen in his throat. Jimmy actually had Scott call him to set up a fucking appointment to see him. Still he said, “I can come. What time?”

“Cool, tonight after dinner, say six?”

“I’ll be there,” Eric assured him, flipped the phone shut, squeezing it tight in his hand, and closed his eyes. Breathe, just fucking breathe. He had the mind to tell Jimmy to kiss his ass. They didn’t need his goddamn money. If this wasn’t so important to Scott, he’d do just that.

And the fact you want to see him.

Eric shoved his phone back in his pocket and told the little voice inside his head to shut the fuck up.

JIMMY STOOD in front of the mirror and scowled at his reflection. Small bits of toilet paper stained red covered the nicks on his jaw and chin and the goop that covered his hands had done nothing to tame his wild hair. Instead it looked like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, every glued strand standing straight up. He looked ridiculous.

He glanced at his watch—ten minutes. He growled and flipped on the taps in the shower. He shivered when he impatiently stepped in before the water heated. He snatched the shampoo from the shelf and poured a large amount and scrubbed his head until the glue gave up its hold.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He’d never worried about shaving or his hair all the hundred million times he’d gone to see Eric. It had to be because they hadn’t seen each other in quite some time and it was important for him to show Eric how well he was doing. That he wasn’t some yahoo who went to college for the parties and to avoid growing up. That he was actually making something of himself.

That had to be it.

He rinsed the soap from his hair and stepped out. He dried quickly and only checked his reflection long enough to make sure the toilet paper was all gone. He was done being stupid. Eric would never think he was a screwup and he certainly wouldn’t give a damn about Jimmy’s hairstyle.

He pulled on a pair of jeans, a white V-neck tee, and grabbed one of his old denim button-up shirts from the closet and shrugged it on. He sat on the edge of the bed and put on his socks.

“Whew, lookin’ sexy, sweets,” Oliver complimented as he walked into the room.

“Thanks, babe, but would you please stop calling me that?”

“But you are sexy,” Oliver insisted and sat next to Jimmy, pecking him on the cheek.

“The sweets comment. You know I hate being called that.”

Oliver pressed his lips to the side of Jimmy’s neck, his tongue snaking out to lick beneath Jimmy’s ear. “But you taste so sweet, I can’t help it,” Oliver purred. His hand landed on Jimmy’s lap and he gently squeezed his package.

Jimmy grabbed Oliver’s hand and pulled it away from his groin. He turned his head and kissed the tip of Oliver’s nose. “Behave. I promised Scott I’d be over at six.”

“Not even time for a blow job? Share some of that sweetness with me?” Oliver asked and reached for Jimmy’s crotch again.

Jimmy disentangled himself from Oliver’s arms and stood. “Stop. I told you I have to run, but I’ll make it up to you later, okay?” He grabbed the towel and ran it over his head, his short hair already nearly dry.

“Promise?”