Read Online Rainbow Hill by Alex Carreras - Free Book Online Page B

help but laugh at his friend’s description of the British songstress, Bonnie Tyler.
    On hearing a gentle rap at his door, Ethan said his good-byes to Nikki. He tugged at his T-shirt to straighten it, and then smoothed his palms over his thighs to press out the wrinkles of his pajama bottoms.
    “Come in,” he called out.
    The door cracked, and Quinn appeared, his hair delightfully rumpled and his jaw covered in reddish-brown stubble. Ethan’s heart missed a few beats at his housemate’s rugged and sexy appearance. Ethan’s mind began to explore the possibilities of what his tongue could do to Quinn’s sculptured chest.
    “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard you speaking to someone.”
    Ethan lifted his phone and shook it. “Nikki saying goodnight.”
    “She loves you, you know that?” A slight smile curved Quinn’s lips. “You’re lucky to have a friend like her.”
    Ethan smiled too. “I am. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
    There was a moment Ethan thought that Quinn had wanted to say something, a look that had passed over his face. But it disappeared as quickly as it came. “I’ll let you get to sleep,” Quinn said, his voice low and gruff. “Good night.”
    “Is there something you’d like to ask me?”
    He shook his head. “Nah,” Quinn returned. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
    “Night.”
    The door closed, and Ethan could hear the soft padding of Quinn’s bare feet walking down the hall. Thoughts of Quinn lingered well into the night. And when he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of Quinn—his smiles, those eyes that appeared to hold many secrets, the body Ethan imagined caressing.
    The next day, Ethan awoke more exhausted than when he'd gone to sleep.

Chapter Six
    After helping Frank and Tucker with the morning milking, Quinn had spent the rest of the morning clearing a shed that had once been used to store farm vehicles that refused to die and rusted out equipment that found their way there instead to the local landfill.
    After taking on the project over two weeks earlier, the last of the remaining odds and ends were now gone, and the pine wood floor was successfully repaired and polished to a brilliance, the years of hard use and neglect now virtually undetectable.
    With hands on hips, Quinn surveyed his handiwork, a sense of accomplishment filling him. A low whistle sounded behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to find Ethan standing in the open doorway, holding an array of paintbrushes in one hand and two cans of paint in the other.
    “This place is nothing the way I remember it.” Ethan chuckled. “Do you know I used to hide in here and smoke cigarettes? Smart, huh? It’s a miracle I didn’t burn it to the ground.”
    Quinn noticed dark blond chest hair curling from the V-neck of Ethan’s fitted white T-shirt. “Where did you manage to find the cigarettes?”
    “I stole them from the workers when they weren’t looking. One guy always left a pack on the shelf in the dairy. I could always depend on him to fuel my addiction.”
    “Well please choose another place to fuel your addiction, because I’d hate to see all my hard work go up in flames.”
    Ethan walked into the barn and placed the paint cans on the floor where they would be safely out of the way until cracked open. “I don’t do that nasty habit anymore?”
    “Do you still steal?” Quinn asked, teasing. “If you do, I’ll be the one keeping track of the finances of Oak Hill.”
    “That’s not even funny,” Ethan returned, a petulant look on his face. “And I’m very good with money.”
    “You must be.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I’ve never met anyone who wore such expensive shoes to paint in.” Quinn dropped his gaze to look at Ethan’s high-end running shoes, which never went on sale.
    Ethan followed Quinn’s gaze. “The only other pair of shoes I have are Bruno Maglis, and I don’t intend on destroying those. If I knew that I was