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Authors: Ryan Field

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Valley of the Dudes

BOOK: Valley of the Dudes
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Valley of the Dudes

 

A Ravenous Romance™ Original Publication

 

Ryan Field

 

A Ravenous Romance™ Original Publication
www.ravenousromance.com

 

Copyright © 2010 by Ryan Field

Ravenous Romance™ 100 Cummings Center Suite 123A
Beverly, MA 01915

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-318-4

 

This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

 

Chapter One

 

Rush Goodwin had lived his entire life in a small New England town. He’d been

 

an only child, living with his widowed mother and her spinster sister, always dreaming of

 

the day he would begin a new life in New York.

 

He kept his wavy brown hair at a medium length and wore a thin, well-manicured

 

layer of facial hair that looked more like five o’clock shadow than an actual beard. He

 

didn’t have a heavy beard, but he trimmed what he did have daily to achieve an

 

intentionally scruffy look. In the right light, his brown hair took on a reddish tint that

 

grew more pronounced in the summertime. When he wasn’t working, he often wore

 

knitted caps on his head all year long.

 

He could get away with a lot: he had a handsome face, with a strong square chin,

 

full lips, and deep brown almond-shaped eyes. Though he wasn’t extremely athletic, he

 

had the tight, sculpted body of a young baseball player. When he walked into a crowded

 

room, both men and women looked in his direction.

 

He didn’t want to move to New York because small town life was bad. Rush had

 

been very fortunate. His mother and his aunt rarely discussed the fact that he was gay, but

 

they’d accepted his lifestyle quietly, without any arguments or complaints. They greeted

 

his boyfriend, Harold, with smiles and invited him to dinner on Sundays. When Rush

 

went away on long weekend trips with Harold, they didn’t roll their eyes and look in the

 

other direction. But Rush was eager to experience more in life than what he’d always known. He

 

craved these new experiences with such fortitude, there were nights he couldn’t sleep.

 

So one cold snowy day, about eight months after he’d received his law degree and

 

passed his bar exams, he told his mother and his aunt that he was moving to New York. It

 

was a Friday evening. They had just finished dinner and Rush was waiting for Harold to

 

pick him up. Rush sat down on a footstool in front of his mother’s favorite wing chair and

 

leaned forward. He told her he’d applied for a job with an entertainment law firm, gone

 

on a series of interviews, and they’d offered him the job in New York. He even knew

 

where he could sublet a small apartment; all he had to do was sign the lease. Rush said he

 

hadn’t mentioned his plans earlier because he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d get the job.

 

He’d just found out it was all definite that morning.

 

His mother stopped knitting and stared at his aunt. She lowered the knitting

 

needles to her lap and raised her eyebrows. His aunt stared at him with large blue eyes.

 

She was sitting in another wing chair beside a blazing fire, reading a novel she’d already

 

read a dozen times. His mother pressed her lips together and turned her head to look at

 

Rush. “Are you absolutely certain about this?” she asked. “You already have a stable

 

position here in Connecticut with an excellent law firm. This sounds awfully impulsive.”

 

Rush nodded and reached for her hands. “I’m sure. This is something I’ve always

 

wanted to do. The only thing I’m worried about is leaving you both here alone.”

 

Rush had always been the man of the family. His father had been killed in an

 

automobile accident when Rush had been only twelve years old. Since then, Rush had

 

been the one who’d dealt with the plumbers, the electricians, and the auto mechanics. The

 

house where he’d grown up was one of those big old brick colonials, with white trim and no shutters. There were white dormers on the third floor and two wide chimneys on either

 

ends of the house. It had been in his mother’s family for more than two hundred years.

 

Supposedly, the basement had been used as a shelter during the Underground Railroad

 

days.

 

His mother took a deep breath and sighed. “We’ll be fine,” she said, nodding at

 

her sister. “But moving to a place like New York is a big decision.”

 

He smiled. “I know it is. This wasn’t an impulsive decision. I promise. I’ve been

 

thinking about it for a long time.”

 

“I see,” she said. “When do you leave?”

 

He squeezed her hands and hesitated for a moment. Her face was still tight and

 

expressionless. “In a couple of weeks,” he said. “I’m worried about you, though.” He’d

 

been the one who’d checked the tires on the cars and made sure the lawnmower blades

 

were sharp. Without him around, he wasn’t sure if they could survive.

 

“Ah well,” she said, taking a quick breath, allowing her face to soften. “We’ll be

 

just fine.” Then she tilted her head to the left and asked, “What about Harold?”

 

Rush knew his mother was wondering about whether or not he and Harold were

 

moving to New York together, as a couple. Rush had been with Harold since he was a

 

freshman in college and he’d never dated anyone else. “I haven’t told Harold about this

 

yet.”

 

Part of the reason he wanted to move to New York was Harold. But he didn’t

 

mention this to his mother or his aunt.

 

His mother frowned and gave his aunt a look. She said, “I suggest you tell him as

 

soon as possible.” “We’re going to the movies tonight,” Rush said. “I was planning to tell him

 

afterwards.” He released his mother’s hands and stood up. He squared his shoulders and

 

asked, “So you’re okay with this?”

 

His mother shrugged and lifted the knitting needles. As she poked the tip of one

 

needle into a loop of red yarn, she smiled and said, “If this is what you want to do, I’m

 

fine with it. And you’re not moving to the end of the world. You’re only moving to New

 

York. We’ll be just fine here in Connecticut.”

 

* * * *

 

Later that night, while Rush and Harold were leaving the movie theater, Rush told

 

Harold about his plans to move to New York. The theater had been empty and the few

 

people that had been there were bundled up and trotting toward their cars to get out of the

 

cold. Rush’s voice was low and soft and he spoke without a hint of concern. He made his

 

announcement while they were crossing the snowy parking lot to Harold’s car. Harold

 

was still talking about the movie.

 

Harold stopped walking; he faced Rush and furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re

 

doing what?” he asked. He lifted his head and his strong, patrician chin jutted out.

 

Rush took a deep breath and stared down at his shoes. In the years they had been

 

together, Harold had always been the one who took control, in a very passive-aggressive

 

way. He’d practically planned every moment of their lives, and Rush had let him do it.

 

“I’m moving to New York in a couple of weeks,” Rush repeated. “I have a new job with

 

an entertainment law firm that represents celebrities and I’ll probably sublet an apartment

 

in Chelsea.” “Have I done something wrong?” Harold asked. His hands were still in his

 

pockets and he looked directly into Rush’s eyes. But he was reacting like a scorned

 

employer when his best worker quits, not like a jilted lover. He had a tendency to think

 

everything that happened between them revolved around him.

 

“It’s not about you, Harold,” Rush said. “It’s me. I’m restless. And you know I’ve

 

always talked about moving to New York.”

 

There had been many times he’d mentioned how much he wanted to leave New

 

England and move to New York. But Harold was a dentist, and he worked in his father’s

 

established dental practice in New Haven. Whenever Rush suggested that Harold could

 

start his own practice in New York, Harold acted as if he’d lost his mind. There was no

 

way Harold was giving up a successful position to start all over again in New York City.

 

He told Rush they could visit New York any time Rush wanted. But they weren’t moving

 

there full time.

 

“I know you’ve mentioned it,” Harold said. “But I never thought you were serious

 

about it. After all, we can go to New York whenever we want. We’re not living in

 

Kansas.”

 

This was part of the problem. Harold liked being a small-town boy, and he never

 

seemed to take Rush’s ambition seriously. But Rush didn’t want to argue. “Don’t be mad,

 

Harold. This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I need to do this. If I don’t, I think I’ll

 

suffocate here. There are times I wake up in the morning to face another day and I

 

honestly don’t think I can breathe.” Harold removed his hands from his pockets and took a step forward. He put his

 

arm around Rush and said, “Let’s get in the car.” Then he lowered his head and nibbled

 

on Rush’s earlobe. “I know how to make you feel better.”

 

This was another part of the problem. Harold was extremely good looking. He

 

stood over six feet tall, he had the defined, muscular body of a professional athlete from

 

competing in triathlons, and he had droopy steel-blue eyes. His hair was sandy blond and

 

his face looked as if it had been chiseled out of stone. Though Rush and Harold were two

 

very different people who wanted very different things in life, there was a sexual

 

connection between them that went beyond all sense of reason.

 

Rush pulled away from Harold and said, “I think we should both just go home and

 

talk about this tomorrow. My mind is made up. I’m moving to New York. I have to do

 

this.”

 

He wasn’t officially breaking up with Harold that night. And he wasn’t moving to

 

New York to meet new men. His restlessness went much deeper than that. But he wasn’t

 

sure that having sex with Harold that night was a good idea.

 

Harold raised an eyebrow and smiled, then reached for the back of Rush’s head,

 

in the middle of the snow-covered parking lot, and kissed him on the mouth. When he

 

finally removed his tongue from Rush’s mouth, he said, “Let’s get into the car. We

 

haven’t fooled around inside the car in a long time.”

 

Rush was ready to take another step back. But when Harold reached down and

 

placed his strong hand on the small of his back, he leaned into the left side of Harold’s

 

strong body and followed him to the car. The best part about being with conservative, dependable Harold was that they were both adamantly monogamous, there was no need

 

for condoms, and it was safe and familiar.

 

When they reached the car and Harold clicked the locks, Harold opened the back

 

door instead of the front door and practically shoved Rush into the back seat. Harold

 

drove a large black Yukon; the back seat was spacious and all the windows were tinted

 

with dark film. If anyone had been walking around in the empty parking lot, they

 

wouldn’t have been able to see anything happening in the back seat.

 

Harold followed him into the back seat and pulled off his coat. He leaned forward

 

and switched on the engine to get the car warm. When he sat back, he grabbed Rush’s

 

coat, unzipped it, and pulled it off his body. Rush’s pants were already tight and his

 

erection pointed up so far it reached the waistband. Even if having sex with Harold that

 

night was a mistake, things had already gone too far to end it.

 

While they removed their clothes, they kissed and groped each other. Rush had

 

trouble catching his breath; he closed his eyes and moaned when Harold squeezed his

 

chest. Harold was a weightlifter, and there were rough calluses on the palms of his hands

 

BOOK: Valley of the Dudes
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ads

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