Chapter 1

Austin Reynolds stood in front of the house that was to be his new home. After seeing that everything from the Greenwich Village apartment had been loaded onto the moving truck, he'd made the four-hour drive as quickly as he could, even though their furniture wasn't going to arrive until Monday afternoon. He leaned against the door of his Mercedes convertible, looking up at the two-story brick house.

The front yard was tiny, the area covered in a deep green vine rather than grass, which he liked, clumps of daffodils popping through for color. The shrubs were well-tended and framed the nicely painted and well-kept porch. He loved that there was a front porch, but the swing at the one end needed to go. Not that there was anything wrong with it. It was nice as swings went, but it wasn't the style he wanted. Austin pulled out his phone, searched online until he found what he wanted, and placed an order for chairs with plush cushions, ottomans, and a table, for rush delivery. Satisfied, he put the phone in his pocket and used his key to let himself inside.

When Randy told him that he had bought a house on his own, Austin had gone a little cold, but as he let himself into the entrance, he nodded to himself. The paint was fresh, a soft mushroom tone that he liked, and the wood floors gleamed warmly. Opening the inner door, he smiled at the patterned glass. Maybe this wasn't going to be the disaster he had imagined when he'd seen the pictures on the realtor's website. They hadn't been bad, but Austin had learned long ago not to trust such things.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, answering it.

"Well, what do you think?" Randy asked. "I did good. Didn't I?"

"Don't sound so smug. I just got inside, and there's plenty that I haven't seen yet." He grumped it up on purpose just to make Randy pay for not letting him see it first.

"Randy did his best," Weaver said through Randy's truck's Bluetooth system. "At least it isn't one of those new-construction plastic houses you hate so much. And the market there is tight enough that there weren't many houses to choose from."

"Okay." He stood in the middle of the living room, the mushroom color from the hall extending that far and up the stairs. "It isn't a disaster so far. Not that it would matter if it was. You'd just expect me to make a silk purse out of whatever sow's ear you'd found," Austin groused, but he liked that he was appreciated for his talent, and he knew he was a nester, the one who made a home and ensured that where they lived was comfortable and felt warm and welcoming. "When will you get here?"

"Tomorrow," Weaver answered. "Randy and I are finishing up contract negotiations today, and we'll leave Chicago as soon as we can."

Randy and Weaver had been together for almost six years. Randy owned a small chain of gyms in New York, and Weaver, an attorney by trade, was helping to negotiate the sale to a national chain headquartered in Chicago. Then, Randy, with his PhD in physiology, was taking a position as a professor at Dickinson College. Hence the move from their three-room apartment in the Village to this house.

"I'll see you tomorrow, babe," Randy said.

"Yeah. We'll get there and be ready to get done whatever you have on your list. Shoot—we've got to go or we'll be late. See you tomorrow, Aussie."

The call dropped, and Austin sighed, smiling to himself before putting away the phone. He continued through the house into the dining room. The previous owners had left the neoclassical sideboard as part of the sale. Austin wasn't sold on it at first, but as soon as he opened the doors, checking the construction, he smiled. This was a quality piece that would go with the dining room table he'd taken out of storage and had on the truck. The ceiling medallion was gorgeous, as was the original chandelier, which glowed warmly when he flipped the lights on. Still, the windows needed help, and he snapped some pictures before continuing to the kitchen, which was clean and passable. He checked the family room at the back of the house, smiling more at the coziness. This was going to make a great room for the guys to watch sports and hang out.

Austin went upstairs, where two nice-sized bedrooms and a clean, sleek bathroom waited. But it was the master bedroom that surprised him. The room was spacious, with a fireplace against one wall and a large nook off to the side for the bed. He paced it out and grinned; it was enough room for a king-sized bed. He pulled out his phone and sent Randy and Weaver a note. You did good. Now get here as fast as you can.

Austin woke early at his hotel, stretched, and climbed out of bed. He checked his phone, but there were no messages. It was a little early, but he was up, so he went into the bathroom, used the facilities, showered, and dressed before having a quick breakfast and getting ready to leave. He took one of his bags to the car and drove to the house. He had spent most of the evening shopping for some of the things he needed, and he expected some of those deliveries in a few hours. So once he was at the house, he parked in front and hurried inside. He had already made a list of things he wanted to get done before the truck arrived, and he'd drawn up where all the furniture was going to go.

He peeked at the time as a knock sounded on the door. Austin figured it was one of his deliveries, so when he saw Randy and Weaver standing on the porch, he stepped back in surprise. "What are you doing here this early?"

Weaver was the first one through the door and instantly had Austin in a bear hug, lifting him off the floor before kissing the life out of him. "We drove as much as we could last night and got up early this morning for the rest." He swung Austin around before setting him back on his feet. Then Randy pressed right up behind him, holding the both of them as he nipped at the skin just above his collar.

"We missed you," Randy said, and Austin leaned back, turning his head so Randy could capture his lips, nearly bruising him with the way he devoured his mouth.

"I missed you both too," Austin managed after being kissed breathless, his heart racing a mile a minute. He closed his eyes, engulfed in the heat that washed off the men in his life, building even further as Randy kissed Weaver and then him, their lips and tongues becoming a tangle that set Austin on absolute fire.

A buzz that Austin realized was the doorbell startled him out of his haze.

"What is that?"

"Deliveries," Austin said. "And we don't need to shock the locals. At least not on the first day." They broke apart, and Austin went to get the door. "The list of things that I need you to do is on the counter in the kitchen."

"I have a bed and mattress," said the delivery man in his early twenties, wearing blue coveralls and carrying a clipboard, barely looking up. Another man stood behind him.

"They go upstairs," Austin said, leading the men and showing them where he wanted it. Then he got out of the way as they carried everything up and put it together. He already had sheets and bedding in the car, so if nothing else, there would be a place for them to sleep in a new bed rather than the nearly worn out one they'd had in New York. Though Austin hoped none of them were going to get a lot of rest.

"You want us to take down the swing?" Randy asked as he met him at the bottom of the stairs with the list. "I like the swing." Austin hit him with a stare. "Okay. I can put it in the basement."

"Perfect," Austin said, and found Weaver in the kitchen.

"You don't expect me to remodel the kitchen today, do you?" The gleam in his eyes had Austin smiling.

"No. It's a comprehensive list. You can hang the holder for the television. I have a diagram for placement. We can then attach it when the monstrosity you require shows up on the truck. There's the shower curtains that need to be hung. There should also be some more deliveries later today."

"Your wish is my command," Weaver said, then went off to do as Austin asked.

Thank goodness. Austin returned upstairs as the delivery men finished up. He tipped both of them and showed them out before grabbing the newly washed sheets and bedding he'd brought along and began making up the bed.

There were certain things that were required when making a new home, and familiar bedding, blankets, and pillows were an absolute must, not that the other two would think of that. Randy and Weaver each had other talents. Weaver handled the legal matters and organized their business dealings. He was incredibly skilled, but had been burned out by the big Manhattan law firm he'd worked for and had stepped away from the partnership to come here. He could also fix just about anything. Randy was strong, and to most people's surprise, he was the smart one and the peacemaker of the relationship.

Austin had just gotten the bed made and all the pillows placed when Randy came in, his shirt off, displaying the body he'd spent years perfecting. "The swing is downstairs, and there's someone standing out in front of the house."

"Let's go see what they want, and as much as I hate to say it, put on a shirt. I have no idea how the neighborhood is going to react to us, and they are going to be our neighbors, so we don't need to advertise. Okay? We aren't in New York any longer."

Randy grabbed a black T-shirt out of the bag he'd brought up and pulled it on. It fit him like a second skin. Austin took his hand, leading him down the stairs. Weaver was still in back, so he opened the door and went outside, dropping Randy's hand just before he did.

"Can I help you?" Austin asked.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," the older man said with a warm smile. Another man, shorter but maybe a few years younger, hurried up. "I'm Andrew, and this is my husband, Dominic. We live just over there, and we wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood." He handed Randy a plate of cookies, probably a little intimidated. "We saw that you moved in and wanted to say hello."

"I'm Randy, and this is Austin." Randy could be completely disarming when he smiled, and he chose that moment to shine. "Weaver is inside doing his handyman impression." Randy slipped an arm around his waist, and Andrew smiled knowingly. For a moment, he wondered if the guy was going to make a pass or something; it had happened before. But they were being good neighbors.

But Andrew grinned and motioned around him. "Welcome to the Gayborhood, or at least as close as we get here in Carlisle."

Austin swallowed hard. "You're kidding."

"Nope. We've lived here over twenty years, and there's another couple at the end of the block. A third couple live just around the corner, and then there are the ladies in the next block."

Weaver chose that moment to make an appearance, standing in the summer sun on the other side of him, a hand sliding into Austin's back pocket.

Dominic shot Andrew a look, but he simply nodded slightly.

"It's very nice of you to come over." Austin couldn't help it. It came from years of living in New York, where everyone kept to themselves and barely knew anyone else at all. Even the people in the building had largely been strangers.

"No problem. If you need anything, be sure to let us know. We've done about everything as far as the house goes. Plumbers, electricians, painters, plasterers. One of the neighbors owns a handyman service…." Dominic pointed. "You'll love the neighbors—everyone is really cool."

"On most Fridays we have porch wine gatherings that shift from house to house. We'll let you know when the next one gets scheduled so you can meet everyone."

"Thanks, that would be great," Randy said cheerfully as Austin watched as the two of them headed back to their house. Austin turned as Randy shoved a cookie in his mouth, humming softly. Weaver grabbed one, eating it in a single bite.

"Dang," Weaver mumbled around the cookie. "That's good."

"You're both animals," Austin groused.

"And you know you love it," Randy told him as he pinched his backside, making him jump. "What's with you anyway?" Weaver asked as they headed back inside. "They were really nice to come over."

"Both the realtor and the seller said that this was an amazing neighborhood, and they make good cookies and have already invited us to the neighborhood gathering." Randy held the door for him and Weaver. "What's gotten into you?"

"Maybe it's just the New York in me. I don't know. People aren't that friendly."

Randy handed the plate to Weaver, then pulled Austin into his hugely strong arms. "I know your family was for shit, and no one had anything to do with the lot of them, but that isn't the way it always is. New York isn't how it is everywhere either." He slowly rubbed Austin's back. "That's part of why I took this job. I needed to get out of the business, and we needed to be out of the city. We have a real chance to make a great life here, but not if we act like we did in New York."

"Great. And what is Weaver supposed to do? He isn't licensed to practice law here."

"I have a line on a teaching position at Penn State Law. I got a call back while we were in the car. One of the women I practiced with a few years ago, Veronica Seaborne, is on the faculty. And if that doesn't work out, I'll take the bar exam."

He should have known Weaver would land on his feet. He was too smart not to. But where did that leave him? Austin didn't want to whine, so he kept quiet. The guys seemed happy and excited, and he didn't want to be a Debbie Downer. His job had left him behind. A couple of years ago, he had been an in-demand fashion model. He'd worked all the time, but now he was past thirty, and the new faces and younger bodies had pretty much pushed him to the side. At least in New York he could find something in the industry. That wasn't about to happen in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, that was for damned sure.

"Everything is going to be okay," Weaver told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You're way too talented to let anything get you down."

"Yeah…," Randy whispered.

It was nice that he knew he had the guys' support, but that didn't take away the worry. Austin had always made his own way after being taken from his folks at sixteen and placed with a foster family, to aging out of the system and finding himself on his own at eighteen. He fought to survive, getting a job at a club, where he lied about his age and danced for the guys to make tips. During the day, he beat the pavement to get modeling gigs and somehow managed to get small bookings and work up to runways in New York, Paris, and Milan. Now he was in the middle of nowhere, and while he wanted to trust Weaver and Randy, it was so difficult for him to think that anything good was just going to come his way, because so little of the good things in his life ever had.

"I can hear you thinking too much," Randy said. "And you need to stop worrying. This is a good town and a nice place. From the looks of it, we even stumbled onto a street with good neighbors."

Austin snorted lightly. "That was pure luck on your part, and don't think I'm ever going to let you forget it." He couldn't help smiling as he inhaled deeply, Randy and Weaver's scents mingling into a cocktail heady enough to make his mind spin.

They stood together for a while, and some of Austin's tension slipped away. But he had things to do, and that meant getting to work. "We need to get back to it. The rest of the furniture comes Monday, and there's still a lot to go."

"Like what?" Weaver asked.

"Well, you need to go pick out a paint color for your office and get two gallons of satin paint so we can have that done for when the furniture arrives. I have a few color choices that I think you'll like." None of them had moved, so Austin stayed where he was for the time being.

"I don't think he's going to let us get away with holding him for long enough that it's too late to start, do you?" Weaver said.

"Hey." Austin stepped to the side. "That room is the one they didn't get a chance to repaint, probably because it was where they stored things while the rest of the house was freshened up. The previous owners chose nice colors, but I know your office is important to you." He grabbed his notebook and pressed color samples into Weaver's hands.

"These are nice," Randy said.

"They are, but I was thinking purple with red trim."

Austin rounded on him. "I know you're joking, but if you come back with some hideous color, I will make you live with it."

Weaver put his hands up. "I know. And I like this one. Butter Spread is soft and bright."

"Good. Then go get two gallons and the supplies for painting. I'd come with you, but there are still a few things I need to try to find."

"Then we'll go get painting stuff," Weaver agreed, and judging by the smirk on his face, Austin was sure he was going to regret letting them do any sort of shopping. The last time he sent one of them to the grocery store, they came back with what he wanted… as well as a number of things that "looked good," which Austin had found in the back of the cupboard when he cleaned out their old apartment. So lord knew what they were going to come back with.