Page 2 of Throuple Next Door

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.”

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