Pumpkin Rolls and Porn Sounds

Chapter 1 He absolutely wasn’t the type of guy who normally turned my head. Joshua Rhinehardt was at least three inches over six feet and, well, beefy. Not exactly fat, but solidly muscled and a little soft in the midsection. He had a mop of curly brown hair he was constantly pushing out of his bright blue eyes and a full beard and mustache, though it was neatly trimmed. I could see the dark dusting of hair on his forearms where his sleeves were pushed up, and more than a bit of chest hair peeking out above the top button of his shirt. He was good-looking, but not gorgeous, and if I had just passed him on the street, I wouldn’t have given him a second look. My driver’s license said I was five foot eight, but that was a blatant lie. The truth was about two inches shorter. I’d never had any luck growing facial hair, and I kept my own red-brown locks cut close to my head. I was overly thin, though I worked out; I still possessed a teenager’s metabolism despite the fact I’d left my teen years behind almost ten years ago. When I was out trolling for a hookup, or even a date, I tended to be attracted to guys who were built like I was and hardly any taller. I had a type and I wasn’t ashamed of it. It was as much a part of me as the fact I liked men. Listening to Joshua Rhinehardt speak, though, I couldn’t deny there was just something about him that captured my attention. He was passionate, but his voice was steady and calm. Deep, too. I would bet he’d sound amazing in the throes of passion. I had to adjust my stance, and pushed back farther into the corner where I was propped up against the wall. I hadn’t even intended to be here this evening, but my mother had pleaded, and I had relented. My parents started the local PFLAG chapter when I’d come out to them at fifteen. They’d been running it ever since. I was so proud of them, and I knew full well how lucky I was to have them as parents. They supported me in every endeavor I’d undertaken, and I was certain I was the well-adjusted twenty-eight-year-old I was today solely because of that. When Mom had called me to tell me there was a guest speaker at tonight’s meeting, and subsequently begged me to attend, I found I really couldn’t say no. I’d tried, but Amelia Grant was an expert at the guilt trip. Now, I was incredibly glad I’d shown up. Mr. Joshua Rhinehardt was a local businessman. He owned the small but profitable café and bakery Pounds and Grounds. Their pumpkin rolls were legendary. Though I’d never had them myself, everyone I knew had waxed poetic about their melt-in-your-mouth goodness. More than that, though, was the prominent rainbow flag right in the logo design. Joshua Rhinehardt had apparently never made it a secret that he was gay. “I came out when I was thirteen years old,” Mr. Rhinehardt said, his voice strong despite the little shake I could tell was from nerves. He took a deep breath and looked out at the crowd. “I knew who I was, and I didn’t want to hide it. I was teased. I was bullied. But the fact that I had support from my family made all the difference. “My father didn’t understand ‘the gay.’ He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. I would catch him looking at me sometimes, and I could practically see the confusion swirling in his head. How could his big, strapping son be attracted to other boys? He just didn’t get it. But the most important thing to me was that even though he didn’t understand, I was still his son and he still loved me. He was my rock. He stood up for me when the bullying got rough. He went down to my school and made the administration understand that it would not be accepted. My dad might not have approved of my orientation, but that was a small thing compared to being hurt by others.” Mr. Rhinehardt paused, took a deep breath, and then a small drink of water from the bottle on the podium. No one made a sound, every last person in the room enraptured. From my place in the back, I saw the man fidget a little. And then it was if something settled inside him. His voice came out stronger and surer as he continued. “When I first opened Pounds and Grounds, I made the conscious choice to put a rainbow flag in the logo. I wanted everyone who saw it to know that it was a safe place. My dad questioned it. Not because he was against the sentiment, but because he was worried for me. And he was right to worry. I got hate mail. Bigots came in just to heckle and spout hateful and hurtful things. There were a few moments where I was ready to rethink my choice. “But my dad came to my rescue again. He still didn’t understand why I was attracted to men, and there was a part of him that still thought it was wrong. But I was his son, and that meant he backed me one hundred percent. His support and strength got me through the worst times in my life. It continues to be what gets me through the hard times. And that’s what I want you all to take away from this today. Even if you don’t understand it, even if you think it’s wrong, this is your child. Or sibling or niece or nephew or friend. And no matter what else, they deserve—no need—your support.” God, he was good. The confidence that he showed was inspiring, and he was eloquent and heartfelt. He started out a bit shaky with nerves, but as he settled into the topic, he just shone. I was a little bit in awe of him. He’d been an excellent choice for a speaker. I’d have to remember to compliment my father on finding him. The room burst into hearty applause. I blinked, a little surprised. Joshua had apparently finished up his talk while I was ruminating. He stepped out from behind the podium and was instantly swarmed by people wanting to ask questions. He smiled a big, open grin, and listened as they spoke. I caught sight of my mother approaching out of the corner of my eye. I straightened up and turned to her with a smile, nodding to my father, who was just behind her. “He was really good,” I said to my mom as I leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. I’d gotten my lack of height from her. She gave my arm a squeeze. “Yes. Joshua is lovely. I’m very pleased he agreed to talk tonight,” she said in her soft voice. Then a gleam came into her eye. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” Ah, so my mother had matchmaking on her mind when she’d begged me to come tonight. I shook my head a little ruefully, and tried to beg off. “He’s busy with his admirers.” “Don’t be silly,” Mom dismissed my objections with a wave of her hand. Her fingers curled around my wrist. “Come on.” I shot my dad a panicked look, but he was no help. He just shrugged one of his big shoulders. “You know there’s no use arguing with her, kiddo. Your mother always gets her way.” “Ben!” she admonished my dad indignantly. Then she grinned, letting the pretense go, and turned her gaze back to me. “He’s right, you know. Let’s go.” I gave a very put-upon sigh but trailed along obediently as she led me to the front of the room. Mom knew exactly how to work things to her advantage. I should really take lessons. We stood quietly at the edge of the group. My mother didn’t release her grip on my wrist. As soon as a little gap in the crowd opened, she pushed her way through, tugging me along behind her. “Joshua, dear, that was wonderful,” Mom said as soon as she had the man’s attention. I watched a light blush appear high on his cheeks as he rumbled, “Thank you, Mrs. Grant. It was my honor to be here.” Mom patted his arm, and then took a step to the side, tugging me so that I was standing in front of him. She let go of my wrist. “Joshua, I’d like you to meet my son, William.” “Will,” I corrected as I held out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rhinehardt. You were great up there.” His blush intensified, but he took my hand in a warm, firm grip. “Call me Joshua. And that’s nice of you to say. Thank you.” Our fingers slid against one another as he gently extricated himself from my grip. Little tingles raced up my arm from that contact. I was strangely reluctant to let go of his hand. I wanted to reach out and take it back, hold on to it a little longer. My mother, though, was completely oblivious to our interaction. “Will here is the reason we started this chapter of PFLAG in the first place.” Her pride was evident. I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes, but I did manage a smile. My mother had never seemed to grasp the concept that it was obvious to anyone who had eyes that I was gay. My mannerisms were a bit over the top, and I’d never tried to hide that. But even when I was standing still, my clothes were usually an excellent indication. If the fitted cashmere sweater didn’t give it away, the fact I was wearing skinny jeans should have. Straight guys never wore skinny jeans. I unabashedly embraced all the stereotypes, made them my own, because it just increased my fabulousness. I would readily admit I liked the positive attention. I was also somewhat addicted to nice clothes. Joshua’s blue gaze traveled the length of my body, taking it all in, and when his eyes met mine, I knew I wasn’t imagining the interest there. He gave me a smile that was just a little bit wicked. But all he said was, “That’s great, Mrs. Grant. As I said in my talk, support from family makes a huge difference.” Mom beamed under the compliment. Her eyes—the same green-brown as mine—just lit up. I gave a tiny laugh. She was so easy to please. And the truth was my mom was in her element here. I loved to see her like this. Just then, Joshua’s attention was captured by another parent wanting to talk and he turned his big body to give the nervous mother his full attention. For a split second, I wanted to pitch a fit. I’d been talking to him and I wanted his attention back! I took a deep breath, told myself to stop being childish, and silently made my way to the back of the room to check on the refreshments. I kept stealing glances at Joshua even as I made sure the plates were filled with cookies. “He’s too good for you,” my dad said from behind me. I whirled around, ready to protest, but then I caught the teasing glint in my father’s eye. I snorted a laugh. “Shut up.” My dad chuckled. “He’s a good man, Will. But I didn’t think he was your type,” Dad said with more seriousness. I shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe not. Doesn’t mean I can’t step out of the box occasionally.” I reached out and gave the coffee carafe a little shake, happy to find it at least half-full. Then I let out a sigh and said overdramatically, “I’m sure it’s all for naught, anyway. He’s probably got the perfect partner at home already.” “He’s single,” Dad said. His tone was conversational, but he was still looking serious and contemplative. I arched an eyebrow in question and he just shrugged. “I’ve spent a lot of time talking to him over the past couple of months. He’s solid, loyal, and kind.” “You’re talking relationship stuff there, old man,” I teased, a little uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. With a flick of my wrist, I flippantly added, “I’m too young to be tied down.” Dad laughed, but I could tell he didn’t mean it. There had been a number of discussions about relationships between us in the past few years; I knew he wanted me to find someone who could make me happy, someone I could spend my life with. He and my mother had met in college, and had been happily married and desperately in love for the past thirty-three years. But I knew it didn’t usually work like that—not in this day and age. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, exactly, but neither was I actively looking for it. My dad reached out to squeeze my shoulder, and then turned his attention to the rest of the room. I took the gesture for what it was: a show of support even if he didn’t agree. A short while later, I was finally able to make my escape. I was strangely disappointed at not having had a chance to speak with Joshua again. I tried to put it out of my mind. But I ended up thinking about the man for the rest of the night.