The Rhubarb Patch by Deanna Wadsworth

Author:Deanna Wadsworth [Wadsworth, Deanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63533-662-7
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2017-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

WHERE TO get started?

Hands on his hips, Scott stared at the master bedroom with its overflowing closets and bare mattress. Mom had stripped the bedding and put it in the washing machine before they left. Thank God. He shuddered. He did not want to think about what could’ve possibly happened on those bedsheets!

He plopped down on the bed, something he hadn’t done since he’d moved in. He bounced in surprise, then lifted up the corner of the mattress pad.

Wow, that’s an expensive mattress.

When he lay back, he groaned.

Why had he been sleeping on the rickety mattress in the guest room when this gorgeous, squishy memory-foam piece of heaven waited in the other room?

Scott sat up quickly. “That’s it, Nancy,” he said out loud. “I’m moving in here.”

He chuckled and looked around once more. The second granny doll was on the bedstand facing the wall.

“You’re outta here just like your sister,” he told the doll.

There was so much crap in this room that even the closet door didn’t shut all the way. He’d already taken a second batch of boxes to the grateful ladies at the church. Nancy must’ve been one of those people who yo-yoed with their weight because all the clothing and coats were in multiple sizes, some with tags still on them.

With a sigh, he stood and set his three cardboard boxes on the bed—one to keep, one for trash, and a third to donate. After tossing Granny in the donate box, he tackled the nightstand drawer. All the usual things were inside. Prescription bottles, toenail clippers, and a couple Danielle Steel novels. Those made him smile. Everything but the books went into the trash box. It wasn’t like he would use someone else’s toenail clippers.

Gross!

Scott lost himself in the methodical task of dissecting his grandmother’s bedroom. He got distracted a few times when he found handwritten notes or photographs, items like that going into the keep box—to do what with he’d yet to determine. But it just didn’t feel right throwing away personal stuff, almost like he was throwing away parts of a woman he was slowly getting to know. Like she must’ve had a sweet tooth because, like the cash, there was chocolate stashed all over, though most of it was stale. He didn’t feel bad about getting rid of clothes, or the many duplicates of mail-order gadgets, or the knickknacks. It was definitely a little morbid determining what had value and what didn’t, but he remembered Phin told him Nancy liked to collect a lot of junk.

Phin.

That asshole.

Scott didn’t even know what happened. Everything had been going great, and then Phin pulled back. No explanation. No reason. The old Scott would’ve gone over to his house, begging and trying to figure out why. But he was going to wait like Davis suggested. In seven days, he would march over there, knock on the door, and demand what the hell Phin’s problem was.

If Phin wasn’t interested, then it was his loss.

Irritably he tossed yet another stuffed teddy bear into the donation box.

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