by Tara Lain
“Can you really sleep in here?”
Remy shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Harper’s happy redecorating dance seemed to dissolve. He glanced around the room, turned, and walked back to the great room, perched on the sectional, and picked up what now had to be very watery tea. He took a sip and set it down again on the floor.
Remy chewed the inside of his cheek. He missed the fun of the previous minutes. Forcing a smile, he said, “So that’s what you’d do with my budget, huh?”
Harper looked up, though his eyes seemed far away. “No. That’s what I’d do with your budget if I were you.” He stood. “I better get home.”
“Oh, right. You’ve got people waiting for you.” Did that come out with an edge?
“Yes.”
They skirted the disorganization of the great room and left through the front door. When they got to the car, Remy said, “Pelican Point?”
Harper said, “I really can call Uber.”
“No, it’s not that far.”
They rode up the Coast Highway in near silence, some Ed Sheeran playing in the background. Remy couldn’t help it. “I guess the house is pretty dismal, isn’t it?”
Harper glanced at him then back toward the view of the ocean through the windshield. “Dismal’s more of a feeling, isn’t it? I’d call it a mess. A work in progress that needs more progress.” He smiled a little.
Remy shrugged. “I can’t seem to drag myself away from work enough to focus on my house.”
“Maybe it’s not your house.”
“What?”
“Maybe you secretly don’t want to live there, so you don’t work on it. I remember a friend, a really old guy from Windy Pines. He moved away to buy a house in Las Vegas. He said he’d always wanted to live there. It was his dream. But I went to visit him six months after he’d moved, and he’d barely unpacked a single box. He was living out of a suitcase. Finally he admitted that he hated it there and wanted to go home to Windy Pines. He put his house back on the market the next day.” He grinned. “Made enough money on it to pay for the moving van. Fortunately, his house in Windy Pines hadn’t been sold.”
“Is he happy?”
“As a pig in shit.”
Remy turned off the highway up the hill toward the gated entrance to Pelican Point. “Problem is, if I don’t like my house, the only place I could be longing for is to move back in with Mama, and much as I love her, I don’t think that’s the answer.”
“Maybe you just haven’t found your answer yet.”
They pulled up to the gate, and a guard looked in the window. Harper flashed a pass, the guard scanned it, and the gate rose. Harper pointed straight ahead, and Remy guided the car higher on the hill, the vast view of the city lights and the blackness of the ocean beyond filling the windows.
Harper pointed to a sprawling, pseudo-Mediterranean mansion on a hill a short distance ahead. “There.”
Maybe that’s more Harper’s taste. Remy pulled up to the wide drive and stopped. “So you said the décor you described at my house is what you’d do if you were me. What would you do if you had my budget?”
Harper opened the car door and looked back. “I’d bribe some business enterprise to come to Windy Pines.” He smiled, but it was a little sad. “Thank you so much for dinner.” He slid out, closed the door, and was gone.
Chapter Ten
STRANGELY MIXED feelings.
Harper fit his key in the front door and pushed into the house. A lot of the lights were off, but one shone down the hall in Sylvan’s office.
Harper walked to the kitchen and got a glass of sweet tea. Why did I react so strongly when I saw Remy’s bedroom? It was like the parts of Harper that loved and valued home had recoiled at the total disregard—even disrespect—for the whole idea. Hell, he’d seen frat houses that weren’t that messy and transitory. But his reasonable business nature kicked in and said here’s a guy who doesn’t spend time, money, or energy on his personal life. He’s all business. His top priority is building a future for his family’s company. Admire that—but also remember it the next time you start drooling over his beautiful ass.
Carrying his glass, Harper walked down the hall toward the office. He stepped into the partly open doorway and spread his arms. “Ta-da. I’m home.”
Sylvan looked up from his computer with a crease between his eyebrows. “I wondered where you were.”
Harper walked in and plopped in the upholstered chair that sat across from Sylvan’s desk at a precise angle. Funny. While Remy didn’t seem to care about his home environment at all, Sylvan maybe worried about it too much. Harper had seen him make the bed after they’d made love, even though the maid would be in the next day. “I worked late, and then Remy Merced took me to dinner.”
Sylvan’s eyebrows shot up. “No kidding? Hanging out with the big boss.” He got up and walked over to the chair opposite Harper. “Tell me about it.”
A little shot of unease stabbed Harper’s gut as he remembered Remy’s warning about privacy. “Not much to tell. I think he was working late too, and I was the only one around he could ask to eat with him.”
“Oh, I’m sure he wasn’t that desperate.” Sylvan laughed a little indulgently. “He probably saw us together at the council dinner and figured you must be important.”
Harper controlled his laugh. “Must have.”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you don’t have great value on your own.” He reached out and lifted the sweet tea glass from the coaster on the table beside Remy, took a sip, spit it back in the glass with a grimace, and slammed the glass back on the table. “God, how can you drink that swill?”
Harper stared at him levelly. “You knew what was in the glass. Why did you choose to drink some?”
“I forgot.”
“Your problem, not mine.”
“So what’s Merced working on so diligently?” He casually rubbed his hands together.
Harper shrugged. “I think they’re market testing some new organic products.” There, that was true as far as it went.
Sylvan shook his head. “Leave it to the Merced’s to be five years behind the times. Hell, there’s hardly a supermarket that’s not carrying organics these days. But I suppose there’s not much demand in Arkansas.”
Harper raised his eyebrow. “Sylvan, you can’t be a market analyst and believe what you just said, even if Merced was an Arkansas company, which it’s not anymore.”
“Sorry. I was being a snark. I like John Jack okay, but I’ve never really taken to Remy, or his mother either for that matter. I always figured her husband was the brains in that outfit. That’s why I’m not expecting them to be able to deal with the downturn in the grocery business. I’m getting ready to recommend a sell on MercedMart stock in my next report.”
A rivulet of ice sneaked up Harper’s back, and he tried to keep a neutral expression.
Sylvan gazed at him intently. “I’m expecting that if there’s any reason that I’m about to make a fool of myself with that prediction, that my boyfriend will tell me.” He smiled. “Right?”
Damn. Harper didn’t want to use the C word—confidentiality—because it was likely to raise Sylvan’s interest even higher. But he didn’t want to lie. “Don’t count on me. I’m only a lowly assistant.”
“Yes, but assistants hear all the juicy stuff.” He smiled and managed to look positively foxy.
Harper chuckled since that was noncommittal.
Sylvan rose and extended his hand. Harper took it. Sylvan grabbed the glass from the table. “Let me put this in the dishwasher, then we can fuck.”
“SHIT!” REMY’S stomach flipped as he stared at the computer screen. Damn. Damn. Damn. He glanced through the row of numbers again and then sat back in his chair. The first results from one of the districts carrying out the test model on online ordering had come in. They were better. Better. But not better enough to justify a huge investment into the online model.
Okay, calm down. This is one test in
one region. He inhaled deeply. The fact was, he’d felt uneasy and jumpy ever since the night Harper had come to his house five days before. Too many disturbing questions floated through Remy’s head from the combination of his talk with Mama and Harper’s visit. Stupidly, he’d gotten up the next morning and cleaned his bedroom. He wanted to blush just thinking about it, but even though there were still subfloors underfoot and unpainted walls, having it neat and clean had felt good. A relief.
Still the ideas lingered.
You could be a lot happier.
Maybe it’s not your house.
And now this. He’d barely realized how much he was counting on Harper’s ideas being a huge success.
He wanted to rest his head on his cool desk, but every person in the office would be in a panic five minutes after he did it. He’d wanted the open interaction of a fishbowl environment. Now it was coming back to bite him in the butt.
Movement on the other side of his glass wall made him look up as Harper walked quickly past his office, turned, and came to his door. As usual, he tapped on the doorframe. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Remy couldn’t help it. He smiled. He’d barely seen Harper for days and he’d forgotten how damned adorable he looked and how calming his presence was. Well, calming and disturbing at the same time.
“May I come in?”
“Uh, sure.”
Harper stepped inside the door wearing a pleasant expression and carefully closed the door behind him. With a tight smile, he said, “What’s wrong?”
“What?” Harper whiplash.
“I can tell from your face. Something’s wrong, and you’re trying not to show it.”
Remy glanced through the glass. “Does everyone know?”
“No. The receptionist can’t see you.”
“Oh God.”
Harper walked over and sat in the guest chair opposite Remy. “So tell me.”
“The first results came back from district two.”
His tight, pleasant smile faded into instant concern. “Bad?”
“No. Not bad. But not as good as we’d hoped.” Remy sat back and pointed at his screen. “Look.”
Harper was all the way around the desk, bringing his scent reminiscent of apple blossoms, the Arkansas state flower, before Remy questioned the wisdom of his suggestion. Too late. Harper rested a hand on Remy’s desk and leaned over toward the screen. Heat poured off him, and Remy’s gaze rested on his long, beautifully shaped fingers and the light cording in his forearms.
Shit. I should just give up and admit I’m gay. Remy gripped the bridge of his nose. Where the hell did that thought come from?
Harper patted Remy’s arm, which didn’t help Remy’s situation. Harper said, “Come on, don’t worry. It’s not that bad. I’ll bet when we see the comments, we’ll find out that people loved having the range of choices. And look. There was response to the organics. So both of these were good moves, Remy. We just need to do more.” He put that hot hand back on Remy’s forearm. “Remember? I said this probably wasn’t going to be enough. Not based on the Barrowman model. But it’s a good step forward.”
“Not enough for me to move ahead on any broad initiative.”
“No, but we’ve taken a step in the right direction. Now we just have to figure out what the missing piece or pieces are.”
Remy lowered his voice and fought the desperate desire to put his hand over Harper’s. “But we haven’t got forever. Right now, you know the competitors are trying to solve the same problems we are.”
“We’ll beat them. For sure.” He squeezed Remy’s hand, but before Remy’s insides turned out, Harper pulled his grasp away and returned to the other side of the desk. “If you’ll forward me the reports, I’ll start making calls and try to learn what we’re missing.”
Remy sighed. “What if we’re not missing anything? What if people simply won’t buy groceries online? Or what if what they want is something no company can afford to provide?” He sucked a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not your job to solve this problem.”
Harper pulled his brows together. “Yes it is. I’m your assistant. This is your number one problem, so it’s mine too.” He inhaled. “I sincerely believe people will love buying all their groceries online. And I think we’re close.”
“Thank you, Harper. I don’t like to burden Mama, who’s supposed to be retired, and—”
“I’m your assistant. I help carry the load.”
Remy sighed. “I’m very grateful.”
Harper left, and Remy stared after him. He’d desperately wanted someone to share the load. He’d gotten what he wanted despite his initial resistance, and it was almost too good. If everyone in the office could see he was stressed out, could they also see how he felt about Harper?
HARPER WALKED away from Remy’s office with a confident stride and a take-on-the-world expression. Lies. All lies. Harper was a mess. Exhibit A. He hadn’t informed Sylvan, the man Harper presumably loved and had traveled across the country to be with, that he wouldn’t tell him a single fact about Merced Enterprises no matter how badly Sylvan might be about to fuck up. Exhibit B. He’d just told Remy that he was behind him no matter what, when being around Remy was totally dumb.
Like a call from the great prankster in the sky, Harper’s cell rang. He sighed and clicked. “Hi, Mama Two.”
“Hi, darling. Why do you sound awful?”
“Hang on.” He stood and walked out of his cubicle, then down the hall to the emergency stairwell. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Okay, now I’m in a quiet pace.”
“Is your office noisy?”
“No, not exactly. But it’s not private. It’s like a big fishbowl that’s supposed to encourage collaboration, but it also makes it hard to keep a secret.”
“Have you got a secret, darlin’?”
“Oh, Mama Two, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“Mr. Hoag?”
He blew out a breath. “Yes. Some days I’m not sure what I was thinking.”
“You needed an excuse to leave here, Harper. The only reason you’d allow yourself for leaving was something huge like a great love, so you manufactured one.”
If someone had walked into the stairwell and smashed him in the head with a lead pipe, he wouldn’t have been more shocked. For seconds he couldn’t even speak. “Why—why didn’t you tell me?”
“That’s not something one friend tells another. I tried to suggest you evaluate carefully, but you were desperate to leave, and I didn’t blame you. I figured you needed to go to California, and you’re so smart, you’d realize your error once you got there. Which you have. So now all you have to do is extricate yourself from him and enjoy your new life.”
He raked a hand through his too-long hair. “I need to come home!”
“No, dear. Windy Pines is a wonderful place, but it’s not big enough for the likes of you. You’re a genius, Harper. You need challenge and opportunity.”
“Hell, Mama Two, I’m some genius. I haven’t even been able to do anything about getting MercedMart reopened in Windy Pines.”
“And why is that, Harper?” She sounded like a schoolteacher, patient and encouraging.
He puffed a breath. “Because retail as we know it is drying up, and there’s not enough business to keep it going.”
“Correct. So if you had gotten it reopened, it’d only have been for a little while anyway, dear. We’re not your problem, Harper. We’ve got to figure out how to live in a modern world—on a lot of levels. You need to thrive in that world and be happy.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Is there more to it than Mr. Hoag?”
“Yes.” He cringed at the speed with which he’d replied.
“Tell me.”
“I know this sounds like the worst kind of fickle idiocy, but—oh God.”
“You have feelings for someone else?”
“Yes, and I’m a total fool.” He slid down the wall until he was squa
tting, elbow on his knee and head in his hand. She didn’t say anything, so Harper whispered, “I have feelings for my boss.”
“Oh, Harper. How old is this one?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Oh! Well that’s a blessing anyway. I was starting to think you were trying to make up for the loss of your daddy.”
“I know. But he’s my boss.” It was a wail.
She chuckled. “Bosses need love too.”
“Mama Two?”
“Hmm?”
“He might not be gay.”
He heard her intake of breath. “I’ve known you most of your life, and I’ve never seen you attracted to a man who wasn’t of your persuasion. Except a movie star or two, but we all do that.”
“I know, but he has a girlfriend.”
She huffed. “That’s not good, of course. Coming between members of a couple is never an honorable thing.”
“Yeah. Like I said, I’m an idiot.” He sighed. “Thank you, though. You’ve helped me make a decision. I’m going to go find an apartment for myself tomorrow. Things are really expensive here, and I don’t make a lot of money, but I should be able to find some little hole in the wall.”
“You’ll be making more money soon. If not where you’re workin’ now, then somewhere else.”
“Thank you, Mama Two.” He slid back up the wall.
“Oh and Harper.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that many homosexual men have been known to have girlfriends. You be careful. We all love you.” She hung up.
Chapter Eleven
REMY COULD barely muster enough concentration to drive to his mama’s house. His brain buzzed with the results from two more regions that bore out the first report. People liked the choices and granularity on ordering. Some even responded to the new brands. But nothing suggested that people were going to adopt online ordering as their regular grocery shopping experience, and that was really bad news.
Underneath the business worries hummed his real-life questions. Was he happy? Emphatic answer: no. Could he be? The images that kept coming up for him all involved Harper’s blue eyes and long cock, and that was disturbing because, while his mother might be okay with Remy being gay, John Jack, the board of directors, and most of their investors didn’t necessarily share that opinion. Of course, Remy wasn’t the senior partner, but his responsibility for Merced Technologies was critical to the corporation’s future. If the markets lost confidence in Remy, it could shake the whole company. Make that shake the company even more than it already was as a result of the shifts in retail buying.