by Tara Lain
Trudy battled. “The Flash isn’t gay. He’s indescribable. And no Avenger can catch him to wipe him out with one or both hands, so don’t even think about it.”
Nigel chose that moment to bring in a platter of fruit and cheese, and they started placing coffee orders, which defused the whole discussion. Still, Remy couldn’t shake the feelings of that moment when he’d agreed that a guy who was in fact delicious and totally nonbinary was adorable. A little creeping thought tiptoed through his brain. I’ll bet Harper likes the Flash too.
They went into the living room and drank coffee—Nigel’s was good but not as amazing as Harper’s—and Mama and Trudy seemed dedicated to keeping the conversation away from compromising subjects. It was a good thing since Remy couldn’t stay focused. Everything distracted him. Everything seemed to remind him of Harper. So is this how it’s going to be? Harper acting the devoted assistant while he goes home at night to Hoag and I pretend not to care and act as if I’m straight for the good of the company and—shit. What a mess.
“Honey, are you okay?”
Remy blinked and looked at Felicity. When had she ever called him honey? “Yes. Sorry. I’m just wrestling a few problems at work. I apologize for my distraction.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me, silly. No one understands you like I do. I think we should sit down and talk through your challenges. Maybe I can help, and even if I can’t, talking it through is bound to inspire you to solve the problem.”
“Maybe, but I’m afraid I’m really tired.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
She whispered. “I should come home with you and give you a nice back rub. That will relax you and help you sleep.”
Okay, this was plain weird. They’d been dating for a good part of the year, and she’d never offered anything like a backrub. “Come on, Felicity. You hate my house, and I don’t blame you. If I get a couple nights’ sleep, we can have a real date and go to your place.”
It was only a second’s change of expression, but he was pretty sure she looked panicked. “Noo. I don’t want to leave you all alone and miserable when you’re feeling badly.”
He patted her arm. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” Though he’d really like to sit her down and ask what the hell was going on with her. The problem was if Mama was right and Felicity was panicking because she thought she was losing him, what could he say? He couldn’t put her mind at ease. Hell, she wasn’t losing him because she never had him, but that was an asshole thing to say. And he was acting like a coward. “Look, I’m beat, but I’d like to talk about some things, so why don’t you follow me home. We’ll have a glass of wine and chat for a bit. Then I’ve got to get some sleep.”
Her expression warred between worry and delight, but she said, “Of course. I think that’s a great idea. Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”
It took another twenty minutes, but Remy said goodbye to John Jack and Trudy, then leaned over to kiss Mama.
She whispered, “Is Felicity going home with you?”
“Yeah. We’re going to talk. I want to know what’s going on. I can’t keep sticking my head in the sand.”
She gave him her raised eyebrow. “Just be careful what you stick where.”
He didn’t even laugh. Just nodded.
On the drive to his house in Laguna, he kept glancing back at Felicity’s BMW, which stuck to him like sticky rice. What was he prepared to say to her? I think I’ve got to hear what she says and play it by ear.
He turned off the highway, wound down the narrow roads to his house, and pulled into his driveway. No question of using the garage. It was too full of his junk he couldn’t figure out what to do with.
Felicity parked next to the curb at the neighbor’s house since the space in front of Remy’s currently featured two bulging trashcans as a result of his bedroom cleanup.
He hopped out of the car and hurried to the front door so he could turn on the entry lights. He had no outside lamps to speak of, and the walkway to the front was treacherous in the dark. With a push to the door, he shone the light from inside onto the front walk; then he went to Felicity and helped her get inside.
“When are you ever going to get some exterior lighting?” Her voice had an edge, which she seemed to realize because she said, “It will be so lovely when it’s done.”
Inside the house, Remy quickly turned on the one lamp in the living room. He caught the look of dismay, maybe mixed with some disgust, on Felicity’s face, but she quickly covered it with a smile. He sure didn’t blame her for her viewpoint.
He said, “I’ll get us some wine. Please sit.”
He walked to the kitchen, and when he came back with two wineglasses half-full of white, she’d settled in the middle of the sectional. He didn’t want to make a big statement, so he sat in the corner nearest her, making a show of resting one of his arms on the side of the couch. She turned sideways so she was facing him.
She said, “So why don’t you tell me about these business issues that are causing you to lose sleep. Maybe I can make suggestions or know of someone who can.” Her expression was all focused helpfulness.
“Uh, no. I don’t really want to talk about my business with you, Felicity.” Might as well lay it out there. “You’re a stockbroker. It could influence your buy and sell recommendations.”
“Why? Is Merced doing badly?” She sounded avid, and it gave him a shiver.
“Of course not. But when we’re in the middle of new initiatives, it’s confidential. We don’t share it with the marketplace, and you’re the marketplace.” He smiled as politely as he could manage.
“Oh, so new initiatives, huh? No wonder you’re so stressed, poor baby.” She scooted closer, put the hand not holding the wine on the back of his neck, and began to massage.
He turned his head and slid out of reach, getting a flash of annoyance from her. Remy said, “Okay, here’s what I want to talk about. Why are you acting this way? We’ve been going out for a while. I’ve always gotten the feeling that I’m a convenient date for you—attractive enough, rich enough, and established enough to maintain your reputation, but no one who you’d be seriously hurt to lose.” She started to speak, but he held up a hand. “Tonight I come to Mama’s and see you, who I wasn’t expecting at all. Plus, you’ve somehow morphed into somebody from Autobiography of a Geisha. What’s up?”
From among the types of response that seemed to play across her face, she settled on outrage. “How can you say that? I’ve always cared about you, and I thought you cared about me. I know I can be a little withdrawn sometimes when I’m under business stress. Maybe I just realized that and want to show you how I really feel.”
“Did you?”
“What?”
“Realize that? You said maybe.”
She stared at her wine, dropping the hand that had been massaging his neck back to her lap. “I realized that I take you for granted a lot and feel badly about it. I enjoy going out with you.”
That sounded like something closer to reality. Remy inhaled. “The truth for me, Felicity, is I’m going through some personal transitions, I guess you could say. You’ve probably guessed from the state of my house that I’m having trouble settling down. A friend suggested to me that maybe that’s a sign this isn’t my place.”
“What friend?”
“Why does that matter?” He cocked his head.
“I’d just hate for you to take advice from false friends.” She sipped her wine. “So did your friend mean just the house or other things too?”
“I think he meant the house, but I’m not sure what I think. I know I’m not settled in my life yet. You’ve never asked me for any kind of commitment, and I appreciate that because I can’t make any promises.”
His brain sorted through all her possible responses. Not one of them was what she said. “What does it mean for Merced Technologies if you’re not settled?”
He looked up at her—the slightly too bright eyes. His mouth opened, but he wasn’t sur
e what ought to come out. Maybe it was a logical question. Was it the question of a woman who claimed she enjoyed going out with him? That was hardly the same as affection or love, and she was a stockbroker. Maybe she was asking, “What about your job?”
Before Remy managed to reply, she stood. “I need the bathroom.”
He nodded. “You know where they are.”
She walked out of the room, and Remy stared into space. He should break it off with her and start going to functions alone or escorting Mama. It would be easier. Less drama.
A tapping sound confused him for a second, like maybe it was Felicity sending a message from the bathroom. It sounded again, and he frowned. The front door. He hurried to the entry and peered through the side glass. Holy shit! Harper.
He opened the door. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you. I—”
“I know.” His deer eyes were huge, and he wasn’t smiling. “I decided to come on the spur of the moment. I found out something important about Sylvan.”
“Hoag?” Remy looked over his shoulder. He wanted to ask Harper in, but exposing him to Felicity could be odd, uncomfortable.
“Of course.” Harper looked at him with exasperation, and he deserved it.
“Look, I’m sorry. Felicity’s here. She, uh, I’m breaking up with her and I—it’s an odd time.”
Harper frowned but his eyes stayed wide and a little glassy. “I understand. But I need for you to know—I mean, I’m not sure where I’m going to end up, but Sylvan is trying to get information on Merced. He was thinking I was going to tell him and—”
“What do you mean where you’re going to end up?”
“Remy, that’s not important.” He reached out a strong, warm hand and gripped Remy’s forearm. “I need you to understand about Hoag.”
“Yes, yes, I know. He’s always trying to scratch up information on us. But are you going somewhere?” He wrapped a hand over Harper’s. “A trip?”
“Don’t worry. Just remember about Sylvan and—” His already wide eyes got huge as dinner plates as he stared past Remy.
“Remy, honey, what’s going on?”
Remy followed Harper’s line of sight as he turned to face Felicity—who stood behind him in the entry wearing one of his white shirts with a single button fastened and nothing else.
His shock at the sight was more than equaled by the feeling of Harper ripping his hand from Remy’s grasp and, seconds later, the sound of his car screeching away from the curb.
Chapter Thirteen
REMY PACED the halls between his office, Harper’s cubicle, and the coffee room. No Harper. Also no coffee. He glanced at his phone—again. Since Harper had run off his porch the night before, Remy had called him, what? Thirty times? Texted an equal number. No answer.
When Remy had managed to emerge from his shock at seeing Felicity nude under his shirt, he controlled the urge to throw her out the door, yelled at her to get dressed and get out, and then realized he had no more course of action. He couldn’t show up at Hoag’s door looking for Harper. Not if Harper refused to answer Remy’s phone calls.
In desperation, Remy had driven by the entrance to Pelican Point a few times wishing Harper would drive by, but of course there were multiple entrances to Pelican Point, and his chances of winning the lottery were higher than finding Harper that way.
So here he stood, staring at the coffee maker.
“Remy, are you looking for me?”
He glanced up at Eartha who peered into the coffee room. “Have you seen Harper?”
“Yes.”
“Oh thank God. I was worried about him. Thanks.” He walked past her to Harper’s cube. Empty.
Remy looked back at Eartha. “I thought you said you saw him.”
“I did, when I dropped him off at the airport this morning.”
“What?”
“He’s gone, Remy. He broke up with his boyfriend and decided to move back to Arkansas.” She sounded exasperated.
“But—but he said he’d stand behind me and—”
She crossed her arms. “I think he got the message that someone else was standing behind you.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “He called me last night and asked if he could leave his car at my house this morning and if I could possibly take him to the airport. I asked where he was and he told me he’d left his boyfriend and was going to a hotel for the night. I told him to come stay with me, which he did.”
“He did?” Oh sweet Jesus, he was on my porch and I could have helped him.
Eartha nodded. “He said he’d come to see you to warn you about something having to do with Sylvan Hoag, but he felt very embarrassed because you were with your girlfriend.” She raised both her eyebrows but kept talking. “I know he was really upset because he was willing to jump on a plane and leave his car here instead of planning to drive it back to Arkansas. Poor guy. Now he’s got to fly back to California just so he can drive for three days.” She blew a noisy accusing breath. “Anyway, he seemed really worried that you weren’t taking his warning seriously. He kept asking me to remind you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Personally, I figured whatever Hoag’s doing is the least of your worries, but consider yourself warned.”
“Well shit.”
“Boss, that goes double. That kid’s one of the best things to happen to Merced Technologies in a long time. Shame we couldn’t keep him.” She uncrossed her arms. “Want me to make you some coffee?”
“No. I’ll make it.”
“Okay.” She walked away with her shoulders slumped.
Trying not to think, Remy pulled the special dark roast from the cabinet, ground it, and started it brewing. While it gurgled and spat, Remy steamed the heavy cream. He stuck his cup under the spout of the coffee maker, captured two-thirds of a cup, poured in the steamed cream and held the mixture up to his nose. Smelled right. Blowing against the hot brew, he sipped.
Tears leaped to his eyes and he fought them back. The coffee reminded him of Harper—but it didn’t taste as good. It was lacking sweetness.
Slowly, cradling his cup, he walked back to his office and closed his door.
It might have been three hours later, or maybe three days, when the door of his office flew open and slammed against the wall.
“Remy Earle Merced, what in the hell is going on?” His mama stood by the door dressed in jeans, knee-high boots, and a faux fur vest over a white blouse. She grabbed the door, closed it, walked to his guest chair, and sat like the Queen of fucking Sheba.
He frowned at her. Scowled, really. “I’m doing the same thing I’ve been doing for the last three months. Trying to find some glimmer of promise in our online ordering schemes.”
“No, you’re not doing the same thing you’ve been doing for the last month because that included getting the help of your brilliant assistant, Harper Treadwell. Oh, and smiling. It included smiling.”
The goddamned heat came back behind his eyes and made him blink, which was embarrassing and—stupid! “He left. He’s gone. I didn’t fire him or drive him away. So I don’t know why you’re asking me about it.” He stared at his computer screen since shutting her out was at the top of his priority list.
“How do you figure you didn’t drive him away?”
He stared at her in shock. “He broke up with his effing boyfriend, who, as you know, happened to be effing Sylvan Hoag. I had nothing to do with that.”
“No, but it does not follow as the night the day that a man who breaks up with his effing boyfriend in California immediately decides he must return to effing Arkansas. Not when the young man has a good job and a support system where he is.”
Remy stared at her. “Eartha called you?”
“She knew I had a personal interest in Harper, and so she let me know he’d left—after spending the night with her, during which time she told me about his upset over having barged in on you apparently in flagrante delicto.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh my, haven’t you always wanted a reason to use
that in a sentence?”
“No.”
Her expression sobered. “What are you doing, Remy? Are you trying so desperately to prove you’re straight that you’re having sex with a woman who doesn’t suit you on any level beyond other people’s expectations?”
“No!” He ran a hand through his hair remembering how long it had been since he cut it. “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.”
His mama stared at him, and he stared back. They both burst out laughing at his unintentional homage to their famous Arkansas womanizer, and that broke the tension a little.
Remy exhaled loudly and tried again. “I didn’t, Mama. I asked Felicity over to find out why she was acting so strangely and to tell her I wasn’t boyfriend material. She went to the bathroom. Harper arrived. She emerged in my shirt and nothing else.” He sighed. “It all happened so fast and I was so shocked, Harper got away before I could stop him. I’ve tried to call about a hundred times, but he won’t pick up. I’ve texted telling him it wasn’t what it looked like. No answer.” He rested his forehead in his hand.
“What was it he was trying to warn you about?”
“What?”
“Eartha said he told her to tell you to please pay attention to his warning.”
“Oh.” In all the mess, he’d pretty much sublimated the whole warning thing. “He told me Hoag’s spying on us. He’s trying to find out what we’re doing for his report.” He shrugged. “But that didn’t seem so surprising to me. It makes sense he’d try to get insider information so his report’s right.”
She frowned. “Maybe he was trying to get the information from Harper.”
“Yeah, and….” A really crappy thought oozed across his mind. “Wait, what if that’s why Hoag hooked up with Harper? Do you think Hoag would go to the trouble of dragging a guy across the country and moving him in just to get insider information on Merced? That seems extreme, but it’d explain why Harper was so upset.”