“It’s regular.” She screwed her face up like he was crazy. “What’s the point of decaf?”
“Why do I feel like you’re way ahead of me on this?” he muttered as he set the coffee down on the kitchen counter.
“And you can ignore Dweedle.” She wagged her head back and forth as she considered what she’d said. “For the most part. I think he’s trying to become tenant supervisor.”
“Is that a thing?”
“I have no idea. I just know he doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m a scalawag.”
Remington’s lips twitched.
“What are you doing here anyway? Happened to be in the neighborhood?” Her eyebrows arched like she didn’t believe that scenario for one second.
Which made sense. He hadn’t seen her in a week and Merrick had let him know she was back just today. The conversation only further reminding him that he didn’t have her number or anyway to contact her besides just showing up at her home and place of business.
Like any other stalker
“Actually, yeah. I had a meeting with a client just down the street and thought I’d check on that concussion of yours.” Truth!
“The concussion is fine.” She unfolded her legs and lifted her shirt revealing defined abs and a curve of skin stitched together. “But I think this is going to scar in the shape of a hook.” She dropped the shirt again.
“Are you on any kind of a nutrition plan?” he asked, the vivid image of her tan skin and clear muscles remaining in his mind’s eye.
“Please don’t try to sell me on your stuff. I’ll stop being nice to you.”
He held up his hands, palms outs. “I was just asking.”
“Bubba, that’s like me asking you to invest in the Institute so I could better fund my personal research and boss Merrick around.”
“No, it’s not. Nutrition is something everyone should be invested in.”
The dead look on her face caused him to trail off. “What?”
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“Look, I believe your research is probably very important and if I had the money to invest, I would.” That would be hard to argue with. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. He added one more pat for not accidentally revealing he was actually heavily invested in the Institute. She didn’t need to know that part.
“You have no idea what my work is. You’re just being patronizing and using flattery to get me to listen to your pitch.”
Remington’s mouth opened to argue, but the words died in his throat. Actually, they died somewhere during the formation because he got lost trying to figure out if she had a point.
“Damn, Larkin. Do other guys find you intimidating?”
She blinked as she took him in. The dark look in her eyes a small signal to what she was actually thinking. “Telling a woman she’s intimidating is just a way to ask her to stop talking because you’re afraid you’re not as smart as she is. More flattery with the intent to manipulate.”
Remington swallowed the smile that wanted to rise up. “And telling someone what they’re saying is only a form of manipulation is just another way to prove your superiority. And make them stop talking. Which leaves all of us silent.”
She lifted her chin and the stern set of her jaw relaxed before she broke into a smile. “Watch out, Rohan, your brain is showing.”
Remington gasped and covered his crotch with his hands. “Oh, you said brain. I thought you meant, you know, actual brain was showing.”
Lydia covered her face with one hand as the other one sought to set down her coffee cup. “Coffee… out my nose,” she gasped between peals of laughter.
Remington jogged to the kitchen to retrieve paper towels, chuckling the whole way. He returned and she dabbed at her face.
“Oh, it burns!” She pushed her glasses up on top of her head and coughed into the paper towel.
“4B!” Banging from the ceiling below caused her eyes to roll and both of them to break into loud laughter again.
“Take off your shoes,” she said, having calmed down. “It’s the floors. Acts like an echo chamber.”
Remington toed off his sneakers and then joined her on the edge of her mattress.
“Have you recovered?” he asked, leaning a shoulder into hers.
“Yes.” She nodded emphatically and returned her glasses to her face. “Thank you for that.”
“For making coffee come out your nose?” He shrugged like it was all the same to him. “I have other, more useful skills, but take what you need, hun.”
“For making me laugh right after pointing out what an ass I was being.”
“Ah, yes. That. I am very good at pointing out asses.”
She snorted and leaned against him. He took a slow breath as the heat from her combated with his own.
For a stark second, he wondered what it would be like if he didn’t go along with it. If he resisted for even just a moment, the natural slow slide of falling into another friendship.
“What is that?”
Remington slightly rotated his head to see Lydia watching him. Her question quiet and possibly not meant for him. Her hand came up to almost touch his face, but it hovered. The warmth from her hand radiating onto the skin of his cheek. Her dark eyebrows flexed and curved as her eyes examined his own.
She hummed, light and soft, like an afterthought. Her eyes caught his again and it was like she came back to the present. She dropped her hand back to her lap and smiled a small, lopsided grin.
“What are your plans for tomorrow? It’s my first day back at the office. I’ll probably spend all day getting my desk back to where I want it.” She reached for her coffee and shrugged one shoulder while taking a sip. “That usually means I’ll be cleaning all day. The temps are great, but their organizational skills are not up to my standard.”
Remington blinked and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, trying to buy a minute. But the minute didn’t help and the longer he sat there trying to mull over what had just crossed between them, the less he understood it. Until he was a little afraid he’d imagined the moment.
“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I have a busy day actually. Phone calls in the morning, photo shoot, and a planning meeting with some business partners in the afternoon.”
“How is that working out for you? The whole boss of everything in the world thing?” she asked, wiggling her fingers playfully.
“My bank account says it’s working well.”
She studied him, her lips twitching at the ends. “Is it everything you wanted?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “I worked really hard to get to where I’m at. There were a few hiccups along the way, but I eventually got my shit together.”
“And now you help others do the same.”
He frowned. Again. It seemed when she wasn’t making him laugh, she was making him frown. “I’m good at it, Larkin,” he said softly.
She glanced his direction as she sipped her coffee and made an affirmative sound in her throat.
“Why does it always feel like you don’t believe me?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her eyes wide with innocence.
“Let me help you,” he offered, rotating his body on the mattress so he was on one elbow, facing her more directly.
“Help me with what?” She narrowed her eyes in amused challenge.
“What is it you want to do with your life? What’s your greatest dream?”
One side of her mouth drew up in a smirk. “Already living it.”
“As a secretary?” he asked in disbelief.
She tilted her head and frowned as if she was honestly confused by his question. “I guess I forget sometimes that even though I’ve known you for a year, we don’t actually know each other.”
“Then tell me something,” he found himself saying, his voice rough. “Stop making me guess. Tell me something real.”
She licked her lips as her eyes bounced between his. “I spent a year in P
aris for the fun of it.”
“When?”
“When I was sixteen.” She shook her head, remembering something that made her smile. “But that’s all you get for now.” She set her empty cup on the floor and reclined on the bed with a grin. “Tell me about this photo shoot coming up. I thought you didn’t do those anymore.”
***
Remington
“Not getting any sleep?” Yvette asked, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at him. It bounced off his yawning mouth and he didn’t flinch.
Remington smiled weakly and rested his head on the wall behind him. “Yeah, I was out late last night with a friend.”
Half-lie. He never left Lydia’s place last night. Instead, they’d laid head-to-toe on her bed in the dark and joked until they’d fallen asleep.
“Who?” Yvette asked curiously.
Remington sucked in a short breath. “No one you know.”
Another partial lie. He’d spoken of Lydia in planning meetings before. But never in positive terms. He didn’t feel like trying to explain his sudden and deep connection to her at the moment. With Yvette, Mimi, Kyle, and Aiden there.
Besides, Yvette would want to meet her and then so would the rest of his team. And honestly? Remington wasn’t in the mood to share.
Lydia had secrets. Some big, some small. And Remington was enjoying the long, slow reveal.
He didn’t need half the team adopting her into their framework and figuring all that out for him.
Yvette accepted his answer and they continued with the group discussion on what was the next probable acquisition for his company, RPR Holdings.
Remington’s gazed drifted from Mimi’s whiteboard presentation to his lap. Pretty soon the thumb on his right hand slid in between his teeth and he bit down.
It was easy with his colleagues. It hadn’t always been this easy, but it was now. He’d built it that way. Being careful to seek out and implement others in his creative growth and business development who shared his ideals and ambition—not too much, but enough.
And yet here he was, missing the challenge and reckless feeling he got with Lydia.
“How old am I?” he asked, bringing the buzz of discussion to a sudden stop.
He looked up to find four pairs of eyes on him.
“Does anyone know?” he asked again, one shoulder half-shrugging.
“Uh, you’re thirty-one, Rem,” Aiden finally answered, sounding confused by his interruption.
“Yep. Thirty-one.” He ran a hand through his hair and clicked his tongue behind his teeth.
He didn’t finish his thought. They wouldn’t understand it anyway.
“Never mind,” he muttered with a half-smile. “Keep going.”
He was the boss. Here. There. All the time and everywhere. It’s how he’d designed it.
Not just the boss, but a grown up. He hadn’t been a fucking kid in a long time. So why did his tailored slacks and jacket pull and itch along his skin? Why did his vacation to Mexico a few months ago now seem half-assed?
Because even on vacation he didn’t set the mantle down. Mimi and Yvette teased him about it constantly, but they were right. He wore the crown of “adult” even in his sleep these days.
Except when he was with Lydia.
He felt… stupid.
Not unintelligent, just… foolish and inexperienced.
She made him feel so incredibly young.
Like a kid.
A kid who was safe to explore and fail and fall.
So very stupid.
Chapter 6
Honey Snobs
Remington
“Yeah, I won’t be able to make it today.” Remington slid his sunglasses off and stuck an arm in the collar of his shirt. “Probably just some bad sushi. I should be fine tomorrow. Thanks, Meems. I will.”
He hit end on the call and immediately turned his phone off.
It wasn’t often he lied to his team. Or turned his phone off. He didn’t like to make himself unreachable. But…
His eyes darted to the building in front of him and his stomach tightened.
It had been three days since he’d last seen or spoken to Lydia—until an hour ago. He’d called to see if she had plans for lunch and she’d invited him on an impromptu road trip.
Something about picking up boxes in Arizona.
That’s when Remington decided he had a slight case of food poisoning and canceled all his appointments for the day.
He frowned at her apartment door and knocked louder than before.
Her car was parked in the street. She was home. But she wasn’t answering.
He raised his fist to “knock” a third time when the door flew open and she jumped back in surprise.
“Remington!” she declared forcefully as she yanked the earbuds out of her ears. “How long have you been here?”
“A few minutes,” he replied, suddenly distracted and eased by her appearance.
Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun on top and to the side of center, several tendrils had broken free and curved around her face and down her neck and back. Her black t-shirt bore the emblem of Black Sabbath but she’d cut the sleeves off; a lacy yellow bra peeked out at the arm holes.
“How come I’ve never seen you wear this to the office?” he teased, stepping back as she closed the door and locked it.
“Because you only come to the Institute on Mondays.”
He frowned. “You don’t wear this to work.”
She stopped in the hall at the top of the stairs and glanced down at her rock shirt, frayed hemmed jeans shorts, and black high-top tennis shoes. “I have…why?”
Remington swallowed and blinked in disbelief. “It just doesn’t seem very professional.”
She snickered as if he’d told a joke. “Okay, Mister Rohan.”
He followed her down the stairs and outside, not having any kind of a response. Really what was he supposed to say? Qualities like this, the ones that took him off-guard, were all part of why he was here in the first place. He wanted to see what might happen next.
“Do you wanna take my car?” he asked, offering his Nissan GTR to the road trip.
She rolled her lips inward and eyed the newer vehicle. “Nah, let’s just take the Subaru.” She led him over to her car down the block.
“When will we be back?” he asked, stopping beside the passenger door.
She eyed him over the roof of the car. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Why? Is someone expecting you?”
She quirked her lips and his chest pinched painfully. He had nowhere to hide from her. Every time she looked at him, she saw everything. And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
At least that’s what he told himself.
“Yeah. People expect me.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Annoying, isn’t it?”
He sniffed a laugh and broke away from her gaze by running a hand through his hair. “It can be.”
The locks to the doors disengaged and she disappeared from view as she slid into her seat. Remington opened the passenger door but didn’t get inside. Instead he bent over and narrowed his eyes at the one woman wrecking ball buckling her seatbelt.
“Where are we going, Larkin?”
“To Phoenix to get a box from my cousin.”
“You’re driving to Phoenix and back in one day. No stopping.”
She nodded the affirmative and Remington sighed. Part of him, the rational part, wanted to wish her well and close the door. He could catch up with her when she got back.
But the majority of the particles in his body were already yelling at him for wasting time. What kind of adventure would the scientist claim from him?
He attempted to clear the mess of contradicting thoughts and ideas from his mind to no avail. All he could see were hazel eyes and a bright smile.
“Hey.”
He bent at the waist again.
Lydia leaned into the passenger seat and peered out at him. “I only ask once.”
His heart pounded in
a punctuation point. No real thoughts, just an exclamation.
The wind blew over his skin and through the open doors of the car, tugging at the loose strands of hair framing her face and down her neck. All of his thoughts came to a single, resounding conclusion: he had to go with her. If only to see what would happen next.
Remington closed the door behind him as he settled in the seat. She pulled away from the curb.
“People are really going to be expecting you?” she asked, the wind whipping through the car and turning her hair into a barely harnessed tumbleweed.
“Yeah, actually.” Remington shook his head at himself as he clicked the seatbelt into place.
“I guess they’re going to be disappointed.” She shot him a grin which he returned easily.
Too easily.
***
“So how was the office?” Remington asked when they were an hour out of L.A. and the road spread out before them.
Lydia sighed and draped a wrist over the steering wheel. “It was there.” She yawned and laughed around it. “I shouldn’t have been so cynical about the greenhouse. It’s an awesome place. I used to really love it. I think I was just mad at Merrick for exiling me. But I prefer it to my desk at the Institute. Still, didn’t like getting banished.” She adjusted her glasses on her nose. “I guess that’s what I get for being a rule breaker.”
“How many rules can you really break as a botanist? Are you creating killer plants, or what?” Remington was joking, obviously. But the look she shot him had him wondering what kind of advances they’d made in science he wasn’t privy to.
“Nah, you wouldn’t make killer plants. You’re all squishy inside.”
“Ha!” her lips quirked. “You believe what you need to.”
“Made of honey through and through.”
Her ears turned pink at the tips and the apples of her cheeks blushed to match. “No honey for you, mister.”
“Hey,” he sat up straighter, disregarding her needless rejection and the flirty banter he’d started a minute ago. “So, do certain flowers produce better quality honey?”
In Between the Earth and Sky Page 9