Page 14 of Only One Bed: Anthology Vol. 1
Remi lifted a hand and pushed the hair out his face squinting at Grant in the rain. “Because town’s too far. We make it back to your greenhouse, wait this thing out, then we can call from that phone you had put in.”
Grant stiffened. The phone, that was right. He’d had the line put in and it had been a big to do in Plenty as no utilities had been put in this far out of town. He’d forgotten all about it, that’s how damn mad he’d been at Remi.
“Good idea,” he admitted, jaw still clenched. “Let’s move it,” he said, brushed past Remi, and continued on down the road. How had he forgotten about the telephone back at the greenhouse? He slowed though, when he wondered on how Remi had remembered it at all. When he was dropping off supplies to Grant, he couldn’t get done and gone fast enough...but somehow he had remembered a phone that hung on a hook beside the back door before Grant had even thought of it.
Maybe the other man noticed more than he let on.
Grant tilted his head, catching sight of Remi out of the corner of his eye...or as much as he was able through the downpour. He was walking along, matching Grant step for step, even though the man was doing his best to leave him behind. Remi’s brown hair had come loose and was plastered to his neck, the ends of it reaching his collarbones and making Grant think of what it had been like to kiss the surprisingly soft skin there. Grant’s lips pressed into a frown and he forced himself to look ahead. They had about a mile left of walking before the greenhouse would be in front of them and he didn’t much like the thought of torturing himself with a walk down memory lane for the whole of it.
Thankfully his focus and strength of will, plus the ever-growing need to get out of the battering storm which only seemed to increase in intensity, gales of wind, and nearly sideways blowing rain gave the right motivation for getting indoors. He sighed in relief as the greenhouse came into sight and before long he was pushing open the door and shaking himself off as he stepped inside. His skin was practically singing in relief after enduring the storm and he shivered, shaking his arms out and yanked his shirt off. The last thing he wanted was anything touching his body, it was almost too much after the rain.
“What the hell, Grant?” Remi slammed the door shut behind them and scowled at him.
“What?”
“Put your shirt back on.”
Grant scoffed. “No.”
“What are you trying to do, huh? Put your clothes back on,” Remi ordered, spitting the words out at him. He stepped close then, his body crowding Grant against the worktable behind him. He backed up in surprise, his back hitting it and he blinked in surprise at the anger he saw in Remi’s gray eyes. They stared at one another in silence then, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, until they were nearly touching. If Grant leaned forward he could press his mouth to the very spot he’d thought about earlier, that dip in Remi’s body right before his broad chest began. It would make him gasp, he knew that sound well, and then he’d put a hand to the other man’s cheek, fingers seeking and moving until he was cradling his head, until his fingers were twisting in his brown hair, giving the locks a tug until Remi’s head was tipping back and offering the expanse of his throat to Grant’s mouth.
He knew all of this and yet he did not move. He was still too angry over the way Remi had been acting since he’d set foot in Plenty, too angry over his behavior even today. He’d tried to fix it over and over again only to have it thrown back in his face. He wouldn’t touch him.
Not yet.
“I said no,” Grant growled. He leaned in then, eyes locked with Remi’s for a beat before he dropped his gaze to his mouth. That mouth was beautiful as anything carved from stone had a right to be. Pillow lips soft and inviting, or they could be, had been once. Now they were twisted in anger at him.
He wouldn’t touch him. Not until Remi begged.
Remi looked surprised at his answer. A look of uncertainty passing his face at Grant’s answer. He backed up a step but Grant came with him, pushing away from the table, eating up the space between them with sure steps.
“Whatever,” Remi said but his voice was weaker now, a tremble could be heard in it and Grant had never heard anything sweeter. This was more like it. This was the man he had once known.
“Whatever?” He tilted his head to the side and for a moment he felt like a predator stalking his prey. He almost stopped then, but he had had quite enough of Remi Wilson’s shit. He rolled his shoulders, aware the movement brought attention to the muscles he’d grown through the honest work of lugging fertilizer, hours of digging holes and laying new ground.
“Why’re you actin’ shy now, sweetheart?” he asked and Remi’s head snapped back as if he had been slapped. Grant had always been the gentle one out of the pair of them, pet names and sweet nothings plentiful on his tongue when it came to talking to Remi. Sweetheart had been his favorite because of course it had been Remi’s favorite. Anything Remi had wanted, Grant had given him willingly...everything of course, except for staying in Plenty.
The thought had Grant in motion once more. He’d loved this man with everything in him and Remi had ended it, shut the door on them before they’d had a chance and he was damn mad about it, and it was time Remi found out.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Fightin’ me. Fightin’ us.” Grant made a line in the air with a hand, the gesture sharp and quick, just like the hurt he’d felt every time Remi turned his back on him. “I’m sick and tired of the bullshit.”
Remi began to shake his head but Grant continued on cutting him off and this time it was Remi back pedaling until his back hit the glass of the greenhouse wall. “I don--”
“Stop it, sweetheart.” Grant leaned in, voice rugged and rough. “You know what I mean. You hurt me.You hurt us.Why? Why do you keep doing it?”
Remi blinked, his normally cold eyes suddenly going soft before he was blinking back tears and moving to look away from Grant, but he was done with Remi Wilson not looking at him.
“Look at me,” he ordered. Remi’s eyes snapped back to his face in an instant. “I’m mad as hell, Remi.”
The other man’s handsome features twisted in pain and he sucked in a ragged breath. “I know.”
“I still love your sorry ass,” Grant told him.
