Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Gentry
It’s been weeks.
Weeks since the night at the bar, and I still can’t get it out of my mind.
If I had to guess what insanity felt like, I’d say this was it—replaying memories, craving more, and wishing it would happen again.
I tried to fight it, tried to block it from my mind, but it didn’t work.
If anything, it made it worse. Which is exactly why I suggested this… arrangement with Remington.
One night.
One night to fully give in to what my body clearly wants. What he wants. One night to pretend our circumstances are different, pretend he isn’t my son’s best friend and that we shouldn’t be doing this. One night to get it out of our systems so I can finally move on and put this past me.
Otherwise, I don’t think it’ll ever go away. It’s affecting me in ways that are rather inconvenient. I can’t focus on the ranch, I’m restless at night, my showers are almost always occupied by him now—his flirting, the kiss, the bar bathroom and how good it felt—and I can’t look my son in the eye.
I’m also torn when it comes to pottery. Since the night at the bar, I’ve gone to another class, but not the private ones.
I can’t. I hate taking the class in a room with so many other, more established people because my confidence isn’t where I’d like it to be when it comes to the clay and wheel.
My movements are still clumsy and messy, and my pieces end up looking like a small child made them.
It’s embarrassing, but it’s my only option right now because the classes are helping my issues—as much as I wish the doctor’s suggestion was bullshit, it’s not—but being alone with Remington is too risky.
I need to get him out of my system once and for all. And I will.
Tonight.
A quick glance at the clock on the microwave tells me he should be here any minute.
My stomach is in knots, and I couldn’t calm my racing heart if I tried.
I’m a mess. And I’m overthinking everything.
Like what if one of my kids pops over for something?
It’s highly unlikely, but not impossible.
Or they could drive by and spot Remington’s truck in front of my house.
How would we explain that? Fuck. I should’ve suggested we do this at his house; there would be a lot less risk.
I love having my boys so close. The whole family living on one property is not only convenient, but comforting too.
But tonight, their proximity to my house and the events that are going to transpire later is neither convenient nor comforting.
A knock echoes through the house, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
He’s here. It’s time. This is really happening.
Clearing my throat, I check my appearance in the hallway mirror, force myself to take a deep breath, and then walk to the door.
With another steadying breath in, I unlock and open it, reminding myself that this is a good idea.
It’s the only way. By morning, Remington will be out of my system, and I can function like a normal adult again.
His dimples shine through as he smirks. “Howdy,” he blurts out, raising his hand to wave.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Remington’s nervous, but that can’t be right.
What would he be nervous about? Remington’s shamelessly flirted with me, toeing the line of inappropriate, for years now.
Not only that, but he’s the one who’s been pushing for this to happen.
It was him who made the first move the night we kissed, just like it was him who approached me not once, but twice, at the bar.
No, he’s not nervous. I’m pushing my own nerves onto him, that’s all.
“You gonna stand on the porch all night?” I ask, stepping to the side.
“Nah. The real fun happens inside the house,” he drawls with a flirty grin and a wink.
Stepping past me, I catch a whiff of his cologne, and my stomach flutters like I’m a goddamn teenager with my first crush.
Remington leans in as soon as the door is closed, pressing his mouth to mine.
Not expecting it, I inhale sharply, my body frozen for a moment before my mind catches up.
Both his hands curl into fists on the front of my shirt, while mine find their place on his hips.
Tongue confidently parting my lips, Remington licks into my mouth, and the world around us narrows to heat and breath and the soft shock of contact.
Our mouths move in perfect harmony, not rushing but not restrained either.
When he deepens the kiss, my pulse spikes, a low thrum under my skin.
Remington brushes his thumb along my jaw, the touch both grounding and possessive, and without thinking, I lean into it, opening for him like it’s instinct instead of choice.
Kissing Remington feels like waking up for the first time, like breaking through a fog I didn’t even know was there.
It’s intimate… Devastating. I pull back just enough to catch my breath.
My lips tingle as I rest my forehead against his.
Remington places his palm on my chest. “Your heart’s beatin’ so fast,” he rasps before grabbing my wrist and bringing my hand up to feel his. “Just like mine.”
I don’t say anything—I’m not sure I could even if I tried.
Then he takes a step back, makes a show of removing his jacket and boots before sauntering through my house like he didn’t just wreck me with only his mouth.
“What smells so fuckin’ good?” he asks before tossing me a grin over his shoulder as I follow him down the hall and into the kitchen. “Other than you, obviously.”
That shouldn’t make my stomach flutter all over again.
“Dinner,” I murmur. “Made steak and baked potatoes, with grilled asparagus.”
Remington clicks his tongue to his teeth. “Damn, daddy. You cooked for me?”
“Actually, I grilled for you, but yes.”
“So, what you’re sayin’ is, this is a date-date?” The corner of his mouth lifts in another smirk so sexy it takes my dick twitch.
“No, Remington,” I grumble. “That’s not what I’m sayin’. But there’s no reason we can’t enjoy a nice meal together, especially since you’ll be here all night.”
“You’re damn right I will.” He closes the distance between us, lowers his voice, and adds, “By the time the sun rises tomorrow morning, your voice will be hoarse from screamin’ my name and beggin’ for more.”
His words spread through my groin like lava, and my face heats.
Even though it doesn’t happen often, I’m no stranger to sex, and I’m certainly not a prude.
But I’ve never been with someone as cocky and shameless as Remington.
It’s like every time he says something, my mind goes haywire, and I can’t think of a single thing to say back.
Clearing my throat, I grab two plates from the cabinet, handing one to Remington.
His fingers brush mine as he takes it from me, the touch like electricity flowing through him and into me.
After we dish up and bring our plates to the table, I grab my favorite bottle of bourbon and two rocks glasses.
“Drink?” I offer.
A smile curves his lips as he nods. “I’d love one.”
This is the first time we’ve sat at this table, just the two of us, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice. It’s not tense or awkward. It’s…comfortable.
As we’re finishing up, Remington peers at me from across the table, slowly sipping his drink. The smirk he gives me as he swallows tells me all I need to know.
“So, tell me… You bring men back here and cook for them like this often?”
I chuckle dryly. “No. This is definitely a first.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up, and there’s a glint in his eyes that makes my chest flutter. “So where do you take men, then?”
“I don’t.” I snort. “I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but outside of this ranch, I don’t really do much.”
He studies me for a second. “When was the last time you had sex?”
My pulse kicks up, and I wipe the sweat from my palms along the top of my thighs under the table. “Years,” I admit. “It’s been a good, long while. And it was just that. Sex.”
If Remington is surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Where’d you meet him?”
“At a bar,” I offer before clearing my throat. “I was out of town, pickin’ up cattle the next mornin’.”
“And before that, how long had it been?”
“Years.” My throat feels like sandpaper as I swallow. “I don’t do this. Like, hardly ever.”
He tilts his head. “Why not?”
Thinking about the question for a moment, I shrug. “It’s just not somethin’ I do. Easier that way, I guess.”
“Has it…always been that way?”
I breathe out a sigh. “Yes, Remington. I’m a little rusty and inexperienced when it comes to sex, if that’s what you’re askin’.”
He pauses. “Can I ask you somethin’ else?”
“You mean, more than you already have?” I snort. “Sure. Why not?”
“Are you—” Remington clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “Only men, or…?”
I nod once. “I’m gay.”
That’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud. My heart is pounding a mile a minute, and my hands are trembling. The weight of that admission hits me square in the chest.
“And June?” he asks.
I don’t miss a beat. “Knew I was gay before I did.”
That gets his attention. “Really?”
I nod.
“Before or after you got married?”
Guess we’re airing it all out tonight.
I swallow thickly, working up the courage.
“Before,” I admit. “We grew up together. Same town. Same school. Same group of friends.” I smile faintly.
“She was my best friend before she was anythin’ else.
” I scratch my hand across my jaw. “And somewhere along the way, we both realized the same thing.”
“That you liked men,” he offers quietly.
“And she liked women.”
Remington blinks. “Wow. I mean, I knew her and that women were more than just roommates, but wow… This whole time?”
The memory makes me huff a quiet laugh. “We were eighteen and convinced we had the whole world figured out.”
“That’s dangerous,” he says teasingly.