Chapter 13
Remi
‘Stop sulking.’
‘I’m not sulking,’ Auggie shoots back sulkily.
‘Sweetie, you’re sulking.’
Auggie balls up one of his sanitary gloves, tosses it ineffectually my way, and grabs another. He glances behind himself to check for other employees before continuing to cut the loaves of sandwich bread. “It’s just weird, okay?”
“Still?”
His eyes widen on me before he refocuses on his task. “It’ll always be weird. My brother works for you now.”
“For Jackson, technically.”
“He’s working on the ranch,” he persists. “What even is that?”
I take a step closer, avoiding the glove on the floor. It’s quiet in the back of the shop at the moment, but the privacy won’t last long. Which means I have limited time to be honest with my friend. “Get over yourself.”
He stops what he’s doing, looking at me in shock.
“Your brother has a life outside of what you know of him in your own head. He’s a person, yet since the day he’s gotten back, you’ve been treating him like some old memory. Stop being pissed at him for existing and just…get over it already.”
Auggie strips off his gloves and rounds the metal table between us. With the tiniest ever shove to my chest, he says, “You have to hug me after being mean to me.”
Huffing a laugh, I wrap my arms around him. He deflates, his chin digging into my shoulder. “I wasn’t mean. I was honest, and you know it.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t like hearing I’m behaving like a child.”
“So you finally acknowledge it?”
“You’re pushing it, asshole.”
I snort, and he steps back, gathering the glove off the floor before tossing it in the trash and washing his hands. Another employee passes into the back of the shop, giving me a nod before going about their business.
Auggie catches my eye, lifting his hands. ‘I’m trying.’
‘He’s a good guy, you know.’
He sighs. ‘So I’ve been told.’ Transferring the bread to a sheet pan, he nods toward the front of the store, hands now full. “Come on. I’ll make your sandwich.”
Louise gives the pair of us a beaming smile as we come through the swinging door, even as she continues putting together orders. “My boys. Remi, when are you going to leave those animals behind and come work for me instead?”
Knowing Louise is joking, I happily tell her, “When pigs fly.”
She barks a laugh, shooting me a wink as she bags a couple sandwiches. “You here for lunch, darling?”
“And a quick hello.”
Seeing Auggie start to assemble my sandwich, I nudge his arm and hold up two fingers. When he realizes I’m asking for a second for his brother, he scowls but grabs more bread.
“Any news from the ranch?” Louise asks, tone just sly enough I figure her question isn’t casual.
“I take it Benson hasn’t shared much?”
“You know how that boy is about sharing.” Her expression flickers before she sends me a small smile. “He seems happy to you?”
“Yeah,” I tell her honestly. “He does.”
“Good,” she says firmly, ringing up a customer. “August, honey, you still making Remi’s sandwich?”
Auggie throws his hands in the air. “Give a guy a minute.”
I stifle my laugh as he quickly wraps our sandwiches and stuffs them in a bag.
“Extra bacon on his,” he lies, handing it over.
“You’re a peach.”
He angles his body away from the front of the store to tell me where to shove it. Chuckling, I head out the way I came, through the back door of the shop.
Benson left before the lunch rush for an appointment, but he said he’d come back to the ranch afterwards. I take a second to shoot him a text before getting on the road.
Me: If you haven’t eaten yet, I have something for you. If you have, don’t worry. It’ll save.
Once I get back, the ranchers are filing out of the dining room. Ira sends me a wave I return, and Jackson intercepts me in the hall.
“Question for you,” my brother says in his usual brusque style.
Thinking of Benson’s dislike for questions about questions, I have to hold back a laugh. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Some of the Silkies are getting up there in age, right? And it’s been a couple years since we’ve had babies on the farm. Last time was the goats.”
My smile stretches slowly. “Are you suggesting we hatch Silkie chicks this year? Who put you up to this? Mom?”
Jackson scowls, crossing his arms, but his cheeks redden.
“Oh my God, it was Ash,” I deduce. That makes way more sense. The man has a soft spot for cute baby animals, and my brother is wrapped so tightly around his pinkie finger I’m surprised I don’t see Ash hanging off his hand right now.
“Babies at the petting farm are good for business,” my brother grumbles.
“Jackson, you don’t have to twist my arm. You have a supplier lined up yet?”
He nods, adjusting his hat. “The eggs will be ready to pick up in a couple weeks. Would you mind making the trip?”
“Not a problem. I’ll get the barn ready in the meantime.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Uh-huh.” I gently sock my brother on the shoulder. “Go tell Ash the good news. Just…not in the kitchen, all right? I don’t need to see that.”
Jackson heaves out a sigh, but he doesn’t refute the fact that he and Ash aren’t exactly discreet when it comes to locking lips. A few years back, I wouldn’t have been able to imagine someone capable of softening my brother the way Ash does.
But that’s love, isn’t it? It softens even the most guarded of hearts.
I leave Jackson to find his boyfriend and head upstairs with my lunch.
Taking a seat on the third floor, I dig in while scrolling on my phone.
Vibrations on the floorboards alert me that someone is coming up the stairs.
I have just enough time to look toward the doorway before Benson appears, his head nearly skimming the frame.
Brown eyes crease into the tiniest smile when they meet mine, and my gut swoops and coils.
Why does the man have to look so good? It’s unfair, really.
I swallow down my bite of food as Benson sits beside me. “Hey. Hungry?”
His eyes find the bag from his mom’s shop, and his thumb and forefinger roll together. ‘Little bit.’
I can’t quite help my frown. I’ve gotten fairly adept at parsing out Benson’s moods. The more comfortable he is, the more talkative he is. When he gets quiet, it means he’s inside his own head, either because he’s thinking about something or he’s tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.
But every once in a while, like now, there’s a heaviness to his movements, and his speech is…nonexistent. And not for my benefit, as far as I can tell.
“Everything okay?” I ask as Benson pulls out his sandwich.
He doesn’t nod right away, which is telling enough. Eventually, he seesaws his hand. ‘So-so.’
Taking in a small breath, I scoot over so our legs are touching and slide my phone where he can see it. He doesn’t move away. “Jackson wants us to hatch Silkie chicks this year. Well, Ash wants them, so Jackson is making it happen. Look how cute they are when they’re young.”
A tiny smile graces the corner of Benson’s mouth as he looks at the picture of the Silkies I pulled up from my camera roll.
“These are some of our girls from about four years ago,” I explain.
Benson taps the black one.
“Yeah, that’s Sue.”
He huffs a small laugh, taking a bite of his sandwich.
I scroll to another picture. “We’ll set up the spare pen for them. Heat lamps through the brooding period. Lots of extra visits.”
Benson signs, ‘Fragile.’
“Yeah, they are.”
‘I’ll help.’
My smile grows. “I figured you would. You can pick the location for their feed bin, too.”
He nods, as if he’s happy with that. I chuckle lightly.
I flip through a few more photos as Benson finishes his sandwich. When I reach one of myself holding a couple of the chicks, Benson stays my hand. He looks at the picture for a long moment, and I try to figure out what it is he’s seeing.
It’s springtime, so I’m wearing a long-sleeve shirt but no jacket. My hair was a touch longer than it is now, overgrown. And I’m smiling, although it’s really more of a squint against the sun.
There’s nothing all that special about it. But as Benson turns his gaze away from the picture to examine me in the same thorough way, I feel as if he’s appraising art. As if he’s finding value I didn’t even know was there.
‘Your smile,’ he signs, his own face serious. ‘It’s like this room.’
‘In what way?’ I ask, hands shaking slightly.
Benson does something I’m not expecting. He leans against me and turns his face into my neck. My pulse hammers as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, the man too broad for me to make it all the way around. His own hand lands tentatively on my waist, his breath shuddering out of him.
For long minutes, we stay exactly that way.
Benson doesn’t move an inch, as if the contact is essential and he doesn’t dare disrupt it.
My eyes close against the steady pressure of his body entwined with mine.
The warmth radiating from him. The gentle scent of mint underneath the earthy hay and livestock clinging to us both.
When his lips move against my neck, I nearly jolt. “Wild,” he says, his voice clear beneath my CI. “Your smile is what it means to be free.”
My heart is beating so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel it through my pulse. “You say stuff like that and it makes me want to kiss you, Ben.”
Warm lips press lightly to my skin, and my eyes slip shut again. “Soon.”
“You promise?” I ask amidst a huff of light laughter.
“I thought I could talk myself out of it.”
“Don’t do that.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “I can’t, apparently.”
“All right. That’s good. That’s real good, Ben.”
“Sorry I’m making you wait. I just—”
“Hey, no,” I interject, squeezing him tighter. “There’s no rush.”
His breath puffs out against my neck, his beard bristling my skin. “It’s…” I miss whatever he says, his words too muffled. “I’m not new to this. I just…” Another mumble.
“Didn’t catch that,” I let him know.
He leans back with what seems like considerable effort. I’m not exactly keen to let him go, either, but I get the sense this is important.