Chapter 17
HARI
“Do you have plans this morning?”
We were at my place and we were drinking the coffee I’d just made. Remy flung a leg over my hip and kissed my shoulder.
“I could stay here all day if that’s what you’re thinking.”
It’d be nice, but I had other plans. “Maybe we can crawl back into bed this afternoon.”
Remy closed one eye. Maybe he was thinking back to our date in the showroom and was expecting something similar.
“So, what are we doing? Sniffing out different types of wood? Sanding down an almost finished piece of furniture?” He chuckled and added that date days and nights with me were interesting.
“We’re going to an antique furniture auction.”
“Of course we are. Where else would a guy who makes his own furniture be going on his day off?”
“Exactly.” I was pleased he understood.
But Remy tilted his head and was staring at me. Damn, I’d missed something. Oh shoot, he was being sarcastic.
“There are so many interesting pieces at these auctions.” We did occasionally add some pre-loved furniture in the showroom. It showed customers how modern furniture could be used with antiques, which added texture and history to a room.
He shrugged. “I’m happy to explore more of your world and to discover it’s not all about starting from scratch, but can we stop off along the way and get some of those bacon sandwiches you brought me last week?”
Eating greasy bacon in the car and smelling of the stuff before we attended an auction wasn’t part of the plan, but nothing some wet wipes and mouth spray wouldn’t fix.
“This is where the auction is?” Remy peered out the windshield as I turned a corner in the old industrial area. These city blocks used to hum with the sound of machinery but many had been converted into art galleries, upmarket apartments, restaurants, and auction houses.
The Saturday-morning auctions were usually filled with antique dealers, interior decorators looking for particular pieces for their clients, and the general public who’d found something in the auction catalogue that piqued their interest.
I signed us in and gave Remy the paddle.
“Oh, am I the one with the power?” He held it up, and I yanked his arm down. Auction patrons—and the auctioneer—took this business seriously and didn’t enjoy people making fun of the process.
“Don’t wave it unless you’re prepared to pay.”
“Opps, sorry.” He giggled, telling me he wasn’t really, and I took the paddle from him. “Are you looking for something in particular?” He was at my heels as I headed to the preview room.
“Mmmm. A Victorian sideboard.”
“Oh, right. I’ve had one of those on my wish list forever.”
I rolled my eyes at him as we reached the sideboard, and I kneeled in front of it. It was a huge piece and made of mahogany. I slid open the door and studied the corner joints. Whoever made it knew their craft.
“Is it what you expected?” Remy crouched beside me and placed his hand on the wood. “It’s stunning, and I’m sorry for laughing at you.”
“The joinery is excellent.” I ran a finger along the inside edge of the frame. “But it’s these handles that I’m here for. You can’t buy these new.”
Remy tugged one of the handles. “They’re beautiful, but I feel sorry for the sideboard because if you win the bid, the piece and the handles are going to be separated.”
True. I was going to place the handles on a new piece I was making.
“I’ll find a use for the sideboard, don’t worry. And I’ll make sure it and the handles can FaceTime every Sunday.”
He elbowed me, and we stood.
We took seats in the middle row. I had the catalogue open on my lap while Remy people-watched. I’d given him the responsibility for the paddle, but it was forty minutes before we could bid on the sideboard. My strategy was to wait and not bid immediately.
Two dealers dropped out early, but one decorator who I’d outbid once before pushed the price past what I was willing to pay. Remy was itching to hold up the paddle, but I put a hand on it and shook my head.
“You lost it.” Remy was so emotional I almost expected him to cry.
“Yeah, that's the way of auctions. You win some, you lose some.”
“It’s so sad. What if that woman wants only the handles and tosses the sideboard?”
I squeezed his hand. “I know where her office is. We could check out the skip in the middle of the night and retrieve it.”
His face lit up. “I love that idea.”
I gave him the same look he’d given me this morning.
“Oh, that was sarcasm. Damn. I need to improve my sarcasm meter.”
I shushed him with a finger to his lips as the auction continued.
“Is this a normal Saturday morning for you?” he asked as we walked to the car. “Attending auctions and having items snatched away under your nose?”
“Pretty much.”
I buckled the seat belt, but Remy pointed to the woman who’d bought the sideboard. She was coming this way as her car was parked beside us.
“Talk to her,” Remy insisted.
I wound down the window. “Congrats, Vivi. You got yourself a nice piece.”
She grinned. “I know you only wanted the handles, but my client fell in love with the sideboard.”
“I’m glad the handles and the sideboard can stay together.” We said our goodbyes, and I started the car.
“Awww, I’m so happy.” Remy furrowed his brow. “Not that you missed out but that the sideboard will be loved, all of it, just as it is.”
“I’d better not bring you again or you’ll be setting up In Memoriam notices for pieces of furniture.”
Remy was still hungry despite the bacon sandwich snack from earlier, but we passed a garden center on the way home and he asked to stop.
“You did your fun thing, and now it’s my turn.”
We strolled in, and Remy breathed in the different aromas, saying he felt more alive here. Each section was connected by a gravel path, and my mate walked and held himself differently here than elsewhere, even when we were in the woods beside the lake.
My mate paused and sniffed some jasmine on a wooden trellis. The scent would be amplified come nightfall, but I caught a whiff of the perfume as I leaned toward the small white flowers.
“I have an affinity with plants too because I work with them in a sense.”
Remy side-eyed me. “They’re dead, though.”
“Yes, but I transform them into something beautiful.”
My mate took off toward the back of the lot where the trees were located. We walked between the maples and birches until Remy reached a eucalyptus. He put his palm on it and rested his head on the bark that was peeling in the distinctive way gum trees did.
“I don’t have space in my garden for you.” He hugged the tree. “But some day if no one else buys you, I’ll come back. I promise.”
Now I was as upset as he’d been over the sideboard.
I snapped a pic of the tree before putting my hand on the rough bark.
We walked back toward the entrance, only buying some coriander and basil in pots.
I wished I could have bought the tree for Remy, but there wasn’t enough space for it in my garden either.
“Now I’m really hungry.”
We stopped for burgers and fries and ate them outside the fast food joint on a bench.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a home with a huge garden where we could plant that gum tree?” It probably didn’t make sense because we each had a home and one of us could move in with the other.
“That’s been on my mind for ages, but somewhere with enough space would be horrendously expensive.”
I nodded because what could I say? Property prices in the city and elsewhere were soaring, and for most people, wages were not keeping up.
“Remember what you said earlier?” My mate dunked a fry in ketchup.
“Ummm, can you narrow it down and give me a hint?”
“About what we could do after the auction.”
Oh, he wanted to go back to bed. Our eyes locked, and without saying a word, we picked up the rest of our food and raced for the car. We were laughing as we put on our seat belts, and I roared out of the parking lot. Remy licked ketchup from his fingers and offered me the last fry.
I clamped my teeth on it and bit his finger too. He didn’t cry out but one glance at him and his flushed face and parted lips told me he liked it.
“Now I’m hungry for something else.” My mate reached over and unzipped my fly.
Shit, I almost slammed into the car in front. I was tempted to pull over and yank my cock out but didn’t want to get arrested, so I put my foot down when the light turned green. The drive home had never seemed so long.