Chapter 41 – Mindy #2
“They are?” I ask in surprise, and he laughs.
“Yeah, they actually are. The cashmere lining feels really good, which is something I need.” He swallows hard before adding, “I have something called Sensory Processing Disorder.”
“What’s that?” I ask softly, sensing this isn’t something he shares with everyone.
“There are a lot of variations. For some people it’s how they process sounds or scents, but mine has to do with how my brain processes touch, specifically certain textures.”
“So, certain textures are uncomfortable for you?”
“Yes, exactly,” he says, surprise tinting his voice. “It’s a real thing. I’m not making it up.” Remi sounds a little defensive, and I rest my hand on his forearm.
“I believe you.”
The set of his shoulders relaxes like he wasn’t entirely sure that would be my response. “A lot of people don’t believe in stuff they can’t see. It took a long time to get the diagnosis.”
“Will you tell me about that?”
One of his gloved hands covers the one I have lying on his forearm, an almost automatic gesture that seems to come naturally.
“I was a toddler when my mom noticed I took off my clothes every time I could. At first she thought it was just normal toddler stuff, but when I did have to wear clothes, I clawed at my skin.”
He grimaces and continues. “From what she’s told me, it was pretty bad. Sometimes I would draw blood.”
I picture a little brown-eyed boy who was so uncomfortable he literally scratched blood to the surface of his skin. “Oh, Remi, that sounds horrible.”
With a nod, he relaxes against the back of the couch.
“She started taking me to dermatologists. When one would tell her they couldn’t find anything wrong with me—no rashes or skin diseases—she would find another one.
This went on for months until she finally came across a female dermatologist who talked to me, not to my mom. ”
“Which makes sense since you were the patient,” I reply.
A small smile edges up one corner of his mouth. “Of course, I was only two, so my verbal skills were limited. But Mom said Dr. Keller asked me why I scratched myself, and I told her it was because my clothes were too hard.”
“Okay, that’s kind of adorable,” I say.
“No other doctor had ever looked me in the face and asked me questions before. I guess they thought I was just a child so they’d talk to my mother instead. Anyway, Dr. Keller suggested it might be SPD. Her brother was an occupational therapist, so she referred me to him.”
“And did that help?”
Remi nods. “We did sensory integration therapy, and my mom got damn near militant about what kinds of clothes and bedding she purchased. I could only tolerate very soft fabrics.” A fondness melts his eyes into milk chocolate.
“And she was going through all this while she was about to pop with the twins.”
“I love that she didn’t give up.”
“She’s pretty amazing. I guess she could have just let me run around naked for the rest of my life, but that would have severely limited my career options.”
A laugh bursts from me, and he joins in. “You could be known as Remington Hale, The Naked CEO.”
“Probably would have just become a stripper,” he chuckles, waggling his eyebrows. “I probably could have become a billionaire a lot faster.”
“And god help the women of Houston,” I quip.
Remi’s face turns serious. “I know people probably think I’m weird or maybe just snotty for insisting on certain fabrics.”
“You’re not weird,” I insist, pinching my eyebrows together. “Even people without SPD prefer certain textures or fabrics. I actually picked out these gloves because the leather felt like butter.” I stroke my fingers over one of his hands.
He lifts his other hand and drags his fingers over his cheek. “It really does.” Then he reaches for me and smooths the backs of his gloved knuckles down my cheek. “Does that feel good, Mindy?” His voice is a seductive rasp that has my thighs clenching together.
Meeting his molten gaze, I nod. “It feels incredible.”
I’m locked in with him, eye to eye, and our mouths are only a couple inches apart. The temperature in the room seems to skyrocket to volcanic levels as he mesmerizes me with his fingers and his thickly lashed brown eyes.
And then there’s a knock at the door.
We jerk apart like someone threw a porcupine at our heads, and Remi leaps off the couch, straightening his jacket.
“That’s, um…” He clears his throat. “That’s probably Antonio with your other present.”
I blink myself out of the daze I’d been in, the words taking a moment to sink it. “Other present?”
He doesn’t answer, instead striding toward the door and swinging it open. “Hey, thanks for bringing this.”
“Of course,” comes the lovely Irish accent a second before the man wheels in a dolly holding three wrapped boxes. “Ahhh, good morning, Mindy.”
“Hi, Antonio. What is all this?” My eyes dart to the stunning purse already on the table.
“Just a little something from the two of us,” Remi answers, a smug look on his face.
I can feel two lines form between my eyebrows. “For me?”
“Of course for you, lass,” Antonio confirms, rolling the gifts toward the lounge.
I stand. “Wait, I have something for you too.” Skirting around the large boxes as they begin to unload them, I call over my shoulder, “Don’t anyone split their pants while I’m gone.”
The big driver and security guard snorts. “Not me you need to be worried about.”
Returning a few seconds later, I see Antonio holding one of Remi’s hands, feeling the glove he’s still wearing. “They are really soft. Just beautiful workmanship,” Antonio is saying.
“Uhhh, do you two need a moment alone?” I ask. “I could come back later.”
I’m met with a glare from Remi, but it holds no anger. I’m getting better at deciphering his looks.
I hand over a box neatly wrapped in green paper to Antonio. “It’s just a little something I thought you might like.”
The man blushes—literally blushes—and it’s the cutest thing ever. “Well, uh, thank you, Mindy. Can I open it?”
“No, she wants you to carry around a wrapped box for the rest of your life,” Remi snarks.
“Of course you can open it,” I say, shooting my boss a look.
He tears open the package with all the zeal of a little boy on Christmas morning and lets out a deep sound of excitement when he gets to the prize.
“A newsboy hat? Me Da used to wear one of these.” He pops the caramel plaid hat on his head and grins, proud as a peacock. “How do I look?”
“Very dapper,” I assure him.
“Well thank you, sweet girl,” he says, wrapping me in a one-armed hug. “I absolutely love it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Enough huggy-huggy time,” Remi grouses. “Mindy, come open your boxes.”
“Aye-aye,” I reply with a sarcastic little salute, clicking my heels together. “Would you like me to march or can I just walk?”
He responds with a no-nonsense look and a bossy finger pointing at the couch.
“He’s been very excited about this,” Antonio whispers before giving me a gentle push in the back.
I sit on the couch and notice two of the boxes are wrapped in holographic blue paper with pretty blue bows, and the other is in shiny silver wrapping with a red bow.
“Open the silver one first,” Remi directs, sitting beside me as Antonio takes the black leather chair to our left.
“Okayyy…” I draw out, pulling off the bow and setting it aside before ripping off the paper. The box beneath is plain cardboard, about two feet high and giving away nothing about the contents. “What is it?”
“Why do people always ask that when the box is right in front of them?” Remi asks Antonio, earning him a snicker.
“Here ya go, dear,” Antonio says, standing, pulling out a pocketknife, and smoothly slicing through the tape.
I open the flaps and am met with the sight of lots of bubble-wrapped bundles. Something flutters inside my chest as I take out the first one and carefully unwrap it.
“Oh my god,” I whisper because that’s all I can manage. Two little cabbages are nestled safely inside. Not actual cabbages but salt and pepper shakers shaped like cabbages. “These look exactly like…”
I turn over one of them, finding my grandmother’s initials, JE, on the bottom.