Chapter 26
Benson
The petting farm is loud today.
Now that we’re officially into spring, visitors have picked up. And on a sunny, dry afternoon like this? It’s pure chaos.
The goats are running around, happily accepting treats from the kids feeding them.
They’re pushy—the goats, not the kids—but no one seems to mind.
The children are laughing, asking their parents for another cup of feed or doing their best to pet one of the elusive Silkies.
Snickerdoodle must be full because the pony is following an attendant around whose name I haven’t yet caught.
The employee is cleaning up after the animals as Zoey mans the entrance to the petting farm.
I slip the door to the barn closed after my peek outside, grateful my job duties don’t include wrangling the humans at the ranch. Laughter and the occasional goat bleat still filter through the walls as I head toward the chicks’ pen.
Remi is leaning against the low wooden door, a smile on his face as he watches the brood.
He’s not wearing his CI today. It’s sat untouched on his nightstand for a couple days now, ever since Remi returned to work after his migraine.
Which means he’s immune to the noise currently battering against the outside of the barn.
In the recesses of my mind, I can admit I envy his ability to shut it all off. Or, rather, choose not to turn it on.
As I step up beside him, the impulse to lean against him is strong. With it comes the constant voice in my head that analyzes every one of my actions, along with others’. What if the affection isn’t welcome this time? What if Remi wants to be left alone?
When has he ever not looked happy to see me?
It’s that last voice that wins out, allowing me to rest my shoulder against Remi’s. He shoots me a smile, leaning up to press a kiss to my cheek like it’s the simplest thing. My heart thumps, louder than the goats making a ruckus outside.
‘Look at them,’ Remi signs wistfully. ‘So cute.’
The chicks are much more mobile than when they first hatched. They’re fully fluffed now, too, looking like tiny puffballs instead of wet bundles of feathers. Buttercup is the lightest of the yellows, although I wonder if I’m supposed to have a favorite.
‘When will they go outside?’ I ask, thinking this early on they’d surely get stomped on inside the petting farm.
Remi hums. ‘Six weeks or so. We’ll likely start them out with the yoga crowd first.’
‘Calmer.’
He nods. ‘Have you ever done yoga?’
‘Not really. I assume it’s more complicated than stretching before a run?’
Remi’s lips twist, the man looking amused. ‘Little bit. Ash and Virginia join the class most weeks. You might enjoy it.’
‘Are you trying to get me into spandex?’
He grins. ‘Do you own any spandex?’
I pinch my fingers in a no as a chorus of bleats rings out from the petting farm. The sound gets louder when the barn door opens. Remi frowns at my wince.
“Anyone in here?”
The voice is Zoey’s. I let Remi know before heading her way. “Yeah, hey.”
She looks relieved, her words coming quick. “Benson, can you help us? One of the goats managed to climb onto the top of the entry booth.”
“Oh Jesus,” I mutter before jogging her way. Zoey steps aside, giving me a clear view of, yes, one of the goats standing proudly atop the roof of the small booth at the front of the petting farm. If the rascal hops down in the other direction, she’ll be free.
I quickly bypass a couple visitors who are watching the spectacle, the other employee standing near the booth, looking unsure what to do.
Spotting the misplaced trash can that likely allowed the goat to make the climb in the first place, I maneuver myself up onto the small roof the same way and come face-to-face with the Nubian goat.
“You’re not supposed to be up here.”
She bleats, turning to scramble away, but I snatch her up and hold her tightly while crouched low to keep stable. Luckily, Remi has caught up by now, carrying a ladder our way. He’s shaking his head, a grin on his face as he braces it and climbs the first few rungs.
“Pass her over,” he says, holding out his arms. I do as he asks, and Remi carries the goat back to solid ground.
There’s some clapping from our audience as I follow Remi down the ladder. He drags the trash can away as Zoey thanks us profusely.
“Nothing tall near the fences or booth,” I let her know. “They’re good climbers.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” she says, a sheepish smile on her face. “Apparently, so are you.”
Not sure what to say to that, I nod and collect the ladder. Remi has the barn door open for me.
He chuckles softly when I pass through, waiting for me to stow the ladder before raising his hands. ‘She has such a crush.’
‘Who? And on who?’
He snorts. ‘Zoey. On you.’
‘What?’ I look toward the closed barn door with a frown.
Remi’s expression is holding laughter when he smacks my shoulder. ‘God, Ben. You’re hot, okay? And you just vaulted onto a roof like some sort of superhero. Of course she has a crush.’
‘She’s…so young.’
Remi bites his lip.
‘Younger than you,’ I defend.
His motions are purposeful yet loose. ‘Yeah, well, I know how that goes.’
I stare at him blankly, when it clicks. ‘You had a crush on me? When?’
‘You don’t want me to answer that.’
“Remi,” I voice, shocked.
Eyes on my mouth, he laughs. ‘For a long time. Still do, really.’
‘But…you have me.’
He bites his lip again, looking at me in a way that has my chest heating. ‘That was such a good response, Ben.’
‘It’s the truth,’ I manage, motions jerky.
He blows out a breath, stepping closer. ‘In that case…be a good boy and kiss me like you do.’
My world is spinning off its axis until the moment my lips press to Remi’s.
Everything slows, aligns, stabilizes as we’re drawn into orbit together.
Remi’s head falls back as I grab on to him tight, wishing we were alone so I could kiss him for hours.
I don’t tire of this. Too much doesn’t exist where Remi is concerned.
I want all his touches, all his smiles, his company every minute of every day.
Is it too much to ask of him? To be my fixation?
Remi’s fingers drift over my beard when we pull apart, an oh-so-sated expression on his face. ‘Should I ask what’s on your mind to have you looking like that?’
‘Probably not. The last time we had a similar conversation, things happened in the brooding pen.’
His eyes dance. ‘What things, Ben?’
Jesus.
I clear my throat before signing, ‘Blowjobs, Remington.’
He barks a laugh at his full, spelled name. ‘The problem?’
‘It’s daytime. And there’s still no saddle butter.’
“Ben!” Remi’s call follows me as I walk out of the storage room. I have a smile on my face when he tugs me around, his hands flying. ‘Are you saying the only obstacle to that is nighttime and some lube or…lube alternative?’
‘Beds are more comfortable.’
He stares at me with clear glee. ‘And what do I have to do to get you in my bed again?’
‘Asking would be a good start.’
His smile widens, flirtatiousness in every swipe of his hands and arms. ‘Benson Harper, would you kindly fuck me in my bed very, very soon?’
“Oh God,” comes a strangled voice I recognize. “No. Why?”
I cover my mouth as I laugh, unable to help it. Remi’s brow furrows before his gaze moves over my shoulder.
“Really?” Jackson grumbles.
“I hope you saw that,” Remi says loudly. “Payback for every time I’ve caught you and Ash. In fact, you all deserve it. Every one of you.”
Jackson doesn’t even seem to have an argument against that. Sighing, he signs a swift, ‘Just grabbing a live trap from up top,’ before disappearing around the corner.
Remi’s gaze turns my way, his expression expectant.
‘Remi,’ I sign slowly, picking my words with care. ‘I’ll likely need some help. With that.’
His face smooths into a gentle smile. ‘You mean anal?’
“Christ,” I mutter before nodding my fist.
Remi pats my chest, the contact lingering. ‘That won’t be a problem, Ben. Now, want to come with me to check on the petting farm before we finish at the stables?’
I hesitate but nod.
Remi frowns. ‘Is it loud today?’
I’m not surprised he caught on. ‘It’s fine,’ I sign jerkily. ‘I can handle it.’
He lets out a breath before waving me toward the feed room. ‘I meant to give these to you earlier, but I forgot. It’s not saddle butter, so don’t get too excited.’
I huff a laugh, and Remi hands me a tiny round plastic case.
“It’s not the first time you’ve used that phrase,” Remi says, voice soft. “The ‘I can handle it.’ I know you can, Ben. But…do you have to? You don’t need to use these if you don’t want. But I figured, sometimes, they might make things more comfortable for you.”
I open the case slowly to find earplugs nestled inside.
“They’re supposed to muffle ambient noise, not block sound completely. So you can still hear people talk, but things will be more…muted. From what you’ve told me, pushing yourself through sensory discomfort comes with a cost you pay later, right? And believe me, I get that. Maybe this could help.”
I swallow roughly, the small gift sitting in my palm hitting me unexpectedly hard. It’s not only the fact that Remi is gifting me something thoughtful, something he thought would make my life easier.
It’s…acceptance.
He’s not telling me to hide the discomfort that’s so often a part of my life. He’s not judging me or telling me I shouldn’t be as affected as I am.
He’s offering me a solution I hadn’t even considered myself. One that allows me to be myself in the spaces I want to occupy.
That’s…everything.