Love You So Sweetly

by Tara Lain

  She cocked a tight smile. “I got a look at Harper Treadwell at the Economic Development dinner, and I’d say moving him in would be no hardship for Mr. Hoag. If he was able to get juicy dirt on Merced in the bargain, all the better.”

  “Harper swore he hadn’t and wouldn’t reveal any Merced secrets to Hoag. I believed him and let him in on, well, pretty much everything. In fact, some of our best new ideas came from him.” His chest hurt. “And now he’s gone.”

  “Maybe because he refused to give secrets to Hoag. Perhaps that was the cause of their split.”

  “Oh, Mama.” He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows.

  “Remy, how do you feel about this man?”

  He took a breath. “He’s brilliant and intuitive. If it’s overstating the case to say Merced can’t live without him, it’s not by much.”

  “That’s interesting, but it’s not at all what I’m asking. I want to know if this Merced can live without him.” She pointed at Remy.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because in the last month, you’ve been more tired and confused that I’ve ever seen you. And also happier and more alive.”

  He slowly shook his head. “I can’t even think about that.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, up until now Harper was attached, so it didn’t matter.”

  “And that’s changed.”

  “The thing is, Mama, even if Harper were interested in me, which is very unlikely, it won’t work. You may not care whether I’m in a same-sex relationship, but other people do. And other people invest in our company.”

  She flicked something from her vest. “Do you really think that people will stop buying Merced because we believe that love is love?”

  “I stopped eating Chick-fil-A because they don’t.”

  She snorted. “Point taken. But let me rephrase. We’re the majority shareholders in our company. Anyone who doesn’t care to partake of our products and stock because one of us is gay can go screw himself on his ‘my way or the highway’ street sign. So the real question is, Remy, would it be in the best interests of your heart as well as your company to get on the next plane to Arkansas?”

  “Mama, don’t you think that the fact that Harper won’t answer my calls or texts means he doesn’t want me to follow him?”

  She grinned. “Silly boy. I think he won’t answer your calls or texts because following him is exactly what he wants you to do.”

  HARPER DABBED butter into his grits and stirred, ignoring the pile of bacon on the side of his plate.

  “Eat your bacon, Harper. It’s your favorite.” His mother smiled at him from her spot at the stove.

  “Thanks, but I’m not very hungry. It must be the jet lag.”

  She turned and looked at him levelly. “It’s not the jet lag. It’s the suitcase full of worries and troubles that you carried home. Besides, you slept for the better part of twenty-four hours, so you should be hungry.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” He kept stirring.

  “Sorry for what?”

  Jesus, he didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. “Running off. Coming back. I don’t even know.”

  She set coffee with cream next to him. “When you’re playing one of those games the kids love and you get wiped out by the zombies, what do you do?”

  He shrugged. “Start over?”

  “Exactly. But this time you know more.”

  “I’ll go out tomorrow and find a job.” Though how he was going to do that without a car or a phone he wasn’t sure. Not only had he left his car in California like a dumbass, his phone had run out of juice and hadn’t worked right since. He needed to get it fixed—and he didn’t have a car to go to the nearest phone store and… shit. What an idiot.

  His mother planted her fists on her slim hips. “There’s no need for you to find a job right away. You have a perfectly good place to live and bacon on the table. Instead, I want you to rest and think about what you want. You’ve been too reactive for some time now, Harper, and that’s not like you.”

  “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m done letting you support me. It’s ridiculous that you should be slaving away while you have a perfectly good son with earning potential.”

  She stirred cream into her coffee and sat at the small kitchen table opposite him. “The fact is, it’s difficult to find a job in Windy Pines. I have very marketable skills, and there’s no reason not to use them.”

  He smiled at her choice of language. “Yes, ma’am, you do.”

  She flashed her pretty smile that so perfectly matched her immaculately coiffed dark hair, genteel makeup, and small string of pearls. “Isn’t it funny all that sort of worthless breeding and manners I grew up with seems to be such a valuable commodity these days?”

  “Who wouldn’t pay the big bucks to be more like you?” She’d made a real business teaching the daughters of wealthy, new-money families how to act more like the grand ladies of the Old South when they made their debuts.

  She smoothed her hair. “Thank you, dear. I wish I could give some business tips to other people in town, but sadly my skills are not transferable.”

  “Mama Two says employment’s really bad.”

  “Yes. Losing two MercedMarts was a blow. They weren’t the best jobs, but at least it was work.”

  He bit into a piece of bacon. He’d barely had any since he left Arkansas. Sylvan never ate it because it wasn’t included in his range of food fads.

  He must have looked wistful, because she said, “You want to talk about it, dear?”

  He shrugged. “Not much to say. Sylvan mostly wanted me because he thought I could get a good job at Merced and he needed inside knowledge on them.”

  She nodded with an intense frown. “I remember how hard he pushed me to call Anastasia and ask her to hire you.”

  “He figured I’d just tell him everything because he was my boyfriend.” Harper snorted. “He never figured I’d show more loyalty to Merced than I did to him.”

  “I’ll bet that frosted him like a three-layer cake.” She chuckled, and Harper burst out laughing.

  “Your vocabulary’s expanded recently, I think.”

  “Working with all those young people and their parents, who are usually business-oriented. I learn as much as I teach.”

  “Well, it’s great. You’re an inspiration.”

  “Did you enjoy working for Merced?”

  “Yes, it was really challenging and interesting.”

  She sipped her coffee. “May I ask why you didn’t stay? Were you fired?”

  Heat crept across his cheeks. “No. I just…. When I broke up with Sylvan, I wanted to come home. I mean, I didn’t have any close friends there or anything, so….” He lifted and dropped his shoulders.

  She smiled. “Speaking of friends, when are you going to the community center?”

  He stared in his now lukewarm grits. “Never.”

  She looked at him with sadness flowing from her eyes. “They really are sorry. You know that.”

  “I know.” The muscles in his jaw jumped. “I even know that Sylvan was the one who turned them against me.” Using his spoon, he molded the grits into hills and valleys.

  “Then can’t you forgive them?”

  He blew out his breath. “It’s not forgiving them that’s the trick, Mama. It’s them forgiving me.” With a flick, he pushed the bowl away. “I told them I was their friend, and I wasn’t going to give up until we found them jobs and made Windy Pines a viable community again. Then I ran off with the first fast-talking asshole who showed up.”

  She nodded. “I will admit, he’s an asshole, but with or without him, dear, let’s face it, you overpromised.”

  He interlocked his fingers on top of his head. “My mother has become Warren Buffett.”

  “I’m serious. Pay attention. You came out of business school ready to save the town single-handedly. Warren Buffett himself couldn’t do that. You expected too much from yourself and too little from others.”

&nb
sp; He gaped at her.

  She picked up the dishes and walked them to the sink, then dumped the extra bacon into the trash. “In fact, your friend Mr. Hoag was right about a number of things, Harper. The world has changed, and people can dream about going back to the old manufacturing and retail economy all they want, but it’s hopeless. Either they get trained to do the jobs that are available, or they don’t work at all.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “I am your mother, Harper. When your father left us with nothing, what did I do?”

  He wiped a hand over his face. “You went to work.”

  “Yes. I’d never worked a day in my life. I went from college straight to marriage, so when I found myself destitute, I had to look at what I could do that somebody needed and was willing to pay for. I didn’t get to raise my hands in the air and go ‘Oh my, I can’t do that.’ I needed to put food on the table.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “I’m not looking for admiration, I’m looking for you to realize that saving this town isn’t your job. It’s all our jobs.”

  Burying his face in his hands, he shook his head. “I can’t face them.”

  “Why?”

  “I failed everyone.”

  “They failed you.”

  “I can’t promise I’m going to stay here.”

  “Who can?”

  “I’m gay.”

  She frowned. “The last I checked you always were, and you never lied about it.”

  He stood, scraping the chair on the tile floor. “But I left my friends for some guy.” He flapped his hands. “And the guy didn’t even care about me.”

  “Harper, before Sylvan, when was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

  He thought for a second. “Undergraduate school.”

  “When was the last time you had a boyfriend in Windy Pines?”

  “Never.” He sipped coffee and it filled his brain with Remy.

  “I don’t think anyone can blame a twenty-three-year-old man for being a little horny.”

  He grabbed his napkin in time to catch most of the coffee he spit across the breakfast table. “Mama!”

  Remy wearing only a towel flashed on his mental video screen. That sight defined horny for Harper, but he didn’t want to tell his mother about Remy. Hell, how much more of a fool could he be in her eyes?

  She grinned. “You’ve spent your whole life being responsible, Harper. Something was bound to give. Now take my car over to the community center, talk to Mama Two, and say hi to your friends. There’s no one here you owe one thing.” She walked over and kissed his cheek.

  Man, she was so wrong about that last statement. He owed her everything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  HARPER EYED his mother’s old Toyota in her driveway, took a breath, and started walking. It was only a couple of miles to the community center if he went through the back streets and fields, and his head needed the airing. Plus, his mother might need the car. He wanted to get his Prius back from California as soon as possible so he could start looking for a job. If he’d had a brain cell, he should have hopped in his car and driven home, but his intelligence had taken leave of him the second he saw that woman in Remy’s white shirt.

  He stopped and stared up at the brilliant blue sky.

  What did you expect? You knew he was straight. You knew he had a girlfriend. Did you think they didn’t have sex?

  He kicked the dirt with his sneaker and started marching ahead again.

  He hadn’t thought at all. He’d wished. He’d dreamed. Something about the “how did you know you were gay” conversation had made Harper hope that Remy was talking about himself. Asking for a friend. He smiled tightly. But what were the chances of that being true? Remy was a sophisticated, twenty-six-year-old businessman. Not some simpering virgin. How would he not know he was gay?

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  And I fell for him.

  The thought knocked the air from his lungs, and he squatted in the dirt trying to catch his breath.

  I did. I. Fell. For. Him.

  Slowly he rose from the dust. Here he stood, the so-called prodigy, who broke the cardinal gay-boy rule—never fall for a straight guy. Shit, it’s tough enough being gay in this world without beating your head against doors that will never open. Now he got to spend some part of his life getting over heartbreak that never should have been in the first place. What a fucking waste.

  Across the field and on the other side of the street, the two-story structure that housed the community center stood looking either comfortable or shabby depending on your point of view.

  Harper squinted in the sun. The only good thing he could ascribe to the pain in his gut was the fact that he could barely feel the butterflies soaring through his belly at the prospect of walking into that building.

  Maybe they won’t be there.

  He barked a half laugh. Who were they? Yes, Josiah and Benson had called Harper a fag, but a dozen others who he’d thought were friends had been at the roadhouse that night. They’d stared at him like an alien. Now he knew why. Now he understood, but….

  Oh fuck, get on with it.

  He strode across the street inhaling the moist Windy Pines air. Time he got his comeuppance. He’d come out of graduate school so sure about everything, and he’d been wrong pretty much across the board. Might as well face it.

  He stepped up onto the porch of the old house where he’d spent so much time both before and after college, positive he could make a difference. Some difference. Ha!

  He tapped on the screen door and then walked in, causing the bell above the door to ring.

  In the entry, as always, sat a graceful antique desk, scarred and banged up but with a definite pedigree. Behind the desk was the staircase to the second floor where most of the bedrooms had been converted to offices and storage rooms.

  Hopping down the stairs in jeans and a ruffled blouse trotted Frankie Ritter, aka Mama Two. “Oh my God, Harper!” She kind of leaped the last three steps, hit the floor, and ran to hug him. After squeezing him tight, she leaned back. “Why are you here? Are you on business?”

  “No. It’s a long story, but I’m home, at least for now.”

  “Home?” She frowned. “Okay, that is a long story. Might as well get started. Let’s get tea.” She linked her arm with his and led him through the big community room that had been formed out of the original living and dining rooms. Beyond the community room was an enclosed porch that housed a pool table. Harper could hear the clicking of balls, which gave him a little shiver since it was some of the more macho guys who tended to frequent the pool table—the guys who had spewed their venom at Harper that famous night when he’d thrown it all over and agreed to go to California with Sylvan.

  Funny, wasn’t it, that he’d let a man be his catalyst for leaving Windy Pines—and for returning. Funny and not in a good way.

  Mama Two, who despite her nickname was only about a decade older than Harper, poured sweet tea into two tall glasses and added ice. Then she walked to a table near the back windows in the community room and sat. When Harper sat opposite, she clicked their glasses, then took a drink. “So the last I knew, you were breaking up with the asshole who lured you to California, were getting an apartment of your own, and were deciding how you felt about another man who might or might not be gay.”

  Harper jiggled the ice in his glass. “He’s not.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s good for his girlfriend but pretty awful for you.”

  He nodded.

  “Does that have something to do with your presence here?”

  He nodded again. “I know it’s chickenshit, Mama Two, but it seemed too hard to hang around Merced mooning over a guy I can’t have. So before I got more entrenched there, I packed up and flew home.”

  “That’s our gain.”

  “I need to look for a job because it’s time I helped support Mama rather than the other way arou
nd. No telling where that will take me, but at least I can try to stay within striking distance of Windy Pines.” He shook his head. “Of course, first I have to get my damned car. I left a little… emotionally.” He sipped his tea and let the cool sweetness bathe his nerves.

  “You need a job worthy of your skills, and that may not appear in this area, dear.” She looked up over Harper’s shoulder and smiled.

  Harper froze, then slowly looked behind him.

  Benson Harkness and Josiah Jones stood in the archway between the porch and the community room looking… big. Josiah alone stood a good six-four and probably tipped the scales at two sixty, which along with his shaved head and tattoos made him one scary dude. Benson was tall, lean, and redheaded. The sort of man who they might have cast in Deliverance or Pulp Fiction.

  Harper swallowed.

  Benson raised a hand. “Hey, Harper.”

  Harper gathered enough spit to say, “Hey, Benson. Josiah.”

  Josiah thrust his chin forward. “Got more of that there tea?”

  Mama Two nodded. “Help yourself.”

  Neither Harper nor Mama Two said anything as the two men walked into the kitchen. They strode back into the community room carrying glasses of tea.

  Josiah looked at the two empty chairs at Harper’s table and raised his dark brows.

  Harper gave a small nod and Josiah and Benson proceeded to sit and jiggle their tea.

  Benson finally looked up, met Harper’s eyes, and said, “So how the hell are you? How’s California?”

  “Full of too many cars and not enough trees.”

  Josiah snorted. “Coulda told you that.”

  Benson leaned back in his chair. His skinny frame didn’t strain it as much as Josiah’s, but it still squeaked. Benson wasn’t a beat-around-the-bush kind of guy. “So whadja do with that asshole who lied about you to us?”

  Harper let out a noisy breath. “I didn’t know what he’d said until two days ago. When I did, I left.”

  Benson nodded, but Josiah looked at his hands, then said, “We’re really sorry we believed him, Harper. You deserved better from us, man. You worked your ass off to get us jobs.”

  Harper stared at his tea. “It was my fault too. I-I believed the worst and let him talk me into leaving. I’m sorry.”