by Whitley Gray
So not fair for Remy to arrange a secret assault here. Abruptly, Jamie rolled over, running out of tabletop. Strong hands grabbed him.
“Hey, careful.” Consternation showed on Remy’s face. “You’ll hurt something else.”
Yeah. Like my pride. Jamie sat up and shoved Remy’s hands away. “What are you doing here?”
“You wouldn’t return my calls.”
“Right. I don’t need a possessive jerk.”
“Hey.” For a moment, Remy’s eyebrows drew down and he grimaced. “You’re right. I did act like a possessive jerk.”
Not much to say to that. Jamie raised an eyebrow and waited.
Remy reached out a hand, let it drop. “I’m sorry, Jamie. Truly.”
And he did look sorry. Jamie pivoted and let his legs dangle off the side of the table. He hadn’t expected capitulation. “Apology accepted.”
“Come home with me?”
This was how they’d gotten balled up in the first place. “You don’t owe me, Remy. We’re even.”
“Not because of this”—Remy gestured to Jamie’s ankle—“but because I want you there.”
Jamie leaned back on the table, propping himself up on his hands. Outside the bedroom, they’d likely have a blowout over who was in charge within a day. Jamie wasn’t about to give up his newfound freedom away from Vince. He shook his head. “Remy…”
Remy bracketed Jamie’s thighs on the table and leaned in. “The truth is, I need a private massage therapist,” he whispered. “For my…training needs.”
In spite of himself, Jamie smiled. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.” Remy’s mouth brushed Jamie’s. “But it has to be someone really good.”
“Mmm.” That featherlight contact sent tingles down Jamie’s spine. The softness gave way to a firmer kiss, warm and tasting of mint and Remy. How could Jamie give this up? Despite everything, this was good between them.
“Know where I might find a massage therapist like that?” Remy’s lips stroked along Jamie’s jaw.
Jamie moved his knees apart, and Remy stepped forward, the heat of his body warming the air between them. Jamie’s heart rate ramped up. How could he resist this slow seduction? “The massage therapist’s terms would require the client to let the therapist deal with his own problems.”
The lips exploring his throat hesitated. “If that’s what it takes to get the right therapist for my needs, then yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Remy’s hands cupped Jamie’s butt cheeks and pulled him forward, pressing their groins together. The hot hard length of him grazed Jamie’s cock. “In fact, I’m feeling the need for a massage coming on right now.”
Jamie leaned back. No matter how appealing Remy was, no way would Jamie step back into a situation where he gave up control. “So I suppose you’d want the massage to be at your place.”
“I’d like that.”
Narrowing his eyes, Jamie said, “The therapist can’t live with you. He needs his space.”
“Whatever works for him is fine.”
“He fights his own battles.”
Remy opened his mouth, closed it. “Agreed. As long as the therapist sticks around and communicates with me if I mess up. Or if something is wrong.”
“What if the massage sometimes goes beyond the usual therapeutic limits?” Jamie raised an eyebrow. “Would that be a problem?”
“I can only agree to that if I know the therapist very well.” Remy kissed the corner of Jamie’s mouth. “So, know where I can find a good massage therapist?”
“Mmm, maybe…”
“God, I hope so, because I’d really like a massage.”
Grinning, Jamie wrapped his arms around Remy’s neck. “I can help you with that.”
There was a male throat-clearing behind the curtain. “Uh, guys?”
Whoops. Craig was back. Jamie said, “It’s all clear.”
“Sure?” Craig sounded anything but.
Remy snickered and tossed a sheet over Jamie’s lap. “Yep.”
The curtain pulled back a sliver. Craig peered in with one eye. After a moment he widened the gap an increment of inches. “So did you get what you needed, Remy?”
“I think so.” He winked at Jamie.
Craig slid the drape open and stepped in. “Then Jamie and I will get back to work.”
“Sure. I’ll be in the waiting room. If that’s okay?” Remy held Jamie’s gaze.
“Sounds good.” Jamie held out his hand. “See you shortly.”
Remy gave it a quick squeeze and ducked out.
Chapter Nine
Remy wound his way through the patient area to the lobby and stared at the parking lot. Thank God for second chances. Maybe it would work out.
Jamie looked good. The ankle had improved considerably but wasn’t 100 percent. Was Jamie working now, or was he stuck at home with a bum leg? Home might still be the nightmare motel with the weird neighbors and exploding washing machines.
The small waiting room made him antsy, and he headed outside. Not that pacing was much better, but at least he could move. It was a beautiful day, and a stroll around the landscaped grounds of the physical therapy building was just the thing. Mature trees shaded the sidewalk, and rosebushes perfumed the air. He set off at a brisk pace, automatically setting the timer on his watch.
It was clear Jamie wouldn’t move in with him. And maybe for now that was the best thing. They didn’t know each other well, and Jamie’s past with Vince added a whole new twist to the convoluted situation. Fucking Vince. Who would’ve guessed that ass would ever reappear in Remy’s life? Still, Remy and Jamie had chemistry like gangbusters, and the—hopefully—mutual desire to make this succeed.
Jamie should be through pretty soon unless Craig had added something to his therapy. Remy rounded the corner of the building and headed to the door.
A teenage girl in a knee splint hobbled up the ramp, and Remy waited for her to go first. The infrared sensor held the door open. She gave him a shy smile, and he grinned back.
“Hi, Dr. Marshall.”
Did he know her? A kid from the neighborhood? “Hi.”
“I’m sure you don’t remember, but you saw me a month ago when I hurt my knee playing soccer. Tia?”
Oh, yeah. “I do remember. Your team is the Spikes, right?”
“Right.” She grinned.
“How are you doing?”
“Good. I had surgery, and now physical therapy.”
The woman behind the girl frowned. “We’re going to be late.”
“Mom.” The put-upon adolescent tone and eye roll made her mother’s frown deeper.
“It’s okay. I’ll walk in with you.” Remy gestured for Tia and her mother to go inside, and he followed.
Tia’s mom went to check in as the girl lowered herself into a chair. “I’ll be so glad to get rid of these crutches.”
Remy chuckled. “I’ll bet.” He’d never forget Jamie tripping him at the motel. Or carrying Jamie down the stairs—
“So why are you here?” Tia fussed with the Velcro on her splint.
I’m here winning back the guy I can’t stop thinking about. “Waiting for a friend.”
“Oh.”
The door to the back opened. Jamie hobbled out, absent the sunny smile.
Yikes. Remy turned to the girl. “It was nice to see you, Tia. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a small wave.
Remy took two steps toward Jamie and held out his arm. “Need help?”
Relief crossed Jamie’s features, and he glommed on. His complexion had paled to the color of milk, and the limp was more pronounced.
“Why don’t you sit for a minute, and I’ll pull the car around?” Was that too presumptive? “If that’s okay.”
“Great.” Jamie settled next to Tia.
Remy sprinted for the car. Déjà vu. This was the reverse of what he’d done after the accident, when he’d taken Jamie to the hospital. Leaving a medical facility was much be
tter than arriving. Remy jumped in the driver’s seat and pulled up in front of the door. He left the car running and went inside.
Tia was pointing at her knee, and Jamie was nodding at what she said; he glanced up at Remy, and Remy pulled him upright.
Jamie planted his cane, took a step, and winced.
Remy leaned to speak in Jamie’s ear. “Want help?”
“Yeah.” Jamie swallowed. “Think so.”
Nodding, Remy wrapped an arm around Jamie’s waist, and they made their way outside and down the ramp. At the car, Remy opened the door and helped Jamie pivot to get inside.
Remy walked around the front bumper. Now what? He settled behind the wheel and turned to Jamie. “Where to?”
“My place, I guess. The motel.”
The letdown caught Remy by surprise. After their reconciliation, he’d assumed they would head for Remy’s place. Don’t argue. If he says motel, then motel it is. He steered toward the street.
Jamie clutched at the handle of his cane. “The girl with the knee splint really likes you.”
“She’s a nice kid.”
“You’re a good doctor, Remy.” Jamie sighed. “Vince never would have taken the time to talk with her.”
Did they really have to discuss that douchebag? “Finesse isn’t his strong suit.”
Jamie snorted. “It isn’t even in his deck of cards.”
“I’d agree with that.” At times, Remy had considered Vince didn’t function with a full deck. Heavy on the clubs and short in the hearts.
“You didn’t tell me Rosgood Marshall was your dad.”
And the punches keep on coming. Remy fought back a curse. From Vince to Dad. How much better could it get? Talk about horrible reunion conversation. “Yeah, well. We’re not close.” As in living in different galaxies not close. “He doesn’t approve of ‘the gay.’”
Jamie seemed to roll that around. “You didn’t want to follow him into orthopedic surgery?”
For God’s sake. Did Jamie plan on pushing all Remy’s hot buttons? “Never considered it. I’m not big on orthopedics as a career choice.”
“I used to see some of his patients at my old job. I think Vince is more like him than you are.”
“That’s why Vince is close to him.” And I’m not. Remy squeezed the steering wheel. As long as they were doing this… “How did you get mixed up with Vince?”
“I knew who he was through work. Then I ran into him at a club out of town, and it just sort of happened. He said he was in the closet, that it would be complicated.” Jamie shuddered. “It was…more than complicated. After a year, I had to leave.”
Remy tapped the steering wheel. Jamie hadn’t left. He had run. No one ran because of a partner in the closet. It must have been something worse than a bad breakup. A fight? A threat? An injury?
“And you moved sixty miles away?” Remy couldn’t keep the unspoken “why” out of his voice.
“He’s a bully,” Jamie snapped. “I wanted to start over somewhere new. But that doesn’t mean I can’t deal with him.”
Bingo. Vince must have gotten physical. Was that what Jamie’s nightmare had been about? But he’d been strong enough to leave and had been prepared to face Vince down that day in the living room. “Sorry.”
Jamie made a fist on his thigh and looked out the side window.
Great. Remy had pissed him off, and they were halfway to the motel. Time for damage control. “You’re right. Vince is an aggressive asshole. I went to medical school with him, and I doubt he’s changed. I’m happy I work somewhere I don’t have to deal with him.” Or my dad.
Jamie’s fist tightened until the knuckles turned white.
Tension clouded the air. They could be in separate cars instead of less than two feet apart. Before going ahead with any sort of relationship, they had to dispel the toxic fog that was Vince.
Talking at the motel was a possibility. Or maybe Remy could broach the personal-massage thing and get them back on track. On the other hand, that could make it worse. Why did it have to be so damn complicated?
Abruptly, Jamie said, “Want to get some lunch?”
“Yeah.” Something loosened in Remy’s chest. A reprieve. Lunch sounded so much better than Jamie’s no-tell motel. “Got anywhere in mind?”
“You choose.”
Hmm…casual but intimate. The Willow Café was a favorite, and would be great if they could get a booth. For a couple of blocks they rode in comfortable silence. Remy lucked into a spot in front of the coffee shop. With help, Jamie managed to make it from car to entryway.
“Oh…my…God,” Jamie said, taking in the restaurant. “It’s…unreal. Wow.”
“Wow is right.” Remy let Jamie look his fill as Remy asked the hostess for a booth.
There was no place like the Willow. An assortment of branches were suspended from the ceiling and decorated with a variety of leaves, tiny silver stars, and paper cranes. Miniature twinkling lights shone through the foliage. The walls had been painted with idyllic scenes from the classic story The Wind in the Willows. Mole, Mr. Toad, Ratty, and Badger all held court among the Wild Wood.
Remy kept one hand under Jamie’s elbow as they made their way through the tables. The hostess seated them in a booth opposite each other. After a quick look at the menus they gave the waiter their orders.
When they were alone, Jamie folded his arms on the table, a smile brightening his features. “I love this place. Never knew it was here.”
“I thought you’d like it. It’s unique.” Like you.
“This is kind of like a first date.”
Date? Was this Jamie’s idea of opening communication? Okay, Remy could do casual—for now.
“You mean we aren’t going to count the crash in the park?” Remy raised his eyebrows. “Or the trip to the ER?”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’d rather count the dinner you made that night.”
That had been a good evening. Curry. Then Oreos and a movie. Jamie falling asleep next to him on the couch. “Okay, so if this is a first date, let’s get to know each other. Tell me three things I don’t know about you.”
“I’m Jamie. I like walks in the rain, piña coladas, and romantic comedies.” He batted his eyelashes.
Remy laughed. “Really?”
“The romantic comedies part is true.” Jamie smiled and shrugged. “Your turn.”
“You owe me two more things that are true.”
Jamie took a sip of his water. “I love superheroes, and I’d rather eat dessert first.”
“Good ones.” What could he say that would intrigue Jamie? “I’m Remy. I like gay romance novels. I’d love to have a dog, but I’m gone too much.” He slid a hand across the table. “And I like dinner for two.”
A smile broke across Jamie’s face. Jamie took his hand. “I like that too.”
Remy returned the grin. Their meal arrived, and Remy kept the conversation to the artwork surrounding them, and the food. After paying their checks they made their way outside and climbed into the car.
“To your place?” Remy asked.
“How about your place? If that’s okay.”
Relief flooded through him. They could do this—recapture the thing between them. His heart soared. “I’d like that.”
* * * *
Jamie sat up straight on the couch. Remy had gone to the kitchen to grab sodas, leaving Jamie too much time to think. Maybe this wasn’t the best strategy. The confidence he’d gained at lunch had evaporated the moment he had crossed Remy’s threshold. I could have had a home court advantage instead of revisiting the scene of the crime.
What had he planned to do once they got here? Shrug off the past? Make out in the living room? Head for the nearest bed?
No. Getting the dirt out and dealt with was the way to go, except now it was back to that awkward first-date thing. This time the get-to-know-you chat would have to contain, “By the way, my last boyfriend was an abusive, controlling, sadistic prick. You know, the dickhead who works with you
r dad? And it took me a year to leave.” Uh-huh. Great opener.
Remy deserved to know why Jamie had left, why being independent was vital. He’d have to man up and confess. Jamie’s heart pounded, and he shot a glance at the kitchen. What was keeping Remy?
On cue, Remy rounded the corner carrying glasses of ginger ale. He handed one to Jamie and then sat on the other end of the couch. It was a friend-zone distance, not cozy, and somehow that made Jamie’s pulse pound harder. Clutching his drink, Jamie tried to relax.
Eyes soft, Remy raised his tumbler. “To first dates and new beginnings.”
“To introductions not involving a trip to the Emergency Room.” Jamie’s voice was steadier than his hand as he clinked his glass with Remy’s.
Remy laughed. “Touché. Er, cheers.”
“Cheers.”
Gaze on Jamie’s, Remy took a sip of soda. A drop remained on his bottom lip, and his tongue swept it away.
Oh God. That look made it hard to dredge up the ugly words about Vince. Feel-good warmth filled Jamie’s chest and trickled downward. They could abandon restraint and forget about weighty discussions.
No. If they didn’t get the bad out on the table, the good wouldn’t have a solid foundation. Jamie could offer a brief explanation. No need for details, right? Something easy, like, “I enjoy being dominated in the bedroom but not tortured. Vince went too far. I left. End of story.”
Simple, right?
The words turned to dust in his throat, and he drank half his pop to unstick his tongue. Say it. Now. “Remy?”
“Hmm?” Remy set his drink on the coffee table and scooted closer.
“I…”
Remy leaned in a bit, and his enticing fragrance wafted over. Jamie had missed that cologne, the tantalizing scent of evergreen and rain. Really had gotten to the point of falling for Remy’s smell and taste and feel. Needed it. Jamie let his eyes drift shut and inhaled. So good…
“Jamie?”
He opened his eyes. One of Remy’s eyebrows eased upward.
Seconds stretched, nervous tension building like an electrical charge. What was I going to say? Where had the terse explanation gone that disposed of Vince like so much rubbish? Jamie fought the urge to wipe his hands on his thighs. “Um, I, uh…I really like you, Remy.”
