Page 59 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Six

Nate

R émy walks me through the entire hotel, talking over the plans he and my uncle had for this place, and around every corner we turn, there’s a new memory surfacing of my childhood summers spent here with my mother and with him.

“I remember this,” I say, laughing and pulling open the door to the dumbwaiter that runs from the kitchen on the ground floor all the way up.

“You should. We got stuck in there for an hour when we were hiding from my aunt.”

The memory of being squashed beside him in the dark, his leg against mine, face so close that his breath tickled the skin of my cheek when he turned to whisper to me.

“I can’t believe we both fit in there,” I say, sticking my head through to look down.

“We didn’t, that’s why we got stuck,” he laughs, and a voice clears their throat behind me, and I bang my head on the way out.

“Are you okay?” Rémy asks.

“Fine, it’s just a tap.”

Seline is standing in the doorway, arms folded over her chest, one eyebrow cocked. “No messing with the food elevator or you’ll be carrying up the room service yourselves until it’s fixed.”

“I was just looking,” I say, rubbing my head. There is a small bump forming.

“Dean called from the farm up the road to check on the order for the week. If you want to have enough to feed these guests, you might want to give him a ring,” she says, and Rémy nods.

“We’ll head down now and see them.”

“We will?” I ask.

“They’re our biggest supplier. It would be good for you to meet them.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, you promised to think about not selling, and to do that, you need to know how many people make this place run. It’s not just us, our staff, and the guests who visit. We have connections with farms and small businesses all over.”

“So your plan is to guilt me into not selling?”

He shrugs. “Whatever gets you to see that you can do this, that we can, together.”

I have no idea if he’s right, but what I do know is that I haven’t smiled like this in months, and if visiting this farm means spending more time with Rémy, then I’m in.

“Okay, I can drive.”

He laughs.

“How about you let me handle the driving?”

Seline is shaking her head. “Be safe.”

“Safe? What kind of car do you have?”

“I don’t own a car.”

The second he wheels out the old bike, my stomach is in knots. I have no clue how to ride a motorbike and this thing looks like it’s been pieced together from several different ones and has a sidecar that’s more like a wooden crate attached to one side.

“I won’t fit in that,” I say, and he laughs and tosses me a small round helmet.

“That’s for the supplies. You’ll be riding with me. Jump on.”

“On the bike?”

“That is usually how it works.”

“Behind you?”

“Oui, yes, behind me.”

I strap on the helmet, my heart racing, as my whole body vibrates with anticipation. I swing one leg over the back of the bike, and while I was aiming to keep some distance between us, the shape of the seat forces my body to slide forward until my crotch is pressed right up against his ass. Shit. Okay, control your thoughts, you have to control your thoughts or the ride is going to be awkward as fuck.

He kicks the bike to start and then tilts his head over one shoulder.

“Hold on tight,” he says, grabbing one of my hands and positioning it around his waist. His body is so warm. Or is it that all my blood has moved to the areas we touch like a magnet drawn to him? I swing the other arm around him, trying not to be weird about it, but then he takes off, and I can’t help but squeeze him tight, turning my face into his neck as the world zooms past us.

I breathe in his scent, sweet vanilla sugar.

“You okay?” he asks over the noise of the wind and rumbling engine of the bike.

“First time on a bike,” I reply, lifting my head. The wind stings my eyes, and I want to bury my face into his neck again but force myself not to.

I should be cold, but being this close to him, it’s impossible to feel anything but the growing fire in my gut and my groin. Shit. Keep it together.

On the left, we pass fields of long grass with fences and horses and cows just mulling about. A large black cow lies under a tree in the shade up by the next curve of the road, and as the engine revs and we zoom past, it doesn’t even flinch. Must be nice to be that cool and collected. Wonder what that’s like?

Amongst the old farmhouses, barns, and grain silos, it’s impossible to miss one of the newer estates. A smooth tarred road leads up to a giant modern hotel. It’s a stark contrast to the rich natural surroundings. Is that what would happen if I sold Buxton Estate? Something stirs inside me, but then Rémy zigzags the bike around a pothole, and I clench tighter to his shirt.

“Holy shit, careful, man,” I call.

“That was me being careful,” he laughs, and I spot a sign for Beaker Brothers up ahead with an arrow pointing right down a red dirt road. Animal Control has an Alan Beaker, and I’m pretty sure his family has a ranch he and his mates went up to last break. It’s probably just a coincidence. Rémy slows only slightly as we near the sign. He can’t possibly be going to turn at this speed. But he does, and as the bike leans so low to the ground that the crate lifts on the other side a little, I squeeze him tighter.

“Fuuuck,” I cry out as he straightens us up and the crate side reconnects with a skid of its wheels.

“You get used to it, promise,” he tells me.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I might not be ready to agree with him just yet, but he’s kind of right. It’s weird. The fear has been overtaken by an almost childish excitement, but my heart continues to thump in my ears, nonetheless. The ranch is growing larger, the nearer we get, with the world around us flying past, the wind whipping his curls from under his helmet and brushing against my cheek.

Finally, we slow, and he pulls us up to a stop out the front of a big barn set beside the main house, and I climb off.

The ground feels like water under my feet.

“Wow.”

“Fun, yes?” he asks, and I nod.

“Eventually, yeah, it was.”

He smiles, pulls his helmet off, and shakes out his curls, fingering through them with one hand. I wonder what they feel like. Nope. Stop.

“So what are we picking up from here again?” I ask, trying to stay on task and not let my mind wander to all the places it wants to.

“Many things. Cheese, milk, cream, honey and eggs to start.”

“Is it safe taking eggs back on that thing?”

He laughs. “I may have been going a little faster than I would normally on the way here.”

“I knew it.”

“You had fun, though.”

I can’t argue with that. There was something exhilarating about being on the back of the motorbike, arms wrapped around him, pressed up against his back, feeling the world fly past us. Suddenly, I can’t wait to do it all over again.

“Come, let’s find Dean.”

I follow Rémy into the barn, the smell hitting me the second we’re through the doors, grass, dirt and cows. Is cows a scent? If it isn’t, it should be. It isn’t terrible, not like you might think a room full of them would be, and it isn’t loud either, only the soft whirring of the milking machines they are hooked up to and a few random moos. Walking the rows are three guys, all shirtless, all stacked, and all of them smile wide when they spot Rémy. Can you blame them? He’s freaking gorgeous.

“Perfect timing, the girls are about to come off,” the tallest of the three says, reaching us and shaking Rémy’s hand.

Rémy gestures toward me.

“This is Nate Buxton,” he says, and the eyebrows rise on this guy as he takes my hand and squeezes it just a little too tight.

“Dean Beaker. So you’re the new Buxton, hey?”

“I’m a Buxton,” I reply, and he releases my hand. “So this is your farm?”

“Yep, me and my brother took it over from our Gramps a few years back.”

“Do you just milk cows?” If they are a milking farm, it can’t be the same one Alan’s brothers run.

“Nope, we’ve got horses, too. Last year, we built a few new cabins around the back of the main house that we rent out, but you can’t see them from here. Oh, this is my brother, Nial,” he says, pointing toward the middle guy who’s disconnecting one of the cows. “And that’s Connor. He’s just giving us a hand today. Normally, you can’t get him to leave the mini moos, but we’re down a farmhand today.”

“Mini moos?”

Rémy lets out a soft giggle and explains.

“They have a section of the ranch set up with the calves of these lovely ladies and some mini Highlands people come to cuddle.”

“Oh, cool. Well, it’s nice to meet you both,” I say, and Nial and Connor nod as a way of greeting, then get back to doing what they were doing.

“Sorry, best get these girls off if we’re going to stay on schedule,” Dean says.

“I can help,” I say without thinking. Because if I did take a second to think, I would have told myself, I have no fucking clue how to milk a cow and should keep my mouth shut.

“That would be great. Jump over here. I’ll show you how to unhook them.”

I follow Dean over to the row of cows on our left, leaving Rémy to stand and watch.

“So are they on these all day?” I ask.

“Hells no. Our lovely ladies are milked three times a day, and it only takes about five minutes each time.”

“Wow, really? What are they doing the rest of the day?”

“Being cows.” He laughs, and I lean down to where he’s unhooking one of the milking machines. “Flick the valve to switch it off, then after you disconnect these, you take this cup here, and dip each teat in this solution. It will help stop any infections.”

“Okay,” I say, moving to the next cow on the row. She moos loudly beside me, and I pause.

“Don’t worry, she’s just saying hi.” Dean laughs, and I reach out and run my hand over her large head. It’s like patting a very big dog, and she tilts her head into my hand. “See, she likes you.”

“Hi, to you, too. I’ll just be unhooking you now,” I tell her, and I hear one of the guys behind me laugh, but I don’t care. I’m about to be touching her teats. I think she deserves me telling her I’m going to do it before I actually do.

The machine comes off easily, and I hand the hoses over the edge like Dean has done on the one before, dip her teats in the cup of what looks like iodine, and move up the row to get the next girl taken care of. Dean and I move along the row, him twice as fast as me, but we still beat the other guys clearing their sections.

“Thanks, you can open the door and let them out if you like,” he says, and I pull across the sliding door at the end of the section, and the cows funnel themselves out without any prompting. I suppose if they are milked three times a day, they would be used to this.

“Thanks for your help. We should probably get your order loaded up now. Did you want to add on anything else?” he asks, looking past me to Rémy who’s been following along the row as we worked, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, and I almost asked him if he wanted to jump in and give it a go, too, but thought I better not. They aren’t my cows after all.

“Do you have any of those lavender soaps?”

“Yes, Sarah sent down a whole box of them.”

“Great, we’ll take them, too.”

“No problem. Hey, Conner, Nial, I’m grabbing the order. You all good in here?”

“Yeah,” they reply, and I follow Dean and Rémy out of the barn and toward the main house.

“So, you don’t have another brother, do you?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Yeah, we do. But he doesn’t work the ranch. He’s up in Savannah keeping an eye on Gramps and playing Banana Ball. Why do you ask?”

Rémy looks my way but doesn’t say anything. I could say nothing, too. Rémy is staying quiet, and these guys clearly don’t recognize me. I mean, why would they? I was pulled early in the first season with the Funky Monkeys.

“I played with your brother, on the other team,” I say, surprising even myself.

“Oh, cool. Hey, I think I remember. It was in the first year, right? You had to take a break because you got hurt.”

“A permanent break,” I reply.

“Shit. Sorry, man. That sucks.”

“Yeah. It does.”

“Alan will start coming up here when he can’t play anymore. It can’t last forever, right?”

He’s right. One way or another, it was always going to end. My career just ended a whole fucking lot sooner than I wanted it to.

“Gotta have a Plan B,” I say and follow him into the house to collect the order. I didn’t have a Plan B.

We collect everything we need, and Dean loads the crate on the side of the bike with more than I thought it could carry before he heads back into the barn to help his brothers, and we ride back to the estate. The ride back is slower, by far. But no less exciting. Without the fear of death, I’m able to focus more on everything else. Like the way Rémy fits against me perfectly, and how his skin smells like sugar and cocoa. I try not to imagine tasting him, because the slightest thought of just that had me thickening in my jeans, and I can’t exactly hide a hard-on when it’s against his ass on this bike.

We bring everything through to the kitchen through a side door, but on my trip back out to get the last of it, I notice another door in the hallway, and it’s slightly ajar.

“Wasn’t this a storeroom?” I ask Rémy as he walks back carrying the boxes of soap.

“It used to be. We had it renovated when I moved here.”

“Renovated to what?” I ask, pushing open the door to find the small storeroom had been completely transformed into a livable space. There is a sort of small hallway; on the left, another door is open to a bedroom where a single bed sits against one wall, a tiny side table beside it; and on my right is a bathroom with a walk-in shower.

“You live here?”

“Oui, I do.”

“You didn’t want one of the bigger rooms?” I ask, looking again at the small bed. He would be almost as tall as it is long. Surely it isn’t comfortable. He should have a bigger bed.

“It has everything that I need, plus it is close to the kitchen. I’ll just put these down, then how about I make you something to eat?”

“I’ll grab the last few boxes,” I say and collect the final things while Rémy washes up. I get back into the kitchen and find Seline stretched up on her toes, trying to grab a few teacups and saucers to load onto a tray.

“Here, let me help,” I tell her, picking up the last few she was struggling to reach.

“Thank you. We have a high tea planned in the garden today.”

“Cool. Do you need any help with anything else?”

“No, I think we have everything in hand.”

“Okay, well, just let me know if you do,” I tell her, and she leaves.

“You are full of surprises, Mr. Buxton,” Rémy says as I lean against the counter beside him.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re always trying to help. Yesterday, you were helping Lilah, and now today with the cows and with Seline.”

“I guess I figure why watch if I can help.”

“But with the estate, you want to sell and not try to help it, to help me?”

My cheeks burn. He’s right. I’ve always been the guy who gets in and lends a hand wherever needed. I never used to shy away from anything. Trying new things was how I found baseball to begin with.

My shoulder aches, and I massage the spot with one hand. Rémy turns me to face him and lays a hand over mine on my shoulder. I look up into his piercing blue eyes and wonder how I ever could have forgotten them. I guess it’s the same way I forgot how to try anything new.

“What is going through that pretty head of yours?” he asks, and my stomach swirls.

“I guess when I stopped being able to do the thing that I loved, I stopped wanting to try anything new. Like, if I did and ended up loving it, what if it got ripped away, too?” I say, the words leaving my mouth and lifting a weight off my chest.

“Then you try again. Like today.”

“I don’t think unhooking cows is big enough to count as a new thing.”

“Then try something bigger?”

My gaze moves to his mouth, and then I do something I know I shouldn’t. I push up on my toes and kiss him.