Reading his future in a glass of sweet tea.
Love You So Sweetly
(Love You So Series, bk 4)
by Tara Lain
Blurb:
Reading his future in a glass of sweet tea.
The youngest son of one of America’s richest families, Remy Merced is so busy trying to save his family company from collapse, he’s never taken time to figure out if he’s gay, much less if he’s happy. Then his meddling mama hires him an assistant who’s everything Remy thinks he doesn’t want. Cute Harper Treadwell, from rural Arkansas, is a brilliant business prodigy… and openly gay. His wit and charm could confirm Remy’s suspicions about his own sexuality almost instantly—if they weren’t both already partnered.
When Remy’s girlfriend and Harper’s boyfriend get a little too friendly, Remy finds that the path to happiness requires a long drive in an old Prius, a growing appreciation for small towns, and a whole lot of sweet tea. But before they can forge a future—they have to let go of the past.
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Excerpts
But
he and Felicity hadn’t had sex in weeks. Shouldn’t he have a set of horns that
would put Dasher, Dancer, and Prancer to shame? Hell, he was in his twenties.
Even if he was sleepwalking, shouldn’t he be ready to stick his cock in
anything female that passed within five feet of him? Wasn’t that the way most
guys felt? Shit, these questions haunted the back of his brain all the time
while the front worried about the business. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know
why it worried him.
He
sipped coffee and glanced at John Jack, who was smiling at his wife with open
lust. It’d be nice to have somebody he trusted to tell him straight if he was
undersexed or asexual, or…. He sighed softly. But he and John Jack didn’t have
that kind of relationship. John Jack was seven years older and was more a
product of Arkansas than California. He put a lot of store in “being a man,”
and Remy was scared of what John Jack would say if Remy tried to get personal.
Remy worked all the time, so everyone he knew was associated with the company,
and since Remy was the boss, who the hell was he going to tell his troubles to?
His
mama’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen, telling Nigel she’d like
some more ice cream.
Felicity
turned to Remy and leaned in. “I’m going to make my excuses. I’m too tired.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Sorry, dear.” She kissed his cheek, rose, said a
fast goodbye to Trudy and John Jack, and was gone before Mama even made it into
the room.
Remy had a
pretty good idea he shouldn’t be smiling.
He
walked to the door and—oh, heaven.
The coffee aroma drifted from a huge steaming cup sitting in the middle of his
desk. Like he’d seen an oasis on the desert, he hurried toward the cup. Holy
cow. Not just hot but white. Obviously loaded with his favorite cream. He set
down his backpack and grabbed the cup before even taking off his leather
jacket. After a deep inhale, he sipped. Oh
wow, perfect. Eartha hardly ever put in enough cream for him, and this
was—different. Unique. What a flavor.
He
took another swallow, then set it on the desk and took off his jacket, his gaze
already drifting toward his laptop. Cradling his cup, he slid into the chair,
toggled the space bar, and stared at the results from their three pilot
regions, then sighed. Fuck. Not bad, but
sure as hell not good.
“Are
you ready for a refill?” The voice that came from his still-open doorway
sounded like someone had poured extra cream into it as well.
Remy
looked up, bobbled the cup, and splashed white coffee onto his desk and jeans.
“Ow! Shit.”
“Oh
Lord, I’m so sorry.”
By
then Remy was on his feet, brushing at the drops clinging to the denim and
frantically examining his starched white shirt. Before he quite grasped what
was happening, long-fingered hands were brushing at his pant legs from behind,
dangerously close to all kinds of personal items.
Remy
danced in a circle. “Uh, wait. Enough. I got it.” He extended an arm to ward
off the intrusive ministrations and came face-to-face with—who? He’d never seen
the guy before. Young, with straight dark hair that was just that bit too long,
kind of like his own, a slim face with high cheekbones and huge, doe-like eyes
of clearest blue behind dark-rimmed glasses. Adorable nerd came to mind
although it was a strange way to describe a guy. “Who are you?”
The
guy clearly took a breath because his chest in a maroon sweater vest expanded
and his nostrils flared. “Mr. Merced, I’m Harper Treadwell, your new
assistant.”
For
a second nothing quite computed, then his mother’s pronouncement of the
previous day rushed back. “Oh.”
“I’m
so mortified to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I just noticed you seemed to
like the coffee and wondered if you wanted more.”
“The
coffee?” Remy stared at the cup on his desk sitting in a small ring of spilled
french roast.
“How
about I clean that up and get you a new cup?” Harper grabbed the cup, pulled a
real-life hanky from his pocket, and captured the drips, then rushed out of the
office.
Remy
kept staring. His brain must be too exhausted to click into gear, because
whirlwind Harper returned with a brimming cup, a spray bottle of some kind of
cleaner, and a rag before Remy even blinked. Harper carefully set the cup on a
bookcase, sprayed the desk and cleaned it like he was doing art restoration.
Then he lovingly set the cup on the desk and stepped back. “I’ll be happy to
take your jeans to the Laundromat, sir, if you’d like.”
“Wha—no.
Uh, thank you. How did you know about the coffee?”
“Know?”
“About
the extra cream?”
“Oh,
I asked my mama to ask your mama.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his
nose and then smiled with lots of teeth, but his gaze skittered around. “So how
can I help you this morning?”
When
the door to the room opened and closed, a little steam escaped, but the system
wouldn’t stop. Okay, enough. It wasn’t really relaxing. Gasping, he rushed
across the room and out the door. Whew.
Wiping his face on one end of his towel, he hurried into the locker area and
toward his bay.
Like
some well-rehearsed vaudeville act, Remy rounded the corner just in time to see
a towel flash through the air toward the hamper. Behind the towel stood Harper
Treadwell, all six willowy feet of him, stark naked.
“Oh.”
“Oh.”
Neither
of them moved. Well, except maybe for the long, low-hanging dick in a nest of
dark curls at Harper’s groin that might, just might, have given a little hop.
From the direction of Harper’s eyes, it seemed the towel Remy had used to wipe
his face was no longer covering his lower regions.
Weirdly,
his first thought was that he hoped his cock looked as good as Harper’s.
Harper
seemed to shake himself, which set up tremors in his private parts. He grabbed
for a towel from the rack beside him and whipped it in front of him, clearly
trying for nonchalance and missing by a mile. “Uh, hi. Sorry. Nearly hit you
with that towel. I was trying for a three.”
Remy
blinked. “Three?”
“Points.”
Harper grinned, and it was like every cell in Remy’s body smiled back—except
his mouth. Harper said, “I scored.”
Remy
slowly pulled the towel down to cover the essentials, which were expressing
uncertain feelings at that moment, and equally slowly walked to his locker. “So
you were in the gym?”
“Yes.
I did the Pilates class. Man, it’s terrific. I don’t have my own reformer, so
I’m thrilled to be able to use the equipment here. The instructor’s great, just
great. Well, excuse me, I need to take a shower.” He bolted from the lockers.
Remy
collapsed on the bench. Part of him wanted to laugh. The guy had looked like
Bambi escaping the wildfire, all long legs and huge eyes. But the part of Remy
that had practically swallowed his tongue at the sight of those wide shoulders,
lean hips, strong, long thighs and strong, long cock didn’t want to laugh at
all.
Love You So Series
Bk 1
LOVE YOU SO HARD
Bk 2
LOVE YOU SO MADLY
Available for purchase at at
Bk 4
LOVE YOU SO SPECIAL
Available for purchase at
About the Author
You can find Tara at Lain
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