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ONE
Gwen
I’ve always beenan early riser. Maybe that’s why I don’t mind working for Remington on the Stud Farm.
Okay, that’s only part of the reason why I like it. The other reason is currently sitting stoically at the kitchen table, pretending I’m not in the same room as him.
“Good morning!” I chirp in the same bright tone I’ve used every day since I started cooking and cleaning for the grumpy beast at the beginning of the summer.
Remy grunts, lifting a cup of black coffee to his lips. I try not to watch him swallow, but my rebellious eyes can’t seem to look anywhere else. His neck is corded with muscle, just like the rest of him.
The surly cowboy towers over everyone here at the Stud Farm, which is saying something. Remy’s brothers are all over six feet tall, but he’s still got a few inches on them. Wider shoulders, too, not that I’m looking. I also haven’t noticed the way Remy fills out his favorite pair of Wrangler jeans, which are a bit worn and too snug for his meaty thighs.
He sets his mug down with a bang, startling me out of my trance.Get it together, woman!
“You should plant some sunflowers outside your kitchen window,” I say, hoping to cover up my ogling. “They would really brighten the place up.”
“Mmhm,” Remy mutters, spinning the half-empty mug on the table and studiously not looking at me.
I roll my eyes and grab a dish towel to wipe down the counter. I’m mostly used to his growling and one-word responses by now, but I’d love to see Remy smile one day. I want to give him that.
My sister, Avery, would call him a sour puss. Then she would immediately succeed in making him laugh because that’s just who she is. My attempts to lift his mood have failed miserably. If he smiled at me at this point, I think I would faint.
I take in Remington’s dark brown hair and profile while he’s not paying attention. He looks like royalty, like my very own Prince Charming, even with the plaid shirt and perpetual frown. It’s in the way he carries himself, with steady, sure steps and a surprising amount of grace for someone so tall and beefy.
There’s a sadness there, too. A loneliness so deep I can feel it on the rare occasion he makes eye contact. It’s like Remy is carrying the world on his shoulders.
He reminds me of the beast from Beauty and the Beast, with his shaggy brown hair and deep brown eyes. His personality isn’t far off either; if I’m being honest.
I’ve always had a soft spot for that movie. Avery and I used to watch it over and over when we were younger. It was the only VHS the group home had, and we watched it until the tape broke. We used to be able to recite all of the lines perfectly, still can probably.
Avery has already found herself her own beast and tamed him. She’s living a few miles away with Pax, her billionaire recluse husband who would do anything for her.
I’m happy for her. Avery isn’t my biological sister, but she’s been through everything with me, the good and the bad times. And there were a lot of bad times. We met in a group home when we were kids, and have been inseparable ever since. She might not be related to me by blood, but she’s my family. She deserves to have someone who worships her.
I wish I had a prince who adored me the way Pax adores Avery. I’m not jealous, I’m just… so lonely. Everyone seems to have someone except me.
“You’re staring,” Remy says. I blink, not realizing my eyes have wandered back to study Remington. I can’t help it. Whenever we’re in the same room, I’m drawn to him, body and soul.
“Just daydreaming.”
He grunts, shifting in his chair.
“Are you going to see your brothers today?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah.”
“What are you working on?”
“Horses.”
“Fascinating,” I deadpan, and he side-eyes me.
“Same as every other day,” he says eventually.
“Whoa! Remy, please, let me get a word in,” I say, holding my hands up. He rolls his eyes, turning to stare out the window again, but I could swear I see the corners of his lips twitching.
So close…
