Laird's Choice by Remmy Duchene (management books to read .txt) 📕

Race growled. Laird braced a hand to his chest

gently while staring over his shoulder at the man sitting there as though he was supposed to be there. "This is a private room," Race pointed out. "Get out."

"I'm not talking to you!" the man fired back.

Race surged from his seat, fist clenched. Laird fell to the sofa beside him and Race charged. Suddenly he was stopped and looked back to see that Laird was holding him.

He glanced back at the man who was smirking at him. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the mirth off the jerk's face with his fist.

"First of all." Laird stood. "My name is none of your business. Second, I'm here with someone."

"This?" The man spit distastefully. "You need a real man."

"And you're it?" Laird asked. "Okay, let's make this simple. You're going to get up and walk your ass out that door. If not, I'm going to use my fist to rearrange your face.

Got it?"

Laird's voice sounded calm but cold to Race's ears.

It was a voice that told Race that Laird meant business. Still the man didn't move. Race growled, gripped the man by the front of the shirt and dragged him toward the door.

Opening it, he tossed the man out and watched as he tumbled down the three steps to the regular dance floor.

The crowd spread out to watch him fall hard. Race then walked back into the room and drained his bottle.

"We should go," Race said.

"Why? We have as much right to be here as anyone else!"

"Yes, we do. But I don't want a fight right now…"

Laird said nothing for a while but stared out the glass. Finally he nodded and took Race's hand. Race allowed him to lead him through the crowd and out the door into the moonlight. When the valet brought the car around, Race handed the keys to Laird and climbed into the passenger side.

"I assume you don't want to go home yet."

"No—I'm too worked up."

"You would have hurt him wouldn't you?"

Race nodded. "Yes."

"Why didn't you?"

Race looked out the window. "You were there."

* * * *

Laird sat in the sand watching the wind blow Race's hair. Race was standing on the edge of the water, tossing stones. Laird could see the demons swirling about the cowboy's head, and he wondered what was so horrible. But then something else flashed through Laird's mind and he had to lick his lips. He could still taste Race on them.

Race's hard body had pulsated against him, and when he began teasing Race's nipples, a growl like he'd never heard had been forced from the cowboy's body. A shiver made its way through Laird, leaving him weak and wanting. Still, he did not speak. He knew Race wanted the quiet and the peace the ocean brought. If there was one thing he learned from his father, it was to let the lover come to him.

Smiling, he shook his head and lay on his back to stare up at the sky. He felt it the moment Race sat then lay beside him.

"Can you be patient, Laird? I know we just met but I'd like to get to know you. I just need you to be patient."

Laird turned his head to meet Race's dark eyes. "I can be patient. I wasn't looking for a relationship when I came here anyways. I just wanted to get away from Eros.

Now I met you and I don't know what to make of you."

Race chuckled. "I'm like a rash you didn't realize you had until it's too late."

"Is it the kind of rash that's harmless but scratching it is so good?"

"I don't know about harmless." Race laughed.

"Well, like I said before. I'm a big boy. I'll take my chances."

Race said nothing else but straightened his body out at Laird's side. Laird turned his attention back to the sky with a deep breath. He needed to speak with his brothers and maybe his brothers-in-law.

Chapter Four

The sun shining in his face woke Race up the next morning. The kiss he'd shared with Laird was at the forefront of his mind even as he pulled himself from the bed and staggered into the bathroom. What had he gotten himself into? There was no way anything could come from that kiss!

Stupid! Stupid!

Taking a breath and avoiding his eyes in the mirror, he bent over and turned on the tap. Cold water spilled into his palms, and though all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed, he simply splashed some water on his face then over his head. Reaching for a towel, he dried his face then dragged it over his hair before tossing it aside. In the bedroom, he pulled on a pair of pants and a blue and black plaid shirt before sneaking out the side door of the kitchen.

Winston hadn't bothered setting the coffee maker the night before. With a frown, he stopped to check on the horses.

"You know, Brigadier, you are more trouble than you're worth." But even as he said that he was rubbing a hand against the horse's neck. After a moment of loving, Race set to work. First, he had to drag the hose from where it was coiled so he could fill all the water troughs. He tried to bury himself in the work, afraid of what would happen once Laird was up and wanted to take him house hunting.

Clearing his throat, he re-coiled the hose, strapped it to the handle it was kept on, then returned to fill the bins. He would wait until the animals ate before letting them free to roam the corral.

Soon he could hear muffled voices and knew

Winston and Laird were up. His heart did a strange little lurch. Still, he continued what he was doing by grabbing his tools and kneeling in the dirt to replace a fence post.

"Morning."

Race glanced up, using his fingers to block the sun.

"Mornin'."

"I brought you some coffee."

Race pushed away from his work