With Every Beat of My Heart

Summary: Beaches at sunrise. Carefully laid plans. And the best possible company for both.

Author’s Note: Thanks to anyone reading and enjoying this fic. I love hearing from you, particularly those LoMy writers out there who originally inspired me. Take care.

“Kid, I’m so sorry.” Logan was mortified at his dog’s behavior as she continued to skip and leap at Remy, slobbering and panting all over him. “Daisy, down!” Logan’s command was imperious and brooked no bullshit. The dog whined, whistling in her throat, but she did as she was told. Daisy sat, but still thumped her tail on the ground.

Remy chuckled and knelt by the dog once he got his bearings. He cocked his head slightly sideways and held out his hand for her to sniff. She licked his fingers and nudged him with her cold, damp nose. Remy gave in and beckoned her to come closer for more decadent scratches and tousling of her lush blonde fur.

“She’s sweet,” Remy murmured. “Aren’tcha, baby girl?” he crooned, making kissy faces for her benefit.

“Yer gonna spoil her.”

“Who couldn’t spoil a princess like dis?”

She’d actually knocked Remy down, and knocked the wind out of him in the process. Logan registered shock at his dog’s bad manners shortly before he recognized Remy as her chosen target.

“Don’t know why she did that.”

“Wanted t’say hello, Remy’d guess.”

“She knows better.” But Daisy was sprawling beside Remy in the grass, where he was content to stretch his legs. Daisy was shamelessly flirting with him, continuing to bat at him with her paw and laying her head in his lap. “Hussy,” Logan accused.

“She’s jus’ a soft touch. Me, too, if ya wanna be honest, homme.”

“We rescued her from the pound as a pup. She was gorgeous.”

“I like her freckle,” Remy mentioned, gently stroking the small white spot on the dog’s forehead. “An’ dese red eyelashes.”

“Typical of a golden lab.”

“Nice t’see ya out an’ about.”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“What, walkin’ de pooch?”

“Nah. Yeah. Kinda. Exercise. And just gettin’ outta the house in general. Said it might help.”

“Might help, huh?” Remy didn’t dig into the reasons why. “Den g’wan ahead an’ follow doctor’s orders, mec. Great day t’take a woman out? Ain’t it, mon Coeur?” he crooned again, ruffling her ears.

“Gads. Yer worse than Jeannie,” Logan remarked before he could stop himself. He swallowed his own smile and pretended to watch a few college kids playing ultimate Frisbee.

“So now, it’s jus’ de two of ya?”

“Yeah.” Logan watched him then. Saw him. Remy looked both vital and vibrant, hair slightly tousled from his run and picking up more highlights from the summer sun. His skin was flushed and tanned, emphasizing his lean muscles exposed by the navy blue tank and black shorts.

“Good t’ing ya have a lil’ time t’give her some attention, den. Dogs need it.”

“I work long hours at the store, sometimes,” Logan admitted guiltily. “It ain’t fair ta her.”

“Ain’t fair t’you, either, mec.”

“I manage. I like to work.”

“How d’ya normally like t’play?” Remy’s eyes twinkled.

“Hard, once upon a time. Way back when, I had more guy friends ta just hang around with. Played basketball every weekend, and a mudball game every Thanksgiving.”

“Mudball?” Remy raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Football, usually on the first rainy day of late fall. Love gettin’ dirty,” Logan grinned.

“Remy kin see dat ‘bout ya, somehow,” he agreed. “Like doin’ stuff wit’ yer hands?”

“Heck, yeah. It just feels good. I’m not creative, but I like to see things come together.”

“Ya don’ smile much, do ya?”

“Ya think?” Logan shrugged. “Ain’t somethin’ I think about or just ‘plan out.’ When it happens, it happens.” He was so matter-of-fact about it that Remy sighed.

“Maybe ya oughta do it more often.”

“Eh.”

“Jus’ because.”

“Still ain’t gonna win me any beauty contests,” Logan pointed out.

“Depends on who’s doin’ de judgin’.” Remy looked at him meaningfully. His gaze seemed to eat him up. Daisy whined for him to give her more affection, which he obliged.

She wasn’t the only one he wanted to caress.

“So when d’ya usually get yer exercise?”

“Whenever I haul my butt outta the house,” Logan confessed.

“What’s yer routine like when ya ain’t at work?”

“When ain’t I at work?” Logan mused, tossing the question back at him. But Remy was serious. “Eh. Really? Well…it ain’t much of a routine. More of a rut. I run errands. I take Daisy for a short walk, or I just let her out into the backyard, since I have a relatively big one for her. Been meanin’ ta spend more time at the park. But beyond that…it’s all a big nothin’.”

“Naw. Not you,” Remy argued. He wouldn’t believe it.

“Yeah. Me. I just don’t know how ta fill my time anymore. Sometimes…I just wish the time away. I never mean to. It just happens. Day in. Day out. I forgot what it was like t’have somethin’ ta look forward to. Somethin’ ta plan for. So I go home. Eat dinner. Check my email. Watch the news. Wonder if the phone is gonna ring an’ not be a telemarketer. Most of my friends that I had before Jeannie passed were ‘our’ friends.” He made air quotes. “After I ended up alone, all of the sudden, no one knew what t’say. They called for a while. Invited me ta lunch every now and again, or the occasional holiday dinner t’make sure I had somewhere t’go. But it’s hard. I know what’s goin’ through their heads. I ain’t one half of a pair anymore.” He didn’t look sad so much as resigned. Logan leaned back on the heels of his hands. He closed his eyes as a cool breeze ruffled their hair, and Remy noticed in that instant how tired he looked. There were faint shadows under his eyes.

“How ya sleepin’?”

“Some nights, I don’t.”

“Ever considered gettin’ up earlier?”

“Why?”

“Mornin’ run?”

“Not really. Never thought about it.”

“Life don’ hafta jus’ begin at eight an’ end at five, chere. C’mon. Head out wit’ me. We’ll hit de beach.”

“They won’t let Daisy out there, even if she’s on a leash.”

“Den we work around dat.”

“I don’t wanna deprive her!”

“Non. Ya ain’t. No excuses,” Remy nagged, wagging his finger. That twinkle was back in his eye. “We run in de mornin’. An’ ya take Miz Daisy here on her walk at night. Betta yet…Remy’ll do it.”

“Get outta here. Really? Ya wanna walk my dog?” His brows drew together, and he gave Remy a crooked smile.

“Oui. We fast friends already, ain’t we, chere?” Daisy was sprawled over his lap in an absolute stupor. She thumped her tail and lifted her head toward Logan, as if to say “Can we, Daddy? Can we?”

“Get offa work at t’ree,” he continued. “Prob’ly earlier den you.”

“Yeah. I get off at five.”

“Puppy’s gotta get lonely. Remy don’ have any evenin’ commitments, ‘cept a class he teaches every now an’ again at de community college, or when he has a showin’.”

“Sounds like yer pretty busy, then. And ya think yer gonna have time ta still walk Daisy, eh?”

“C’mon. Fair trade. Ya run wit’ me, I walk yer sweet puppy.”

“Hm. Eh. Why not?”

“Ya got Remy’s number. Call me at dawn.”

*

Dawn, the next day:

“Gotta be outta my fuckin’ mind,” Logan muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face and rolled up to a sitting position. His sheets were still warm from sleep, and he laid awake for several long, indecisive minutes after slapping the button on his alarm.

Coffee. Everything would make more sense after a cup of coffee. Every muscle and joint in his body protested as he rose, complaining to him as he ambled into the kitchen.

His house was filled with that eerie, pre-dawn, bluish darkness that picked out the edges and gleaming surfaces of his furniture and picture frames. The hardwood floor felt cool beneath his feet. Daisy’s head popped up and she wagged her tail.

“Want breakfast, girl? ‘Course ya do. C’mon.” She padded beside him into the kitchen, and he blinked from the glare as he turned on the light over the sink. He felt momentary guilt; his first outing with Remy wouldn’t include her. She’d sense that, and it made Logan feel like a bad parent. He retrieved a large, half-full bag of kibble and shook some into her bowl and refreshed her water dish. She was already nosing at the food, tentatively munching a few dry morsels as he opened a can of wet food and scooped a bit out for her to give her meal a boost.

Logan made the coffee strong, with bite, knowing his stomach would regret it later, but he needed something to clear the cobwebs out of his head. He filled his Far Side mug two-thirds full and contemplated his refrigerator’s offerings before deciding, Naaaahhhh.

The phone beckoned to him. Remy’s business card was thumbtacked to the bulletin board beside it, mingled among several others for more mundane services like car detailing, house cleaning and windshield repair. There were still notes scrawled in Jean’s curly handwriting that he left there for comfort.

He heard her voice in his thoughts, urging him. Go on. Give him a call. What could it hurt? Logan sighed, drawing a cleansing breath into his lungs.

He gripped the handset and punched the digits with the index finger of the same hand, still feeling uncoordinated and off-balance due to the earliness of the hour.

One ring. Two-

No. Half. Kid was quick.

“Dis Remy.”

“Hey.”

“Bon jour, homme. Wakey, wakey, eggs an’ baky,” he drawled. Logan heard the smile in his voice and almost wanted to smack him.

“S’too early for perky, bub.”

“Remy ain’ perky,” he argued. “It’s jus’ a beautiful morning’, non?”

“It’s still nighttime, in my book. Still dark outside.”

“Not f’r long, mec. Ya ready t’roll?”

“Gimme a few more minutes. Which beach?”

“Wood Neck.”

“I was hopin’ ya’d say that.” That pacified Logan; out of the town’s seven public beaches, that one was his favorite, both for its generous parking and its sand bar.

“It’s nippy out. Dress in layers.”

“Be there in ten.”

“Up an’ at ‘em,” Remy warned him. They hung up. Logan cradled the phone and gulped his brew, shaking his head.

Up an’ at ‘em, sport, Jean’s voice echoed. The memory of her teasing smile followed him back to his bedroom.

*

Remy beat Logan there. That didn’t surprise Logan. As he pulled into the lot, he saw Remy stretching, balancing himself using a fence post and bending his leg back. He caught his sneaker heel and tugged, stretching his long, lean quad. He hadn’t noticed Logan yet, so he treated himself to a long look at the kid.

Beautiful.

Logan wasn’t a fanciful man and didn’t use pretty words, consider himself romantic or walk around with his head in the clouds. He was pragmatic, a real straight-shooter.

But watching Remy made him long to…what?

He couldn’t describe it, not in easy terms. So he just watched him. The breeze kicked up, stirring up sand devils over the lot’s gravel, and it ruffled Remy’s hair and lightweight red windbreaker.

Those strange feelings pricked at him again. It was like walking past a cabinet that held a half-eaten bag of potato chips, knowing how good they’ll taste, but avoiding them because they are bad for you. But you still think about them, mouth watering at the tactile memory of their light, crispy weight on your tongue, their dusting of salt caressing your lips, seasoning the leftover hint of grease, followed by the seductive crunch as you cram in one handful after another until, surprise, they’re gone.

But you avoid them as long as you can. Partaking of them only brings remorse. You tell yourself that you should have known better. Why buy the chips at all? Immediate gratification isn’t healthy. You can’t resist their temptation, their decadent appeal. How could you, when they’re so appealingly packaged and taste like sin?

The cabinet door is the only thing keeping them from you, an ineffective, useless barrier. You won’t stop thinking of them until you taste them. Just one, you promise. That’s all. Just a taste…

Just a taste…

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

What was he doing?

It was unsettling, the way he reacted whenever he saw him, talked to him. Frissons of nervousness and anticipation shivered in his stomach. He wasn’t used to such directness, or to someone so blatantly trying to draw him out.

He’d been with Jean so long, taking her love so much for granted, that Logan couldn’t believe someone else would…well, look for whatever it was Remy had in mind. That he’d see Logan that way. Through those eyes.

He wanted to ask him “Why me?” But the voice in the back of his head said “Why not you?”

Logan shifted the car into park and locked it, checking his reflection briefly in the rear view. Despite his coffee, his eyes still bore dark shadows under them. But in the meantime, he’d do.

Remy’s face lit up as he caught sight of him. He wasn’t entirely surprised when the young man hugged him again, and he felt more of that pleasant tingle from the previous ones. Logan didn’t want to be presumptuous, and he was still wary about what he could want from him, but he decided he could grow used to this. Remy’s body felt warm beneath the thin, cool fabric of his jacket. Logan flushed awkwardly and gently pulled away. Remy gave him a brief, curious look, then clapped his shoulder fondly.

“Ready an’ rearin’ t’go?”

If the hug was disconcerting, hearing another of Jean’s favorite phrases was even more so.

“Oh, yeah. Bring it on.”

“Ain’t gonna go too easy on ya, homme. Remy likes t’run, an’ I mean ‘run.’” He gave the word solid emphasis. Logan already felt the knot of anticipation gather in his gut.

“Don’t suppose ya have a defibrillator and a few EMTs standin’ by?”

“Cute,” Remy chuckled, clapping him again.

After a few more stretches – Logan was surprised at how much his muscles even protested that range of motion – they started out. The sand shifted beneath them, yielding to their scraping footfalls. Gulls screeched as they dive-bombed the surf and scavenged from the large green trash barrels for their breakfast. Overhead the sky began to lighten from indigo to sapphire, letting pink fingertips paint the clouds.

The wind buffeted them, refuting Logan’s efforts to keep up with Remy, but he persevered. The cool air felt crisp as he sucked it into his lungs, feeding his muscles with oxygen.

“Dis’ll put color in yer cheeks, neh?”

“Shit,” Logan huffed, but he nodded in agreement. Remy grinned.

They silently counted segments of each mile every time they passed a jetty, then switched to counting beach houses by ten. Logan’s breathing was ragged, and he felt the burn of splints starting in his shins.

“Roll yer feet, mec. Don’ push off too much from yer toes.”

“Gonna…keep…that…in…mind,” he gasped. “Make sure…it says…I died…rolling my feet…on my…friggin’…tombstone.” Remy’s bark of laughter made him want to smack him.

“In t’rough de nose, out t’rough de mouth,” he suggested kindly. “Just like when ya lift weights. Dat’s it.” Logan’s arms weren’t pumping as firmly before; he could almost call it flailing, but he continued on. He wasn’t sure if he didn’t want to disappoint the kid…

…or himself.

The wind shifted, seeming to lose its sadistic urge to blow Logan knock him on his ass. It blew at their backs now, pushing them along. He felt relieved as Remy, too, sensed this.

“Lookin’ good, homme,” he rumbled. “Real good. Look at dat.” He pointed to the sky. “Sun’s up.

It was worth the wait, worth the pain and exhaustion to watch the waves come to new life as the rising sun sprinkled them with golden diamonds. The tide rolled in with force, crashing against the shore and leaving behind sand that shone like glass. Remy and Logan adjusted their trail, pushing themselves away from the damp line before their shoes could sink into it.

“How ya holdin’ up?”

Logan wheezed a reply. His face spoke volumes. Remy tsked.

“Coulda said somet’in’ any time, homme.” They slowed to a crawl; Logan fought the urge to simply collapse. He staggered, breath hitching in gulps from his chest.

“Shit,” he wheezed.

“Take it easy. Walk it off. Dat’s it, keep movin’.” Logan found himself trembling slightly as the strength left his limbs, but he remained on his feet, swinging his arms as if to pump more oxygen to his starved lungs. His throat was parched.

“C’mon. Store right up de block,” Remy encouraged. Logan felt slightly reassured to find that Remy’s face wasn’t a perfect mask anymore, now flushed and dripping perspiration. His hair was damp around his temples and brow; he impatiently raked it back with his fingers, leaving his brown waves a tousled wreck.

The sight of him like that evoked other images that Logan tried to keep from his own face.

“Don’ run much?”

“Not…like this. Been a while. Get my cardio from stuff like the bikes at the gym, or an elliptical, when I get off my ass an’ go. Like liftin’ better. Works me out without wearin’ me out.”

“Daisy’s de best cardio y’can get fo’ de money.”

“That’s what my doc said.”

“Dat’s why he’s de doctor.” Logan snorted and swatted him. Remy chuckled, swatting him back.

“Non. Ya didn’ do too badly, homme. Gon’ get better ev’ry time we go.”

Logan stared at him blankly.

“Ya mean we gotta do this again??”


Remy wasn’t finished torturing him. They mercifully stopped at a convenience store and picked up two bottles of Fiji to fortify themselves. Remy suggested jogging back using the pavement instead, to see if Logan would benefit from less of the shift in terrain, but it seemed to backfire. The impact was more jarring on hard asphalt, even though they did cover more ground more quickly as they headed back toward the lot.

Logan watched incredulously as Remy lifted his foot, propping it against a fence rail before he removed a small strap from his ankle that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Five miles. Not too bad.”

“Ya knew we were runnin’ that far?”

“Nice, easy run.”

“Nice, easy run,” Logan muttered. “Ya’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“Non.” He showed him the tiny pedometer. The digital numbers showed him that they’d actually traveled five and a quarter miles.

“That wasn’t nice. And that definitely wasn’t easy.”

“But admit it, ya feel great. Don’t ya. C’mon, tell me how much better ya feel, mec.” Remy watched him expectantly, mischief dancing in his eyes.

…hadn’t the kid once mentioned that he was training for a triathlon??

“You. Little. Bastard.” Logan felt like he’d been had.

He’d anticipated a mile. Maybe two. Shit.

“S’nice an’ warm out now,” Remy added as he shucked the windbreaker. “C’mon.”

“I can’t move.”

“Sure ya can. Last one in’s a rotten egg.” In an instant, he kicked off his sneakers, peeled off his socks and wriggled out of his canvas warmup pants and tank. He trotted down to the shoreline.

“It’s gotta be freezin’!” Logan sputtered. “Don’t do it!”

“Buck-BOCK! Chicken!” Remy teased, turning one last time to face him. “C’mon,” he beckoned.

“Ya go ahead without me, kid.”

“Suit yerself!” he called out, and Remy ran into the surf in one, two, three, four long strides. He dove into a large breaker on the fifth and disappeared. The air was certainly warm, but the wind was still strong, and Logan knew that water couldn’t be more than tepid, at best. The sun barely had the chance to touch it.

Logan tsked under his breath, and he felt relieved as he saw Remy’s shining dark hair resurface. His arms cut neatly through the water as he back-stroked.

He called back to Logan. “Hey, mec…Remy’s keys are in de pocket. Grab me a towel from de trunk?”

“Got it.” At least the kid thought ahead. He ignored the lump of Remy’s wallet and found the cool metal keys. He still felt stiff and limp as he made his way to Remy’s Camry, but there was a new energy coursing through him. Logan felt more awake and alert, and the rest of his day held promise.

He found the neatly folded red beach towel and a clean tee shirt. Logan briskly slammed the trunk and headed back to the sand. He was content to gulp his Fiji and relax, removing his own jacket, shoes and socks.

Remy swam for a while, content with the caress of the water against him and the taste of salt on his lips. He paused briefly, treading deep water. Remy watched Logan as he sat, leaning back on the heels of his hands and closing his eyes. He chuckled, wondering if he’d worn him out or subjected him to too much.

The morning was too beautiful not to share with someone. Remy felt a pang as he realized the last time that he actually had shared one like this. The water buoyed him, pulling at him. He knew he risked overtaxing himself and succumbing to the lapping waves while he was so far out from shore. Remy wisely headed back to the beach. His snug neoprene thermal shorts clung to him even more tightly once they were wet. He knew they’d be the devil to take off, but it was worth it. His swim had been decadent.

Water ran down his body in runnels, dripping from his hair as he emerged. Wet sand squished between his bare toes as he made his way back to Logan. He shook his hair like a wet dog.

“Hey!” Logan barked, flinching as cold droplets showered him. “PUNK!”

“Figured if ya didn’ wanna come in wit’ Remy, Remy’d bring de water t’you, chere.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” he muttered, balling up the folded towel and tossing it in his grinning face. Logan turned away slightly, suddenly too conscious of how close Remy stood, and how bare he was.

Wet. Flushed with color and health. Nearly naked. All of those factors taxed Logan’s ability to think chaste, albeit conflicted thoughts. Remy scrubbed his nape with the towel, watching Logan thoughtfully.

“Ya holdin’ up all right? How ya feel?”

“Whipped.”

“Used ya up already?”

“Goes without sayin’.”

“Speak up next time, if it’s hurtin’ you, mec.”

“Don’t know how many next times we’re lookin’ at, bub.”

“Aw…don’ give up dat easily, chere! We jus’ gettin’ started. Dis de beginnin’ of a beautiful friendship!”

“Friends don’t kill friends.”

“Remy could take dat ta mean either of two t’ings,” he pondered. He elbowed Logan. “C’mon. Call me in de mo’nin. Tell me how y’feel. Den maybe ya’ll wanna come wit’ Remy again.” He sank to the sand beside him and wrapped the towel around his neck, letting the ends dangle over his bare belly. “Feels good out here. Dis is how ya should always start de day.”

“Ready t’crawl back into bed?”

“Non. Wit’ someone around t’see what you see. When we can have de whole sun t’ourselves.” He raised his Fiji bottle in a salute. Logan toasted him with a light tap of his.


*

Logan actually did feel better.

His legs would never forgive him for subjecting them to such punishment, but all day long he felt recharged and refreshed.

“You look more rested,” she remarked.

“Can’t imagine why. Got up early. Ran my ass off.”

“Good for you,” she encouraged, surprised.

“Ain’t good fer my poor piggies,” he argued. “Need new shoes if I’m gonna keep that up.”

“Get some Asics. I like New Balance, too.”

“Sounds good. Might just do that.”

“Are you staying late tonight?”

“Why tonight?”

“Inventory? Have you forgotten?”

“Aw, shit.” He had. Logan pawed through his tiny desk calendar and noticed he hasn’t flipped to the current date for a couple of weeks. Sure enough, there it was, scrawled in bold black Sharpie.

“Is it a problem?”

“Guess not. Just wasn’t planning for it. Yeah, we’ll do it. That’s fine.”

“Good. Let’s get it over with. Sure you didn’t have any prior plans?”

“Nah. I’m fine.”

It didn’t hit him until two hours later that he’d forgotten one more important detail.

“Remy!” he hissed, smacking himself in the temple. Betsy looked up from her desk, cocking her head.

“What?”

“I mean…uh, never mind. I have a call t’make, darlin’.” Logan got up from his ergonomic chair and headed for the break room, even though his aching thighs protested the shift in position.

He spoke furtively into his cell when Remy finally picked up.

“What’s goin’ on, chere?” he drawled.

“Um. Yeah. Gonna end up bein’ home later than I planned, kid. Inventory.”

“Oui?”

“Yup. There ya have it.”

“Den what time d’ya want Remy ta take Daisy out?”

“I was thinking maybe we could put it off for tonight.”

“Ya sure? Don’ hafta worry ‘bout Remy. Gon’ take good care of yer best girl.”

“Don’t wanna trouble ya.”

“Ain’ no trouble. No trouble at all.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Remy’ll lock up when he brings her back.”

“Seriously.”

“Oui.”

“All right, then. S’fine with me. Stop on by when ya have a minute, kid.” Logan felt a hint of satisfaction that he’d see him again so soon, even if it was only briefly.

“Sounds like me an’ Daisy have a date.”

Even after Logan hung up, he felt that same, odd little bubble of anticipation.

Remy showed up slightly after three, while Logan was closing a sale.

“Enjoy it,” he told the couple as they walked out.

“It’ll go so well with everything we already have.”

“Thanks a heap, buddy. This was the fifth store we went to today. I was praying it would be the last.” Logan waved them out the door, then felt eyes on his back. He turned to find Remy watching him. His dark eyes raked over him with something akin to appreciation.

“Clean up nice, once ya wash off de sand, non?”

“Betsy tries to keep me civilized.”

“I still can’t get him to eat with utensils,” she piped up suddenly, craning her head around the back doorway when she heard her name. She winked at Remy. He winked back.

“Just admit it’s a losin’ battle, darlin’,” Logan chided her.

“Never,” she sniffed. “I won’t concede defeat.” Logan dug in his pockets and produced his keys. He dropped them into Remy’s outstretched palm.

“Gold key lets ya in the front door. Daisy’ll come to ya as soon as ya walk in.”

“All right.”

“Rem…thanks. I appreciate it. I know I sound like a lousy dog owner if I hafta have someone else come an’ keep my pup company.”

“Non. Ya sound like a daddy smart ‘nuff ta hire a sitter ta take care of his pride an’ joy.” Remy looked like he was about to close the gap between them, possibly for another hug, but he noticed Betsy watching and simply tossed the keys in the air, catching them deftly.

“All right. Don’t the two of ya do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Ya won’t hafta post bail. This time.” Remy whistled a cheerful tune on his way out, taking the memory of Logan’s laughter with him.

*

The last thing Logan expected was the smell of Mexican food.

He caught a whiff of onions and beef from the front door as he trotted up the brick steps and dug under the mat for the spare key. Remy’s car was there, but he didn’t lock it. Logan replaced the key, walking inside slowly.

“Rem?” he called out. “Ya here?”

Daisy appeared in a flurry of reddish blonde fur and her claws scraped against the hard wood as she greeted her daddy. “Someone’s happy,” Logan murmured, accepting her damp kisses. But like a shot, she was off again, darting into the living room. “Fickle much?” he wondered aloud as he followed her.

The living room lamp was on instead of the overhead light. Remy dozed peacefully on the couch, long legs stretched out. He was in his bare feet, and his toes twitched slightly, perhaps at the sound of Logan’s approach.

He indulged himself, staring at him. Odd sensations pulled at him, and he still couldn’t make sense of them.

The kid was far too appealing in repose like that. His head was tipped slightly back, and his breathing indicated the beginnings of deep slumber.

Logan’s hands clenched, then relaxed as he made up his mind.

“Rem?” He reached down and gently poked his shoulder. “Remy?”

“Hnnnh…”

“Rem? I’m back.”

“Non,” he argued hoarsely.

“Yeah. I am. I can take it from here.” He gave him a gentle shake, then restrained himself from letting his hand linger. His heat radiated through the thin, snug tee shirt and his muscle felt lean, firm and supple. Logan didn’t want to get too familiar.

It was just so surreal, having him in his house.

“Whuzzup…oh. H’lo, chere.” Remy cracked open his eyes and smiled blearily up at him.

Logan flushed sharply, skin tingling at that expression…it was like waking up next to Jean. Remy yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Logan moved back stiffly. Remy mistook his discomfiture for fatigue.

“Sorry, mec. Remy wuz out like a light soon as he sat down.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Made ya sumt’in.”

“I noticed. Ya didn’t have ta go to the trouble.”

“Ain’t no trouble. Told ya before. T’ought ya’d be hungry.”

“Starvin’ like Marvin,” Logan admitted.

“Den come an’ eat. I’ll get outta here in a sec, jus’ wanna show ya where I left ev’ryt’in.” Logan followed him toward the source of the delicious smells. Remy lifted the lid off a large skillet of shredded beef, one quarter of it gone.

“Already ate, maself,” he told him. “Fed yer girl, too.” Daisy sat and thumped her tail, looking smug. Logan wondered if she tasted Remy’s dinner at some point, too.

“Looks good.” Remy pulled two tiny Tupperware dishes from the fridge and opened them, revealing some chopped lettuce, tomatoes and onions.

“I’m gonna get outta yer hair,” Remy announced before Logan could ponder whether to invite Remy to stay a while. He looked at home in his kitchen as he got out a fork and plate and set them on the table. Remy unrolled a couple of paper towels from the spool and folded them like a napkin beside the other items and automatically poured Logan a glass of iced tea from the pitcher he already had.

“Gimme a call in de mo’nin,” Remy reminded him as he tugged on his sandals.

“We’ll see,” Logan murmured as he tasted a bit of beef. It was spicy, rich with chili powder and jalapenos.

Remy snorted. “None o’ dis ‘we’ll see’ stuff. C’mon, now!”

Logan relented. “Okay. Ya got me. One more time,” he promised, holding up his index finger.

“Dat’s de spirit. Gon’ come aroun’, Remy’s gonna wear you down, chere. Pretty soon, ain’ gonna be a day where ya don’ wanna go runnin’ out on de beach. An’ who could blame ya, when ya have yers truly ta keep ya goin, non?”

“Pretty sure of yerself,” Logan said, rubbing his nape. The food tempted him, but he didn’t want to sit down yet. The brief silence between them hung in the air. Daisy got up and nosed Remy’s hand. “How was she?”

“Perfect lady. Didn’ drag me once.”

“Glad ya hear it.”

“Don’ mind Remy askin…?”

“Shoot.”

“Busy on Friday night?”

“Uh…I dunno. Not sure yet.”

Remy reached into his pocket and handed him a small blue postcard. “Save dis. It’s a showin’ at a gallery downtown. Put up some new pieces dere. It’s gonna benefit the gallery and a few o’ter local art programs.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“T’anks for the vote o’ confidence,” Remy said, rolling his eyes.”

“I don’t know yet, but I wouldn’t mind it, if I get there.” Remy looked expectant but not disappointed, to Logan’s relief.

“Dat’s fine, den.” Logan slowly walked past him toward the hallway. Remy followed him, and Logan heard the low jingle of keys. He didn’t realize how close behind him Remy stood until he opened the front door.

He bumped into him as he turned around, then flinched, unable to stop himself. Remy furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I do sum’t’in’ wrong, homme?”

“Nuh-uh. Nah. Ya didn’t…” Logan’s voice trailed off.

How could he even explain it?

The answer was, he couldn’t. Logan still had too many questions himself, for himself.

Remy held his hand out, palm up. Logan’s keys winked up at him. “Gonna need dese,” he reminded him.

“Yeah.”

Remy took in the stiff set of his shoulders and the tension around his mouth. Everything about him said “Back off.” Remy felt slightly rebuffed, wondering if he’d missed some earlier clues.

The urge to embrace him was still so instinctive, so strong, but Remy squelched it. He settled for patting Logan’s shoulder awkwardly and letting himself out.

Both men contemplated the events of the day throughout the night once they separated.

Remy wondered what he did wrong.

Logan realized that the overpowering urge he felt at his front door could only indicate one thing:

He’d almost kissed Remy goodnight.