Laird's Choice, Remmy Duchene [superbooks4u .txt] 📗

a bad case of insomnia and was easily irritated. His brothers noticed it too—Rajan told him to sleep it off but how could he when he couldn't even get five minutes in. Laird rubbed a hand over his face and looked up just in time to see a streak of lightning flash across the sky. He waited for the boom. When the thunder finally came, it left Laird with a strange, pulsating feeling he reveled in.

When the rain stopped, it was just in time for the sun to raise its head over the trees behind the large house.

He waited until the rays warmed his face before taking a deep breath and pushing himself away from the window.

He was walking to the bathroom when he caught his eyes in the mirror. Stopping, he stared at his half-naked reflection with disgust. He needed a shave. It'd been years since he had that much hair on his face. It was unruly, as if he had been living under a rock for the past few days. Even that thought didn't make him want to lift a razor to his face though. With a groan, he continued to his original destination. Ignoring the urge to cover the mirror, he bent forward, turned on the tap, and cupped his hands

underneath the water. He splashed water on his face, turned the tap off, stripped off his boxers, and stepped into the shower. By the time he turned the shower on, he had his hair falling against his shoulders and his eyes pressed closed to alleviate the burning.

The shower did wonders for his body, and soon he

was in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of jeans and pouring steaming coffee into his favorite mug. Laird flipped on the television on the counter, not because he wanted to watch it, but because the house was just so damn quiet. While the television played, he opened the fridge trying to find something his stomach felt like accepting, but nothing grabbed his attention. He closed the fridge and glanced at the clock. It was barely six in the morning and it was his day off. The ringing telephone caught his attention and, after casting his eyes at the television in time to catch some girl shaking her ass at the camera, he shook his head and answered the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Laird? It's Winston."

Laird glanced up at the sky with an arched brow.

"Hey. I was talking to Raj about you last night."

Winston laughed. "You mean that sexy man with the gun let Raj out of his bed? For shame!"

"Down boy," Laird said with a chuckle. " That sexy man has a gun. What's up?"

"I wanted to catch you before you got out for the day. I have a friend who's looking to buy a house over here.

He's got the money but not the patience for this kind of thing. I told him I know the best."

Laird was intrigued. "A friend? That I know?"

"Nope. Can you do it?"

"Well, I was just going to call you to see if I could visit for a small vacation. But taking on this friend of yours means I can't rest for a while."

"Who says you can't do both? He's staying with me right now and he seems to be crawling out of his skin to get his own place."

Laird took a breath and ran a hand over his hair. He held the strands against the back of his head before easing off his seat. Walking to the window, Laird rested his shoulder against the cool glass, debating if he wanted to take a working vacation. Finally he shrugged. "I'll do it. I can be in Brydon at some point this week. I'm watching over Anatolis while Sav is in Brazil."

"You're just making an excuse, you don't have to watch over Anatolis. There are plenty of people who can do that. What the hell is Sav doing in Brazil anyway?"

He was right for he'd already tried using that excuse and it was worked out that he could in fact leave for his vacation. The truth was Laird didn't know if he wanted to leave. With his mind searching for new reasons not to go and failing miserably, Laird took a breath. "His son has a soccer championship game over there. They'll be back in a couple of days."

"All right. I'll let him know."

"And Winston?"

"Yeah, boo?"

"Thanks for this."

Winston cleared his throat and Laird could hear him speaking to someone before returning to the phone. "You okay, Laird?"

"I don't know. That's why I needed the time at the ranch."

"Why didn't you say something? Look, I can find someone else and let you just rest."

"Nah. It's just one client. I can do it. I just don't know if there is a cure for what I am feeling right now."

"Well, when you get here we can talk…" Winston trailed off before yelling something muffled to someone.

"Sorry, Laird. I have to run. Call me before you come?"

"I will…"

Chapter Two

Race wrapped some rope tightly around his wrist

and elbow, tugging it hard with a gloved hand. He watched the horse running around the corral. He hadn't realized there was a smile on his lips until he shifted his neck to look down at the end of the rope. Inhaling deeply, he pulled the rope off his arm then tied the end so that it couldn't come untangled and chucked it over a post. Bending over, he gripped the handles tied to a bale of hay and walked it into the stalls. He dropped it in Beagle's stall then reached for a fork to spread it. Not so long ago, he wouldn't have wanted to do any of this—he hadn't wanted to work on a ranch. But after being locked up for so long, he'd choose working on a ranch to clear his head over being locked in a cell against his will any day.

"Excuse me?"

Race spun around and arched a brow. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Winston…"

Race cleared his throat from the triple X