Harmony for Christmas (Dansboro Crossing #4)

Chapter 17

seventeen

BEAU

Reacher is still moping around the house. And, unless it’s my imagination, Joe isn’t acting his usual peppy self either. He only met her once, but she must have left a lasting impression on the horse.

Hoss couldn’t care less—he doesn’t give a crap about much of anything. I think he might be getting irritated with the other two though.

I don’t blame them. I feel grumpier than my usual sunny self. It’s ridiculous how much better I felt after just a few lines of texts last night. How does anyone stand to be separated from their person? I know families do it all the time, but I’d never thought about it before.

“What should I make for supper tonight?” Reacher answers with a snort. He’s watching me from his pillow in the kitchen with his head resting on his paws. His big sad gaze stares up at me. “You have got to snap out of it, buddy. You’re bringing the whole house down.” He doesn’t look convinced.

“Fine, you’re getting your regular supper, and I’m having chili.” I stop, remembering our conversation about the perfect thing for a cold winter night. “Maybe leftover meatloaf instead.”

I dig through the refrigerator until I find the wrapped plate. Reba sent a whole meatloaf over yesterday. I think it’s a pity meatloaf. Doesn’t matter, I’ll still eat it.

With my microwaved meal, I walk into the living room and flop down on the couch. There’s another old movie already queued up in the player.

Soon, I should have a better selection to choose from. They come next week to install my new satellite internet. It’s really more for safety than anything. Don’t get the wrong idea and think it’s so I can communicate with a certain someone better.

“I can’t even fool myself,” I explain to Reacher, who’s moved to his space in front of the fireplace. He watches the lights flicker on the Christmas tree.

Yes, it’s still up. Also yes, it’s after New Year’s Day. The tree itself looks like it’s on its last leg, but I haven’t had the heart to take it down. Jesus, I’m totally whipped from long distance. I’m not all that upset about that either.

After taking a bite of fucking hot meatloaf, I hit play on the remote. My gaze drifts to my phone just in case there were any texts. Nothing.

Popping another bite in my mouth because I forgot how damn hot the first one was, I refocus on the movie. At least Mom had pretty good taste in entertainment.

I’m halfway through an eighties adventure when I hear a truck pull up outside. I never get many visitors. Usually, the only traffic is package deliveries or Travis. He’d better have his ass in Austin for class tomorrow.

Pausing the movie, I open the front door. The truck has already tossed something out and hauled ass back down the road.

Sitting on the steps is a box. I lug it inside and set it on the coffee table. The address is from somewhere in California. An idiotic grin appears on my face as I tear open the box.

Inside are layers of things. The first thing I pull out is a package full of dog toys and treats. Reacher barks excitedly as if he knows who the box is from. I toss him one of the toys.

There’s a note inside that says “For the next time.” I pull out several board games with a laugh. She’s sent Jenga, Battleship, an Uno deck, and Clue. Farther down is a box of herbal teas—all my favorites.

Finally, I pull out a concert T-shirt with her tour dates on the back. Whipping my shirt off, I pull it over my head. It’s a bit snug, but it works. I wish she could see the photos in her frames hanging on my wall. Trace sent me a whole bunch of good ones from Christmas.

“What do you think?” Reacher looks up with a snort before returning to his toy. The way he’s shaking it makes me believe it’ll be in pieces shortly. “Yeah, I like it to. What do you think she’s up to?” Only one way to find out. Besides, I need to thank her for the presents.

Me: Got the package. Reacher is beside himself.

Harmony: And his minion?

Me: He’s beside himself too.

Harmony: That’s good to hear. The house must be getting crowded.

Me: You’re a riot.

Harmony: I try.

Me: When do you go on next?

Harmony: Tomorrow. Just chilling tonight. Working on stuff.

Me: Stuff huh?

Harmony: Yep. Stuff.

I feel my grin growing bigger. It’s ridiculous how even a few words of text from her pick my spirits up. Damn, I miss listening to her talk.

I’m amazed I’m even getting her text in the house. Last night, I climbed the hill behind the house to make sure I got a signal. That will all be in the past next week.

Harmony: How is Reacher anyway?

Me: Grumpy, Mopey, Crabby.

Harmony: And you?

Me: Grouchy, Whiney, Snarly.

Harmony: Oh my. One more and you’ll have all 7 dwarfs.

Me: Are you volunteering for Snow White?

Harmony: I wish I could. Sitting on a bus all day is boring.

Me: At least you have your stuff.

Harmony: At least.

My heart aches. I knew it was possible for a heart to feel physical pain. I remember my heart hurting for months after Mom and Dad died.

Separation heartbreak is a new thing for me though. It didn’t happen when Travis went to college. Maybe because I knew he was only a short drive away. Harmony, however, might as well be on the moon. I’m not even sure where she is. Somewhere on the West Coast last time I heard.

Me: Where are you headed to?

Harmony: Utah.

Me: That sounds…I don’t know how that sounds.

Harmony: Me neither. I’ve never been to Utah before.

Me: I heard the skiing is pretty good.

Harmony: I’m only there a day before we head back out. Back to Nevada, I think.

Me: Play the slots for me.

Harmony: Fingers crossed we win a landfall.

I wonder if she won a landfall if she would keep singing. She’s damn good at it, but is it what she wants, or is it just a way to make a living? I never thought to ask.

She seemed to enjoy her impromptu concert in my kitchen. I know we did. She has so much talent, I would hate to see her stop. I don’t understand how she won’t burn out with the schedule her label is pushing. It worries me. Have I earned the right to worry about her yet? I hope so.

Me: When do you get a break?

Harmony: I have a short one In a month.

Me: That’s a long time.

Harmony: I know. Will you come see me in Dallas?

Me: I can try. Depends on what’s happening here.

Harmony: I understand. I think we’re stopping to eat.

Me: Okay. Be safe.

I know I sound like an asshole when I say I’ll have to see what’s happening. That’s the thing with being a rancher, though. For the most part, I can plan out a little. That’s calving season, though, so I really have to see how things are going before I can flit off to the city. It seems like there’s always some reason I can’t get away.

“Let’s go feed,” I say.

Reacher rises and stretches before following me to the mudroom. The coveralls Harmony wore still hang on one of the hooks. I haven’t gotten around to putting them up yet. I’m sure Freud would have something to say about my actions, but he’s not here, so I’m not worried about it.

I open the door, and we step outside. It’s still cold, but at least the snow is gone. Problem is, there is mud everywhere.

“Roll in the mud, and you can sleep in the barn,” I shout as Reacher shoots past me. I had to bathe that stupid dog last night. It’s not easy for both of us to fit in my shower.

He waits for me at the barn. I open the door, and he shoots in to bark at the horses. They ignore him. They learned long ago he’s all bark and very little bite. He just looks intimidating.

“Hey, boys,” I say in greeting. Both horses are standing inside waiting for something to eat. Pretty soon they’ll be able to graze the pasture again and won’t need as much feed from me. Until them, I pour them each some grain and drop more hay in the rack.

“Have either of you come up with a plan yet on how to be two places at once? I need to live in Nashville with Harmony and still work the ranch.”

They both ignore me as they plow through their grain. Reacher is too busy nosing through the extra hay to pay any attention. With a sigh, I turn off the lights and head back outside. The dog races out behind me, almost knocking me over in his exuberance to explore.

I pull the door closed and debate sitting on the front porch until time for bed. Everything inside reminds me of her, but it’s still too cold to be out here.

“Come on, dog. Let’s go warm up. Maybe we’ll just head to bed early.”

He barks at something in the dark but follows me to the side of the house. I go through the motions of getting the house closed down for the night. When I’m done in the bathroom, I crawl into bed. It seems like the harder I try to fall asleep, the more restless I become.

I’ve never gotten used to pulling the curtains closed in my bedroom. Mom would leave them open in Travis and my room so we could watch the trees outside blow in the breeze. It still puts me to sleep faster than anything else I’ve found.

My gaze lands on one of the pictures of Harmony and me in the homemade frame. It’s a photo of us lying on the pull-out couch. She’s lying on my arm as she holds the phone out to take a selfie of us.

It’s the same one I drew as a surprise present for later. I tucked it into her bag before she left. Normally I’m not so sappy, but it’s a really great photo. Our hair is messy, the sheet is rumpled, and we look happy. Truly happy.

She hasn’t mentioned the drawing, so I assume she hasn’t dug anything out of that bag yet. I know her wardrobe on tour is planned clear down to the casual stuff she wears when she’s not on stage.

She looks so beautiful it takes my breath away. My hand finds my erection under the blanket. It’s how I survive now that she’s gone. I could honestly jack off at least five times a day thinking about her, but I force myself to wait until bedtime.

My eyes close as I punish myself for letting her walk out my door. I know I had no choice, but sometimes I wonder if everything could be different.

I remember how she looked under me in the soft glow of the fireplace. Her soft blue eyes would turn smokey as she got close. Then she would close them as she rode out her orgasm. The one I gave her. It was a gift she let me in on every damn time.

The lazy smile as she lay in my arms after is emblazoned in my mind forever. Her responses to the things I said like muscle memory running through my body.

My efforts spill over my hand in an unsatisfactory end. This is never enough. I want to be with her. I want to roll my eyes at her movie selections, complain when she insists that I help her create some elementary school art project, and fall asleep with her soft breath on my neck. Quite simply, I’ve fallen in love with someone I can’t have, and it’s ripping me apart.