Chapter 29
HART
––––––––
I HAVEN’T BEEN scolded like this since I was a teenager. Although, the constant glares from Natalie all day have come very close.
“This is beyond embarrassing. You’ve turned our booths into a circus.” They’re not his, but I don’t tell him that. “We’ve officially become the laughing-stock of the entire rodeo.” That’s just the tip of the iceberg from the mayor.
I swear a spanking is on the edge of happening.
I haven’t had a spanking since. Well, that depends on the context. A good three years ago, I somehow ended up face-first on a mattress with a woman straddling my back. I got enough unexpected spankings to give me welts for a week.
“Dean, Levi, Bronx, you’re in charge of cleaning this mess.” The mayor won’t even step into the Fox tent.
“Listen here—” Dean starts, but the icy glare from Mayor Banks shuts him down.
He nods in agreement, like all those times we were caught red-handed by Pa doing something we shouldn’t.
“Harper, Natalie, and Celi make a list of ingredients we need for tomorrow and get to the grocery store ASAP before it closes.” When they don’t move, he claps at them. “Hustle.”
The women scatter, practically tripping over one another.
Natalie slaps me on the way past. “Make it right,” she snarls.
She’s not talking about the booth, but she doesn’t understand that I can’t do what she wants me to.
I broke Jade’s heart, and then I spent all these years ensuring she hated me—only she never did. And after everything, to find out she sat around a campfire, years later, listening to the playlist I made her, that slices me up inside.
I don’t deserve her. Shit, she doesn’t need a guy like me. What she needs is for me to stop fighting with her and then step so far away from her that she never thinks about me again.
The mayor stares at his next victims. “Hannah and Josie head back to the campsite for garbage bags, paper towels, and cleaner to bring back and help the boys clean this disaster.”
The two women don’t wait for further instructions and are rushing away as the mayor turns to Dean and the other two.
“What are you guys waiting for?” He throws his hands in the air. “Start lugging this broken stuff to the campground.”
“I can help.” I take one step, and the mayor’s hand is on my chest.
It stings. I’ll bet there’s a nice bruise forming from when Bronx got that punch in. Actually, he got a few in.
I deserved it.
Needed it.
“Not you.”
I fear my punishment might be worse. Why is it that the oldest siblings always get the worst?
“We need a new folding table. Six new blenders. Tablecloths. Sleeves of cups, lids, and straws.” He ticks off the list on his fingers as he continues to name everything destroyed.
I mentally make notes, knowing I’ll forget something and be running around first thing tomorrow morning.
“On it,” I say, and my ma passes me the keys to her truck.
She doesn’t share the same fury. A smile tugs on her lips as she quietly glances back and forth, assessing what she’s stumbled into. Assessing me and Jade in a way that makes me think the matchmakers beside her aren’t a coincidence.
What exactly does she think she walked into?
What exactly did she walk into?
I’d usually convince myself she walked into nothing, but everything with Jade is so far from nothing.
I start walking, needing this break to think. I’ve spent the day staying out of sight because that’s what she deserves. Not a constant reminder of me.
“Take Jade.” The mayor’s stern voice ruins my plans. “Straight there. Straight back. We don’t have time for you two to shower. Understood?”
My eyes meet Jade. We understand loud and clear.
At the truck, Jade opens the door and pauses.
“What?” I pull the seat belt over my front and click it into place while looking at her.
“I feel bad getting in. I’m sticky and wet and gross.”
She’s never gross.
Opposite of gross.
The mess only enhances her beauty. Her soaked, slightly wild hair frames her face and accentuates her features. And even with her clothes damp and clinging to her, she still looks effortlessly beautiful.
I clear my throat. “It’s a ranch truck”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t a ranch truck. I know what a ranch truck looks like. This is your mama’s truck.”
“It’s seen worse. I recently had a dent taken out of the hood.”
She glares.
“I’ll clean it up like you were never here.”
“Promise?”
I nod.
It would’ve been a quick drive to the hardware store on the edge of the city, but a road closure forced us into a detour on arrow and winding country roads around trees and fields.
I know these roads. I used to drive them when I was a teenager. I’d sneak away during the rodeo with my brothers. We’d head this way to a hidden pond, one of those places only the locals knew about.
I haven’t been out here in years.
“If they have ice, you should grab a bag for your eye.” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt.
I catch a glimpse of my face in the rearview mirror. It ain’t pretty. Bruising real nice.
“I’m fine.” I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel.
“Of course, you are.”
Silence falls between us again, and for some reason, it feels like the right thing. It keeps our thoughts in check, preventing us from saying something that will hurt.
But it’s strange, sitting here with her, it just feels right.
It doesn’t take much, and I’m back all those years ago, and there’s that feeling in my gut when we were this close—that quiet peace of simply being with her. We didn’t always need words or something to fill the space. I can’t explain it, but it was always easy to be with her.
“I haven’t slept with Bronx, and I don’t plan to.” That comes right out of left field.
I’m not prepared.
Relieved, yes.
But prepared, no.
“I’m not telling you for you.”
I don’t care why she’s telling me; the information is appreciated more than she knows.
“I’m telling you so you quit being such an asshole to him.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m always an asshole with him.”
“You ever throw a punch at him over some spilled juice?”
She makes it sound so ridiculous.
“It wasn’t the juice,” I growl.
The asshole was baiting me. He constantly baits me and pushes me to my edge. Someone needs to give him a good whooping, and I was ready for the grunt of it.
“I know.” She looks at me then, arching her eyebrows.
I wonder if I should mention the mango chunk dried on the corner of her right brow. I tighten my fingers around the wheel to resist the urge to reach over and flick it off.
The thought burns through me, dragging me back to the booth. Kneeling between her legs, gripping the back of her head, and feeling her fingers wrap around my forearm as I pulled her closer. Wiping the foam away from her face, carefully brushing it away from her eyes—taking care of her.
I can still feel the heat of her skin under my fingertips, the softness of her face as I cleared it. Like I was doing something more than just cleaning her up. I was taking care of her in a way I haven’t allowed myself to want.
Fuck, it’s all I ever wanted. Not that she needs taking care of, but it’s those moments when I want to.
“Everyone knows,” she says, and it takes me a minute to remember what we’re discussing.
Fucking Bronx.
“This Neanderthal side of you really isn’t impressing anyone.”
“I ain’t trying to impress anyone.”
“You just enjoy pounding on people any chance you get?”
I inwardly sigh, but outwardly I blow a deep breath out of my nostrils. It’s not me. Of all my brothers, I’m usually the last to throw a punch.
“You know what, maybe my dislike of Bronx is not about you.”
“You know what,” she claps back. “It absolutely should not be about me. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but I’m not yours. And that was your choice. I don’t know why you’re acting all possessive over a book that two young people created. Not when you split right after we made it.”
I want to tell her what happened that night. Every fucking word, but it’s too late.
I know it’s too late.
And that really pisses me off.
“You know what?” I say.
She grunts. “I’m sure I don’t want to.”
“Maybe I’ll do the book with someone else.” Shit, that hadn’t been what I meant to say.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Another grunt. “Unbelievable. I tell you I’m haven’t sleep with Bronx, and you retaliate by telling me you’re gonna go find someone to sleep with.”
I should say sorry.
Quick, say sorry.
No words form.
“Go ahead. You do you, Hart.” She stares out the side window. “You’ve always done what’s best for Hart.”
I hate the dismissive way she says it. I hate every fucking thing about it, and she’ll never understand that.
My jaw clenches for the rest of the ride. There goes my plan to stop fighting with her. The sound of the engine is the only thing between us and the thick, suffocating silence.
I turn down the air when I see her wrap her arms around herself, shivering.
She’s soaked, cold.
It hits me worse than any punch Bronx had swung. Seeing her like this, helpless. But I can’t do more than turn down the air because I have no damn right. After all, she’s right. Instead of fighting for her, I split.
I park at the hardware store, and still nothing.
Good.
Inside, the fluorescent lights hum overhead. The faint smell of rubber and fresh plastic greets us. I notice her shoulders stiffen when the air conditioning blasts us.
We move quickly and silently, dodging the occasional glance and not daring to make eye contact. My jaw stays tight. Her lips press together in a thin line, and now and then, she wipes her arms, as if trying to brush off the cold.
At the checkout, she walks outside to the truck without a word.
I stay behind, feeling the pull of the tension tug at my chest. I throw the items on the counter, and as the worker is putting them through, I notice a clearance rack with flannel and work pants.
I grab a couple of pieces of each to tack them on the bill. That’s when I notice the end display of clipboards. Hers was destroyed in the fall. Snapped in half. It’s not for me to replace it, but damned if I don’t grab it anyway. At the least, I can give it to Natalie to give to her.
She helps me load everything into the truck, and we’re off on that detour again, both quiet and her shivering.
The sun is starting to set, and when that familiar path with the grass somewhat flattened by off-road vehicles comes into view, I turn without flicking on the blinker.
She grabs the door handle.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“You’ll see.”
“I don’t want to see, Hart. I want you to tell me.”
“When I was young, my folks would bring us to the rodeo every year with the twins.”
“You have a real knack for randomly sharing with me.”
“While Sammy and Sterling couldn’t be dragged away from the rodeo, the rest of my siblings were ready to explore.”
She folds her arms with a loud sigh, staring straight ahead.
The truck bounces over uneven ground. Tall grass lines both sides of the path.
I slow the truck as the trees part. Beyond is a secluded pond nestled between the branches. I cut the engine.
It’s quiet here. Perfect for us.
“And this is where we came to hang out.”
She looks at the pond, then back at me. “Okay.”
She’s gonna make me work for it. I deserve that.
I grab the bag with our supplies and climb out. “You coming?”
“Coming where?”
“For a swim.”
Her nose wrinkles. “No. We have to get this stuff back to the tent or the mayor will have our heads.”
I toss my Stetson on the dash. “My brothers won’t have that mess cleaned up yet, and we’ll only get roped into helping. That shower you’re dying to take won’t happen until we have the whole tent ready for tomorrow.”
She sucks in her bottom lip because she knows I’m right.
“I got a couple of shirts and pants in here. Plus a blanket we can use as a towel.” I shake the bag. “Let’s go rinse off real quick.”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Neither do I, but my briefs are pretty close to swim shorts.”
I slam the door and head down, hoping she follows.