14. Harlow
Chapter 14
Harlow
Heath: Good Morning. I hope you’re getting all the rest you need in between work. Tell me your favorite part about your trip so far?
Me: Good Morning. I am. Resting.
Heath: Do you enjoy frequent R I just haven’t pictured myself with one. Seeing Cassidy had me picturing myself with a little girl of my own. Having her walk next to me in a small black dress and braided pigtails. Long, thick lashes like mine and a stone-cold face to match.
I smile, imagining other girls being bright and sunny, and my own daughter only shining around those she deems worthy.
That sounds a little sick, I know. But I can’t help but want a littlegirl I can relate to. I didn’t feel all warm, fuzzy, and full of sunshine when I was a kid. I wouldsmile for my sisters easily, but if we were out, I kept my head held high with the slightest tilt to my chin.
My father would joke, “She literally keeps her nose in the air.”
A sad part of me remembers it being hard for me to let others in. Maybe I would want my daughter to be a little sunnier than me.
A thought crosses my mind.
What if you have a son? It’s not like I get to pick what sex I have.
Within an instant, the picture of my hypothetical child changes. Instantly brighter and sweeter, cheery, still wearing black with a slight curl to his dark tresses. A button nose that crinkles when he laughs or smiles. I can feel myself lighten at the thought.
A boy mom? Not something I would have seen myself ever picturing so positively.
I wonder quickly if Heath would be a good father. If everyone gets their way, that’s where I’m going to end up. He’s been messaging me almost daily since I’ve been here. It’s not annoying, but it’s not welcome, either. I understand his desire to get closer to me in hopes of achieving this merger in all aspects.
I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind a merger without marriage, but Heath seems to be set on a relationship with me.My sister also had an arranged marriage and it worked out so well that my parents only see the benefits of this whole ordeal.
He seems to be attentive as he tries to get closer to me. I would think he would be that way with his own child. I can tell his parents were attentive to him, so maybe he would model that same kind of behavior.
The other part of me worries that his workaholic nature would get in the way of him being present in a child’s life. Is he feigning interest in me to achieve his goal? Once he gets the engagement or marriage, will he still be as attentiveto meas he is now?
I have only answered one of his calls since I’ve been here, and it was simple. Mostly pleasantries.
My conversations with strangers in this town have come more naturally. What if I had met Heath at a social event instead of at an arranged marriage meeting? Would we have been able to make conversation? I highly doubt it.
He seems far too corporate, and I feel far too whimsical. I’m not the typical princess, either—more like a Dark Crystal fairy. Or an unusually lovely troll. Maybe Harrison is onto something every time he calls me a witch. A large feminist part of me wants to hate it when he calls me that, but the other playful part of me enjoys it.
He passes the guesthouse frequently but doesn’t stay long, not like Cassidy has. If I’m outside he’ll give me a quick wave or a tip of his hat. The other day, he stopped by on horseback looking absolutely delectable.
I’ve always found men like Silas to be my type—rough around the edges with a punk-like style. On the flip side, I’ll also go for the business man who has a dark side. All-black suits with a sparse, if ever present, smile.
Harrison does not fit the persona of my usual partner. Outside of our first meet-up, he’s all chipper, sunny disposition, optimistic, and clean-cut. Clean-cut might not be the right word; he’s rugged in the way that he wrestles livestock and works outside daily, but that’s not the kind I like.
I need a man who can be demanding and match my energy. I have a direct nature about me. Being with me means being able to stand next to me and bounce off my big, dark energy, not try to tamp it down or get overshadowed by it. Some women like being the star of the show, but I would prefer being a power couple.
Harrison gives off that supportive, underdog vibe. A cheerleader from the sidelines who likes to give gentle kisses and ask if his partner is okay in the midst of passion. I don’t want to be asked anything in the bedroom. In fact, that’s the one place I can enjoy being told what I want and what to do.
Heath has a demanding nature about him, in a corporate sense, but I can’t see him being a passionate lover. It seems like his sexual playbook would be more simplified. The idea of him using a sex toy with me seems outrageous, like it would offend him.
With Harrison, the idea of using a toy in the bedroom with him would likely frighten him. Silas has that dominant, confident nature that wouldn’t be intimated by a silicone playmate. He seems the type to enjoy it even, like a challenge.
No less, Harrison looks damn fine for a man I would usually have no interest in. Maybe it’s his confidence in the way carries himself. His self-assured, sunny disposition. Maybe it’s all the clean air getting rid of my toxic thoughts.
“So, how many manuscripts have you gone through now?” Cassidy asks. She invited me over for a Saturday night dinner and possible bonfire if we feel up to it.
Their house gives off a warm, welcoming feeling. Everything has its place, but it’s not stuffy. She didn’t deep clean her house before I came over. Bake’s toys are still strewn across the floor. There are books on multiple surfaces throughout the house and a sippy cup lying on its side on the coffee table. The kitchen is half clean, and most of the dishes from the prepared meal are already washed and drying on a rack next to the sink. We sit in the informal dining area between the kitchen and the living room.
“Only three and I’ve been here for almost two weeks.” I fork freshly made mac and cheese and shove the cheesy goodness into my mouth. Freshly fried chicken sits on my plate, still too hot to eat. Cassidy revealed to me that this was a comfort meal for her.
“Is that an appropriate pace?” she asks.
“If I wasn’t behind, yes. I guess back home, I was distracted and struggling to stay on task. I’d start one and then move on to the other, which isn’t like me. I’m usually pretty good at staying on task, especially when it comes to reading.” That’s why I picked this line of work; it came so easily to me. Endless opportunities were at my fingertips but editing and publishing are my passion.
I think a younger me had once dreamed of being a writer; I had written some short stories and poems for therapeutic reasons but never did anything with them. Never anything concrete. The thought of dabbling in some of that during this trip has crossed my mind.
“How many are you hoping to get done this trip?” Cassidy rips up chicken pieces for Blake but can barely keep up with her as she shovels it into her mouth. She realizes that she’s starting to pocket in her cheeks. Cassidy sighs, scoops up the remaining pieces, and makes a small pile on her own plate.
“All of them. There are about twenty or so.”
“Are you editing them all?” she asks, stunned.
“Fuck no,” I start, slapping my hand over my mouth. Hunter chuckles and Cassidy shrugs.
“She’s growing up on a farm, don’t worry about that.”
“I am just making selections for us to move onto the next stage of editing. I’ll make quick notes in the margins, but nothing too specific. After I make selections, there is a long road ahead.”
We keep the conversation light and Blake offers the entertainment. I mention wanting to ride soon, and Cassidy is thrilled with the idea of having a girls’ day. Hunter happily offers to take their daughter off her hands so she can spend a day riding and relaxing with me. I can tell this man would give the world for her, and it’s a little sickening.
They aren’t overly romantic in front of me; I caught them in a few banter battles. It’s charming in its own way, but their romance is real. Their passion and adoration for each other are almost tangible.
“I was also thinking about inviting Silas over for a ride; he owns a bar in town. You know him?” I ask. I have a feeling she does. Silas mentioned that he and Harrison grew up together, so I’m sure Hunter is close with him, too. Hunter’s brows shoot up at my mention of him, and he tries to quickly school his expression.
“Oh, he’s basically Hunter and Harrison’s cousin. He comes by from time to time, especially when we do bonfires or parties. He’ll ride here with the boys.” It’s nice that he’s familiar with the farm so I wouldn’t feel too burdensome asking him to come over for a ride. He’ll likely even have a horse preference just like everyone else around here. I don’t have one yet, but maybe before I leave, I’ll have a connection of my own.
“That’s great, so it wouldn’t be weird for him to come out here?” I ask as if I need permission.
“Oh, honey, you’re on vacation. Bring anyone you like back to that house of yours.” Cassidy winks at me, and Hunter spits the water he is drinking right back into his cup. This makes both Cassidy and me laugh, prompting B to join us in our fit.
“Do you have someone—” Hunter starts as the door flies open, slamming into the door stop. He jumps out of his chair and heads toward the front of the house. No one has enough time to react as Harrison rushes into the room. We hear him before we see him.
“What is wrong with the women out there?” he growls. Once he breaks the threshold into the dining space, he almost collides with Hunter and makes eye contact with me.
“Rough night?” I ask as I take in his disheveled appearance.
He’s wearing that familiar cowboy hat on his head, a work button-up that’s half pulled out of his pants and rumpled, dark jeans, and boots. His hat isn’t sitting on his head straight—it’s messy and tilted. His shirt looks like there are still clutch marks on the chest. I see a smear of bright red lipstick on his jaw, looking as though he had attempted to wipe it on his sleeve, and just as I thought, I see the smear on the sleeve of his left forearm. His cheeks turn bright red.
“I didn’t realize y’all had company. I’ll come back later.” He ignores me. Likely this is an attempt to preserve what little pride he has left.
“Shut up, Harrison. Get yourself a beer and a plate,” Cassidy prompts. He gives a quick shake of his head and goes to fix his hat. Hunter takes it off his head and tosses it on the post of the chair next to mine.
“You heard her,” Hunter states with finality. Harrison doesn’t fight his brother. He goes to the sink to wash his hands, then grabs a plate, silverware, and a bottle of beer from the fridge. When he sits next to me, Cassidy and I start laughing all over again, B joining in.
Harrison grumbles before looking over to me and giving me a death glare. With the lipstick smeared on his chin— now that I’m closer I notice it’s on his lips, too—I can’t take his glare seriously. I laugh even harder, provoking the other girls. It becomes so rowdy, that even Hunter lets out a chuckle.
Harrison’s face worries before he looks around the table.
“What?” he asks.
“Brother,” Hunter starts, but I am quick to interrupt.
“That really isn’t your shade.” I take my hand and run my thumb across his bottom lip, a small amount gracing the pad of my finger. His eyes dart down, taking in the red hue, causing his cheeks to brighten once again.
“God dammit,” he twangs, and I lose myself all over again.
By the time we all calm down, Harrison is able to tell us about his awful date. He tried to give being casual a shot, which basically ended in him being sexually assaulted.
Throughout the conversation, I learn so much about him. For example, he’s an obvious romantic. And he is much sweeter than he had let on the first time we met. And he’s as vanilla as the bean itself. It’s almost cute. Definitely not something I could flow with but endearing in its own way.
After dinner, I opt out of a bonfire, stating I’m full and exhausted from laughter. Harrison offers me a ride to the bunkhouse, which I gladly accept due to how cold it’s been once the sun goes down.
We’re in his truck, and the only sounds are the hum of his engine and the crunch of gravel under the tires.
“So, you’re trying to find the princess for your happily ever after?” I break our silence as we come to the fork that separates his home from mine.
He lets out a long sigh that turns into a groan.
“Why is that so funny to you?” He stops and parks the truck. “You don’t believe in those things?”
“I do, for the most part. Some people are lucky enough to experience that, but not everyone.”
“Do you think you will?” At some point at the table, when Harrison noticed the lipstick on his shirt sleeve, he rolled them up. His thick, muscular forearms now lay across each other on his steering wheel as he leans forward, taking me in. He looks so boyish. Charming, young, ignorant about the world. Fluffy hair all mussed up.
“I don’t. When I was younger, I had hoped for my own Gomez, but I’m okay with a mutual attraction that is emotionally and physically beneficial.” I rest my elbow on his center console and lean in comfortably.
“Gomez?” he asks.
“Yes, Morticia’s husband in The Addams Family . He was her love, liked all the dark and weird things she did. Romantically cared for her in this unique way.”
“I didn’t watch movies too much growing up, so you lost me on that one. A mutual benefit doesn’t sound like love, Harlow.”
“Then it won’t be love, Harrison. It will be a relationship. Those can work, too.”
“Nah, you’re mistaken. It takes love to make relationships work,” he states firmly, sitting up straight.
“I am not. It takes agreement and understanding to make a relationship work. Do you think that emotionally stunted people can’t experience fulfilling relationships because they don’t convey love in the way that books, movies, and media portray it?”
“No,” he answers. “Are you emotionally stunted?” He is immediately embarrassed that he let the question leave his lips.
I smile at his youthfulness all over again. “No kiddo, I’m not. I am full of emotions, but I’m also equally rational. That’s all. Where I come from, love is a bonus, not a part of the foundation.”
He furrows his brows at me. “Don’t call me kiddo; you’re not that much older than me.” His argument sounds so childish, that it causes me to giggle.
“Yeah, yeah.” I unbuckle myself and his brows lift. “I can walk from here.”
Harrison’s hand shoots out to catch me before I can leave; I turn quickly to look at him. I hadn’t realized he had leaned over the console to stop me. I almost bump heads with him but stop a few inches away. His hand tightens on my forearm, and I feel tension under his calloused fingers. I take a quick breath, and when it leaves me, the air blows over his lips. He visibly shivers, causing my brows to rise and my lips to quirk in a knowing smile.
Sweet little vanilla bean, I think absently. Pulling myself away, I watch the tension stay in his shoulders as I open and exit the truck. With my hand on the door frame, I smile at him.
“Get some sleep, kiddo. I’m sure you’re tired.” He frowns at my words, and I smile wider, closing the door.
When I make it inside, I finally let out a long sigh and find a notebook I packed with me. I sit on the couch and cross my legs, a familiar ache starting to grow between them. Cleo comes out to sit with me, and I give her a few gentle strokes before grabbing a random pen.
I start doing something I haven’t done in a long time; I start to write.