15. Harrison
Chapter 15
Harrison
K iddo.
Kiddo.
Kiddo.
I hate it. I hate feeling younger than I already do.
She’s older than me, sure.
Calling me, a grown-ass man, kiddo seems a little like overkill. Worse than that, I hate that I kind of liked it. Can you hate and enjoy something at the same time? Isn’t that what people call toxic attraction?
People say opposites attract, but I’m not so sure. Cassidy and Hunter are different in so many ways, but in others, they align perfectly. Opposite energies are supposed to draw each other in like magnets. Harlow and I are opposites, but if we were magnets, we would repel each other. Whenever we get close to each other, I can feel an electric current zipping through me, almost like a warning signal.
I wasn’t expecting her at my brother’s place, and I tend to head over there after some of these disaster dates to word vomit to them. They find it entertaining, and I’m able to feel lighter after we all laugh about it. Harlow being there for the whole rundown didn’t have the same effect. Things that my brother and his wife would say that usually make me laugh stung in front of her. Harlow’s input made me feel a little juvenile and ignorant. She wasn’t malicious, just so much more mature than me.
Those moments in my truck left me thinking about her for the following two days. Anytime I thought of her calling me kiddo, I would blush with a tinge of anger and feel myself grow slightly aroused. It was bullshit. It made no sense.
Two of my hands were out sick today, so I needed to be out on the land more than usual, herding the cattle to a new paddock and pulling the tagged ones for vaccines. Our vet will be coming by tomorrow and getting the cattle pulled today makes things easier. I’ll put some salt out for them as a small treat. My girls are especially testy whenever they get separated, so I give them a little extra love when something causes a rift in their routines.
With my hands out and me on the land doing more than routine checks, the reminder of the need for a good herding dog comes to mind. I know a few breeders in town, including one that my father loyally went to whenever it was time for us to have a new hound in the house. I’ll reach out to them before any other breeder.
I’ve passed the bunkhouse twice today, but Harlow hasn’t come out as usual. Thinking about the last few days, she hasn’t come out at all. She spends a fair amount of time outside of the house sitting and enjoying the land. Drinking something hot, working on her manuscripts, reading a book for leisure. This marks the third day since our moment, if I can even call it that, in the truck. Since then, she’s holed herself up .
What if she’s uncomfortable?
What if she’s avoiding me?
What if she’s sick?
The last one worries me the most. I only have the basics in that house—a travel first aid kit with maybe a few doses of anti-fever medication, but nothing solid. If she’s too sick to go into town, that could be dangerous.
Harlow has grown close enough to Cassidy to ask for help, so I doubt she would be high and dry. No less, I’m worried enough to be curious.
By late afternoon, I’d worked myself up enough to reach out to Cassidy.
Me: Have you seen or heard from Harlow lately?
Cassidy: I mean, she was over for dinner the day you came in. Since then, a little texting here and there. What’s up?
Me: Everything seem okay?
Cassidy: Is there a reason it wouldn’t be???
Me: IDK, she hasn’t come out and she usually does. I was worried she was sick or something.
Cassidy: hmmmmmmmmm.
Me: -_-
Cassidy: I don’t think she’s sick. She hasn’t said anything. Want me to stop by?
Part of me does want Cass to stop over there and make sure she’s okay. The other part of me knows that’s a complete invasion of privacy, and I likely wouldn’t be doing check-ins like that with any other guest. I can’t cross that line. The thought of complicating something as simple as host and guest makes me pull at my hair out of exhaustion.
Me: Nah, probably me just being nosy. It’s been cold. Probably too cold for a Cali girl.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and continue to work on my tasks.
At the end of the day, I’m dog-tired. I’m hot, even with the cooler weather, sweaty from the extra labor, and mentally tired after worrying about that damn woman.
I spend a little extra time brushing Star down, and she headbutts me a few times looking for a sugar cube. It’s a bad habit started by the previously stated exhausting woman. What’s worse is I’ve conformed to this habit and have kept a box of sugar cubes in the stable for both Harlow and me to give her. Once Star is satisfied and bundled up for the predicted chilly night, I close up the stable.
I see Jake tending to Hunter’s mare—out of love, not duty.
“Hey sport, what’s good?” I say, startling him slightly.
He looks over his shoulder at me and grumbles something. This is completely out of character for him. Ambling over, I lean against the open door of the stall and wait for him to try again. He doesn’t say anything, tossing a stable blanket over Legacy, and then fastening the front buckles.
“What’s goin’ on?” I finally pry.
“Just havin’ a bad day. You ever have one of those?” Jake’s tone is sharp, and we’ve only caught this side of him maybe two times before now. He’s sunnier than me and that’s saying something .
“Sure have, want to talk about it?” I move closer to Legacy, rubbing down her crest. She whinnies in appreciation, and Jake shoots me a look.
“Not really. Just don’t want to head back to the park tonight,” he states. Ah, so that’s why he’s dawdling in here.
“You can always crash at my or Hunter’s place. Everythin’ okay at home?” I ask gently.
Jake’s head shoots up at my question. “Well, Mom’s got a boyfriend, and he’s been over here and there. I haven’t been there when they are, and the other way around. She wants me to meet him tonight, but I told her I didn’t want to, which led to her treatin’ me like a kid, and I hate when she does that.”
Boy, do I get that more than he knows. I hated it when my dad, mom, hell, even Hunter treated me like I was a kid, even more so when I felt like I was becoming a man, much like Jake. Thinking back to when Harlow called me kiddo causes that dual reaction again. I shake it off and look at Jake.
“Sometimes bein’ a man means we swallow our pride. We set aside our egos and do what’s right. There’s a reason your mom wants you to meet him; that’s gotta be a big step for y’all. I can’t remember the last time Sharon had a man in her life.” My words cause Jake to wince a little, and he fixes a hard stare my way.
“She’s never had me meet anyone. It’s always been just the two of us. This guy just shows up at the diner, and the next thing I know, she can’t stop talking about him. It’s all, ‘Barret this,’ and ‘Barret that.’ It drives me crazy. I’ve never talked about someone so much.”
I want to laugh at his open jealousy, but I know it’s his fear of change. The kid and his mom have always been on their own, only relying on each other. The fact that someone is coming in and disrupting all that must be scary as hell for him.
“Well, maybe she keeps telling you about Barret because she thinks you’ll like him. Maybe he’ll be good for y’all.”
Jake shakes his head, brushing the mare’s mane.
“I don’t know.”
“I do; your mom is a helluva woman. She wouldn’t just let any man walk into your lives. Go meet this guy and show him that you’re not some little boy he has to win over. Show him that you and your mom are a team.” Jake’s brows turn upward at my words. He looks around the space like he’s wasted time on a bunch of nonsense instead of being at home with his only family.
I offer him a simple smile and nod.
“You head out. I’ll close this stable up on my own.”
Jake gives me a sheepish look, one that reminds me that he is still, in fact, just a boy. He’s a boy that had to grow up too fast. This was one of those moments when he was being a boy and didn’t know how to handle it because all he’d ever known was how to be a man. That shit has to be hard. I always had my dad and brother to show me what being a man meant. They let me be a boy whenever I wanted. Becoming a man came in time and as I was ready. I wasn’t thrown into it like Jake.
“Alright, I’ll head over there.” He brushes himself off, looking calm before walking to the open doors of the stable. Once he’s past the door, I hear the sound of him sprinting to his beat-up truck.
It’s late-ish. On any other day, I would be in bed calling it a night. Tonight I’m pacing my living room thinking about that damn woman again.
Kiddo.
It makes me so damn mad, I can’t even think straight. It doesn’t make any sense at all. How can someone so insignificant get me so wrapped up? When I finished at the stable and drove past the bunkhouse, I slowed and rolled my windows down. It was quiet—no music, no Harlow staring out the window—and the chairs in the front were left in the same place they had been for the last few days. It was driving me crazy.
A large gust of wind batters against my trailer, and I catch a quick chill. Turning up my heater, I freeze. Harlow’s going to need to turn her heaters up tonight. It’s supposed to be the coolest night of the season so far. If she’s sick, she won’t know that. If she’s sick, she can’t catch a chill—that will only make it worse. Will she feel comfortable enough to ask for help if she needs it?
I’m wearing a plain white crew neck and gray sweats. Without putting on socks, I slide a pair of boots on. I’m rushing out the door before I can give it a second thought. The dampness left in my hair from my shower is immediately cool, brushing against my neck and forehead. I can see small puffs of air with every exhale. Each little detail reminds me it’s cold as fuck, and a Cali girl probably will freeze to death if I don’t get there soon enough.
My imagination might be getting the better of me, but I can’t stop myself.
When I reach the bunkhouse, there is some dim light on the first floor. It’s the same light that stays on regardless of if she’s up or not. I think she leaves it on for the cat since they’re in a new space. Taking the steps two at a time, I’m at the door in mere seconds. I should think about knocking or calling her since those are reasonable options. Except Harlow makes me completely unreasonable.
The knob turns with ease. Unlocked. I grumble and sigh all at once. Barging through the front door, I hear a yelp and the sound of items crashing onto the floor.
I rush into the front room to see Harlow standing there, a candleholder in her left hand as a weapon, the candlestick broken at her feet. There are broken pieces of black wax around her stocking feet. Her socks go up lean calves that lead to bare thighs. Her toned legs are met with the edge of the oversized waffle shirt I have often seen her wearing, except this time I see the front of it. It’s got a Henley opening, with all the buttons undone. Her sternum is on display, the small swell of her left breast showing with her left arm raised. Harlow’s long black hair is down and messy, not an ounce of effort put into taming it.
I see a slight flush on her cheeks, but her face is holding a mix of emotions. Anger? Fear? Excitement?
Maybe that last one is me.
“Harrison?! What the hell!” she yells, lowering her arm.
Her chest rises and falls, and I catch a glimpse of the peaks of her nipples through her shirt.
Fuck, she looks good in almost nothing. Socks and a long-sleeved sleeper shouldn’t be this sexy.
Her eyes look over to me and stop at my waistband, that brow of hers arching. I look down to see if there is something on my pants or shirt, but there isn’t. There’s just an obvious bulge from my growing erection, and no briefs to buffer the outline or tent. It’s basically a giant sign hanging around me saying, “I’m horny AF. ”
Not knowing what to do with my embarrassment, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“Why is your door unlocked?!” Stupid.
Harlow barks out a loud laugh. “I don’t know, I’m on acres upon acres of private property that require someone to get through a main gate for entry. I kind of thought I was safe here.” She crosses her arms, and her perky chest sits at higher attention.
I inwardly groan. Why can’t she be ugly on top of being a witch?
“You are safe. There’s a cold front coming through, and I wanted to make sure your heaters were turned up.”
“That caused you to barge in here like a bat out of hell?” She doesn’t set the candleholder down; it rests against her hip while her arms are crossed, looking heavy and dangerous. Harlow’s feet make their way across the creaky floor toward me.
“I was joggin’ to stay warm and was just testing the door. You should lock it. Regardless of being safe on the property.” She’s standing in front of me, and I catch her scent. She smells like she just had a shower, and the scent is like a soap from Franny’s family shop. Rosewater? Jojoba? It smells great on her. It’s light and wispy in contrast to her natural dark aura.
“That’s ridiculous. I turned the heater up in here and my room, no need to worry.” She unwraps herself and presses the holder against my chest. It’s hard enough the cause pressure as she slides it down to brush across my nipple.
Are men’s nipples sensitive too? I’ve never had a woman touch my nipples.
“Best jog back so you don’t catch that chill, Harrison,” she states, and against everything inside me I let out a groan. She hears me and flashes a quick, sinister smile. Her long lashes blink as she looks up at me.
I start to back up, feeling intimidated and more aroused than ever before. The next thing I know, my back is against the wall and Harlow is holding the candleholder to my throat. She drags the metal down along the thick muscles of my neck and it bobs when I swallow. She smiles in appreciation. Down it goes, back to my pebbled nipple and she flicks it.
I clench my jaw to hold in any sound; she sees my internal struggle. Slowly, so damn slowly, she drags it across the other hard nipple, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Hey, kid,” she starts, and I shiver. “It looks like you’re a little scared.” Her voice is raspy and so fucking hot. I try to think of something to say, but then I feel long, delicate fingers and a firm palm cup me through my pants. Without underwear, it feels like almost nothing at all separates her hand from me.
My hands are fisted at my sides, fighting to take hold of what I want. The slightest shift in her hand in combination with the candleholder is driving me wild.
“Are you nervous, kiddo?”
Fuck. It.
I snap, growling before I grab her wrists firmly, causing her to drop the holder. It loudly clangs against the hardwood floors, but it’s muffled by the blood rushing my ears. Before she can say another word, I flip her and pin her back against the wall. Her wrists are captive in my hands, my erection pressing firmly against her pelvis, and my eyes boring into her. We’re a breath apart, and I have one last rational thought left in me.
“Stop me, Harlow,” I say through gritted teeth.
She only gives me a challenging look .
“Or what, ki—” My mouth slams against hers, and I finally elicit a reaction from her. I feel her shiver under me before she meets me. Her teeth nip at my bottom lip, and I growl in approval.
I want more, so I take what she’s willing to give.