30. Harrison
Chapter 30
Harrison
“ J ake! Check nine!” I yell over the pasture. “Jake! Nine!” It’s hard to hear over the heavy hooves of the cattle, their moos, and grunts. We’re in the east meadow moving the cattle to another pasture.
Riding Star always helps clear any messy state of mind. Cassidy, Hunter, and I all sat together once they got back from running errands and had a quick dinner. Cass was the living example of a two-day hangover, so she was more quiet than usual.
Seeing Harlow with B, having dinner with my family, and thinking about what’s happening now and what’s going to happen in a few more weeks had me all kinds of twisted. So, instead of sending a few hands to take care of the herd today, I went on my own and called Jake out. It’s the perfect distraction.
Star’s hooves beat against the land as we push the cattle farther north. With Jake off to the west, the front of the herd starts to split, and I let out a loud whoop and whistle. Jake looks over to me and herds the gals back to the group. The front end tightens up and we finally make it to a pasture up north.
“Damn, it’s getting’ cold,” Jake says with a huff.
“Yeah, feels kind of good after the summer we’ve had.” I look over at Jake. He seems better as each day passes by.
“So, how’s things at home?” I ask as we ride around the perimeter of the herd.
“Honestly, my mom is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She’s even doing better at work. Standing up for herself and all sorts of shit she didn’t do before. I think she might even leave that shithole.”
“Where would she go?”
“I guess she’s been talking to Edith at Pan and Cake. She’s thinking about retiring soon and doesn’t want to shut the place down. My mom might start over there to learn the ropes. She’s practically running Louis’s place, and the hours would be better.”
“What’s her boyfriend think of that?” I watch his brows furrow for a moment.
“He thinks it’s the move she needs to make to be truly happy. Mom wants to try and convince Edith to make Pan and Cake an all-day café, a rival to Louis’s.”
“We need another all-day spot in town. Everyone goes to that diner for her, anyway.”
Jake beams at my simple statement; it wasn’t hard to say because it’s true. A displeased look crosses his face, but he fixes it quickly.
“Anything else going on?”
“Nah. Just all fucked up over Lena’s transfer.” I try to think back on what he’s talking about. All I can pull out of my ass is that he’s definitely not in love with her, but she’s his closest friend in town. They’ve always been close.
“Transfer? ”
“Yeah, she got this scholarship to a school a few hours away. It kind of sucks not having anyone to bullshit with on my days off.”
I joke with him a little more about ways to mend his broken heart, but he doesn’t want to hear any of it. No break to mend, he swears.
Getting back to the stable, I find Harlow grooming Legacy. She isn’t dressed for riding. She’s wearing black leggings tucked into her riding boots and a black hoodie. Her long hair is tossed on the top of her head in a messy bun with plenty of loose hair falling out of place. She sees me stop just outside and hop off Star’s back.
Untying Legacy, Harlow walks her over to her stall and gives her a treat from her hoodie pocket. She watches me carefully as she takes long steps in my direction.
She looks dead tired, just like Cassidy did when she got home after errands. When she reaches me, she gives me a soft smile, but it lacks the vibrance that usually shines through. It’s like her candle is about to burn out any minute.
“Want me to untack Star? I was looking for her.” Star’s already nuzzling into Harlow’s shoulder. Their bond is obvious.
“Don’t worry about it, Harlow, I’ll take care of them both,” Jake calls out just as he comes up to us.
The air is almost icy, the sky full of clouds, the grass more brown than gold. We all stand just outside my family’s stable waiting for someone to make a move. Jake’s energy is the brightest out of the three, and he just told me about his closest friend leaving.
Why are Harlow and I suddenly out of sync?
“Yeah, he’s going to take care of it. You can tend to Star tomorrow; I won’t be taking her out,” I say while holding her gaze. “Jake, put the English tack on the saddle stand by Star’s stall and hang up mine in the tack room.” I don’t look over at him; I just keep looking into Harlow’s dark eyes.
I don’t think much of it as I take her hand and walk her down the dirt path toward my truck and her car.
“You going to tell me what’s going on with you?” I ask as I open her door for her.
I see a fire light a little behind her eyes, and she pulls her lips in for a second before holding her bottom one captive in her teeth. When she releases the pink flesh, there’s a quick rush of air that she puffs out.
“Not here.”
I nod and jut my chin toward her seat. Without argument, which is completely unlike her, she gets in. I follow behind her to the bunkhouse, and once we get there, we silently head inside.
“I’ve been out working all day. I need to shower and change. Grab a change of clothes.”
“Why don’t you just shower and come back?”
“Because I want you at my place tonight. This isn’t your home, Harlow. This is a guesthouse. If you need someone to talk to, let me give you the comfort of my own home. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but in the month that I’ve known you, I know this isn’t typical.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe you’re finally seeing the gloomy girl everyone says I am. You know vacation Harlow, not the real me.”
“Don’t give me that shit; go get your ass upstairs and get your shit together. I’m checking Cleo’s bowls and giving her fresh water.” Without another word, I storm off into the kitchen to check the bowls.
She wants to act like I don’t know her just because she’s feeling off. She had a whole four days of feeling off during her cycle, but this is different. Something is bothering her.
Cleo ambles over to me and rubs against my leg as I get her food and water.
“Your mama is in a bad mood. I’m taking her to my place tonight. If you’re good, I’ll get you more treats.” I say while putting her bowls down and going to the cabinet above the fridge for the hidden treats I had gotten her.
“What treats?” I’m already opening the bag as Harlow stands by the countertop, arms crossed across her chest, a Hill Farms canvas bag packed and slung over her shoulder.
“These are just some old treats I had for the barn cats,” I lie after giving Cleo two and closing the bag.
“When did you two get so close?” she huffs.
“When her mom had a raging period, and I was here every day taking care of her.”
“You didn’t take care of me. You kept me company . . . on paid time.”
I do my best to not physically recoil from her words. I know what we are, I know our agreement, and I know something is bothering her. Still, it stings that she would say it like that. My silence must speak for itself.
“I’m sorry. That was really shitty. Maybe I’m a little more off than I’m leading on.”
I nod as I put away the treats.
“I know, let’s go.”
We pull up to my place and take no time settling in. Harlow slips her boots off and leaves them at my front door, right next to mine. They’re both made for riding, but mine are scuffed up, old, and a lighter color; hers are sleek, dirty only on the sole, and black.
“I need to rinse off, make yourself at home.” Harlow has been to my place a few times, but not for extended periods. I mostly visit her over at the bunkhouse.
My shower is speedy, and when I get out, I see Harlow flipping through the pages of my sketchbook. A part of me grows self-conscious, but what better way to get her to open up to me? If I let her see some of the things I’ve put in that book, maybe she’ll show me a little more of what’s going on with her.
She opens to the page of the house I’ve been drawing consistently and stares at it. She’s wearing soft black shorts that cling to her thin legs, an oversized black crew neck sweater, and gray socks that go just below her knee. I never realized how many shades of black there really were until I met Harlow. She looks perfect curled up on my couch, flipping through something of mine, staring at the pages with a mixture of admiration and anxiety.
I clear my throat as I break the threshold into the room, wearing gray sweats and a plain white tee.
“Want something to drink?” I offer, but her eyes dart to the coffee table where a cup of water already sits. I settle next to her on the couch and look at the picture.
“This is the tree line farther south, right?” she asks.
I nod.
“You ever read one of those books where a girl’s parents pick her partner and although they fight it, they fall in love, and they live happily ever after?” Harlow’s eyes leave the pages of my book and look at me.
“Are you going to make fun of me if I say yes?”
I see a small smile start at the corners of her mouth, but it doesn’t last. She raises a brow, telling me that she won’t make fun of me.
“Yes. I think they can be sweet stories. I think it’s crazy when a partner is picked for you, and you have no choice. In the end, don’t we all have a choice? I can imagine my parents trying to set me up with someone, but it would be more of a general meeting to see if we clicked. There’s no way my family would push me into a marriage if I didn’t want it. I think it’s interesting how no matter what in those stories, they find love.”
“Okay, well that kind of shit happens in real life. My family is an example. My sister was introduced to her husband as some sort of sacrificial lamb, and now they’re in love. I know you know I have money, and trust me, I know I’m a lucky lil’ trust fund baby. I know I have the world at my fingertips, but it looks like that’s coming with a price.” Her tone has no mirth, it’s all edge and anger.
“My parents are setting me up with this guy in a business merger. I met him right before I came here. My father wants more financial gain, and this guy wants . . . I don’t even know what he wants.” She thinks for a second as if she’s trying to put together some of her thoughts.
“Are you about to ask me to be your fake fiancé so your parents get off your back?” I joke, thinking about another common romantic trope.
“What? No!” she says, turning her brows upward.
I don’t know how to process all this. I knew Harlow had money, but maybe this is just like Pretty Woman ; maybe she gets the penthouse and designer clothes and lives her best life every day while I’m out here literally shoveling cow pies. She’s living a lavish life where her parents set her up with someone with a matching status.
Is she super pissed, and that’s why she’s feeling off?
Is she falling for this guy and wanting to end things with me early?
“I guess talking to him the other day just kind of put me in a mood.”
She talked to him? Are they talking companionably?
Maybe she’s ending things with me and can’t find the right words.
That’s good. Better to end things before . . .
Before what?
I’m doing casual, and I’m doing it well.
“Whenever we hang out, he’s never crossed my mind, so I never thought to bring him up. After our talk yesterday, I’ve just been in this headspace and when I saw you in the barn, I realized I hadn’t told you about that whole situation.”
I just nod, because I don’t know what to say.
Harlow is going to be part of an arranged . . . relationship.
“So here we are now, talking about this guy that I’ve met once that my parents want me to marry because it will not only look good but it will set my father and mother up for the rest of their lives.” She puts my sketchbook down and turns to me.
“So, you’re going to marry this guy?”
Harlow blinks a few times before taking a deep breath.
“I don’t know, maybe if what I told you is true. That all I really need is mutual understanding and I’ll be fine. He seems nice enough. I don’t think he’s going to abuse me or treat me badly.”
“But will he love you?” I ask it as a friend because that’s what I am. I’m her paid companion for now but, more than that, I’m her friend.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I really care because I don’t think I can love him. We’re so different.” I can see her tension rising, so I pull her into a hug.
“Uh, what are you doing?” she says, stiff in my arms. You wouldn’t think we spent every day last week lying together on the couch watching movies.
“Hugging you; relax,” I say, and she tries to.
Harlow pushes out of my hold and then adjusts me on the couch so I’m leaning back against the arm with my legs across the couch. She straddles me and looks down, asking for approval. I just give her a quick nod. She lies down on my chest and snuggles into me. I wrap my arms around her.
“Keep going. Dump it all on me. But I charge double for therapy sessions,” I joke.
“Ugh. It’s all kind of a mess. He comes off as this boring business mogul, but whenever he talks to or texts me, he tries so hard to be sweet. He asks me something about myself every day.”
“Like what?”
“Like what my favorite flower is.”
“Hmm, I see you liking succulents or a flowering plant . . . something like jasmine.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s like he’s gathering all that information and putting it into a note on his phone so that way if we do get married, he can keep me happy with all the little notes he has on me.”
“So, you’re saying it doesn’t seem authentic.”
“Exactly. I guess I shouldn’t care because I’m really not looking for big love in my life. But I at least wanted to pick my partner.”
Harlow is a woman who keeps herself put together; even during her cycle when she was grumpy or crampy, she wasn’t out of sorts.
“So, what do you want to do about all of it? Do you want to entertain it? Do you want to give it a shot? Do you want to go home married, and I play as your holiday husband?” I joke, and Harlow stills under my arms.
She pushes up into a sitting position, her pelvis sitting right over mine. Apparently my dick has a mind of its own and stiffens underneath her. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and she swivels her hips slightly, only making me harder .
“You would do that, too, wouldn’t you? You with your golden heart, willing to help a damsel in distress. Get me out of a merger marriage.” She moves to cage me in, gripping the couch behind my head. My hands go to her hips on instinct.
“I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I touch you or get near you, I get kind of crazy. Lying with you gives me comfort. Kissing you gives me inspiration. Sucking your dick gives me power. Orgasms by you give me energy. You’re like a whole-ass good luck charm. I wish I could bring you home with me. I’d lock you up to keep feeling this good.” I won’t show her how much her words both satisfy and sting. I revel in the fact that she wants to be around me but can’t stand how it's not in a companionable sense. Even Cleo gets more love than me.
Love?
I need to push that thought away immediately. I need to stick to what we agreed upon, and based on how she’s acting, I don’t think she wants to cut our contract short.
“Oh yeah? What would I be there for?” I brush my lips against hers, knowing that this is the best way for me to take her mind off whatever is running through it. I’ll process my own feelings later. Right now, this is what we both need.
“You’d be my favorite toy,” she says, her voice holding a dark undertone before she places a quick, light kiss on my lips. When I chase after another, she pulls her head back.
“You’d be my sweet escape.” Another kiss, my grip getting tighter on her hips.
“My sanctuary.” Kiss.
“My muse.” Kiss.
“My—” Before she can finish, my hands release her hips and land on her face, pulling her to me and kissing her harshly, our lips still shut .
“For now,” I start, my lips move against hers. “You. Are. Mine.” I punctuate each word.
I might not know a lot about what she’s going to have to deal with back in Cali. I might not even know how I feel about it. But I do know this; while we have our contract in place . . . she is mine.
Harlow shudders in my grasp, and I don’t make her wait another minute. Our lips twist together like lock and key, opening in sync and moving together as if they were choreographed.
“I am yours.” She drags her tongue along the seam of my lips. “For now.”
And with that, any consideration I had for not taking her completely while she’s here is gone.
I will consume every part of Harlow I get can my hands on.