40. Harrison
Chapter 40
Harrison
“ T hat is one beautiful girl,” my mother says. We’re all in the main house, but I’m helping in the kitchen before dinner. I’m a mama’s boy, just like my brother. We’ve never had to fight for our parents’ attention. They always gave it so willingly that we never felt like they had a favorite.
“Right? I think guests will love her.” I try to avoid talking about Harlow more to my mom than I already have. I can’t keep much from anyone in my family. I love talking to them and telling them all about what’s going on in my life.
Did I tell my mom that I signed a notebook contract with Harlow to be her fuck buddy for some extra cash? No.
Did I tell her I have an amazing guest who I enjoy spending time with? Yes.
Does my mom think I’m in love with her because of this? Yup.
“Harrison James. I know you are not sassing me.” She wipes her hands on her apron and turns to me. I hate it when she middle-names Hunter and me. We share the same one, just like our dad has his father’s name as his middle name. She didn’t think only one of us should have it.
“Ugh. Mom. I know she’s beautiful. She’s fu—” She raises a brow at me. “Absolutely stunning.”
“She’s sweet, too. I can tell.”
Leave it to my mom to look at the gothed-out girl who has a naked cat from out of town for an instant and know she’s sweet.
“She is.”
“How does she like Pebble Creek?”
I think over my answer for a moment. Harlow has seemed to enjoy Pebble Creek. She likes the small-town charm and the connections of the community. More than anything, I can tell Harlow loves the Hill property. She loves wandering on the land. She loves the animals. She loves my brother and his wife. I think maybe in some way she even loves me.
“She loves it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Mom. But she has a life to get back to, and possibly a fiancé.”
“Possibly?” she asks genuinely before getting back to finishing the touches on her dinner rolls.
“Yeah, her family is different. Her parents picked a spouse for her sister and approved the other’s spouses.”
“I can’t imagine my parents picking me a husband. Unless it was your father, but it wouldn’t have been. I knew I was in love with him after our third date, but he says he knew after one. Maybe her parents believe that they can spot the perfect partner?”
“No. It’s more like the most overall beneficial partner.”
My mother scrunches her nose up at my wording.
“Interesting.” She tosses the rolls in the oven and stirs her beef stew. “Is she staying for dinner?”
“Yeah, she’s close with everyone here. She’ll love a family dinner. From what I hear, her family dinners aren’t like ours.”
My mom smiles and turns to me. “Well, we better get that table set and this food out. I’m sure everyone is starving.”
I’ve pulled back from Harlow this week to preserve the part of my heart that is left for romantic love. I want to keep spending time with her, but I can’t just freefall into all this. I had been, and it all caught up to me after I talked with Silas and Hunter. Spending time with her is still great, but when I feel that flutter in my chest, I pull back and remind myself what all this is.
I forget that memo at dinner. It’s too perfect. Everyone is laughing and talking—even Hunter is getting along with her better. She clicks with my mom immediately. She recommends a few thriller books she may like. She adores her, just like everyone else at the table.
The person I notice loving her the most, though, is Blake. She is sitting in her highchair between Cassidy and Harlow, eating up word after word. Her big eyes are full of wonder as she watches Harlow. She doesn’t get ignored, either. Harlow takes breaks talking to Cassidy and plays or feeds B. Their interaction is somewhat of an oxymoron.
When you look at a woman in all black, you don’t immediately imagine her making goofy sounds or faces at a toddler. You imagine her cool and collected, like how Harlow was when she first got here. Since that nap in her arms, Blake has gravitated toward her more and more.
I join in on their game a little and then we all talk with ease. Dinner is fast and I immediately wish I could turn back time and relive it just the way it was.
Georgie and Cassidy clean the kitchen, my parents are tucked away for the night, and my brother takes Blake upstairs to do her bedtime routine. Harlow and I cleared the table and are now left twiddling our thumbs.
“Want to go check on Majesty?” I ask.
She beams a bright, beautiful smile at me before nodding.
“I have to stop by my trailer for a minute to grab a few things. I like to sleep in the stable on a new horse’s first night. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”
Harlow’s expression grows softer and sweeter.
“That’s fine by me. Grab a couple of extra blankets and pillows. It’s going to be a cold one.”
Back at my trailer, Harlow borrows some sweats and my PCHS hoodie. She wanted to get out of her dress and only had extra riding clothes. I change, grab bedding and water, and make a thermos of hot cocoa.
The stable is quiet, but Majesty fusses. I hear her moving about in her stall, huffing a little. It’s when Harlow pets her and soothes her that she can still and settle.
I set up my sleeping station on some saddle blankets while Harlow and Majesty do their own thing. I might have acted all cool about sleeping in the stable, but it’s cold out here, not cool. Downright cold. I grab a space heater from the supply room and plug it in near where I set up my bedding.
I lie down and pull out a sketchbook with a small pencil tucked inside. It’s small enough to fit into my pocket, so it’s full of garbage sketches.
I sketch out a rough memory of Harlow petting Majesty at the fence line today. It’s scribbled and simplified, but I know what it is. I get lost in the sketch, and then turn the page to start another. A woman and a child, and at a glance, it looks like Harlow’s slim figure.
“Hey, kid,” she says, pulling me out of my creative trance.
“Hey, witch.”
She kicks off her boots and climbs onto my makeshift bed. She grabs a pillow and tucks herself onto her side, facing me. She’s curled into herself, so I reach over her to turn on the space heater.
“That’s nice,” she murmurs. “Whatcha’ sketchin’?”
“Cassidy and Blake, Majesty, a saddle. A whole bunch of nothing.”
She blinks a few times and then looks sad for a second before putting her cool mask back on.
“What’s your favorite thing to draw?”
“Lately or ever?”
“Both.”
“Ever? Probably horses. I draw them all the time. I think even at one time, I told Hunter when I grow up I’m going to be an artist for horse anatomy and horse breed textbooks,” I chuckle. “Right now? Maybe my dream house or Blake?”
You.
Harlow nods and waits for me to keep talking, but I don’t have much else to say.
“What would you do before when you would sleep here?”
“Draw, read, tell scary or romantic stories with Hunter when he would stay with me.”
“Romantic?” She lightly laughs.
“Yeah, not only girls like that shit. Our mom was a big reader, so we would make up our own fairy tales.”
“Tell me one,” she says, snuggling deeper into her spot .
I have to think for a moment, but I remember the one I would tell Hunter the most. A makeshift Rumpelstiltskin meets Romeo and Juliet with a touch of Cinderella . Harlow listens to me intently, smiling at some of the things I say. Jokingly calling me ridiculous. She laughs when I say, “Then they go off and do naughty stuff,” before jumping right back into the story.
I get that flutter in my chest. The signal to pull back, but I can’t. I keep telling her story after story, some shorter than the others.
“Let’s make one up together,” she offers.
We’re closer now, facing each other, and under a blanket. I don’t think she’s ever looked more naked than she does right now, in my sweats and hoodie.
“Okay. Once upon a time . . .”
I wake up to the smell of jojoba and hay. It’s still night, but my left arm is tingling. Harlow is tucked against me, her head under my chin, our arms wrapped around each other. Even our legs are tangled up, likely in an attempt to stay warm.
I shift a little to get some blood flow back into my arm.
“Noooooo,” she grumbles, squeezing me tighter.
“Let me just?—”
“Nooooooo!” she says louder.
“Shh, you’ll wake all the horses.” She wiggles a little and then settles back into me.
I need blood in my left arm or it’s going to need to be amputated. I squeeze her tight and roll us both over so we’re on my right side. A little squeak escapes her, but she doesn’t fight me.
That flutter in my chest is stronger this time, and I can’t help but squeeze her tighter. She makes a happy sound and presses her soft lips to my neck. A shudder racks my whole body.
We slept in our own beds at the hotel to keep our no-sleeping-in-the-same-bed rule, but I guess we’re not technically in a bed now.
I lie awake and listen to her breathing, and I feel her heartbeat under her skin. The sounds around us are tranquil and subdued compared to my loud, pounding heart.
This shit is going to hurt more than I am willing to admit.
This shit is going to hurt so bad; I’ll cry to my niece, because she won’t tell a soul.
I go to sleep thinking about how bad this will hurt later, but how good it feels now.
The next time I wake, it’s with a kiss. My nose feels cold, but the rest of me is suddenly hot.
“Good morning.” My voice is rough from sleep.
“Good morning. What time do people start coming in here?” She lays her head down on my chest and intertwines our fingers.
“The earliest hand sometimes opens things up at five . . . or Hunter at 5:30.”
Harlow shoots up out of my hold, taking the blankets with her.
“Fuck, it’s cold!” I bark and try to grab her.
“Harrison, it’s 5:20! Get the fuck up right now.” I understand her panic; both of our cars are still parked out front. They know she’s probably with me .
I know she’ll prefer the privacy of not being caught in the stable with me.
We get up, and I leave all my stuff where it is. I can get it anytime. While Harlow splashes some water on her face in the stable bathroom, I start her car for her.
Harlow comes out and meets me by her car. She leans in, giving me a hard, urgent kiss.
“Come back to the bunkhouse for twenty minutes.”
I’m torn between my want to say yes, and my need to say no.
The sky is still dark, and the wind that blows past us cuts through me. The bugs are long gone at this time. Dead or in a frozen state. The horses don’t make a sound. The cattle don’t need to be moved until closer to noon today. It wouldn’t be obscene to say yes and indulge more while she’s here, but there’s no way it will only be twenty minutes. I know my need for her too well.
Opening the car door for her, I kiss her back and usher her into her seat.
“I can’t right now, but I will come by tonight. And it will be much longer than twenty minutes.” I lean against the car frame, looking down at her. Simply beautiful. Too tall for such a tiny vehicle. Too special to be in an arranged marriage. Too different to be your typical bunkhouse guest.
She must sense me assessing her. Harlow sits taller and smiles wide.
“Bring an overnight bag.” She winks before grabbing the handle of the door to excuse me.
My brows shoot up in surprise, but I nod in response.
If I thought I should say no earlier, I know I should say no now. I might have wanted to share a bed throughout the night with her before, but knowing what I do now, I don’t think it’s the best idea .
I can’t fight the feeling of falling when we’re lying in bed, tangled up in comfort instead of lust. It’s not the same as lying on the couch and then heading back to our own spaces. It’s a complete invasion. With all the warning bells going off in my head, I nod.
“You got it.”
I’m a fucking idiot.