Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
LOLA-MAE
Coffee in hand, I slip through the office door, ready to tackle a new week and the mound of paperwork that waits for me. Sitting down at my desk, I keep my focus on the window. Well, the barn across the road—that’s where my focus is pointed.
And that’s when I see him. He is leaning against the wall, his gaze in my direction. I think that maybe he isn’t actually looking at me, but then he lifts his hand in a single wave before he pushes off the barn wall and turns to walk inside the building.
My breath hitches.
Lifting my coffee mug to my lips, I take a sip. Then I press my lips together and roll them a few times before he emerges, this time on a quad instead of his usual horse. He looks just as good straddling the four-wheeler as he does the damn horse.
Shaking my head, I place my mug down and begin to work my way through the papers on my desk.
The office was a bit of a mess when I started last week.
But I’m getting it in order. I don’t know how long it will take for it to be completely caught up, but I don’t think it will take too long, maybe a month or so.
I reach for a pen and a stack of papers when a lime-green note catches my eye. It’s a sticky note. Reaching for it, I bring it in front of me, and my eyes scan the small square note. There is a drawing of a little stick cowboy.
But that drawing doesn’t cause my breath to hitch. It’s the words that do that.
Seeing you through the window makes me ache to press you against the glass.
-Cowboy
It couldn’t be from him… could it? I cannot imagine the cowboy outside left me this note. It must have been left for someone else, not me. Maybe for the woman who worked here before me, or maybe this was for some girl he was dating?
I spend the rest of the day trying to work, but I’m not sure I get much done. I can’t seem to keep him out of my head. All of my thoughts are focused on Harlan and the note.
What does it mean?
Does he want more?
Does he want me?
Was it for someone else?
And if it was, who is she, and how much trouble would I get into if I pulled her hair out?
I’m not sure how long I stay in the office working. Or rather, hardly working, because my brain won’t focus. But when there is a knock on the door, my entire body jumps.
In fact, I am so startled that my entire ass lifts from the seat. Turning my head, I look over at the doorway and watch as it opens. I blink, staring at the entrance, and there, standing in front of me, is Harlan.
“Harlan?” I ask.
He clears his throat, rocking back on his heels. I feel my face heat and lift my hands to my cheeks, wondering if he can see the redness there. He lifts his hand, and I realize that he’s holding a plate.
“I made you lunch. Noticed you weren’t taking breaks,” he announces.
“You made me lunch?” I whisper.
“You don’t have to eat it at your desk,” he states.
He turns around with the plate still in his hand and walks away. I stare at his back until there’s nothing left to see. Then I stand and follow behind him. He’s sitting at the same table where we ate dinner last weekend.
There’s a plate in front of him and one in front of an empty chair. Slowly, I sink into the seat, my eyes finding his. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t actually speak. Instead, he dips his chin and begins to eat.
As I look down at my plate, my lips twitch into a smirk. He made me a sandwich. A ham and Swiss on white brioche with a side of crinkle potato chips and half of an apple sliced up. It’s perfection.
Absolute perfection.
HARLAN
I’m an idiot.
I can’t believe that I really gave this woman a sandwich I made, like she’s some kind of middle schooler on lunch break.
Thankfully, she doesn’t laugh in my face.
No, instead, she takes the top of the sandwich off, and I watch as she places the chips on top of the ham and cheese before she places the top back on and smashes it down.
I smile at the sight, then keep watching as she brings the concoction to her lips, opens them, and takes a big, crunchy bite. Picking up a chip of my own, I lean back in my chair and bring it to my mouth.
“Tell me,” she says. My eyes stay on her as I wait for her to continue. “Tell me about your ranch.”
I’m not sure what to say. I could tell her a hell of a lot about this place.
What started out as a hundred thousand acres of my family’s land has dwindled down to the two hundred I now run on my own.
Well, until it’s time for vaccinations, branding, and taking to market.
I usually hire temporary help for all of that.
I could tell her about my parents, how my father died before my granddaddy, how my mother and granny were killed by a drunk driver, and then a month later, my granddaddy died of a broken heart, leaving me all alone at the age of thirty-five, which led to me hiring her.
But I don’t tell her any of that.
I’m not sure what this is between us. It’s probably nothing at all. Just a boss and employee thing, and that’s a hell of a lot of trauma to dump on someone who is just my employee. So, instead of telling her all of that, I give her the CliffsNotes version.
I tell Lola-Mae about how my family has been in Hill Country, Texas, since the mid-1800s. The original house is now owned by someone else, the land has been split up, sold, and whatever else has happened over the years.
“It used to be a hundred thousand acres?” she asks.
“Originally, yeah,” I murmur. “Children took portions, eventually sold them here and there, and my own granddaddy had to sell some to pay for property taxes when years got lean. Now it’s only a fraction of what it once was, and the original house is owned by someone else, some people who moved from California and thought it’d be fun to fix it up. ”
“Wow,” she exhales. “I don’t think I even have a family history, and especially one like that.”
Instead of asking her about her past, I decide it’s not for me to know. I end the conversation by telling her I need to get going, then I do just that. I grab my sandwich and leave the house to go out to the animals.