25. Harper
Harper
“I can’t believe I let him talk me into this.” I stand in front of my mirror, trying on outfits while Cora sits on the bed, watching with observant eyes. “Of course people are going to clap for him, he’s the town darling. But me…” I make a face, discarding the top I have on for another.
Cora just sits there, her eyes bright, and I know I’m doing this as much for her as I am for myself. But still.
I’ve been throwing myself into preparing for the open mic night over the last few days.
Whenever Cash and I have a moment to steal away, we sneak in some practice together.
Something about the way his voice sounds and the way he plays guitar makes me feel like we can do this, but whenever I have to practice alone, I get the flutters of nerves all over again.
The garden helps, giving me something to do with my hands that’s meditative in a way, and pulling weeds has been my best friend lately. A way to destress whenever I find myself feeling flushed and my heart racing, which keeps happening more than usual.
It’s probably just the weird mixture of nerves and excitement that comes with doing something like this.
It’s been easy to get more comfortable in Silver Falls lately, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. Every time I start to let my guard down completely, there’s a part of me that goes on alert, reminding me that it’s dangerous to drop my wariness. The wariness is what keeps us safe.
I’m not worried about the Alphas doing anything—despite myself, I’m starting to trust them.
But it’s not just them that I have to think about.
There are threats that could still find me, find Cora, and if something happens to her because I’ve been too busy living in a fantasy world to pay attention the way I should, I’ll never forgive myself.
It’s been quiet so far, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way.
Still, on the night of the performance, I have different things to worry about. Like figuring out what to wear, when I still haven’t landed on the right thing.
I stand in front of my closet, feeling uncertain. It’s not like the bar is a fancy place. Nowhere in Silver Falls is going to be holding a black tie event or anything, but I want to look nice. Capable.
I hear footsteps coming down the hall and look up in time to see Cash appear in my doorway. He smiles, looking from my face to the dress I’m holding.
It’s something I bought a long time ago, but never had the courage to wear.
“That’s pretty,” he says casually.
“Yeah, I guess.” I hold it up to my body.
It’s a nice color, a dusty pink that doesn’t make me feel washed out or like I’m going to clash with everything in the room.
The sweetheart neckline shows off a tasteful amount of cleavage, I remember from when I tried it on when I bought it, and the skirt flares out around hips and legs in a flattering cut.
Do people wear dresses to bars? It’s not like I’m going there to work, just to perform, so it would make sense to look nice, right? To try to step it up more than I do when I’m there to serve food and drinks.
“Do you think it’s too much?” I ask Cash. He has it easy. All he has to do is throw on a button down shirt over his usual outfit of dark wash jeans and cowboy boots and he looks amazing.
Unfair.
“Harper,” he says, his voice warm and rich with good humor already. “You look stunning.”
“I’m not even dressed yet!”
He just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You always look stunning. You’re going to be beautiful in whatever you pick, so you should wear what makes you feel that way.”
I make a face at him, even while my cheeks flush with color from the compliment. He’s so damned sincere all the time, so I know he means it.
His encouragement does give me the confidence boost I need to put the dress on, pairing it with some simple jewelry and my own pair of boots.
The woman in the mirror looks like me, but I don’t feel like myself. I still have the flush of nerves and anticipation, but my eyes are bright, and the dress shows off my curves in a way that makes me look good instead of frumpy or too showy.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that I can do this.
“No time like the fucking present,” I murmur under my breath and head downstairs to meet the men so we can leave.
They’re all downstairs in the living room, already dressed for the evening.
Cash’s dark red button down shows off his broad shoulders and makes his skin and hair seem to glow.
Lincoln has on dark jeans that hug his frame perfectly, and Everett looks even more commanding than ever in black jeans and a leather jacket.
I see them every day, but somehow the sight of them now makes my mouth go dry, and I have to turn away before they notice me staring at them like I want to eat them.
Or like I want them to eat me.
“Are we ready?” Cash asks, grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He reminds me of Cora when he does that, all excitable energy like a big puppy.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell him.
“You’re going to be amazing,” he says.
“And it’s just Silver Falls,” Lincoln adds. “People here celebrate you even if you’re not some fancy singer from New York or someplace. You’re going to bring down the house.”
Everett just gives me a look full of quiet encouragement, and I let their faith in me bolster me as we head to the bar.
The open mic night has brought out more people than usual, and the bar is packed. It usually is at this time of the evening, but now there are people at tables staring at sheet music or rehearsing lines from poetry, and others in the parking lot tuning various instruments.
There’s an air of excitement to it all, and I wonder how long it’s been since Silver Falls has had a chance to show off like this. Maybe everybody’s nervous, so it’ll stand out less that I’ve never done anything like this before.
“Do you want a drink?” Cash asks.
I shake my head. “No, I think I need to keep my wits about me tonight.” My face feels warmer than usual, and even though I’m standing still, there’s a staticky sort of adrenaline burning under my skin that I can’t shake. Until our performance is over, I’m not going to be able to relax.
Cash goes off to talk to someone who waves him over, and Everett and Lincoln are in conversation with the bartender on duty, leaving me to sip some water and take calming breaths.
Someone sidles up next to me, and I glance over to see Leo, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
“You look incredible tonight,” he says, his eyes flicking over me with obvious approval.
“Thank you,” I reply, turning away from him a little.
“Excited about the open mic?”
I nod. “Sure. It’s something new for me to try. Are you performing?”
“No, no, I’m just a supporter. My talents are definitely not meant for the stage.” Judging from the way he’s looking at me, I can tell he’s implying something with that comment, but I don’t feel like going down that road with him. He keeps talking before I have to come up with a response anyway.
“So I was wondering if you’d like a redo of the other night. Maybe something a little more intimate this time? I know a lot of private places I could take you to and show you a good time.”
Even if I was interested in him, I wouldn’t let him take me to a ‘private place’ on the second date. But he’s standing there, looking self-assured and almost smug, like he knows there’s no way I’ll say no.
“No thanks,” I say, keeping my face neutral. “I’ve realized that I’m not really interested in dating right now.” It’s not quite the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line, but it’s close enough.
Leo’s face falls, and it feels good to knock some of that smugness off it. “Oh… are you sure? I think we’d have a good time together.”
“I’m sure,” I tell him firmly. “Thank you for the offer, but no.”
I’m aware that all three of the Alphas are listening in, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversations, and I don’t even have to look at them to feel their approval and satisfaction that I turned Leo down.
The open mic night is called to start not long afterward, Laurina handling the duty of being MC. Cash and I aren’t first or last, thank goodness, somewhere in the middle enough that I can watch other people but don’t have too much time to get worked up about going on the makeshift stage.
Several people from town take their turns though, and I watch some amateur comedy routines that get token laughs from the audience, and a woman who I think works at the post office, who has written the most beautiful poetry I’ve ever heard.
Another ranch hand gets up and sings while playing the banjo, and he has the whole bar clapping or stomping their feet along with his catchy tune about not being able to find his boots.
As the applause from his performance dies away, Laurina takes the mic again.
“Thanks, Brett,” she says, grinning. “And I’m sure we all hope you lose something else, so you can grace us with another song next time.
Up next on the stage, we have two performers that we all know. Give it up for Cash and Harper!”
My heart beats double time as I get up and take Cash’s offered hand, letting him lead me to the stage. If it wasn’t for the fact that his hand is slightly damp with sweat, I wouldn’t even know that he’s nervous too.
He waits for the clapping to die down before leaning over to the mic with his trademark bright grin. “Thanks for having us, Silver Falls,” he says. “We’re gonna do a little song for you tonight.”
“It’s your bar!” someone calls out, and that gets a rumble of laughter through the crowd.
Cash chuckles. “Damn right. So you better clap, or I’m cutting you off.”
He looks at me, his eyes warm and bright, and counts us off as he starts to play the opening chords to the song we’ve picked. It’s slow and melodic, and starts with both of us singing together, which felt like the fairest way to begin.
There’s something grounding about singing with Cash. It’s easy to look at him, and to let the rest of the bar fall away. He keeps his gaze on mine, playing the guitar like it’s second nature, fingers slipping from one chord to the next and strumming along.
I know this song well, and I lean into that, letting my voice blend with his as we go from the first verse into the chorus. It picks up a little there, and the crowd reacts with approval, someone whistling sharply and pretty much everyone clapping along.
Before I know it, we’re coasting in the final refrain, Cash playing the ending melody while I take the last lines of the song on my own, my voice ringing out as the last notes of the song die away.
Cash’s smile blooms bright, and the crowd practically explodes with applause, making my ears ring with it. There’s a rush of accomplishment and joy that’s intoxicating, and I laugh, soaking up the feeling of finally doing something like this.
Cash takes my hand, drawing me forward so I can do a little bow, and I feel giddy and alive in a way that I haven’t in years.
“Thanks, y’all,” Cash says, and we step down from the stage.
I wait for that feeling of adrenaline to pass, but it doesn’t.
It keeps coursing through my system, and suddenly I feel off balance and strange.
My heart is still racing, and I’d chalk it up to not having come down from the high yet, but there’s a warmth to my skin and a kind of restless energy bubbling in my veins that I can’t shake.
I’ve been feeling off all day really, but I figured it was just nerves. Now I’m not so sure.
There’s still the rush from performing, the feeling of celebration that I did something like that, but in the midst of it, something shifts in me. Something I can’t ignore. I get hit by a wave of sensation that almost knocks me over as it leaves me woozy and makes spots appear in front of my eyes.
I blink, staggering as I try to stay upright, and then it hits me.
I’m perfuming all of a sudden, and I realize with dawning horror that my blockers have failed completely, right here in the middle of the bar, with half the damn town packed inside.
My skin is burning hot, and the woozy feeling is amplified. The scent pouring off me is unmistakable—rich and sweet, calling to every Alpha in the bar.
I don’t quite understand what’s happening to my body, but I know it’s bad.
And Alphas around me are starting to react to it. Where they were focused on the stage before, now their gazes are turning predatory, their nostrils flaring as they pick up on my scent.
This is the worst place to be for this, and I can feel panic starting to rise in me like a spiral. I look around desperately, not even sure what I’m looking for.
My heart won’t stop racing, and I feel like I’m on fire. I can’t focus, the room seeming to swim around me while I try to keep my footing. Everything is heat and sensation, and my mouth goes dry with a desperation that doesn’t even feel like my own.
But it’s all me. It’s all coming from me, and when the Alphas in the bar lose the last of their rationality—
Before that can happen, the crowd parts.
“Move,” I hear someone say in a deep, commanding voice, and people spring out of the way. “Get the fuck out of the way.”
Everett comes walking over, leading Lincoln and Cash as the three of them surround me protectively.
And—oh fuck.
Their scents have always been compelling, even alluring, but now?
Now they hit me and they hit me hard. It’s like they’ve taken on an intensity that I can’t ignore.
My world is narrowed to the smell of them, Cash’s honey and hay, Lincoln’s woodsmoke and whiskey, Everett’s cedar and coffee.
Nothing else is getting through, and I’m locked in on them.
My scent is clearly affecting them too, and Everett’s fingers are as rough as his voice as he catches my chin in one hand and makes me look at him.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “How do you feel?”
“Bad,” I manage to choke out. “Something is wrong. I—my blockers aren’t—”
“Shit,” Lincoln swears, and Everett glances at him. “It’s heat,” he says. “If her blockers aren’t working, that explains the scent and the—” He gestures to the room at large, the looming pulse of Alpha energy that they’re barely keeping at bay. “She’s going into heat.”
“Fuck,” Cash echoes.
“We need to get her out of here,” Everett declares. His voice is still that deep, rolling growl, and I know it’s my fault he’s so affected. “Now.”