Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
HARRY
M a’s been humming’ all damn morning. I swing the axe into the split post, splintering it into pieces. The smells coming from the kitchen are divine. I knock the wood from the block and set up another log. Sweat flies from my arms and forehead as I bring the axe down again. I know who’s inspired all the cookin’ Ma’s been obsessing over.
Louisa.
“Harry!?”
I drop the axe into the chopping block and wipe my brow.
“Harry, Louisa is pulling into the driveway. Can you help me move the table?” she calls, moving down the hallway toward the back door.
What? Why?
“Why we movin’ the table, Ma?”
I stand, hands hanging by my sides, arms buzzing from the exertion, veins popping along my forearms. My bare chest is covered in sawdust from an hour of chopping and splitting wood.
My shirt is tucked into the back of my jeans, my boots covered in sawdust. I’m filthy.
The screen door pops open, and Ma’s gaze finds me. Her brows lower. “Harrison Rawlins, you’re beyond dirty.”
“Workin’ has that effect.”
“Goodness me, put a shirt on.” She turns to leave but spins back around. “No, actually, clean up first, then I need you to move the big old table in the dining room.”
“Give me a sec to tidy up this lot.”
I turn back to my pile and bend over, stacking the wood and kindling. We haven’t eaten in the dining room since I was a boy. What’s gotten into her today? The door pops open again. “I’ll be up in a minute, Ma. Hold ya horses.”
A light, amused huff filters through the back door.
I spin back to find Louisa at the top of the steps. The morning sun lights up her blonde hair. Her glittering green eyes rove over me before she meets my eyes. “Need a hand to clean up?”
I push my shoulders back and toss the log still in my hand onto the pile. “Nope, was about to head inside.”
“Right.” She descends the stairs like I invited her to.
I turn back to the pile and finish stacking the wood. The tap at the hose whines and I stand in time to find water rushing toward me. Planting my boots into the ground, I brace myself as she hoses my face, my neck, and my shoulders. The water trickles down my chest and stomach and soaks my jeans. The cool water is heaven on my burning arm muscles.
Not letting on either way, I follow her gaze as she steps closer, hosing off my chest. The stream sinks lower, water splashing over my hard stomach. Louisa’s hand loosens around the end of the hose as she opens her mouth to say something.
Nothing comes out. Her arm drops as her tongue sweeps over her bottom lip and her eyes lift to mine. Fire inches its way across my heart, filling my thundering veins with something close to lava.
Footsteps track toward the back door inside. Ma.
“Har—”
I shake my head like a dog. Louisa drops the hose with a squeal and flings her arms up, her hands protecting her face as she puts space between us. I can’t help the smile splitting my face as she cowers away from the water droplets hurtling from my hair.
I chuckle. It’s hearty and warms my heart, something I haven’t felt in years. When she’s far enough away to be out of my range, she stands up and crosses her arms with a shaky laugh. Her eyes are stuck on me when Ma pushes through the back door.
“Harry? The table.”
“Yeah, Ma, comin’.”
She looks between us and then to the hose still pouring water over the ground. “Clean up before you come inside. I don’t want mud gettin’ trudged through my house, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Louisa shudders a breath, as if coming back to reality, and turns back, turning off the tap. She hovers for a moment. Her shoulders heave, her face carrying something I haven’t seen for over ten years.
Need.
“I should...” She flies up the stairs, and the back door slams behind her. I stare at the ground where she stood. The sliver of hope, of happiness we had fades. The vision of her getting out of Brad’s car the other night, trying to hide from me as I drove past, floods my mind. The memory burns.
It’s like the thing hanging between us is so raw, so real, she’s afraid of it.
Or embarrassed by it.
I, for one, am sick of trying to figure out which. She’s right, we should talk about this. I want to know either way. Pined ten years for this woman. And if the look on her face right now is anything to go on, she isn’t exactly indifferent to me either.
I hose off the rest of the sawdust and tug my boots off. Rolling up my jeans, I pad up the back stairs and make a beeline for my room. The rusted, old metal single bed I’ve had since I was a little kid sits in the middle of the room. A wooden dresser and a chair I built are the only other items in my room. It’s all I need.
I close the door almost shut and peel the wet jeans from my body, hanging them over the varnished chair. The small window in my room in the back corner of our little weatherboard house faces the barn. I pull the second drawer open, tugging out clean jeans and a work shirt.
Dressed, I run a hand through my still damp hair. I pluck fresh socks from the top drawer and wander to the kitchen. Louisa and Ma sit at the table, sharing the heavenly baking my mother spent over an hour making early this morning.
“Hungry, my love?” Ma looks up as I pull on a sock.
“Gotta shift the heifers, fix the southern fence, wire’s snapped.”
“Do you need a hand?” Louisa looks up from her teacup, the good ones Ma’s only ever used once in my lifetime.
Looks like Ma’s pulling out all the stops today. I would love to know why. Maybe Louisa could help me shift the heifers, we could talk.
“You any good on a horse?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“I can ride well enough. What do you need?”
“Will only take about half an hour. Easier to shift them with two people.”
“Sure, can I finish up here?” She looks to Ma.
She ain’t askin’ me.
“Hon, I will make a start on the new recipe. I think I have that much sorted.” Ma beams at her.
“Okay, great. Meet you outside in a bit?” Louisa asks me.
I give her a nod and swipe an apple from the bowl on the counter and head for the back door and my boots.
With my well-worn boots on, I pluck my hat from the hook by the back door and push it onto my head. The cream work shirt hangs over my body, and I roll up the sleeves before tucking it into my jeans. In the barn, I saddle up Horse and the gelding I broke in last winter.
Louisa appears in the doorway as I move to lead them out. She has Ma’s boots on and my old hat. Where on earth did she find it? Ma must have stashed it away somewhere. “This old girl will be yours,” I say, handing her the reins to Horse.
“Hey, lovely,” she says, rubbing the mare’s face with a hand. “What’s your name?”
“Doesn’t have one.” I swing into the saddle.
“Harry, how could you not name her?” Louisa scowls at me but bounces up into the saddle like she’s been doin’ it every day for the last ten years.
I simply shrug and push the gelding into a walk, out into the field. Horse trots along behind, and they catch up. Louisa reins her back to walk beside me and the gelding.
“So, who are we moving?” she asks, glancing around the fields like she might catch a glimpse of the herd.
“Over the rise, to the north. If we lope, it’ll go faster.”
She gives me an unreadable look but pushes Horse into a lope, leaving me behind. I sit on the gelding, hands on the pommel for a moment, just watching her ride away. Her blonde hair spills behind her like a goddamn golden waterfall, her curves rockin’ with the gait of the mare.
Shaking my head, I push the gelding into a lope and catch up. I make it to them when they slow down for the gate just up ahead, at the foot of the rise. I step the gelding sideways and lean down to unlatch the gate. Louisa walks through first and I follow, closing the gate behind us.
“How’s your ma doing?” she says softly, like that’s not the question she wanted to ask, but the one she was brave enough to.
I stare ahead. “She’s fine. Despite the fact he was her husband, she mourned the man she loved years ago. Her words, not mine.”
“She told you that?” Pretty green eyes meet mine.
“Yep.” It’s all I can say. And I get it, I do. Because I went through a similar process losing the loving father I once had. Not the same relationship by anyone’s standard, but a loss, nonetheless.
“Harry,” she says, reining Horse to a halt. “Are you—” She breaks eye contact, staring at the rise. She sucks in a breath. “Do you need anything?”
“Nope, just to get my work done.” I push the gelding for the gate. This time, I dismount and work the wire gate as Louisa and Horse walk through. She smiles down at me, those dark lashes and pink lips makin’ it hard to breathe.
I mount up and push the gelding into a lope, leaving her behind. As if distance will save my heart from this woman. Horse thunders up beside us seconds later. Louisa is shaking her head at me, but the smile wrapping around her face takes the last of my lousy breath.
“Come on, Harry, smile. It’s a great day. We will make it one!” She gives me a mischievous look and nods ahead. A beat later, she gallops away, popping out of the saddle, her hips, ass, and waist on full display. Goddammit, Louisa.
Like a freight train, it hits me why I wanted to make thirty minutes alone with her. To find out one way or another where the two of us stand. Now, with her full of life and beaming at me, her body doing things to me I have pushed down for years, I can’t bring myself to think about askin’ anymore.
Denial is better than rejection.
And this man can’t take being told no by this brilliant girl more than once. So, like a complete coward, I stay silent as we herd the heifers to the next field over. Louisa stands in the stirrup irons, whistling and waving them on like she fuckin’ belongs here, sending a tightness constricting through my chest.
When the heifers are settled, we walk home on foot, horses at our sides. But even as we wade through the soft Montana grasses, my mind wanders to where we could be if this moment was our reality. Our lives together. The sentiment I have been haulin’ around since the age of seventeen.
“Lou—”
“I know what you’re gonna say, Harry. And give me a break—it’s been a while, and Cali ain’t exactly known for its cattle herding gigs.”
I snort a laugh. The image she put in my head with those words cracks me up. But that was nothin’ near what I was gonna say.
“Oh my god. Harry Rawlins... did I witness an actual laugh ?”
Her face is fake horrified, her hand slapped over her heart.
“You’ll keep, darlin’.” I try to scowl at her but only manage to make her laugh harder. I can’t help the chuckle tumbling from my mouth as she doubles over. Poor old Horse doesn’t know what to do, shying one moment, sniffing her curiously the next.
Those two are a sight.
We walk home, Louisa periodically giggling whenever she looks at me.
This woman is so happy. She is like literal sunshine when she’s in a room. Lighting everyone around her up. How could I ever deny Ma that kind of thing in her life? And even if I have to put space between us to make sure Louisa and Ma’s friendship remains, I will.
’Cause, right now, I’m stuck between needin’ to know if she still feels any semblance of what we used to have between us and making Ma’s life the best it can be. And I won’t risk anything more.
Timing’s not right.
Maybe I’m just a coward.
Maybe I’m hiding behind doing the right thing...
Either way, I won’t give this girl one iota of a reason to run off this time.
At home, Ma and Louisa get stuck into the cookin’, and I retire to the small corner of the house where I tally the cattle in my record book and balance the ledgers. Half distracted, I scratch out this month’s numbers. The aromas drifting through the house are makin’ me hungry. And when lunch rolls around, I can’t stay stuck to this chair a moment more. I move to push out of the old chair, but a bowl of something steaming and smelling like heaven appears on my desk.
“You oughta eat,” Louisa says, folding her arms over her apron.
I lean back in the old captain’s chair and meet her gaze. “Thanks.”
She offers a smile. “Your ma sent me in.”
I huff a laugh. Of course she did.
“She asked me to stay for supper. Is it too weird?” She chews her lip. I break eye contact. If she had any idea what that one gesture did to me...
“Why would it be weird?” I ask plainly.
“I don’t want to be here if it makes you uncomfortable. Helping with chores is one thing. Eating together is...”
“It’s fine. Don’t over think it. I mightn’t even be here for supper.”
“Oh.” Disappointment floods her face. “You’re goin’ out?”
“Maybe,” I say, shoving off the seat and standing. I need some air. That look on her face.
She backs up, giving me space. “Okay, sure. I better get back.”
Louisa disappears through the living room and into the kitchen. And despite my head screaming at my heart, I follow her.
“Oh, hon! What have I done wrong? I swear, it doesn’t taste the same as yours...” Ma says, worry lining her voice when I walk in.
There’s a small silence as Louisa taste tests the sauce from a spoon. Then, “Oh, Rosie. This is wonderful!”
Ain’t how I would describe whatever this is.
But, hell, at least Ma’s happy.