Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
HARRY
T he look of pure devastation on Louisa’s face is like a knife through my gut. What’d turned out to be a night of surprisingly warm moments has been turned on its head by yours truly. I never could control my reactions around this woman. No better than the teenager I was. Lightning flashes miles away. Thunder growls a moment later.
Green eyes tighten as she hugs that damn bag to her heaving chest.
“Ain’t askin’, darlin’,” I grind out.
Her face hardens, the prettiest scowl twisting those stunning lips. If she wasn’t throwing out the I-hate-Harry-Rawlins daggers straight from the very green eyes that hold my mind captive every single night, I’d pull this truck right over and take her face in my hands and slam my mouth to hers. Inhale her. Devour her. Wipe the pouty little look right off her face.
“Fine, you want to know what I’m thinking?” she bites out.
“Yes, ma’am.” I keep my face straight, despite the amusement soaring through me right now. The wind picks up, jostling the vehicle.
“Why are you bein’ so nice to me? Why is your Ma bein’ so nice? After everything I put you through, you’re just indifferent now? The first time I saw you, the day at the diner, you hated me. Now? You just don’t ?”
Hated her?
What the hell?
I slam my foot on the brake and slide the truck over to the side of the road. We stall out with a jerk. I slam the brake on and am out of the driver’s door a second later. I walk down the dark dirt road, breaths heaving from my lungs.
Gravel snaps under my boots as I stalk as far from Louisa as I can. Before I turn around and say something I shouldn’t.
Like, I never hated you, Lou. I damn well love you, woman. Always have, always will. You can’t just turn something that strong off. It doesn’t work that way.
Thunder claps again, this time closer.
The passenger door opens and shuts. Swift footsteps close in behind me.
“Harry!”
I stop and close my eyes. I won’t leave her in the dark. The vehicle is safe. The side of the road in the dark ain’t. Her little fiery huffs meet me before she rounds me to stand face-to-face. She folds her arms again.
Guess it’s now or never.
“What are we doin’?” I breathe.
“You’re drivin’ me home, you ass.”
I hang my head, losing a breath. Misty rain closes in around us.
No escaping now.
“I mean this.” I wave a hand between us, closing my eyes like a coward.
“ This ?” she huffs, and I open my eyes as she takes a step back. “There is no this, Harry.”
Her words are soft. Sad.
I grind my jaw shut. Nothing’s changed for me. Not a damn thing. I still think about her every minute of every godforsaken day. Have since the day we met. Even during the ten years we were apart, she was never far from my mind. Now, with her standing in front of me, it’s harder than ever to rein in the feelings I have for her. To stop from giving in to the things I want.
“So that’s it, then?” I manage.
She just stares at me now. Her chin wobbles, and she shifts on her feet.
“I’m seeing Brad. You’re in the middle of—” She glances behind me, as if whatever she is thinking about could be seen in the darkness hanging over the middle-of-nowhere gravel road.
I step closer, unfolding her arms. Her breath hitches, sending my nerves electric. “Lou?”
I haven’t called her that in ten years.
Her eyes flick up to mine. Her nose crinkles like she’s tryin’ not to cry.
Fuck.
I need to know if this is one-sided. Because the last time we tried this, we ignited something that felt eternal. So all-consuming, it had the potential to ruin us both. And it almost did. We were too young.
We ain’t young anymore.
Blood thunders through my veins, the humid air popping them to the surface. My hands grip her upper arms. I press my forehead to hers. Please, darlin’.
“I can’t do this...” she whispers, pulling out of my hold.
“Can’t or won’t, Louisa?” My tone is harsher than I mean it to be. But the toll of wanting someone, pining for them for so long, has me wound up.
I’m desperate for her.
My shoulders rise and fall in quick succession as choppy air burns my insides.
She steps back. “Can’t.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” I close in on her.
She snaps her head up, chin tilting in defiance.
God, I love her this way.
“What the hell would you know? You never left. You stayed here and did the same thing for a decade. I didn’t have that choice. I had to leave. I had to take chances. I had to be scared.”
“You had to, or you wanted to? ’Cause from where I was standing, you leavin’ looked a whole lot like runnin’.”
“You asshole.” Her palm meets my face a second later. I close my eyes, molars grinding, as the sting burns its way through my cheek. The burn sinks low, igniting the heat low in my core. My cock twitches with her assault.
“Oh no!” she gasps. “Harry, I’m sorry.”
A trembling hand presses lightly on my cheek. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have don—” She cuddles into my embrace, hands gripping my T-shirt. I dip my head into her hair. I breathe her in.
Fuck, I deserved that.
I know exactly why she left. It took me a while to figure it out in the aftermath of her walkin’ away ten years ago. But I understand now, she had to get out. There was nothing here for her. The only thing she would have had was me.
No career.
No independence.
I’ve seen it hundreds of times. It’s like a small-town epidemic. As much as it burned that only having me wasn’t enough to keep her here, if we’d traded places, honestly, I would have done the same thing. I take her arms and pry her away from me.
“I’m glad you got out, Lou. I just wish I’d had the guts to go with you.”
Her face looks like she was the one who just got slapped. Her eyes are wide, her mouth agape.
“You—” she starts and snaps her eyes to the ground, now turning muddy from the rain falling around us. Her hair wet and dangling over her now soaked top has my breaths quickening.
“If you’d asked me, I would have gone with you.”
“But your ma?”
“I was never thinkin’ straight around you, Louisa May. Reality probably would have sunk in a few weeks later, and I woulda come home. So, I guess the end result would have been the same. Least this way, we might be granted a second chance.”
The hope rising when her breath stalls out is agonizing. The overwhelming need to kiss her pushes me forward. I take her face in my hands, moving in until our breath mingles. She swallows, opening her mouth to say something.
I hover, waiting for her.
It has to be her choice.
This time, she comes to me.
I’m hard, straining against my jeans, blood bounding through my veins, thundering out any rational thought. I press into her, nudging her nose with mine. A small whimper leaves her lips. The sound alone almost brings me to my knees.
“Harry,” she breathes.
“Yeah, Lou.”
“I should go home.”
The stone forming in my throat chokes out any response I might have thought of, and I put distance between us.
“Right.” I run a hand through my soaked hair, letting fresh air burn into the depths of my lungs. I step back and wave a hand toward the truck. She turns awkwardly and walks for the vehicle. I follow, holding back. Her wet clothes cling to her elegant curves. Not helping my aching cock any.
Dammit, Louisa.
She climbs into the seat, and I release a low growl at my own stupidity. Too fast. I moved too fast. I don’t have a thing to give this woman right now. And she’s sending me crazy. Her words sayin’ one thing; her body, her eyes, her actions sayin’ something else entirely.
We drive into town in silence. After the few minutes it takes to park and kill the engine, she shifts her bag to one hand, the other on the door handle.
“Thanks for the lift.”
We both notice Brad at the same time, hovering by the restaurant doors. Hell, this guy’s got it bad. Almost as bad as me. The fact Mama Mancini hasn’t let him up means something. It’s almost as if she’s not on board with the whole Brad situation.
Smart woman.
“I should go,” Louisa says.
“Yep.” I start the pickup and nod toward Brad. I swear she cringes as she pushes the door open and steps out.
Fuck me.
We were so close.
******
The last thing I should be thinkin’ about right now is Louisa damn Masters. The auctioneer rattles off the redeeming features of this old ranch. I’ve been here since before the crowd arrived. Walking the lots, inspecting the structures. Met the owners—well, I guess sellers, now.
She’s a fixer-upper, but for what I’m tryin’ to build, the exact ranch I want. The old couple gave me a brief rundown of the seasons they’ve had, like the rest of us here in Montana haven’t lived through them also. Bill, the old cowboy, showed me over the yards, his system, and pointed out the water points and such.
Despite their age, they’ve kept this place runnin’. It’s admirable, especially since they had no kids to take the helm when old age caught up with them. I swore right there and then, that won’t be me. Which brings me to glance at the long table under one of the old trees by the house.
Mama Mancini and Louisa are catering for the auction today. She surprised me, walkin’ in with an armful, makin’ her way to set up. Guess it’s right she’s here. I’ve kept this under my hat, so to speak, from Ma. Don’t want to get her hopes up. But having Lou here has me determined. No matter what happens between us, she makes me want to be a better man. Always has.
The yodel of the auctioneer pulls my thoughts back to the action unfolding in front of me. The crowd is drawn closer, automatically moving as one toward the man with the voice, throwing numbers up quicker than lightning in a dry storm.
“Hup, can I get three eighty?” the auctioneer throws toward the mass of grumbles under hats.
A hand goes up. An older man, with a handlebar moustache.
Jesus.
“Three eighty-five?”
I raise my hand with a nod.
“Now we’re away. We have three eighty-five, can we have a three ninety. Three nine zero.”
Handlebars raises his hand.
My heart pounds. Everything is moving so fast. The desperation I feel after seeing the ranch and talking to Bill is crippling. I shake my hands out. Warmth moves in by my side, despite the morning sun. I look down to find Louisa.
“You’re bidding?” Her green eyes meet mine.
I nod and snap my focus back to the auctioneer.
“Four twenty, do we have four hundred and twenty thousand dollars?”
Handlebar raises a hand.
Fuck. I’m getting close to the top of my budget.
“Does Rosie know?” Louisa whispers.
“Nope.”
“What’s your top line?” Louisa asks, determination over her face.
“Four eighty.”
She chews her bottom lip. “And you’re sure about this, Harry?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Can we make four fifty?” the auctioneer squawks.
Handlebars shakes his head and rolls a paper through his hand. Hope springs from somewhere deep. I raise my hand. But a young guy in front of me raises his at the same time.
Dammit.
Louisa’s hand slips into mine.
“Four sixty?” The auctioneer’s gaze swings between me and the other guy.
I raise my hand.
“Four ninety, last call.” The young guy moves forward with a hand in the air.
Fuck.
That’s it, I’m out. I lost it.
“Dammit,” I growl, dropping my shoulders.
Louisa’s hand slips out of mine as she says, “Four ninety-five!”