Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
LOUISA
“L ou, no. I’m out.” Harry’s worried eyes pin me to the spot. Another face of Harry Rawlins that tugs at my heart. After the other night, I thought I’d seen the whole of him. And this here has me just as worked up. But not because of him— for him, this time.
“Not yet, you’re not.” I walk up beside the young guy still bidding, tossing him a sweet smile.
“Sweet Jesus, woman,” Harry rumbles from behind me.
“Do we have five hundred?” The auctioneer glares at me as if I’m intruding on some secret boy’s club by simply standing in the crowd.
“How much do you want this?” I turn to the young guy, now wringing the flyer about the ranch between his hands.
“It’s a commission piece to me.”
“So, you’re not a rancher?”
I check out his clothes. A clean white shirt, dress pants, and loafers. It’s probably some investment to him. It’s not that to Harry.
“Here’s the thing. This here bit of land is special to someone really important to me. How about you catch the next one, buddy?”
“How about we war this out and see who comes out on top?”
His gaze narrows, and he looks back to the auctioneer. Luckily for him, he’s about to leave empty-handed and find something that’ll be less hassle. This place makes most fixer-uppers look like the Taj Mahal. But important to Harry is important to me.
“Five oh five!” I call out.
The ruddy-faced auctioneer looks puzzled, but to his credit he continues. “Can we get five oh six?”
Living in Cali was an experience in life lessons, and the one I learned most prominently? How to save. I have life savings that would put most working males to shame. And if I can help Harry with it, I will.
I pin the young guy in the clothes that have probably never seen a dirt road let alone a ranch before with my best I-dare-you look. His hands fly up in surrender.
Harry crowds behind me, his chest heaving at my back. I raise my hand, one finger in the air.
“Sold! Five oh five to the little lady.”
Side glances and grumbles move around us as the crowd slowly disperses.
“Congratulations?” the auctioneer says as he stops in front of Harry and me.
Harry pulls me away a few feet, dipping his head. “Lou, I don’t have five oh five. The bank isn’t going to go any further than four eighty with the down payment I have.”
His eyes burn into mine. But I see the way he’s looking at this old place. He wants it like I wanted freedom all those years ago. So, I step a little closer, resting my hands on his shoulders as I whisper, “You don’t. But we do.”
His face is shocked as he lifts his head.
“I have some savings. You can pay me back later. Or whatever. Besides, I figured I owed you one after...”
“Making your own life choices does not equal owing me. Let alone money, Louisa.”
I cup his jaw with my hand. I can’t even help myself.
“No, maybe not. But you want this. And I want you to have it. Hey, what are friends for?”
I wander back to the auctioneer. “Harrison John Rawlins is the name you’re going to need for your paperwork. How soon do you need the funds?”
The auctioneer looks over my shoulder as Harry comes to stand behind me. Shaking his head with a smile, the auctioneer takes down Harry’s name. “Should be around a month before anything official changes hands.” He holds out a hand and I step aside. Harry shakes his hand. The auctioneer walks away, heading for the food stall.
I worry my bottom lip through my teeth.
Did I really just do that?
Harry stares at me, eyes wide and lit with wonder.
“Lou...”
Laughter bursts through my lips. I press a hand to my mouth then let it fall as I still. “You did it, Harry. You got the ranch!”
He scoops me into his arms, swinging me around. The hearty laughter rumbling from his throat tightens mine. His scent tangles with my already shot nerves from the auction.
Heavens, it’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. And for some reason, it felt like this is something I had to do. I have a feeling about this old place.
If anywhere felt like home, this would be it.
Maybe Harry’ll let me visit occasionally.
My hands shake when he lets me down. Only days ago, this close, we were fighting about us. The connection we have. Have always had.
Harry’s hands still grip my arms, my body pressed to his when gravel crunches under shoes.
“Harry?” The voice echoes around my head.
Familiar.
We both turn at once to find Brad holding a clipboard.
Oh shit.
I stumble out of Harry’s arms and dip my gaze to the ground.
“Bradley,” Harry grunts.
Harry calling him Bradley sounds hilarious. Or maybe that’s the nerves. Or the insane chemistry between Harry and me that still has me in its vise grip. I try to stifle a giggle. And fail. I slap a hand to my mouth.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I should go help Mama Mancini before I end up with my foot in my mouth. I excuse myself, telling Brad I’ll see him tonight at the dance. Brown eyes follow me as I move in behind the catering table.
“You win, bella?” Mama asks, excitement lifting her features.
“Yes, he bought the farm.”
Mama pulls a surprised face, and I realize the words that left my mouth.
“I mean, Harry, he?—”
She holds up a hand. “I’m happy for you both.”
“No, Harry bought the ranch, Mama, not me.”
“Uh huh.” She slices up the dessert slab she spent hours on last night and places the small pieces onto paper plates. Her smile doesn’t fade as she starts to hum, going about her work.
“What?” I tilt my head and frown.
“I’m wondering how long it is going to take before you understand, bella.”
“Understand what?”
I am not sure where she’s going with this.
She points her cake knife to where Brad and Harry stand, talking. Harry’s arms are crossed, his body facing Brad, but his eyes are on me.
It’s as if he’s not taking in a word the accountant says.
“Ah, now she is starting to get it...” Mama holds a plate up to me. “For the new ranch owner.” She turns me with her hands, pushing me out of the stall. I can’t go over there with one plate and hand it to Harry. I’m supposed to be dating Brad.
Now, seeing them side by side, I wonder what the hell I was thinking.
I divert with the plate, deciding now is not the time to go choosing something I have no idea whether I can commit to. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m staying in Lewistown for the long term. Getting my life together was the plan. Finding some kind of normality was as far as I was thinking.
I wander toward the old homestead. The old trees flanking the house like dutiful soldiers grow on me immediately. Gosh, this place is something else. I run a hand through the green veil of the first willow I come to and let the ancient tree swallow me whole as the curtain falls behind me. I pad toward the trunk and turn, leaning on it.
I pluck the sweet morsel from the plate and take a bite.
Good lord, this is incredible.
All of Mama’s food is.
I close my eyes and imagine, for a minute, what my life would have been like if I hadn’t run when Harry dropped to his knee. And for the first time since that night so long ago, I let the daydream consume me completely, letting this facade of friendship I’ve been holding up crumble.
* * *
Brad takes my hand as we walk from the car to the old community hall. The music inside is loud and twangy. It brings back so many memories. Every single one... Harry is in. Guilt twists in my stomach as we approach the doors, where a man stands taking entrance fees. Brad drops my hand before anyone can notice and fishes money from his wallet.
“Have a great night,” the old man says with a nod to me.
Walking inside, Brad puts a little distance between us. I try not to take it personally. I know he doesn’t do public affection. And I find myself wondering why he dates at all. The crowd is lively. A bunch of men and women dancing to the two-step beat the good country folk of Montana love so dearly.
I spot the girls from work and lean over to Brad. “I’m going to say hello to Lisa and Cynthia.”
“Sure, I’ll grab us some drinks.”
I nod and smile, walking for the only two friends I have in this small town. They wave when they see me coming. I rush to their sides.
“Wow, things really do stay the same in this town.” I chuckle and look around.
Cynthia’s husband, Steve, leans over and wraps an arm around her middle. “Oh, I don’t know, I think the ways things are... they’re pretty good.” His blond hair is messed up like her hands have been traveling through it. They probably have.
Three kids zoom toward us, squealing and yelling. Lisa spins around toward the noise automatically.
“Now, y’all get outside. Stay out of the way of the cars. Michael, look after your brother or I’ll tan your hide!” They tug on the skirt of my dress, like it’s some sort of dare, and dart away, running through the crowd.
“Sorry, doll. They’re always a little dippy when we’re out. Hence, we barely leave the house.” She pulls a cigarette from her purse and lights it. She waves to her husband who is behind the band. He gives her a smile and waves back, then waves to me as he returns to his work.
“So, where’s sad Brad?” Lisa says with a smirk.
“Oy, be nice. He’s gettin’ the drinks.” I glance toward the bar. He stands there, ordering.
“I will never understand why you’re wastin’ your precious prime with Connors.” Lisa stumps her half-finished cigarette with her heel.
“Hey, sometimes it’s the quiet ones.” Steve winks at me.
Good lord.
I spin back and watch the crowd shimmy to one side, tapping their heels and then toes to the boards. From the corner of my eye, a cowboy hat catches my attention. Standing in the doorway, Harry looks around as he hands over his entry fee. Only yesterday I saw him at the auction, but it feels like a month has passed. He’s dressed in his good clothes. Dark jeans and a crisp white shirt. His good hat sits on his head, and a leather necklace I recognize from...
Anxiety peaks through my core, sending hot waves through my body, ending up all over my face. And it’s only when he steps aside and lets a smaller figure through that I shift on my feet, letting the heat waves peter out.
Rosie is dressed in her Sunday best, her dark hair up, a small evening bag hanging off her elbow. She smiles at the man at the door and pats Harry’s arm. He leans down to listen. A second later, his eyes snap to me.
Oh no, Rosie Rawlins. Your setups have run their course.
I excuse myself from my friends and make my way to the bar. I need a drink. I need to be anywhere but near Harry Rawlins. I have a tendency to let dreams and whims run rampant when I’m near him. I don’t regret helping him out with the ranch auction, but business is one thing.
This thing between us is another thing entirely.
And if I’m honest, even if we can be friends, I value having him in my life. I can’t lose that. I don’t want to. Or Rosie. So, I do what any girl would do when she’s trying to forget a guy. I cling to another one.
I slide my arm through Brad’s and give him my most sincere smile.
He startles and glances at where our arms are linked. It’s so innocent, it’s preposterous. But he slides out of my embrace with a grimace.
God above.
All of a sudden, I’m conscious of every pair of eyes looking our way. I feel like I’m forcing this thing at every turn we take. With the need to avoid my past and the one man I don’t trust myself with, I’m humiliating myself.
“Shall we dance?” I ask, trying to save face.
“Ah, I don’t really dance.” Brad swallows, glancing at the crowd, now moving at a sane pace, couples coupling up.
“Please? One song?” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes.
“One.” He walks for the dance floor.
I can feel heated stares at my back. Most people probably wondering how I managed to make the uptight accountant dance when he clearly doesn’t.
He stops, tentatively resting his hands on my hips. I wind my arms around his neck.
“This is nice.” I smile.
His face is stone.
“Brad? Are you okay?” I study his face as the music hits the melodic chorus, the lyrics whining something about starstruck lovers.
He sways side to side. I look around the huge old hall. And my instincts are right. People are staring as the crowd seems to form a circle around us.
Now, I’m starting to feel something like Brad is. Harry sits at the bar, dark hooded focus drilling into the piece of wood floor I stand on. Brad stiffens as he takes in the scene around us. He clears his throat, pulling back.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He snaps from my hold and stalks for the exit.
“No...”
His back disappears through the door and into the dark night.
The music crescendos. Every set of eyes that had been not-so-subtly focused on us before now stares right at me. Heat rushes my face. There’s nothing quite as painful as being the small-town spectacle. I try to make my feet move. I need to get out of here. Panic floods in, seizing my limbs, sending my hands shaking. Breath burns as I try to choke air into my lungs.
Tingles inch over my fingers.
No.
The floor swims in my vision.
The last time this happened, I’d just flaked on national television.
Everything slows like molasses in winter.
Warmth wraps around me.
His scent folds in as strong arms press me into a wall of chest. Lips dip by my ear.
“Breathe, Lou.”
Harry.
Oh god.
“Harr—”
“I got you. Keep movin’ to the music, okay?”
His hat dips, covering us both. My safety net from prying eyes and wagging tongues.
Lord above, what will people think. One guy walks out and I’m in another’s arms a moment later.
Shit.
This is not what I wanted.
I wanted normal.
Quiet.
Peace.
To be hidden away...
I clutch Harry’s crisp, clean shirt and slam my eyes shut. His hands hold me to him. I choke through a sob, letting the last ten years thunder through my heart. The aches and the sadness. The loneliness I felt when I left. The humiliation I felt when everything fell apart in California. The shock of seeing Harry again after so long.
After my body lets go and the shock wears off, I push out of his hold a little way. The music has stopped. A fine hand rests on my forearm. I turn to find Rosie.
Her worried face tilts. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”
I nod. “I—I’m okay.”
“Take her home, Harry. I’ll be fine here.”
“No, I can walk,” I insist.
“You’re not walkin’.” Rough hands grip my arms. “I’ll take you home. Or anywhere else you need to go.”
Rosie pats my cheek and walks back to her friends.
Harry takes my hand and leads me toward the doors. I follow, not game to look back. I can’t even face the girls from the diner. That can wait ’til Monday.
Outside, in the truck, I sit in silence as Harry turns her over and pulls out of the parking lot. It’s only six blocks from the hall to the restaurant. I really could have walked.
“Thanks for the lift,” I say, my words almost monotone. I’m starting to think that’s the only phrase I can manage around this man. The stress of the anxiety attack has me exhausted. That, and the fact I feel like a compete idiot. Losing it in front of the entire town.
“Sure.” He stares through the windshield as we come to a stop sign. His hands grip the wheel tight. His jaw is set. He’s probably just as embarrassed about my episode as I am. I continually disappoint him.
“You know what? I’m going to walk. I need the fresh air.” I push the door open before he can drive on.
“Louisa,” he pleads.
I shut the door and walk down the centerline of Main Street, clutching my bag to my body. The pickup idles behind me. I stalk my way toward the restaurant. Three blocks, and I can hide away from the world.
A door opens and slams behind me.
“Louisa!”
His long stride comes up fast. His hand grips my wrist. I stop, air burning through my lungs, blood barreling around my veins like a speed racer.
“Lou, please. Look at me.”
“You should go back to the dance.” I don’t turn back. I can’t.
“No.”
I huff an incredulous laugh. Always so damn defiant.
“I told you, I’m fine. Go and have fun,” I toss over my shoulder, eyes set on the street in front of me.
“I am. I mean. I was?—”
I turn back. “Watching me fall apart in front of the whole town is fun?”
His face turns serious in an instant. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Tell me, Harry. What do you mean? No, hang on.” I hold a hand up. “Tell me what you want me to do, so I can do it and move on with my life.”
He closes the distance between us and takes my face in his hands. My body is alive the second his skin touches mine. Shoulders heaving, I study his goddamn handsome face.
“I want you to stop fighting me. I—” He sucks in a breath and tilts his head up to the inky sky. “I want this hot-and-cold bullshit between us to pick a fuckin’ side. I want...” His gaze drops to my mouth. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip.
My insides melt to nothing, and I can barely breathe. But I manage, “What?” The word is harsh, desperate.
But he tightens his grip, eyes burning. Something painful takes over his face.
“What do you want, Louisa?”