Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
HARRY
I press my forehead to hers, closing my eyes. I can’t look at her when she inevitably rips my heart out for a second time. But she doesn’t breathe a word.
I push back, hands on her face as it falls with desperation and she says, “I want you in my life.”
Pushing onto her toes, she brushes her lips over mine. I could just lean in, fall a little further and blur the lines between us. It would be so easy. But as much as her confession clears some things, she hasn’t given me any reason to take her word that we’re anything more than two people who can’t stay away from each other. Nothing concrete.
So, we’re back to friends?
Like the type of friends you call when you are short a dime to land the ranch of your dreams.
And the thought that she’s tellin’ me what I wanna hear turns the acid in my gut to ash. Is this even real? And is she gonna hang around long enough for it to work? Once bitten, twice shy. Even though every cell in my body screams to sweep her up and take her word as truth.
“You say that, bu?—”
Her finger presses over my lips. “The things I wanted never lined up before, Harry. I was always forced to pick one or the other.” Her worried green eyes search my face. “But I...”
A horn blasts through Main Street.
Hell. The old buckboard is blocking the through traffic. Hilarious as that is for Lewistown on a Saturday night.
“Hold that thought. And Lou,” I say as I release her and make for my vehicle, still looking over my shoulder, “outta the middle of the damn road, woman.” I force a smile, ignoring the raging torrent of flame licking my insides for the last few minutes, and turn my attention to the truck. Three cars are lined up behind it, waitin’ to get wherever they are going.
I shove the old girl into drive and make for the curb where Lou stands. She watches the traffic drive past before hugging her bag to herself. Her light hair blows around her shoulders. The summer dress she is wearin’ ends only shy of her knees, giving the perfect view of her long, slender legs. The curve of her hips. Those breasts that have kept my mind occupied late at night for over a decade.
I kill the engine and return to stand in front of her the way we were before the interruption.
“Which part we up to?” I whisper.
She presses a hand to my shirt over my heart, her eyes studying the rise and fall of it over my chest. This close, she infiltrates every sense. Her skin under my touch, her fragrant cinnamon-and-vanilla scent flings memories back to the surface like something smashed me wide open. Broken parts and all.
“The part where I tell you how the things I want don’t line up. Or at least, they didn’t before. I don’t even know what does anymore or what will.”
No, no. This indecisive bit is getting old.
“So which part doesn’t fit with this?” I wave a hand between us.
She opens her mouth to respond, only to close it a second later. Her eyes tighten.
“I-I can’t think straight when I’m around you.” She pushes out of my hold and walks down the sidewalk.
Feelin’s mutual, darlin’.
But that’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?
That’s how you know it’s real.
“Louisa May Masters, stop walkin’ away from me. I swear to god.”
I catch up to her and grab her wrist. She stops, her fiery stare burning into me. I take the other wrist and step forward. She steps back. I move forward, sending her back until she meets the oversized window of the craft and gift store. I pin her to the glass, both wrists by her hips, my knee between her legs.
I’m done with this cat n’ mouse.
“Stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong, Lou. Get outta that head of yours and for once listen to your heart.”
My breaths plunge and rise in choppy waves. I press my body to hers. She whispers my name, and it takes every inch of self-control I have not to implode right here and now.
“I don’t know,” she chokes, looking off into the distance.
“Don’t know what?”
“Where I belong! Or what direction I’m supposed to take.”
Hell’s hounds. My heart aches for her.
“Look at me, Louisa.” I palm her face, letting my thumb drift over her bottom lip. We are so close, our breath mingles, her small pants crashing into my heady, burning ones.
She sucks in a ragged gulp, and her green eyes swing back.
“Right here”—I point to my chest—“this is where you belong. You need a direction, then I’m your true north. Trust that.”
Her breath stops.
I dip my head, brushing my lips over hers. “That’s all you need to know.”
God, how long have I waited to kiss this woman? Too fuckin’ long. My body is electric with her in my hold. My cock hard as stone, I’m burning for her. Her effect on me will never waiver.
“Say somethin’,” I breathe.
Tears well in her eyes.
Dammit.
“Harry, what if it doesn’t work out? It’s a small town. What if?—”
I slam my mouth over hers. Those words, they’re mine. I swallow them down, extinguishing the sentiment they hold. The thoughts I am sure are ramping up in that incredible brain of hers are whisked away. She slides her arms around my neck, and I run my tongue against the seam of her lips.
She opens, and I sweep in, loving her like I’ve waited ten whole years for this.
And I have.
We both have.
Heat licks my spine, sending my cock harder, my hold on her tighter.
I break away, remembering where we are.
Louisa stares up at me, lips swollen, chest heaving.
“Harry, I?—”
I nudge her nose with my own. “I should take you home.”
“Okay...”
I brush my fingers over her cheek, tucking the waves of blonde hair behind her ear. Her lips part, as if my simple touch has her drowning.
Not just me, then.
Even after all these years.
To my surprise, she starts walking for the restaurant. I follow her after a beat, watching those hips sway with every step. Her long blonde hair falls in waves down her back, swinging in time to her elegant stride, the hem of her dress skimming the back of her thighs.
Hell.
If she wasn’t the only woman in the world I’ve ever wanted, this could be highly inappropriate. When she slows at the locked restaurant doors and slides her key into the mechanism, I catch up, wrapping myself around her.
I have no intention of going upstairs tonight, but I sure am going to make the most of this moment. Louisa’s hand stills on the door handle as my lips graze her neck. She spins in my hold and takes my face in her palms. Dipping, I kiss her with everything I have. Like the floodgates that have been held back for so long have finally burst with a hard, all-consuming motion.
Louisa breaks the kiss. “You should probably leave,” she utters.
“I should.” The words are a rasp.
Now that I have held her, even the thought of walking away and leaving her for a moment burns. I don’t want to go home. Hell, Ma’s probably wondering what’s takin’ so long.
“Harry,” she says, hands resting on my collarbone. “You told Rosie about the ranch yet?”
I straighten. Way to change the subject, darlin’.
“Nope. Not yet.”
“Oh, I thought. Well, maybe I could give you two a hand to settle in? Help Rosie set up her new kitchen. It’s kind of exciting.”
I shake my head, huffing a chuckle. “She would love that. But it’s a state secret ’til next month, okay?”
“Sure. Night, Harry.”
She pushes through the doors and turns back to lock them up. As she ascends the stairs, I stay standing on the sidewalk like a lovesick fool. Remembering the last best memory I have of her here.
“You have to take me to Mama’s. It’s not a real date, we’re not really goin’ steady without the table for two by candlelight, Harry.”
Louisa’s head rests in my lap. I sit against the headboard of the truck parked at the lake. The stars overhead shimmer, and I still can’t believe the most amazing girl I’ve ever met agreed to a date.
Now, apparently, we’re going steady.
My head is spinning from the thought.
She considers herself mine.
Fuck me.
“What’s so good about the Italian restaurant, Lou? We could eat anywhere.”
Anywhere I could afford, that is.
Her head pops up, and she twists her body to face me, palms bracing her as she wriggles closer. “It... how do I explain it... It’s not only about the food; it’s like an experience . The smells, the sounds, the soft lighting. It’s like being eternally in love.”
Instantly, her cheeks redden. And the smile pushing up on my face sees it deepen.
“It sounds like a place for couples. Weddin’s and shit,” I offer. But when her face falls, I know I’ve taken her vision of the old place and shattered it all over the ground.
“Never mind.” She lies back in my lap.
Her eyes close. I take in her breathing as it quickens then settles. I brush her hair back behind her ear, her disappointment at my response twistin’ like wire in my gut.
Ain’t havin’ it.
I lean down and dust a kiss to her temple. “How does Saturday night sound? Table for two at Mama’s?”
Her eyes fly open. She scrambles into my lap, hands gravitating to my jaw like they always do. “You mean it? Can... Your mom won’t mind you spending the money?”
She won’t know.
God knows I can’t afford anything fancy, but for Louisa May, I’ll find a way.
“Thank you, Harry. Mama’s place is so special to me. It’s the first place that felt like home when we came to town. And you’re gonna love it. I know it.”
The widest grin stretches her beautiful face. And that’s when I feel it. The overwhelming tug at my heart telling me there isn’t a damn thing on this earth I wouldn’t do for this girl.
When the cool night breeze finds me, I turn away from the restaurant’s doors and head for the pickup. Hopefully Ma will be ready to leave.
The music is still blasting throughout the old hall rafters when I pull into the parking lot. Brad’s red car still sits where it was when we left. I have half a mind to give the loser a piece of my mind. He must be as bright as a bag of rocks, thinking his behavior’s anything but questionable. Leavin’ Lou in the middle of the dance floor amid a panic attack. He never checked if she’s okay. Or manned up to make certain his date was taken care of. What the hell is wrong with the guy?
I walk inside, scanning for Ma.
I find Brad.
Sitting at the bar with two of his buddies, laughing like he hasn’t a care in the world. Well, he’s about to get one. I stalk my way over to his seat.
“Hey, dickhead! You treat all your dates like lepers?” I swing his chair back with one hand. He startles, spilling his lemonade over his iron-creased stonewashed jeans and loafers. The sickly-sweet aroma of it floods the area.
Fuck me.
His buddies stare, white-faced, not moving.
What the heck Louisa ever saw in this weedy ingrate is beyond me. And after tonight, there will be no more Brad. He can find some other poor girl to flake out on.
“What the hell, Rawlins!” His voice is too high, his face laced with annoyance. Like he’s the one who’s inconvenienced by the events of tonight.
“Stay away from Louisa. Your little tryst is done and dusted, you hear?”
“What gives you the right to tell me who I can date?”
I scoff a laugh. “ Date ? That’s what you call that pathetic show of ditching a girl midway through a dance?”
His chin tilts up and he puffs out his scrawny torso, his striped short sleeves pressed into a crease billowing over his thin arms. “Where do you get off?—”
I grab his collar and lean in, my face inches from his.
“You’re done, Bradley. You left her standin’ on the damn dance floor. You’re done.” I shove him and he falters backward on the seat.
“Okay!” His hands shoot up in the air like he’s in a goddamn hold up. I turn to walk away. “Fine, she’s all yours, Rawlins. Too loose for me, anyway. Always wanted to be touched. Ugh, it’s not proper.”
I spin back. My fist connects with his pasty jaw a split second later. He flails backward. The chair plummets to the floor and he slams into the wooden floor. His buddies shoot out of their seats and put space between us. Neither of them offers Brad assistance. Figures.
“Harry?” The small and very familiar voice snaps me from my tunnel vision. Ma’s hand rests on my forearm. “I think I’m ready to go home.”
I turn back to her. She offers me a small smile and nods.
“Right.” I stalk for the doors, Ma trailing behind.
Not even an hour after I finally break through that Louisa May Masters wall, and I’m a moody possessive hothead already. And the feeling of helplessness, of overwhelming need... of the absolute desire to fall headfirst into her has me in a vise grip. Like it did a decade ago.
I’ve always felt too much.
It has a history of driving me to do emotionally rash things. Like proposing on prom night. And punching pasty accountants.
The upside... it lets me read people.
And I count it as a gift.
But, hell, fuck me.