14. Jude
Jude
“I just want to know what I did to get on your nerves this time.” Harlow sighed and leaned against the window, adding in a murmur, “You’re impossible.”
I’m impossible? No, the way I couldn’t get her off my mind was. How could she even think she was the one I was upset with after last night and all this?
“You didn’t piss me off. Trevor did. He isn’t the kind of guy you want to hang out with.”
“How would you know anything about the kind of guys I want to hang out with?” she snapped back.
“You’re just something new for him to chase after.”
“Gee, thanks.” Even in my peripheral, I could see her rolling her doe brown eyes. “Who said he wasn’t just a fling for me, too? Maybe I just wanted to have some stress relief, and you ruined it. Can’t a girl just enjoy some meaningless sex, Jude?”
My heart stopped for a second and my foot must have jolted, too. Luckily Autumn Creek’s roads were almost always empty, because Harlow let out a small yelp from the passenger seat as the truck jumped forward for a brief second.
I swallowed roughly, and let the car slow back to its regular speed. But other than that, I barely reacted. I couldn’t.
My mind was stuck on Harlow Spencer talking about sex.
The word sounded almost clinical on her lips, like a task on a to-do list. Clearly, someone needed to show her she could be having much more fun than that.
I tapped the steering wheel once, then twice, as I tried to regain control of my thoughts, and hopelessly failed. Instead I was just thinking about her swaying her hips on the dance floor last night. Her hands had tracing slowly over her curves, and her dark hair falling down her spine.
What is wrong with me?
My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I realized what my problem was. I might actually have a thing for the woman living under my roof, and she didn’t even like me.
I tried to push that down. Even a hint of feelings like that were bad news. I knew what I wanted, and that was a life in Autumn Creek and something long term—a woman who would be leaving town at the end of October didn’t fit into either of those boxes.
Despite what my foolish brain wanted me to say—if you’re looking for release, you don’t need to go far—I eventually spat out, “Don’t go chasing after Trevor. He wouldn’t treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? And who do you suggest then?”
Heat flared in my chest and I shot her a brief glance. Her skin was bright with blush. She crossed her arms as soon as our eyes met and flung her gaze back toward the window.
I didn’t respond. Clearly, she didn’t want my reply or for me to be involved with her love life.
But the words I’d be so good to you burned inside of me.
“Look, I wasn’t going to sleep with that guy,” she finally broke the silence between us.
“Good.”
“Not because you have any say in my life.” Her narrowed gaze drifted back to me. “But he was pushy and certainly not my type. Still, you have no right to get involved.”
“Fine.” I ground my teeth together to stop myself from asking what her type actually was. “He’s an entitled brat, and a nuisance about everything Dawn and I are trying to do here. Just like his father.”
“And who’s that?”
“Thomas Callahan. Trevor is Brie’s brother.”
“Callahan. From work?” Her voice raised an octave. “Thank god I didn’t do that then.”
A shiver ran over her, and I chuckled.
“You’re welcome.”
She scoffed, but after a few seconds of silence, added, “So, Brie’s brother? She just seems so…”
“Unlike them?” I suggested.
Trevor and Thomas both had the same quiffed dirty blond hair, but the latter’s was streaked with grey. Her fiery hair and freckled face came from her mother, who was long gone from Autumn Creek. And while her male relatives were obnoxious, Brie was quiet and humble.
“I was going to say nice, but that works, too.” Another beat passed and I could see her hands wringing together.
“Honestly, I thought you might be trying to embarrass me or stop me from getting to know people. Maybe you were fine with us working together, but god forbid I was part of the community, or at least trying to be for a night.” She let out a dry laugh.
My brows knitted together as I caught up with her understanding of the situation. “Harlow, I would never do that.”
“I’ve just always been an outsider, and I’ve never lived somewhere this…small. I couldn’t figure out why you’d react like that.” I tried to respond but she cut me off with a shake of her head. “I’m glad we talked. We’re fine, Jude. I was reading into it too much.”
I nodded firmly. “We’re good.”
“I’m just trying to live a little, though. Kasey said she might introduce me to someone. So don’t go interrupting me if that actually happens.”
“Sure.” My voice was tight as I replied.
Of course, I wasn’t some kind of possessive caveman.
I wouldn’t be barging in on any dates. But if Harlow wanted to relax and have fun, I would make sure she did.
The more time I spent with her, the more I could see the loneliness in the depths of her chocolate eyes.
I didn’t trust anyone else to make her smile.
If I wanted a job done right, I knew I had to do it myself.
So I would. And I’d do a damn better job than I had been doing so far.
And fuck, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t acknowledge the other gnawing thought in the back of my mind. My house was about a hundred years old. The walls were thin. The idea of her bringing someone home and hearing her moan through the living room wall might just kill me.
My fingers battered at the wheel in a methodic beat. “So, how are you finding things here?”
She cocked her head and gave me a pointed look. “The town is great. You don’t have to worry about trusting me with it, Jude.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m asking genuinely. As your friend.”
“And roommate?” She laughed.
“Yeah, that too. So is the apartment all right for you then?”
“It’s cozy.”
“Is that a nice way of saying small?”
“No, seriously.” She chuckled, and I caught a quick glimpse of her. Dark hair and a soft smile against a backdrop of autumn leaves passing by in the window. “You’ve clearly got an eye for making things look nice. The wood paneling in there is cute.”
I shrugged. I took pride in taking care of things. Although Colt looked after the farm operations and the onsite housing, I wanted to make sure the spare apartment on my first floor was a nice space when I handed it over to him a couple years ago.
“How much do I owe you for it at the end of the month?”
“Not a thing. Didn’t Kasey tell you it’s usually for people working on the farm?”
“Yeah, but I’m not freeloading off you. It won’t be more than what I was going to pay in downtown Ottawa, seriously. So name your price.”
“Zero.” I barked out a short laugh.
I kind of loved how persistent she was. Insisting on proving me wrong, pushing back, it was refreshing.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll just have a look at what other places are going for then. You’ll get what you get at the end of the month.”
I didn’t reply. She could try to pay me if she wanted, but there was no way I was actually taking her money.
After a few beats, she added, “So, since you’re my roomie and…landlord”—she grimaced slightly—“I’ve got to tell you something.”
“Yeah?” My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“I know it’s early in the season, but it’s getting a little cold in there at night. I was thinking of getting some extra blankets on the weekend, and maybe a kettle. But honestly, I’m not sure if I can put a kettle in the bathroom? I’ve been overthinking it, and I just thought I should mention it.”
“A kettle?” I managed to sputter out. “In the bathroom?”
“For a warm bath.” She shrugged. “I love the apartment, but it’s a bit drafty. And the hot water isn’t working.”
My knuckles turned white. “You’ve been having cold showers in there for the past week?” I remembered Colt telling me about how that place needed fixing up and I almost kicked myself for not asking her about it sooner. “Shit, Harlow.”
“It’s fine. It’s been refreshing.” She was far too relaxed about this, while I was furious at myself.
“You didn’t tell me.” I managed to pry a hand off the steering wheel to run it through my hair just as we turned toward downtown. “I should have fixed it. And damn it, I have a spare bedroom. You should be sleeping there.”
“No, no, no!” She crossed her arms. “That’s got to be crossing some sort of line.”
“What line? You’re cold, I’m helping.” Between gritted teeth, I added, “And my water’s been fine. At least use my shower while I fix yours.”
“No—”
I cut off her protest. “Don’t be stubborn, let me help you. You’ll at least be showering at my place.”
She huffed from the passenger seat. “If this was the city, I could just stay in a hotel or something.”
“Well, it’s not. And I’m not asking you to sleep in my bed, Harlow. Relax.”
Her cheeks flushed, and suddenly I couldn’t get the thought of asking her to stay in my bed out of my thoughts. I instantly regretted bringing it up, but I couldn’t deny this pull toward helping her, even if she was so damn stubborn about it.
“I’ll compromise,” she said after drawing her lip between her teeth. “Showers only. The heating is working a bit, it’s just drafty. No need to be dramatic.”
I nodded. As much as I hated the idea of her being cold in that apartment, a hot shower was a start. We still had warm September days ahead of us, but the fall nights were cold, and it was only going to get more frigid. I’d make sure she had all the blankets, candles, and heaters I could find.
I parked, and Harlow asked, “Are you coming to Sweater Weather?”
“Nah, I’ve got to grab some things from the store.”
“I’ll get you a coffee.”
I watched her wander through the brick lined street, before I made my way through along the paved road. A black painted shop with a blood orange door came into view. The familiar bell rang as I entered and was welcomed with a warm “Hello” from Whitney.
She had gone to school with my mom and was a similar age—or at least the age she would have been.
Whit and her wife, who ran the general store together, had always been good to me.
I returned the favour when I started to learn more about running a business, and they always kept Bramley Cider fully stocked on their shelves.
Despite so many Main Street storefronts closing over the years, the general store was popular with locals, and they did everything they could to showcase local businesses.
“Do you have any blankets, Whit?”
She gestured toward the back of the store, past the exposed wooden shelving filled with local maple syrup, fresh vegetables, and pumpkins from Ravensby Farm. “From Issy at Maple Ridge. They’re very soft.”
She was right. I ran my hands over the patterns and rich colours, and picked up the whole woven basket of them.
Whit chuckled “They’re one hundred percent alpaca wool. Have you looked at the price tag?”
“It’s all good.” I shot her a smile. “Supporting local.”
“Gearing up for the colder weather then?” she asked as she rang me up.
“Something like that.”
Whit’s General Store was a good start. But I quickly walked down Main Street to find a hot water bottle and a kettle, too. I piled it all into the trunk just before Harlow got back.
She waved her purse at me, looking snug wrapped in her coat again. “I got it.”
“Good. Let’s get you home.”
When I pulled up in front of my house—our house, really—Harlow cleared her throat.
I almost didn’t notice, too surprised by my thoughts.
Our house. Somehow, the idea of my home not just being mine suddenly wasn’t so daunting.
The realization crept up on me slowly but knocked me down like a tidal wave.
I’d been living alone for so long, in this old house, and it almost felt a bit too empty.
“Well…I guess I’ll text you before I come knock on your door for a shower later. I promise it won’t be too late, and I won’t leave anything—it’ll be like I was never there.” Harlow shot me a smile, but I could see the nervousness behind it.
I shook my head. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll leave a key under your doormat. Don’t worry about the time, I’m a deep sleeper. And leave whatever you want, I have plenty of space. There’s no one else to use it anyway. It’s all yours.”
She visibly prickled at the nickname I’d unwillingly given her. But I enjoyed her responsiveness to my words a little too much.
Later that night, I heard the sound of footsteps as I sat in my office. There was some special kind of torture hearing her hang her sweater on the door hook as I walked down the hallway. The water turned on and steam slipped under the door as I closed myself in my bedroom.
I couldn’t tell if I actually heard a gasp as the hot water touched her skin, or if my mind was just filling in the gaps it desperately wanted. But damn, it felt good to take care of her.