11. Harrison
Chapter 11
Harrison
W orking on this land has always been easy for my family. It’s never seemed taxing or stressful. Sure, there are days when we are dog-tired or worried about the weather, our crops, or our cattle, but the line of work aspect is easy.
Since my brother and I were little, we would help our parents in any way we could and would be happy doing it. Hunter wanted to own and run this farm ever since I can remember. He was my father’s shadow, and I love watching him head this whole place. I feel like a business partner to him in many ways, but I know, deep down, this land is his. He probably doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as ours, for our kids to run together if they want.
I wake up each morning knowing what I have to do and what I want to accomplish. When I go to bed at night, I feel good about what I’ve done.
Hunter having his family burns as much as it heals. His happiness is something I’ve wanted for a long time. Watching him work so hard with little fun was hard—he’s my brother and closest friend. He needed more than just our family legacy in his life.
Part of me wonders if he’s right. Do I chase the same type of girl in hopes of curating the picture-perfect family life I want? The dream of a wife and kids for me was as strong as Hunter’s dream to own this farm.
We had it all as kids. Our parents were truly happy and healthy. Even when they were mad or fighting, they didn’t fake anything in front of us. When they would resolve things, we could see it. We saw how hard they worked to keep each other. How hard they worked to keep their marriage alive and happy. They were great role models for us in so many ways.
They pushed for us to be good brothers to each other, and we were. We had our moments: Hunter thinking I’m a pain in the ass, me tiring him out thinking I’m as good as him. In the end, we were always there for each other and always had each other’s back.
I remember being pissed about losing at anything, and Hunter going beyond himself to make me feel better. He’d give me his share of dessert, let me play with his toys, help me practice more, and encourage me. Watching him be a good husband and great dad now just motivates me more. I want to do that together, too. I want our kids close in age, and Blake is already one.
That sketch I started not long ago of the house comes to mind. The way I want it to become more than just an idea, but reality feels like a need. My desperation feels like a hindrance.
Hunter’s words keep playing in my mind. My dating the same type. My trying to make things happen just for the sake of them happening. I only meet up with the girls on the app who match the idea of the perfect girl in my head .
I think about the sketch of the woman I started after the house. Long neck, long hair, slender facial features with sharp points. I stop what I’m doing and pull my phone out to open the app. I look through the compatible matches and start broadening my horizons.
No more perfect girl next door. Girls with brown hair, red hair, even a blonde with some added purple. I look at them all and try to think past the perfect image I have in my head. A woman with black hair comes across my matches and although it’s cut in a short sleek bob, the inky color brings me back to my guest. Her long black hair tied into that thick, intricate braid. I broaden my interests, adding how I enjoy art. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.
I still need to bring Harlow that damn welcome basket. Closing the app after agreeing to a few new matches, I walk into the kitchen to grab the premade basket on the counter. Each of the items I usually place is located inside with an envelope, Harlow’s name on the front. I open it and reread my note, written before our encounter.
Harlow -
Welcome to my family’s little oasis
Different from the usual beachy getaways or high-end city resorts
I hope that you’ll find everything you need in the house
Here are some local treats to try and enjoy
Should you need anything, feel free to reach out to me
I stay on the land most of the tim e
So glad you chose to stay on the Hill Farm
-Harrison
It feels strange sending this to her now. I’ve met her, and our encounter wasn’t exactly cordial. She seems to have too much of a sarcastic, indelicate nature to take my note seriously or appreciate it as a kind gesture. I take out a blank envelope and try to think of something to write. I have to put something; this girl is going to meet Cass eventually, and each of my guests has gotten one of these. It would be weirder if she didn’t.
Harlow –
Welcome
I hope you enjoy your stay on the Hill Farm
Feel free to reach out to me if you need anything
Nope, that’s worse; it seems too curt and impersonal. Sitting for about fifteen minutes, I rack my brain trying to think of something to write to her. I settle for the original because it was genuinely for my guest, and that’s what she is. She’s a stranger staying in my guesthouse to get away and relax. Even if she’s irritating and rude, even if she’s wicked and smoking hot. She’s still a guest.
I’d rather be nice and do the right thing than follow in her footsteps and leave a bad taste in her mouth regarding my small town. Shoving the cardstock back into its envelope, I grab the basket and make my way over to the bunkhouse.
It’s midday, and the light cool air mixes with the bright sun. It’s refreshing after the hellish temperatures we’ve had this summer. Approaching the house, I walk up to the deck and the soft beats of music are playing. The windows are opened, and the sounds are jazzy with a saxophone playing. I take the first step up the porch and then stop in my tracks.
Long black hair blows as I see Harlow looking out the side window in the kitchen. Part of me feels creepy being able to see her without her knowing. The music must be loud enough that she can’t hear the sound of my boots. My feet must have moved on their own accord as I find myself on the porch angled out of her possible view and watching her.
She has a mug in her hands with the tag of a tea bag hanging over the side. Her hair is so long, it looks heavy. The way it covers her light skin like a cape is enchanting. Harlow is dressed for comfort in an oversized black waffle-knit top. It’s long enough that she doesn’t need pants but too short to likely wear out and about. The sleeves are pulled over her hands with only the tips of her fingers peeking out. I wish I could catch a glimpse of the front to see if it’s got a V-neck.
It's official, I’m a creeper.
I place the basket by her front door, make my way back down the stairs, and head to my trailer. I drag myself to the kitchen for a quick lunch before I head out to see how the cattle are today and check on these season’s weaned calves. The girls have relaxed since the summer months have ended and this year’s wean is over.
We need the farrier to pay a visit since we didn’t need them mid-summer, and a new shave and shoe would do the horses some good. I add to my plan to stop by the stable and see which horses need a trim and shoe.
We have five horses on the property, all warmbloods. Hunter and I have our personal mares, and the others aren’t claimed individually. My horse is a quarter and well settled into her role. She looks like a blonde ale, light tan with a blonde mane. She has a star marking and as an unoriginal young man, I named her accordingly. Hunter’s horse, Legacy, is a Morgan, and has dark coloring: deep chestnut browns and chocolate hair. The unclaimed horses are Snickers, Sunspot, and PJ, who is retired just like my folks.
We’re in the market for more, but it takes time to find the right horse. I had recently received a notification about a Hanoverian for sale, but those horses are better suited to the leisure life than the working. As beautiful as it may be, it needs to make sense.
I finish my lunch and look out the window over the sink at my land. Only a hill and gravel road separate me from that strange woman. The hold she has on me is unlike anything I’ve experienced. It has to be related to the fact that I haven’t had sex in a while. If I get laid, I bet this strange effect she has on me will dissipate.
I don’t have sex outside of a relationship, so it’s been a minute. The last girlfriend I had wasn’t interested in staying here and could tell I didn’t have plans to leave as I continued to work on the bunkhouse. When we split, I was neither surprised nor devastated.
Hunter constantly reminds me that I can’t make the right girl appear on my own whim, but she’s got to be out there somewhere. Broadening my horizons about the type of women I see will hopefully increase those chances. It feels weird looking on an app for a potential partner. Falling in love isn’t like shopping for luggage. For me, it’s delicate and personal. If I’m going to get intimate with this person, I want it to be as natural as possible.
Cassidy: New guest is here! Hunt said you would give me the deets at dinner. Can’t wait!
I let out a heavy sigh and head back out to the field. The next few weeks are going to be entertaining, to say the least.