2. Harlan
TWO
HARLAN
This woman’s going to be the fucking death of me. She hasn’t stopped talking since I walked into the kitchen. I prepare her a cup of coffee, and head back into the living area as she babbles on about missing her new job.
I set the mug of coffee on the table in front of her. Black. Strong. My fingers brush hers and the spark that hits me is damn near electric. She nearly drops the cup. Those big blue eyes widen and lock on mine.
"Careful," I say. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. Protective instinct I can’t shut off flares hot in my chest. I want to wrap her up, keep her from every bump and bruise the world tries to throw at her.
"See? Already taking care of me," she teases, that bright smile lighting up the whole damn cabin.
"This is prime romance novel territory. Next you’ll be insisting I stay here while my ankle heals because the lodge is too far and the storm is coming in.
I read the forecast on the way up. Blizzard warnings. Perfect for forced proximity tropes."
I cross my arms and lean against the counter, watching her. She talks a lot. Too much. It should annoy me. Instead it settles something restless in my chest. Makes the cabin feel less empty. "You talk a lot."
"I do. It’s a medical condition. Sunshine overload. Doctors say the only cure is more cowboy." She winks at me. Actually winks. Her cheeks flush pink and I have to look away before I do something reckless like smile back.
A muscle jumps in my jaw. I grab my own mug and drop into the armchair across from her.
The fire cracks and pops. Outside the wind is picking up, rattling the windows like it wants in.
I should take her to the B&B. Or take her to the main Haven 7 lodge.
Get her settled with the other women. Instead I’m already thinking about the blizzard rolling in and how that ankle means she can’t walk the path safely.
Eli shows up twenty minutes later. Good man. Quick with the wrap and the meds. Tells her to stay off the foot. I walk him out, keeping my voice low. "She's staying here tonight. Storm’s coming in fast. Lodge path will be slick."
Eli raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He knows better. "Keep it elevated. Ice every couple hours. And Harlan? Try not to scare her off with that grumpy face."
I grunt and shut the door. Back inside I grab the thick quilt from the chest and the wool socks I knit last winter when the nights got too quiet. "Shower," I say, pointing toward the bathroom.
Her eyes go wide. "Shower… um, with you?"
I nearly laugh at her question, but growl instead. "Shower for you. I’m going to call Nancy at the barn and tell her you won’t be coming into work until you’re healed up or the storm passes, whichever comes first."
She stands, putting all the pressure on her good ankle. I move in, fast. Like lightning. I help her to the bathroom and show her where the clean towels are.
Fuck, this woman is all pure sunshine and sass.
I step out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. Fuck. I can’t get the image of what she’d look like naked in the shower. All soaped up and ready for me.
Down, boy.
I head back into the living area, cleaning up the mugs of coffee. I clean while I wait for her to get out of the shower. I can’t stop my mind from picturing what it would be like to kiss her. Taste her. Have her.
I scrub the counter harder, trying to erase all naughty thoughts from my head. When she emerges, I tell her to rest up on the couch while I cook her dinner.
She talks the whole time I cook, telling me about how she comes from Colorado and moved up here for a fresh start. She pauses briefly when I ask why she felt she needed a fresh start.
As soon as dinner’s ready, I bring her a bowl of pasta. She’s grateful she doesn’t have to hobble to the table to eat.
After dinner, I clean the dishes and once I’m done I nod toward the back bedroom. “I’ll help you into my bed and you can get some rest.”
Her eyes widen. “With you?”
I try my hardest not to smile, but she’s just so damn cute. “No, I’ll take the couch.”
"Oh no, I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch. I’m small. I can curl up like a pretzel."
I ignore her protests, scoop her up again because it feels too damn good to have her in my arms, and carry her straight into the bedroom.
The king bed looks bigger with her in it.
I set her down gently, then kneel to slide the socks onto her good foot.
Her skin is soft under my calloused fingers.
I want to run my hands higher. Want to feel every inch of her.
Instead I tuck the quilt around her like she’s something precious I need to keep safe.
"Harlan," she whispers. My name in her mouth sounds dangerous. "You don’t have to do all this. I’m basically a stranger who traumatized your horse."
"You’re at Haven 7 now." My voice is low and rough. "We take care of our own."
I stand up before I crawl in beside her.
Her eyes follow me, bright and curious and full of that sunshine that makes me want to believe in things I gave up on years ago.
She pats the bed beside her. "At least sit for a minute.
Tell me about Haven 7. How many horses? Any other grumpy cowboys I should know about?
Is there a group chat where you all coordinate brooding hours? "
I hesitate. Every instinct tells me to keep my distance.
She’s hurt. New. Running from something she hasn’t told me about yet.
But I sit on the edge of the mattress anyway.
The bed dips and she rolls toward me a little.
Our thighs brush. Heat flares hot and immediate where we touch.
I clench my jaw against the rush of want that hits me.
"Ten main guys," I tell her. Short. Controlled. "Eli you met. Boyd runs security. Wyatt’s our tech guy. Rafe and Gavin run security. Silas is the Timber Creek sheriff. Chase and Rhett are always on watch. Thorne’s a tracker. I handle the horses mostly. Couple others. We’re family, running the place together.
Then there’s the women. A whole lot of them.
You can meet them once the storm settles. "
She reaches up and traces the scar through my eyebrow with one soft fingertip. The touch shoots straight through me. I catch her hand but don’t let go. My thumb strokes her knuckles slow and deliberate. I shouldn’t be touching her like this. But I can’t stop.
"Where did you get this?" she asks.
"Old mission." I hold her gaze. "You ask too many questions, Sunshine."
"Guilty. But you like it. I can tell. Your eye does this little crinkle thing when I talk."
I snort. Almost a laugh. She’s dangerous, this one. Bright and warm and burrowing under my skin faster than I can build walls against her.
We talk for over an hour. She tells me about baking pies for the whole neighborhood when she gets stressed, about winning a pie-eating contest by default.
Her laugh fills the cabin. I give her pieces of myself in return.
Growing up on a ranch. The military years that left scars deeper than the one on my face.
Coming to Haven 7 to build something quiet and solid.
Every word feels like handing her ammunition, but I keep talking anyway.
The storm builds outside. Wind howls. Snow lashes the windows.
Inside the fire glows warm and the air between us crackles with something thick and hungry.
I watch her lips move. Watch the way her chest rises and falls under the flannel I gave her after her shower.
I want to peel it off her. Want to taste the smile she keeps giving me so freely.
Want to pull her under me and show her exactly how safe she is with me. How much I already need her here.
When her eyelids start to droop I force myself to stand. "Sleep. I’ll be right out there."
"Harlan?" she calls as I reach the door.
I pause, hand on the frame. Every muscle in my body is tight with the effort of not turning around and climbing into that bed with her.
"Thank you. For saving me today. For this." She gestures at the cabin, at me. "I think I’m going to like it here."
I look at her for a long moment. She’s small in my big bed, curls spread across my pillow, eyes soft and trusting. The want I feel for her is sharp and deep. Protective. Possessive. I have known her hours and already the thought of her leaving twists something ugly in my chest.
"Stay put, Sunny. No more running off with spooked horses."
I close the door softly behind me and lean against it for a second, eyes shut. My heart’s pounding like I just ran ten miles with a full pack. I can still feel her fingers on my scar. Still smell her on my shirt. Still hear that bright laugh echoing in my quiet cabin.
I move to the couch and drop down, boots off, rifle within reach like always.
The fire’s dying down so I add another log.
Sleep won’t come easy tonight. Not with her in my bed just one room away.
Not with the way her body felt pressed against mine on the ride down.
Not with the storm howling outside and the certainty that whatever she’s running from followed her here.
I rub a hand over my face. She’s trouble. Bright, bubbly, dangerous trouble. The kind that makes a man want things he swore he was done wanting. Home. Family. Someone to protect with everything he has.
I already know I’ll fight for her. Already know I’ll keep her safe even if it means burning down whatever’s chasing her.
And God help me, I want her. Want her smiling up at me every morning. Want her quirky stories filling the silence. Want her under me, around me, mine.
I stretch out on the couch, one arm behind my head, and stare at the ceiling. The wind screams outside. Inside my cabin feels warmer than it has in years.
Sunny Caldwell is going to wreck me.
And the worst part is I’m not sure I mind one damn bit.