Chapter Thirteen
~ Harlow ~
I sat at the kitchen table, watching the clock's hands creep toward midnight while Knox laid out hand-drawn maps of our northwest property line. The truck that had lit us up in its high beams less than an hour ago had changed everything. No more careful planning over days. We needed to act fast.
Ransom's fingers drummed against the wood, the tattoos on his forearms shifting with each impatient tap, while Dan's calm voice walked us through what equipment we'd need.
"Three teams," Knox said, tracing routes on the map with his index finger. "Two-hour rotation schedule. Dan's got night vision gear we can borrow from the department."
"Without raising flags," Dan added, shooting me a quick look that made my insides warm despite the tension in the room.
Ever since we'd rushed back to the house to tell everyone about the truck, he'd been different—more focused, more like the deputy and less like the man who'd held my hand in the shadows.
But those looks he kept giving me reminded me that both sides were still there, just waiting for a private moment.
Ransom leaned forward, his chair creaking under his weight. "I still say we ought to handle this ourselves. McKenzie justice. Simpler."
"And end up with all of us in jail," Knox countered, shaking his head. "We do this by the book. Mostly."
Ma had gone to bed an hour ago, after making sure we all had enough coffee and setting out a plate of leftover biscuits that none of us touched. The kitchen felt different without her there - like we could breathe easier, talk plainer.
Pa was still up, sitting silent in the living room with his shotgun across his lap, watching out the window like he expected trouble to come calling any minute.
"Harlow will set the cameras at first light," Dan said, his voice pulling me back to the conversation. "I'll coordinate with the sheriff at noon, frame it as following up on my accident investigation. By tomorrow night, we'll be ready to catch them in the act."
Knox nodded, satisfied. "Ransom and I will handle the ridge point. Harlow, you and Dan take the creek crossing. You know that area better than any of us."
A flicker of something passed over Dan's face—surprise, maybe, that Knox had paired us together without hesitation. The same thought must have hit Ransom too, because he snorted softly.
"Guess Deputy's officially part of the operation now," he said, his smirk not unkind. "Ma didn't even make him sleep in the guest room."
Heat crawled up my neck into my face. "She would've if he'd stayed," I muttered.
"One step at a time," Dan replied, but his mouth curved into a small smile that was just for me.
The planning continued for another twenty minutes before Knox finally folded up his maps. "Get some sleep," he ordered, sounding so much like Pa that Ransom rolled his eyes. "Dawn comes early."
Dan pushed back from the table, stretching in a way that made his sheriff's department polo ride up just enough to show a strip of skin above his belt. I looked away quickly, but not before noticing Ransom's knowing glance.
"I should get going," Dan said, reaching for his jacket. "I'll be back at first light to help with the cameras."
An ache opened up in my chest at the thought of him leaving, even though I knew he'd be back in just a few hours. It was foolish, wanting him to stay when Ma was just barely accepting us. But I couldn't help it. Being near him felt right in a way few things ever had.
"I'll walk you out," I said, standing up so quickly my chair scraped against the floor.
Knox and Ransom exchanged a look I pretended not to see.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Ransom called after us as we headed for the door.
"That leaves a lot of options open," Knox muttered, making Ransom laugh.
Outside, the night air hit us with its spring coolness, carrying the scent of damp earth and growing things.
The moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, casting enough light to see by but leaving plenty of shadows between the house and the road.
Dan walked close beside me, our arms occasionally brushing in a way that sent little shivers up my spine.
"You okay?" he asked quietly as we crunched down the gravel drive. "That truck shook you up."
"Not scared for me," I replied honestly. "Scared for you. For all of us."
His hand found mine in the darkness, our fingers lacing together like they belonged that way. "We'll get them, Harlow. Together."
We walked in silence for a moment, each step taking us farther from the house lights.
A thought had been building in me since we'd come back from seeing the truck, growing more urgent with each passing minute.
I didn't want Dan to leave without something, some moment that was just ours, without planning or families or threats hanging over us.
When we reached the fork where the drive split—one path leading to the main road, the other to the barn and equipment sheds—I tugged gently on Dan's hand.
"This way," I said, guiding him toward the barn instead of his truck.
Dan raised an eyebrow but followed without question, his trust making something warm bloom in my chest. The barn loomed dark against the night sky, its weathered boards silver in the moonlight. I led him past the main doors to the smaller side entrance that opened into the tack room.
Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of hay, saddle soap, and worn leather. Moonlight slanted through the single high window, casting patches of silver against the dusty floor. The space felt intimate and hidden, a world away from prying eyes and family expectations.
I closed the door behind us, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs like it wanted to break free. Dan stood in a patch of moonlight, watching me with those warm brown eyes that seemed to see straight through to the parts of me others missed.
"I wanted..." I started, then swallowed hard, the words sticking in my throat. "Wanted a moment. Just us. Before you left."
Dan stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "What kind of moment did you have in mind?" he asked, his voice dropping lower in a way that made heat pool in my belly.
"I want a kiss before you leave," I whispered, the confession barely audible even in the quiet of the tack room.
Dan's eyes darkened as he moved closer, one hand coming up to rest against my chest. "I have something better than that," he growled, the sound sending a shiver straight down my spine.
His mouth found mine in the darkness, warm and insistent.
Unlike our earlier kisses by the river, this one held nothing back.
His tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance that I eagerly granted.
My hands came up to cradle his face, marveling at how something as simple as a kiss could set my entire body on fire.
Dan walked me backward until my shoulders met the wall, his smaller frame somehow managing to make me feel surrounded.
One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other slid beneath my flannel shirt to trace patterns against my skin.
Every touch sent sparks through me, building a heat I'd never experienced before.
When he broke the kiss, we were both breathing hard. Before I could pull him back, Dan sank to his knees in front of me, his hands moving to my belt buckle with clear intent.
"Dan," I gasped, shock and desire tangling in my chest. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," he said, looking up at me with eyes dark with desire. "Let me show you how much I want you, Harlow."
My breath caught in my throat as his fingers worked my belt open, then the button of my jeans.
The rasp of my zipper sounded impossibly loud in the quiet tack room.
I'd never had anyone touch me like this before—had never thought I would.
Ma had always made it clear that certain things weren't for someone like me.
But the way Dan looked at me, like I was everything he'd ever wanted, made those old doubts fade like morning mist.
He eased my jeans down just enough to free my cock, already hard and straining against my boxers. When his warm hand wrapped around me, a sound escaped my throat that I barely recognized as my own.
"God," Dan groaned. "I just knew you'd be big here, too."
I felt embarrassment creep up my neck and into my face. I'd been teased before for having a large dick, people calling me an unnatural freak for the massive size of my cock, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was born this way. My dick was proportionate to the rest of my large body.
"Been thinking about this," Dan murmured, his breath hot against me as he stroked slowly up and down my length. "How you'd taste. How you'd feel."
Before I could form a response, his mouth replaced his hand, hot and wet and perfect. My hips bucked forward involuntarily, but his hands steadied me, holding my hips against the wall as he took me deeper.
"God, Dan," I groaned, my head falling back against the wall as pleasure unlike anything I'd known surged through me. His tongue swirled around the head of my cock before he took me deep again, creating a rhythm that had me gasping.
"Quiet, love. You don't want to wake the chickens." He went right back to licking me, swallowing me down his throat, to doing things that made my knees go weak and my heart rate speed up.
One of my hands moved to his hair, not pulling or pushing, just needing the connection.
The sight of him on his knees, his eyes closed in concentration as he lavished attention on my cock, was almost too much to bear.
This strong, capable man wanted me—not out of pity or obligation, but with a hunger that matched my own.
The pressure built quickly, too quickly. I tried to warn him, tugging gently at his hair. "Dan, I'm gonna—"
He just doubled his efforts, one hand wrapping around the base of my shaft while his mouth worked the rest. The dual sensation pushed me over the edge, my release crashing through me like a wave. My vision went white at the edges as I came, Dan's throat working as he swallowed every drop.
When he finally pulled away, a satisfied smile played at his lips. He rose to his feet, pressing his body against mine, and claimed my mouth in a deep kiss that let me taste myself on his tongue.
"You're beautiful when you come," he whispered against my lips. "So fucking perfect."
Still trembling from the intensity of my release, I watched as he fumbled with his own jeans, tearing them open with an urgency that made desire stir in me again despite my recent climax. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed and perfect.
"Show me," I said, reaching for him. "Show me how to touch you."
Dan took my hand and wrapped it around his shaft, his own hand covering mine to guide the rhythm. "Like this," he murmured, showing me the pressure and speed he liked.
Emboldened by his response, I pressed my other arm across his chest, pinning him gently against me while my thumb found his nipple through his shirt. The sharp intake of breath told me I'd done something right, so I pinched lightly while continuing the strokes he'd shown me.
"Fuck, Harlow," he gasped, his hips bucking into our joined hands. "Just like that."
I increased the pace, marveling at the way his breathing grew more ragged, how his head fell against my shoulder. The power I felt in that moment wasn't like my physical strength that everyone always noticed - this was different, intimate, the power of giving someone else pleasure.
"I'm close," he warned, his voice strained. "So close, Harlow."
I tightened my grip slightly, remembering how he'd done the same to me, and was rewarded by a low, broken sound from deep in his throat. His body went rigid against mine as he came, hot pulses coating our joined hands as I stroked him through his release.
In the aftermath, we clung to each other, both of us breathing hard in the moonlit gloom of the tack room.
Dan's weight rested against me, his forehead pressed to my chest as if he needed the support to remain standing.
I wrapped my arms around him, marveling at how perfectly he fit against me despite our size difference.
"That was..." he started, then laughed softly against my shirt. "I don't even have words."
I ran my hand up and down his back, feeling oddly peaceful despite the intensity of what we'd just shared. "Didn't know it could feel like that," I admitted quietly.
Dan tilted his head up to look at me, his expression serious despite the flush still coloring his cheeks. "It doesn't, usually," he said. "Not unless it's with someone who matters."
The simple statement lodged in my chest like a warm stone. I mattered to him. Not as a problem to solve or a burden to bear, but as a man, a partner.
We cleaned up as best we could with an old rag I found hanging on a hook, then rearranged our clothing in comfortable silence. Before I opened the door to let us back into the night, Dan pulled me down for one more kiss, this one gentle and lingering.
"That's just the beginning," he murmured against my lips. "There are so many ways I want to show you how much I want you. More kisses, more of what we just did, and deeper pleasures when you're ready."
The promise sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cool night air when we stepped outside. We walked hand in hand toward his truck, the gravel crunching beneath our boots. Above us, stars filled the sky like spilled sugar, countless and brilliant in the clear country night.
At his truck, Dan turned to face me one last time. "See you at dawn," he said, his voice carrying a certainty that eased the ache of watching him leave.
"I'll be waiting," I replied, meaning it in ways that went far beyond tomorrow's plans.
As his taillights disappeared down the driveway, I stood for a moment longer, my body still humming with the memory of his touch. Whatever dangers tomorrow might bring with the poachers, whatever challenges we still faced with Ma and the town's opinions, I knew one thing for certain.
I wasn't alone anymore. And neither was he.