Chapter 19
HARPER
The boutique had been quiet all morning, with unseasonably warm April sunshine streaming through the front windows, highlighting dust motes that drifted lazily through air scented with the Peony candles I'd switched to for spring.
Outside, Main Street was busy with weekend foot traffic of families enjoying the weather, tourists stopping to browse shop windows.
Inside, I was rearranging the same display of spring cardigans for the third time in an hour while Jaxon sat in the vintage chair near my front window, looking simultaneously bored and vigilant.
He'd been my shadow for the past two weeks. Well, him and a rotating cast of Connor's ranch hands, sheriff's deputies, and occasionally Connor himself when ranch work allowed. Ever since the break-in, no one would let me go anywhere by myself.
Not to the boutique. Not to the grocery store. Not even to check the mail at the end of Connor's driveway.
I'd protested at first, naturally, because accepting help gracefully had never been my strong suit.
I argued that I couldn't live my life in fear, that I had a business to run, that constant babysitting was excessive and unnecessary and made me feel like a toddler who couldn't be trusted with scissors.
Connor had shut that down with one look. Those brown eyes dark with remembered terror, his voice was rough when he'd said, “Harper, I left you alone for six hours and someone tried to break in. I'm not making that mistake again.”
So I'd accepted the new reality. The constant companionship. The hypervigilance. The way everyone watched me like I might disappear if they blinked. It was suffocating and comforting in equal measure, like being wrapped in bubble wrap, safe but unable to move freely.
Today was Jaxon's turn. He'd shown up at Connor's ranch this morning at seven-thirty with coffee and a determined expression that said he was taking his protective duties seriously.
Connor had kissed me goodbye at the door, his hand lingered on my waist, and his eyes searched mine like they did every morning now. Making sure I was okay. Making sure I wasn't having nightmares about shattering glass and Chester's frantic barking.
“Be safe,” he'd murmured against my temple. “Text me if anything feels off.”
“I will. I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
The words still felt new and precious. We said them constantly now—morning, noon, night, every goodbye no matter how brief. Like we were both hyperaware of how easily those words could become the last thing we said to each other.
I sighed out as other thoughts ran through my mind. On the threats that had gone silent for two weeks. On the deadline that had passed without contact from Silas or Armand. The silence was much worse than the threats had been, like waiting for a bomb to drop, knowing it would but not when.
“You're fidgeting,” Jaxon observed from his post by the window.
His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and his arms were folded over his chest. He looked relaxed, but I'd caught him scanning the street every few seconds, tracking every person who walked past, his hand never far from the concealed weapon I knew he had under his jacket.
“I'm not fidgeting.”
“You've rearranged those cardigans three times already. That's fidgeting.” His blue eyes were amused but understanding. “You okay?”
“Just restless.” I abandoned the cardigan display and moved back behind the counter, pulling up the inventory spreadsheet on my laptop without really seeing the numbers. It was just something to look at, something to keep my eyes busy. “It's been slow today. Not much to do except think.”
“Thinking's dangerous,” Jaxon said with a small smile. “Gets you in your head.”
“Yeah, well, there's a lot to think about.” I closed the laptop, abandoning the pretense of working. “It's been two weeks. No contact, no threats, no mysterious visitors. It's like they just disappeared.”
“That worries you.”
It wasn't a question. Jaxon knew me well enough by now to read the anxiety I tried to hide.
“Yeah, it worries me.” I leaned against the counter, my fingers drumming against the surface.
“People like that don't just give up. They don't make threats and burn down buildings and then suddenly decide to leave me alone out of the goodness of their hearts.
So either they're planning something worse, or…”
“Or they're waiting,” Jaxon finished. “Letting you relax before they strike again.”
The blunt assessment made my stomach drop. “You're not very good at reassurance.”
“Wasn't trying to reassure you. I was trying to be honest.” He shifted in the chair, his gaze tracking a couple walking past the window.
Tourists, from the look of their brand-new cowboy hats and the map one of them held.
“Harper, you know Connor and I won't let anything happen to you, right?
And Davies has deputies watching both the ranch and the boutique. You're as safe as we can make you.”
“I know.” I felt the weight of all that protection surrounding me like armor. “I just hate feeling helpless. I hate that my life is controlled by people I can't see or fight.”
The bell above my door chimed, cutting off my spiral.
I tensed automatically, every muscle going rigid, my hand moving toward the phone in my pocket where Connor's number was always ready to dial. Then I forced myself to relax when I saw who it was.
Mrs. Patterson, bundled in a light spring jacket despite the warmth, her kind face creased into a smile when she saw me.
“Harper, dear! And Jaxon, what a nice surprise. I didn't expect to see you here.”
“Keeping Harper company,” Jaxon said easily, standing to greet her with the old-fashioned courtesy that seemed to come naturally to ranch men. “How are you, Mrs. Patterson?”
“Oh, wonderful. Spring always lifts my spirits.” She moved deeper into the boutique, her eyes scanning my displays with the practiced eye of someone who'd been shopping here for years.
“I'm looking for something special. My granddaughter's wedding is coming up in three weeks, and I think I changed my mind about the dress I bought before.”
Relief flooded through me at the familiar routine of helping a customer. Talking about fabrics, colors, and styles instead of thinking about threats or break-ins and people who wanted to hurt me.
“I have some new pieces that just came in,” I said, already moving toward the rack where I'd hung the items I'd been saving in the back room. “What colors were you thinking?”
I lost myself in the work for the next thirty minutes as I pulled dresses for Mrs. Patterson to try, discussing hem lengths and whether coral or peach would photograph better, and helping her decide between two beautiful options until she finally settled on both with the decisiveness of someone who'd earned the right to spoil herself.
“I'll take them both,” she declared. “Because I'm seventy-three years old and I deserve nice things.”
I laughed, genuine and bright, the first real laugh I'd had in days. “You absolutely do.”
While I rang up her purchases, wrapping each dress carefully in tissue paper and sliding them into one of my signature shopping bags, Mrs. Patterson chatted about her granddaughter, the wedding plans, and how spring weddings were always so beautiful.
This was normal. What my life was like before everything had fallen apart and turned into a series of increasingly terrible events.
When she finally left with a warm hug and an admonition to take care of myself, the boutique fell back into quiet.
I checked my phone, seeing it was almost one, leaving me with hours of sitting here with nothing to do but think.
Jaxon had returned to his post by the window, but something about his posture had changed.
He was sitting forward now, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together in a way that looked almost nervous.
I'd never seen Jaxon nervous. Calm and controlled, yes.
Protective and vigilant, absolutely. But nervous was new territory.
“You okay?” I asked, moving around the counter to sit in the chair opposite him.
“Yeah, I just—” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in a way that would have been funny if his expression wasn't so serious. “Harper, I need to ask you something. And I need you to keep it between us. At least for now.”
My stomach flipped with anxiety, because nothing good ever started with promises like that. “That sounds ominous.”
“It's not ominous. It's—” He took another breath, and when he looked up at me, his eyes were bright with something that looked like excitement mixed with terror. “I'm going to ask Anna to marry me.”
The words hung in the air between us for a moment while my brain processed what he'd just said.
Then joy—pure, uncomplicated joy—flooded through me like sunshine breaking through clouds.
“Oh my God.” I was out of my chair before I'd consciously decided to move, crossing the small space to hug him even though Jaxon wasn't usually the hugging type. “Jaxon, that's amazing! When? How? Do you have a ring? Does she suspect?”
He laughed, returning my hug briefly before gently disentangling himself. “Slow down. That's actually why I'm here. Well, partly. I'm here to keep you safe, but I also—” He paused, looking almost sheepish. “I need help, Harper.”
I sat back down, my smile so wide it hurt my cheeks. This was exactly what I needed. Something happy, hopeful and completely unrelated to threats and fear. “Tell me everything. What's your plan?”
“That's the problem. I don't have a plan.” Jaxon leaned back in his chair, his expression turning rueful. “I know I want to marry her. I've known since, hell, since probably the first month we were together. But asking someone to marry you is a big deal. It should be special and memorable and—”