Chapter 21
HARPER
Iwas exhausted, in a good way.
The kind of bone-deep tiredness that was caused by two weeks of celebration and happiness from engagement parties where I'd eaten too much cake, wedding planning sessions with Anna that turned into wine-fueled giggle fests, late nights on Connor's porch watching the stars and pretending I understood constellations when really, I was just making stuff up.
Early mornings helping with ranch work just to be near him, even though my city-girl muscles screamed in protest every time I lifted a hay bale.
The exhaustion that came from finally letting myself relax and believe that maybe, the universe had found a different victim for its games.
I had my head leaning back against the headrest of Jaxon's Jeep as he drove us toward Main Street.
My eyes were half-closed, watching the familiar landscape roll past through barely open lids like a movie I'd seen too many times.
The morning sun was warm through the windshield, painting everything in shades of gold and green that looked like a screensaver.
Spring had fully arrived in Wyoming, deciding to commit after weeks of wishy-washy weather. Trees were budding with new leaves, wildflowers dotted the roadside in purple and yellow clusters, and the air smelled fresh and alive through Jaxon's partially open window.
Jaxon hummed along to the country song playing on the radio, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel in rhythm.
Some upbeat tune about trucks and beer and summer nights that all kind of sounded the same to me but whatever.
He'd been like this since the proposal. Perpetually happy, practically glowing with contentment every time Anna's name came up, which was approximately every five minutes.
It was adorable and annoying in equal measure, and exactly what I needed to see. Proof that good things happened to good people, that happy endings existed outside of romance novels.
I smiled despite my exhaustion, letting the warmth of the sun and Jaxon's off-key humming lull me into a peaceful half-doze where I could pretend my life was normal.
The past two weeks had been blissfully quiet in a way that should have been comforting but instead felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
No threatening texts. No mysterious phone calls.
No visits from Silas or Armand or anyone connected to them.
No attempted break-ins or shadowy figures watching from across the street like something out of a bad thriller movie.
Nothing but peaceful days filled with work, friends, and Connor.
Sheriff Davies had deputies doing regular patrols past both the ranch and the boutique, guys I recognized now who'd wave when they drove by.
Someone was always watching, always alert, like I was a celebrity with the world's most boring security detail.
But as the days passed with no incidents, even they had started to relax slightly, their patrols becoming less frequent, their vigilance softening into routine.
They believed that maybe whoever had been threatening me had decided the heat was too much. That the police presence and the constant vigilance had scared them off into whatever hole people like that crawled into when they gave up.
God, I wanted to believe it so badly I could taste it.
But there was still a small voice in the back of my mind that whispered warnings in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep.
That said people like Silas and Armand didn't just give up because things got inconvenient.
That silence was sometimes more dangerous than threats because you couldn't prepare for what you couldn't see coming or brace yourself for an impact you didn't know was headed your way.
I pushed the voice away, refusing to let paranoia ruin these perfect two weeks of peace I'd somehow managed to steal from the universe.
Jaxon pulled into a parking spot on Main Street directly in front of the coffee shop, the Jeep's brakes squeaking slightly as we came to a stop. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted through the open window, rich and inviting enough to make my stomach growl.
“Coffee first?” Jaxon asked, already unbuckling his seatbelt with the eagerness of a caffeine addict. “I'm not functional until I've had at least two cups.”
“Coffee sounds perfect.” I climbed out, my boots hitting the pavement, and stretched my arms overhead until my back popped with a satisfying crack that made me groan with relief.
“And maybe one of those cinnamon rolls Melissa makes?
The ones that are basically just frosting held together by hope and diabetes? I'm starving.”
“Anna told me you've been skipping breakfast again.” Jaxon's voice held gentle reproach as we walked toward the coffee shop, the kind of concerned big brother tone that would have annoyed me if it wasn't kind of sweet. “Connor's worried about you.”
“I'm eating,” I protested, though it was a weak defense and we both knew it.
I had been skipping breakfast more often than not lately.
Too busy, too distracted, too caught up in helping Anna plan her wedding and pretending my life wasn't still a disaster held together with duct tape and Connor's unwavering faith in me. “Just not always in the morning.”
“That's called skipping breakfast, Harper.”
“Fine. I'll get two cinnamon rolls. One for now, one for later when I remember food exists. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he said sarcastically, but he was grinning as he ordered two large coffees, four cinnamon rolls and a blueberry muffin for good measure, because apparently Jaxon could eat like a teenage boy despite being a grown-ass Marine.
We stood at the counter waiting, and I watched Jaxon pull out his phone, his face transforming into that soft smile he got whenever Anna texted him. The kind of smile that made him look younger and less like someone who could kill you with his bare hands.
I rolled my eyes affectionately. “Let me guess. Anna?”
“She wants to know if ivory or cream would look better for the bridesmaid dresses.” He showed me his phone where Anna had sent approximately fifteen pictures of dresses in varying shades of off-white that all looked identical to the untrained eye.
“They all look the same to me. I don't understand why there are seventeen different types of white.”
“They're definitely not the same. Ivory has warmer undertones, cream is more neutral, and that one—” I pointed at picture number seven, “—is actually champagne which is a completely different thing. Never mind. Tell her ivory. It'll look better in outdoor wedding photos and won't wash her out.”
“You're a lifesaver.” He typed out my response with the careful concentration of someone who knew that wedding decisions were landmines waiting to explode, then pocketed his phone as Melissa called out our order.
We grabbed our coffees and pastries and headed back outside into the sunshine that was already making me squint.
Main Street was quiet this early on a Monday morning.
Only a few cars were parked along the curbs, a couple walked their dog on the opposite sidewalk, the hardware store just opened its doors with that same squeaky hinge that had been driving the owner crazy for months.
We crossed toward my boutique, Jaxon still humming that same country song from the Jeep, me sipping my coffee and enjoying the warmth spreading through my chest in a way that had nothing to do with caffeine and everything to do with feeling almost normal.
I reached into my purse for my keys as we approached, my fingers closing around the familiar metal that I'd held so many times I could probably find it blindfolded.
The morning sun reflected off the front windows, making it hard to see inside, turning the glass into mirrors that showed me and Jaxon approaching with our coffee and pastries like we didn't have a care in the world.
“I was thinking we could close early today,” I said, pulling out my keys and already mentally calculating how much inventory I needed to move to justify staying open. “It's usually dead on Mondays anyway, and I could use the extra time to help Anna with—”
My words died as I tried to insert the key into the lock. The door moved. It pushed inward with the slightest pressure from my key, the lock already disengaged, the door already cracked open like someone had forgotten to close it properly or like someone had broken in during the night.
My heart stopped, then kick-started with a violence.
“What the—” I broke off, frozen with my hand still on the key, my brain trying to process what was happening and coming up empty.
Jaxon's head snapped up from his phone, his whole body going alert in that way that said the Marine in him had just taken over. His easy smile vanished, replaced by the hard, assessing expression of someone who'd been trained to respond to threats. “What's wrong?”
“The door.” My voice came out barely a whisper, my throat suddenly dry despite the coffee I'd just been drinking. “Jaxon, it was already unlocked. It just pushed open.”
I watched the coffee cup slip from his hand in what felt like slow motion—the cup falling, the lid popping off, coffee spreading across the concrete in a dark pool that looked almost black in the morning light.
But Jaxon was already moving, setting the pastry bag down and reaching into his jacket to pull out his Colt with a practiced efficiency.
“Stay here,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding in a way that expected to be obeyed without question. “Harper, stay behind me.”
I couldn't move. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong. Horribly, devastatingly wrong, but my feet were rooted to the sidewalk like someone had nailed them there.