Forty-Three | Harlow
The sound of laughter fills my ears, the warm sound sinking into my bones as I push through the front door of the ranch house. Kicking off my boots and placing them under the bench where Colson likes them, I slowly pace forward toward the kitchen, adjusting my hat nervously.
I’m intruding on such an intimate morning. Colson told me at the lake that he hasn’t talked to his parents in three years, and here they are, stirring up the painful past that has deeply affected them in ways I’ll never understand.
I feel like I shouldn’t be here, which is why I went out on a morning ride with Cosmos. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure she was ready, but I took it slow, giving her plenty of treats, pets, and verbal praise as we reached each milestone.
The complete contentment I felt the moment I settled on her back with ease had tears springing to my eyes. Like Colson, she’s been through so much, and as we strolled through the lower field below the house, I could sense how happy she was. It was energizing. Inspiring.
As the soft, late-morning breeze blew through my hair and her mane, I soaked up the gratitude.
The gratitude I have for Colson for trusting me to work with Cosmos.
How incredibly grateful I am for the trust Cosmos has in me to work with her and help guide her back to riding.
And at the same time, I was working myself back to something I love besides bull riding.
Making my steps faint and quiet, I pace toward the stairs, hoping Colson and his parents won’t see me.
Which is shit thinking on my part since it’s an open floor plan.
“Harlow, sweetheart, why don’t you come join us?” Colson’s mom says, reaching out to pat the barstool beside her at the kitchen island.
My eyes settle on the scene before me, watching as the two men command the kitchen. Now I know where Colson gets his cooking skills from, as he and Rich share the space so easily, focused on their own tasks.
Some kind of sauce has replaced my burning bacon on the stove, the scent of something baking hitting my nostrils, making my mouth water.
“Oh, no.” I shake my head, stopping. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Nonsense,” Rich says, stirring whatever is in the deep pan as steam rises into the air.
Colson glances up from cutting strawberries on the cutting board, his eyes magnetizing to mine.
His lips tilt in a way that sends a bolt of desire down my spine.
He paces toward the coffee pot, pouring a mug of coffee before he sets it on the island in front of the empty chair.
“Get your ass in here, dust bunny. Brunch is almost ready.”
Sheri’s eyes dart between us inquisitively. “Dust Bunny?”
I blow out a nervous breath. Moving toward the barstool, I timidly take a seat. “Since our first year competing together, he has called me that.”
Rich turns off the burner and turns to face Sheri and me. “What does it mean?”
Colson reaches for his coffee, lifting the rim of his mug to those lips I can’t stop looking at. There’s something about the way he’s standing before me now that makes him look lighter. Like whatever conversation he had with his parents has lifted a physical weight off his shoulders.
Colson lowers his mug. “On the circuit, women who chase bull riders and try to get their attention are called buckle bunnies. Unlike them, Harlow here isn’t afraid to get down and dirty with us.”
I roll my lips, trying to suppress my smile.
Sheri looks between us, a soft grin pulling at her features as she spins to face me more.
“I must apologize for how we met this morning, Harlow. Rich and I were shocked to see you, considering the media has blown up your rivalry, and here you were, standing in my son’s kitchen, in only his T-shirt. ”
Fire floods into my cheeks. “It’s been months of me living here, and I’m still as shocked as you are.”
“We’ve watched every ride of yours this season. You’ve had quite the comeback,” Rich retorts.
For a moment, I hang onto that part, surprised they have been watching this season, considering their past. I decide not to ask and push past my curiosity.
“I have your son to thank for that,” I say honestly. “If he hadn’t offered to coach me after my coach, Aaron, died, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Crazy to think this season is nearing the end, and soon I’ll be headed back to Arizona and have to look for a new coach.”
Something I can’t dissect flashes in Colson’s eyes as he stares at me, his parents looking between us with interested expressions.
The look in his eyes vanishes as the oven timer blares through the kitchen.
He moves toward the oven, his dad stepping aside so Colson can reach around him for a baking mitt.
He pulls out a tray of freshly baked biscuits.
Both men load up four plates with eggs Benedict and fruit, and we all carry our food to the dining room table. My eyes widen every time I plop a piece of egg and biscuit into my mouth, savoring the hollandaise sauce that bursts on my taste buds.
Holy shit.
I already knew Colson could cook, but now I know where he gets his skills from.
“This is incredible,” I nearly groan. “You guys put my burnt bacon to shame.”
Sheri chuckles, waving a dismissive hand.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I remember this one time, when Colson was fourteen or so, that he and Rich decided to make Paisley and me a nice Valentine’s Day dinner.
Colson accidentally set one of my oven mitts on fire because he left it on a hot burner.
The fire alarms went off, and Rich had to get the fire extinguisher and everything.
Paisley and I watched the whole thing happen with wide eyes. ”
Colson laughs, chewing on a strawberry. “You never let me live that story down. Paisley teased me for it constantly whenever I would cook with Dad.”
“We kind of deserved it.” Rich shakes his head. “We nearly burned the kitchen down.”
I listen to them, warmth flooding my veins at the story flowing from them. There may be melancholy smiles on their faces, but that’s to be expected. Getting back to this type of conversation is still foreign to them.
“Harlow can’t cook, but she can bake like a pro though.” Colson smirks. “Best damn muffins I’ve ever had. If I had to eat one thing for the rest of my life, it would be those lemon-blueberry crumble muffins.”
“I know how much you try to avoid a lot of sugar during the season.” I laugh, placing my fork on my plate. “You’d have to risk that six-pack.”
He braces his arms on the table, leaning over them. “Worth it. I’m addicted. On second thought, because of those, I might not be able to let you leave in a few weeks.”
That comment has my stomach swooping violently. Our gazes hold.
“Too bad, you’ll have to,” I try to say it as a joke, but we both know it’s not.
He arches a dark brow. “What if I don’t want to?”
The longer we stare at each other, the thinner the air gets until the tightness pulling at my chest is impossible to ignore.
Rich’s eyes bounce between us. “You know, I think I want to take a walk around the property. Join me, Sheri?”
“Yes, some fresh air sounds nice.” Sheri moves to stand, reaching to grab her plate.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “You guys go take your walk, and I’ll get brunch put away and the dishes cleaned up.”
“Thank you, Harlow,” Colson’s dad says, and he and Sheri move to the entryway to get their shoes on.
I stack up all our plates and move into the kitchen to place them in the sink. Colson’s eyes are attached to my back the entire time, the tension that wasn’t there earlier stretching between us.
Turning on the faucet, I grab more dishes and place them into the sink as I hear the front door close.
Like he was waiting for his parents to leave, Colson walks into the kitchen and moves to stand beside me.
He reaches for the sponge and pumps some soap onto it, the sound of the rushing water filling the uncomfortable silence.
He starts scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary. “I need to thank you.”
I swallow. “For what?”
“For Cosmos. My parents and I saw you out there with her, and I can’t thank you enough. Paisley was the last person to ride her.” He shakes his head. “It felt right seeing you on her.”
My chest rises and falls heavily as I try to shove some distance between us and how I’m feeling. “I’m just repaying you for coaching me. That’s it. I’m happy I could help.”
His voice is stern. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” I ask nonchalantly, though my heart is racing a mile a minute.
Today is one of those days where it feels like the last few weeks of summer before you go back to school. But instead, it’s me leaving Tennessee. Leaving this place that has started to feel like a home away from home.
“Don’t turn this into something it’s not.
” The rasp and edge to his tone have my full attention.
“Don’t fucking send us back to that place we were before this arrangement because you’re too scared to address what comes next once we’re done with this season.
We need to talk about what happens after the finals, Harlow. What will happen with us—”
“Once the World Finals are over, I’ll collect my things and head back home to Arizona, and we’ll go back to how things always were between us.
It’s the only option, Colson … You can’t be suggesting I stay here.
” He doesn’t speak, just stares at me. “Once finals are over, we’re done.
We have to be done.” I don’t know why I’m so out of breath.
He drops the sponge and plate in the sink in frustration, turning fully toward me.
“Fuck that. Fuck whatever we were before this. I’m not done with you.
I want to keep coaching you. But more than that, I want to give this a shot—us a real shot after this is over.
We’ll have time to explore it before the next season starts. ”
Tears gather in the corner of my eyes. “Colson, we can’t.
If we end this now, it will be easier than dragging it out.
We still don’t even know if it’s allowed for you to coach me while you are still riding.
As long as we are both competing, there will never be an us. I don’t know what else you want …”
In a flash, he’s gripping the back of my neck with his wet hand. He flips us, my ass pressing into the counter as the front of his body becomes flush with mine. Suds drip off his hand and down the valley of my spine, the cool water doing nothing to calm my heated skin.
“What I want is you on top of me. Under me. I want your taste on my tongue—your scent clinging to my skin and tangled through my sheets. I want you invading my fucking head like you have been since you moved in. I want you here. I want you on this property with me, and we’ll figure it out day by day. ”
My ribs grind together at his admission.
Colson’s hand tips my head to the side, his mouth sealing to the slope of my neck. His tongue lashing against my skin makes a whimper leave my lips. “I want you to admit you want me as badly as I want you,” he whispers into my skin.
I reach up to grasp his forearms as his mouth shakes my world, and I contemplate what that future would look like.
What it would look like if Colson kept coaching me.
What it would look like living here with him.
What life would look like if he were my partner, because this man has threaded himself through parts of my soul that I’ll never untangle.
But the reality is, scrubbing myself of him now, before we give a name to what we are and how we feel about each other, would be easier than diving deeper and drowning.
The truth about how I feel about Colson is on the tip of my tongue.
As I slam my eyes shut, I know there are still so many questions we don’t have answers to. But the only way to get those answers is to bring whatever we are into the light and make it public.
My brain and my heart are at war.
My heart tells me there is so much we could gain if we come forward, but my brain is fighting for dominance, reminding me of all the things we could inevitably lose.