Page 17 of Country Contract

Pulling my phone out, I see the notification, except it’s not the Compatible app, it’s my rental app.

New Reservation Request!

Starting next week for . . . an undetermined time. That could really make up for this slow season. I read over the request quickly.

“Hi there! I know it’s short notice, but I’m looking to get away from the hustle and bustle that is my life. I work as an editor and need to buckle down on my manuscripts, but I am also needing a quiet space to relax in between work. Your place and land look lovely. I see that you even let people ride the horses on your property? That would be great. Do you have English tack? If you need a determined time, just let me know and I can try to guesstimate how long I’ll be there. I look forward to hearing from you. – Harlow”

My brows furrow as I read the message twice. I nod and hit the green accept to allow her to complete her booking and put a down payment on her stay.

“What’s that?” Hunter asks.

“A guest for the bunkhouse, wants to stay for a while. She asked for English tack.”

“City slicker,” Cassidy says with an extra country drawl, and we all laugh.

I’m glad to see the dating app is quiet. Maybe Jenna could tell I wasn’t interested.

I look at the profile of the guest for the reservation, but she doesn’t have a picture of herself. In its place is a butterfly? A black-winged bug with green iridescent highlights. It could just be an option in the stock photos.

“Looks like we’re about to have ourselves a long-term guest!” I say excitedly, tickling Blake. She squeals as if she’s as excited as I am to have a distraction.

Hopefully, this guest isn’t too much trouble. I’ll have to ask a neighboring farm for an English saddle and bridle. I hope for the best and cross my fingers, willing a nice blonde princess to show up on our farm.

Chapter 7

Harlow

First Week Of October

There are pros and cons to coming from a prominent family with money. A pro is the resources that I get from having connections, which includes financial support. I honestly could have been a state-of-the-art doctor, a prima ballerina, or whatever else my heart desired. I had the kind of resources most people dreamed of. So pro: I have access to family funds and gain more and more of my trust as I age.

Con: my family can see what I use the family money for. Like when I wanted to use a sum of my trust fund to purchase my house. The minute I spoke with my realtor and started the paperwork process, my parents reached out to me.

After that, I decided I should have two accounts—a family account and a personal account. This whole trip is on my dime. There are a few reasons I didn’t want to dip into the family funds. One, I don’t want to be tracked down here. Two, I don’t want my father to threaten that since my trip is on his dollar, he can cut it short. So, as I continue to make purchases throughout this trip, I will have to be mindful,so I don’t have to pull extra funds from my other accounts.

My first drive through Pebble Creek is idyllic. It’s small, clean, and homey. The roads are worn with lots of patchwork and dark spots of fresh asphalt splattered all over. There is a square in the middle of town with your typical roundabout. In the center is a gazebo with string lights that sprawl out to the streetlights. The storefronts all have a personal touch, such as different colored awnings, plants, and painted windows. It doesn’t feel like a real town, it feels like a movie set.

I’m arriving on a Tuesday afternoon so everything seems quiet. Maybe the schools haven’t even let out. A few people are walking the streets, but nothing compared to the city I live in. People can’t even walk side by side with their partners, let alone swing a child between them. I see a couple swing a child who looks maybe three or four years old between them, all three smiling and laughing as they take long strides. They finally turn into a building that must be the local family practice. A cute bee is painted on the window that says, “Bee Healthy.”

This place can’t be real.

I keep driving, watching small buildings turn into houses with large yards, then to basically nothing at all. I would worry that I was lost if I didn’t know that the property I was staying at was massive. I could be driving past it now for all I know.

I pull up to a big open ranch gate with a prodigious iron H emblem. There is a large barn and farmhouse right up the long drive, but that’s not what I’m looking for. Fear fills me as I worry that I have paid a huge down payment on nothing, and I’m part of some internet scam. I see thinnerdirt roads and paths that extend from this main drive, but no additional dwellings in sight.

After parking my car, I notice the door on the main house is open with a baby gate locked in the frame. I imagine people who are friendly enough to leave their door open outside of a small gate would be friendly enough to help me.

Sliding out of the rental, I amble up to the front porch. My Doc Marten boots seem a little ridiculous out here. The drive is made up of crushed pebbles and stone, and each step I take kicks up a small cloud of dust. My black jeans are likely to be caked with grit after even a short walk. My shoes clunk on the wooden steps as I trudge my way toward the friendly, yet daunting front door.

Once I get close enough, I hear the slaps of tiny feet and the sound of soft music playing. I smell freshly baked goods mixing with the intoxicating fresh air. It’s then I turn around and actually take the space in—endless land, yellows, golds, the faint last touches of green, a picturesque barn, farther back a stable, the spattering of some farm animals living their best lives, then my rental sedan standing out like a sore thumb.

I pull in a deep breath and it’s as if someone or something above could tell I needed this. The smoothest breeze passes as I take my breath and pulls the air out of my lungs with a gentleness I’ve never experienced. I do it again. In and out, it cleanses me with each breath.

“You Harlow?” A deep voice cuts through my trance. My back is turned to him, but the pitch in his tone causes me to ready myself. Whoever he is, he knows my name. So, I am likely safe as far as losing my money. I imagine a large, burly man with a healthy round middle, and a stern,knowing face. I prepare myself for the judgment I’ll face for being from out of town.

Turning, I find a shockingly handsome man. Taller than me, even in my chunky Docs, with broad muscular shoulders, a mess of slightly shaggy, dirty blond hair kept neat at the sides, piercing blue eyes, these perfect lips set in a hard line, and a beautiful little girl in his arms. She hides from me, tucking herself under his chin and laying her blonde head against his chest. Her bright green eyes blink at me, far more judgmental than her father’s.

“Yes, I made a reservation to stay at the Hill House,” I say assuredly.

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