Page 25 of Country Contract

“I do know my type and that witch ain’t it.” Each word seems sharper than I intended, and I let out a breath before getting back to work.

“Bring her the basket yourself. I won’t be telling Cass anything about her until you do, and neither will you.” His words are final, like he’s officially the head of this household and I’m still just some punk kid. It pisses me off to know I’ll listen. All I offer is a nod in agreement, which he accepts, and then walks over to his horse.

Hunter mounts his mare and looks at me. “Cassidy will be curious about the new guest, as she is anytime anyone new comes into this town. So, better be on your way soon. You’ll be at dinner tonight?”

I offer another nod, and he returns it with a knowing smile before leaving.

What the fuck does he know.

A fling with the witch is the last thing I need.

Chapter 11

Harrison

Working on this land has always been easy for my family. It’s never seemed taxing or stressful. Sure, there are days when we are dog-tired or worried about the weather, our crops, or our cattle, but the line of work aspect is easy.

Since my brother and I were little, we would help our parents in any way we could and would be happy doing it. Hunter wanted to own and run this farm ever since I can remember. He was my father’s shadow, and I love watching him head this whole place. I feel like a business partner to him in many ways, but I know, deep down, this land is his. He probably doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as ours, for our kids to run together if they want.

I wake up each morning knowing what I have to do and what I want to accomplish. When I go to bed at night, I feel good about what I’ve done.

Hunter having his family burns as much as it heals. His happiness is something I’ve wanted for a long time. Watching him work so hard with little fun was hard—he’smy brother and closest friend. He needed more than just our family legacy in his life.

Part of me wonders if he’s right. Do I chase the same type of girl in hopes of curating the picture-perfect family life I want? The dream of a wife and kids for me was as strong as Hunter’s dream to own this farm.

We had it all as kids. Our parents were truly happy and healthy. Even when they were mad or fighting, they didn’t fake anything in front of us. When they would resolve things, we could see it. We saw how hard they worked to keep each other. How hard they worked to keep their marriage alive and happy. They were great role models for us in so many ways.

They pushed for us to be good brothers to each other, and we were. We had our moments: Hunter thinking I’m a pain in the ass, me tiring him out thinking I’m as good as him. In the end, we were always there for each other and always had each other’s back.

I remember being pissed about losing at anything, and Hunter going beyond himself to make me feel better. He’d give me his share of dessert, let me play with his toys, help me practice more, and encourage me. Watching him be a good husband and great dad now just motivates me more. I want to do that together, too. I want our kids close in age, and Blake is already one.

That sketch I started not long ago of the house comes to mind. The way I want it to become more than just an idea, but reality feels like a need. My desperation feels like a hindrance.

Hunter’s words keep playing in my mind. My dating the same type. My trying to make things happen just for the sake of them happening. I only meet up with the girls on the app who match the idea of the perfect girl in my head.

I think about the sketch of the woman I started after the house. Long neck, long hair, slender facial features with sharp points. I stop what I’m doing and pull my phone out to open the app. I look through the compatiblematches and start broadening my horizons.

No more perfect girl next door. Girls with brown hair, red hair, even a blonde with some added purple. I look at them all and try to think past theperfectimage I have in my head. A woman with black hair comes across my matches and although it’s cut in a short sleek bob, the inky color brings me back to my guest. Her long black hair tied into that thick, intricate braid. I broaden my interests, adding how I enjoy art. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.

I still need to bring Harlow that damn welcome basket. Closing the app after agreeing to a few new matches, I walk into the kitchen to grab the premade basket on the counter. Each of the items I usually place is located inside with an envelope, Harlow’s name on the front. I open it and reread my note, written before our encounter.

Harlow -

Welcome to my family’s little oasis

Different from the usual beachy getaways or high-end city resorts

I hope that you’ll find everything you need in the house

Here are some local treats to try and enjoy

Should you need anything, feel free to reach out to me

I stay on the land most of the time

So glad you chose to stay on the Hill Farm

-Harrison

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