Page 35 of Country Contract

“Not really. Just don’t want to head back to the park tonight,” he states. Ah, so that’s why he’s dawdling in here.

“You can always crash at my or Hunter’s place. Everythin’ okay at home?” I ask gently.

Jake’s head shoots up at my question. “Well, Mom’s got a boyfriend, and he’s been over here and there. I haven’t been there when they are, and the other way around. She wants me to meet him tonight, but I told her I didn’t want to, which led to her treatin’ me like a kid, and I hate when she does that.”

Boy, do I get that more than he knows. I hated it when my dad, mom, hell, even Hunter treated me like I was a kid, even more so when I felt like I was becoming a man, much like Jake. Thinking back to when Harlow called me kiddo causes that dual reaction again. I shake it off and look at Jake.

“Sometimes bein’ a man means we swallow our pride. We set aside our egos and do what’s right. There’s a reason your mom wants you to meet him; that’s gotta be a big step for y’all. I can’t remember the last time Sharon had a man in her life.” My words cause Jake to wince a little, and he fixes a hard stare my way.

“She’s never had me meet anyone. It’s always been just the two of us. This guy just shows up at the diner, and the next thing I know, she can’t stop talking about him. It’s all, ‘Barret this,’ and ‘Barret that.’ It drives me crazy. I’ve never talked about someone so much.”

I want to laugh at his open jealousy, but I know it’s his fear of change. The kid and his mom have always been ontheir own, only relying on each other. The fact that someone is coming in and disrupting all that must be scary as hell for him.

“Well, maybe she keeps telling you about Barret because she thinks you’ll like him. Maybe he’ll be good for y’all.”

Jake shakes his head, brushing the mare’s mane.

“I don’t know.”

“I do; your mom is a helluva woman. She wouldn’t just let any man walk into your lives. Go meet this guy and show him that you’re not some little boy he has to win over. Show him that you and your mom are a team.” Jake’s brows turn upward at my words. He looks around the space like he’s wasted time on a bunch of nonsense instead of being at home with his only family.

I offer him a simple smile and nod.

“You head out. I’ll close this stable up on my own.”

Jake gives me a sheepish look, one that reminds me that he is still, in fact, just a boy. He’s a boy that had to grow up too fast. This was one of those moments when he was being a boy and didn’t know how to handle it because all he’d ever known was how to be a man. That shit has to be hard. I always had my dad and brother to show me what being a man meant. They let me be a boy whenever I wanted. Becoming a man came in time and as I was ready. I wasn’t thrown into it like Jake.

“Alright, I’ll head over there.” He brushes himself off, looking calm before walking to the open doors of the stable. Once he’s past the door, I hear the sound of him sprinting to his beat-up truck.

It’s late-ish. On any other day, I would be in bed calling it a night. Tonight I’m pacing my living room thinking about that damn woman again.

Kiddo.

It makes me so damn mad, I can’t even think straight. It doesn’t make any sense at all. How can someone so insignificant get me so wrapped up? When I finished at the stable and drove past the bunkhouse, I slowed and rolled my windows down. It was quiet—no music, no Harlow staring out the window—and the chairs in the front were left in the same place they had been for the last few days. It was driving me crazy.

A large gust of wind batters against my trailer, and I catch a quick chill. Turning up my heater, I freeze. Harlow’s going to need to turn her heaters up tonight. It’s supposed to be the coolest night of the season so far. If she’s sick, she won’t know that. If she’s sick, she can’t catch a chill—that will only make it worse. Will she feel comfortable enough to ask for help if she needs it?

I’m wearing a plain white crew neck and gray sweats. Without putting on socks, I slide a pair of boots on. I’m rushing out the door before I can give it a second thought. The dampness left in my hair from my shower is immediately cool, brushing against my neck and forehead. I can see small puffs of air with every exhale. Each little detail reminds me it’s cold as fuck, and a Cali girl probably will freeze to death if I don’t get there soon enough.

My imagination might be getting the better of me, but I can’t stop myself.

When I reach the bunkhouse, there is some dim light on the first floor. It’s the same light that stays on regardless of if she’s up or not. I think she leaves it on for the cat sincethey’re in a new space. Taking the steps two at a time, I’m at the door in mere seconds. I should think about knocking or calling her since those are reasonable options. Except Harlow makes me completely unreasonable.

The knob turns with ease. Unlocked. I grumble and sigh all at once. Barging through the front door, I hear a yelp and the sound of items crashing onto the floor.

I rush into the front room to see Harlow standing there, a candleholder in her left hand as a weapon, the candlestick broken at her feet. There are broken pieces of black wax around her stocking feet. Her socks go up lean calves that lead to bare thighs. Her toned legs are met with the edge of the oversized waffle shirt I have often seen her wearing, except this time I see the front of it. It’s got a Henley opening, with all the buttons undone. Her sternum is on display, the small swell of her left breast showing with her left arm raised. Harlow’s long black hair is down and messy, not an ounce of effort put into taming it.

I see a slight flush on her cheeks, but her face is holding a mix of emotions. Anger? Fear? Excitement?

Maybe that last one is me.

“Harrison?! What the hell!” she yells, lowering her arm.

Her chest rises and falls, and I catch a glimpse of the peaks of her nipples through her shirt.

Fuck, she looks good in almost nothing. Socks and a long-sleeved sleeper shouldn’t be this sexy.

Her eyes look over to me and stop at my waistband, that brow of hers arching. I look down to see if there is something on my pants or shirt, but there isn’t. There’s just an obvious bulge from my growing erection, and no briefs to buffer the outline or tent. It’s basically a giant sign hanging around me saying, “I’m horny AF.”

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