Page 45 of Country Contract

“Thank you.” I blow over the rim of the cup and get back to my thriller.

I almost want to reach out to this writer already. I’m only a fraction into this book and it’s good. It’s damn near perfect. I can tell she used an indie editor, and that’s okay. I remember being a young woman in publishing. The writing community can be so supportive but at the same time so cutthroat.This author and editor did great.

I’m so into my book that I’m oblivious to everything around me. I hear people come and go. I hear Silas chat with patrons like they’re family. The details are all lost. Time must have movedmuch quicker than I had realized. I’m on my second spiked coffee, and it’s going down too easily. I look up, and Silas is leaning against the bar, looking at me.

“What can I get for ya?”

“How could you tell I was wanting something?”

“It’s the first time you’ve actively looked up from that screen in the last half hour.” He laughs, looking down at hiswatch. He steps away from the bar and fills a cup with water.

He gets closer to me than the last two times he brought me a drink; this time he leans across the bar, bracing his weight on an arm. He reaches and puts the glass in front of me, right next to the remnants of my last coffee. Figuring he planned on getting back to whatever he was doing, I drop my face and try to let myself fall back into the details of my book.

He doesn’t walk away, and I feel his lingering presence. He reaches for me and pushes the few strands ofloose hair behind my ear. I’m surprised by his touch, but it’s not unwelcome. I wait for that similar zing or spark I felt when I was around Harrison, but nothing comes. My gaze meets his and, for a moment, he pauses as he looks at the details ofmy face. His fingers trail down the locks he had just tucked right to the tips. He twirls them in his fingers and begins to move his lips.

“Oh, thiswill be goo—,” he starts when a hand shoots across my face and grabs his wrist.

My eyes travel up the corded forearmto a furious face.

“Thought you weren’t interested.” Harrison is practically seething with anger. His jaw istightly clenched, and I watch the slightest flare of his nostrils. It’s intimidating and hot. Not once did I imagine my golden boy with this kind of attitude.

I hear a chuckle escape Silas’s lips, and my eyes bounce back to his.

“We were just talking about hair products. I can’t get overthe shine Harlow has in her hair.” I roll my eyes at his words. Such bullshit. The man has perfect hair, and he knowsit.

“Right,” Harrison says before releasing Silas’s hand.

I’ve never been a girl to care much about accents, but the slight twang in Harrison’s voice sends a chill down my spine.

“Text me her tab, I’ll send it to you later. We’re leaving,” he demands, and the hand that was once gripping Silas’s reaches until it hits the middle of my back, then slides down my spine.

I would argue if I could find the words. The minute Harrison’s hand slid down my back, any kind of coherent thought left my mind, and all that was left was a hot feeling low in my belly.

“Have a good night,” Silas says over his shoulder as he turns away from us. I realize he set me up to piss Harrison off, and a small part of me is thankful. It might have worked in my favor by helpingme convince Harrison that we can have fun while I’m in town. It might have helped me convince him that he wants this as badly as I do.

I am a little stunnedby the whole interaction. I’m still in the mindset of spiked coffee and a good read, but I rise and stand next to Harrison as he leads me out the door of the bar.

“I drove myself,” is what I say, but I don’t think that’s what I wanted to.

“Are you good to drive?”

I nod.

Harrison walks meover to my little rental and opens the door forme. Once I’mseated, he leans down so I can hear him clearly.

“I’ll follow behind you. Straight to the bunkhouse.”

I just nod again.

This isn’t the same guy I talked to yesterday. I replay our conversation, and I realize that there is a harsher side ofHarrison. He was curt and direct yesterday, but that was only a taste.

Now he’s loosening those reins and showing me more. I’m surprised by how much I like it. The way it heats me up, like riling him up seems to excite me more.

He closes the door,and I watch him walk over to his truck. His legs are long, sturdy, and strong. He might not look like he has a lot to him, but I can tell he is ripped under each piece of that clothing. Rubbing my thighs together, I hope he’ll let me catch a glimpse of it.

Once I’ve parked in front of the bunkhouse, I turn the engine off and let out a huff of air. So much for hoping for more. Harrison did follow me all the way home, but once we hit that fork in the road that separates his trailer from my place, he took the other route. Disappointment and frustration weigh heavy on myshoulders. No less, I have that tension back that I felt before and I intend to let my imagination fly. I plan to allow myself the time to imagine what could have been if he followed me all the way back here.

Inside the bunkhouse, I walk into the kitchen to get myself that glass of water I never got to drink at the bar. Cleo comes around a corner, and I know she wants some love; she’s probably freezing here.

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