Page 59 of Country Contract

I hear the sink in the bathroom and close out my phone. Harrison messaged me when he was wrapping up to see what I had planned for the evening. When he walks out, it’s with that same boyish look he always has whenever our eyes meet.

After last night, he seems to blush a pinch more easily than before. Once we had made our way back into the house, I tried to rekindle the moment, but Harrison told me we had plenty of time and that I needed water and rest—something about the alcohol and hot tub making me more dehydrated than normal.

He ended up saving my butt there because if we ended up taking it further, he likely would have been met with a little blood since my period started today. Which could explain why I feel a little moodier than usual.

“Ready for that drink?” I ask, sitting at the counter.

The boyish look on Harrison’s face is washed away by a more serious one. He looks around the space and then back at me. His assessment seems peculiar, and I wish I could get a look inside his brain for a minute.

“Yeah, how was your day?”

He’s a mixture of easy company and annoyance. The space between us holds tension, but neither of us try to put on any fronts. Every one of our interactions has been natural and without any guise.

“It was uneventful; I started my cycle today, so I slept most of it.” And just like that, I told Harrison, who is my contracted sexual partner, that my vagina is bleeding. That is exactly what I’m talking about when I say things seem simple and natural. During heavy periods, I can get anemic, so I get extra tired and cold.

“Is that why you’re little a little snuffed out today?” Is it weird that I really like that he isn’t grossed out and is more perceptive?

“Yeah, I have occasional anemia without the monthly gorefest, but it sometimes gets worse with it.” I pour myself a glass of wine and then look up to him. “Wine or beer?

“Wine’s good. Let’s go to the couch and get you comfortable. Have you eaten anything? I could make you a steak and some greens. It will be good for you,” he replies with ease.

I stand there shocked at his consideration. It’s different from Heath’s, which is sweet, as well. I have only nibbled on things here and there due to my complete lack of appetite, but I don’t want Harrison to cook for me after working outside all day.

“I have, so just enjoy a drink with me.” I go to pour a glass for him, but he stands and comes around the counter. Taking the bottle from my hand, he puts his free hand on my hip.

“Go sit on the couch, Harlow.” Harrison uses a firm tone with me, which is a little out of character. Outside of the first time I met him or that time after the bar, he’s been as gentle as they come. I don’t argue with him, because I’m fatigued. Truth be told, I am just feeling a little lonely and emotional. I want some company.

I sit on the couch and watch as he moves around the kitchen, rummaging in my fridge and drawers.

While I wait I pull out my phone.

Me: What’s your work schedule look like?

Meg: Well, I work mostly remote so that really doesn’t matter.

Me: You know it does.

Meg: Things are slowish as we’re getting closer to the holidays.

Meg: What’s up?

Me: Want to come visit? I think you’d like how quaint this town is.

Meg: YOU MISS ME.

Meg: YOU LOVE ME.

Meg: YOU ARE HAVING WITHDRAWALS.

Meg: ADMIT IT.

Me: -_-

Meg: Ooooor you’re on your rag.

Meg: How about I come out there for Halloween? We could find a bar to go to.

Me: I know just the place. Should I book your flights?

---