Page 75 of Country Contract

I don’t know how to process all this. I knew Harlow had money, but maybe this is just likePretty Woman; maybe she gets the penthouse and designer clothes and lives her best life every day while I’m out here literally shoveling cow pies. She’s living a lavish life where her parents set her up with someone with a matching status.

Is she super pissed, and that’s why she’s feeling off?

Is she falling for this guy and wanting to end things with me early?

“I guess talking to him the other day just kind of put me in a mood.”

She talked to him? Are they talking companionably?

Maybe she’s ending things with me and can’t find theright words.

That’s good. Better to end things before . . .

Before what?

I’m doing casual, and I’m doing it well.

“Whenever we hang out, he’s never crossed my mind, so I never thought to bring him up. After our talk yesterday, I’ve just been in this headspace and when I saw you in the barn, I realized I hadn’t told you about that whole situation.”

I just nod, because I don’t know what to say.

Harlow is going to be part of an arranged . . . relationship.

“So here we are now, talking about this guy that I’ve met once that my parents want me to marry because it will not only look good but it will set my father and mother up for the rest of their lives.” She puts my sketchbook down and turns to me.

“So, you’re going to marry this guy?”

Harlow blinks a few times before taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know, maybe if what I told you is true. That all I really need is mutual understanding and I’ll be fine. He seems nice enough. I don’t think he’s going to abuse me or treat me badly.”

“But will he love you?” I ask it as a friend because that’s what I am. I’m her paid companion for now but, more than that, I’m her friend.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I really care because I don’t think I can love him. We’re so different.” I can see her tension rising, so I pull her into a hug.

“Uh, what are you doing?” she says, stiff in my arms. You wouldn’t think we spent every day last week lying together on the couch watching movies.

“Hugging you; relax,” I say, and she tries to.

Harlow pushes out of my hold and then adjusts me onthe couch so I’m leaning back against the arm with my legs across the couch. She straddles me and looks down, asking for approval. I just give her a quick nod. She lies down on my chest and snuggles into me. I wrap my arms around her.

“Keep going. Dump it all on me. But I charge double for therapy sessions,” I joke.

“Ugh. It’s all kind of a mess. He comes off as this boring business mogul, but whenever he talks to or texts me, he tries so hard to be sweet. He asks me something about myself every day.”

“Like what?”

“Like what my favorite flower is.”

“Hmm, I see you liking succulents or a flowering plant . . . something like jasmine.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s like he’s gathering all that information and putting it into a note on his phone so that way if we do get married, he can keep mehappywith all the little notes he has on me.”

“So, you’re saying it doesn’t seem authentic.”

“Exactly. I guess I shouldn’t care because I’m really not looking for big love in my life. But I at least wanted to pick my partner.”

Harlow is a woman who keeps herself put together; even during her cycle when she was grumpy or crampy, she wasn’t out of sorts.

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