Page 88 of Country Contract

It’s not bright blue eyes full of curiosity and care.

It’s not tousled dirty blond hair messy from being under a hat all day.

It’s not corded arms or broad shoulders.

“Maybe I do.” I answer sarcastically.

We continue our dinner with ease—no bumps or crazy turns. It’s like a simple drive on a road with no sights to see. There’s nothing of substance, and it breaks my heart to know that my dinners might be like this for the rest of my life. It could be that I’m not putting enough effort into it.

I try to ask Heath more about his hobbies to try and make a connection, but I can’t. He tries to flirt and make me laugh; I throw him a bone and chuckle at his jokes.

The restaurant is relaxed, and the people around us seem more like family to each other than patrons. They are all laughing, eating, and drinking beer or wine in abundance. There’s some old Italian music playing softly. I have a large appreciation for the choice of Italian and themention of Maria. Both of those things are close to my heart.

Heath doesn’t seem as comfortable with the silence without his phone on the table to keep him busy, and as we move further along in our dinner, he makes more and more small talk.

With the lack of substance in our conversation, I move on to talking about a book I’m editing—a thriller about a woman who can’t determine if the life she’s living is reality or if she’s dreaming and is avoiding a stalker. He holds interest and seems thankful for a topic to continue the conversation until we leave.

We sit in silence for most of the drive home, making small comments about the dinner.

“I promise our dates won’t always be like this. Once you get back, we’ll go out more, and things will just click. Conversation will come easier, and we’ll grow closer. Remember, I’m not the best at making friends.” He smiles sheepishly at the road in front of him.

A sudden pang of guilt shoots through me as I really think about what I’m doing with Harrison. I have a gut feeling that if Heath found out what was going on with us, he would be hurt. He’s putting more effort into this than I am.

“I don’t really get it. How can you know after seeing a picture of me? How can you be so sure that things will work out between us?”

“Are we ever really sure?”

“I guess not; everything in life is a gamble.”

We smile and stay silent the rest of the ride, this time less tense.

When I get back to the bunkhouse, a part of me wonders if Harrison will come over to talk again, and theother part of me wonders if he’ll need space. He’s an emotional one, and he tries to hide it sometimes.

He doesn’t come by, and I appreciate the space after the events of the day.

I lie in bed with Cleo curled next to me. I read for pleasure instead of work and sip on Sleepytime tea, willing the night to just be over.

Harrison

The Kings told me I don’t have to worry about bringing a trailer over to their farm. They want me to be comfortable with my decision before taking this new mare home.

Harlow and I leave in just an hour, and I’m itching to get near her. It’s only been a few days, but, as I told her before, I want as much time as I can get before she leaves. When that time comes, she’ll be starting her new life, and hopefully, I’ll be moving in the right direction for mine. For the last two days, she’s been buckling down on a few manuscripts, and I’ve been helping with the farm.

Usually, I would pop by her place, but after her date with her future husband and my pathetic confession, I gave us the space we needed to remind ourselves that this is temporary. That was likely more for me than her. She seems to be handling this whole situation in stride, even her arrangement. She says she doesn’t know what to do, but there is this overall sense of peace she holds.

After I helped her pick an outfit and left her place for mine, I was a mess. I tried to sketch or read, but nothing could put me at ease. Hunter and Cassidy told me to stopby, but I couldn’t. I knew that they would have more to say than I was willing to hear.

I told her I didn’t want her to go, and she went.

I crossed a line, but I strangely feel like she had crossed one by going.

I finished the last touches packing my bag. I brought myself extra riding clothes and a few gifts for Harlow.

Silas: You ready for your trip?

Me: I think so. I hope I like this horse and find a pup.

Silas: You know that’s not what I mean.

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