Page 89 of Country Contract

Me: I intentionally ignored what you meant.

Silas: Meaning you’re not ready.

Rolling my eyes, I pocket my phone and load up my truck with everything I need. As I drive over to the bunkhouse, I make sure I have my Bluetooth connected to my truck for a game I have planned. If I know Harlow as well as I think I do, she’s going to love it.

She’s waiting in the window, the light framing her silhouette. It’s the image of someone waiting for me to pull up and it tugs at my heartstrings. Even though I know she’s not mine forever, she’s mine for now, and I enjoy seeing her waiting for me.

I park my truck next to her car, leave it running, and jog up the stairs to the door. By the time I get there, Harlow already has it open, greeting me.

“Howdy, cowboy,” she drawls. She’s wearing charcoal-gray jogger sweatpants that completely engulf her and a tight, long-sleeved black shirt with a square neck. Thoselong black locks are braided and hanging over her shoulder.

“Howdy, darlin’.” I kiss her cheek quickly and then move to grab her small overnight bag. It’s a little heavier than I expected, but I do my best to make sure it doesn’t look like I’m surprised when I lift it. Too bad she’s intently watching me, and she laughs lightly.

“Need me to get that?” she taunts, and I shoot her a funny look that only makes her laugh harder. Hoisting her heavy-ass bag up, I carry it the whole way, intentionally not using the rolling wheels. Cali girls really do pack a ton of shit. We’re going to be gone for two nights.

After I toss her bag in the back, I make sure the Tonneau cover is sealed in case of a random fall rain. I close it all up and hop into the truck where Harlow is waiting for me.

“You okay?” she asks sarcastically, not actually caring at all if I’m okay.

“Peachy.” While she’s laughing at me, I reach into the back and grab my PC High hoodie that I wear often for comfort. I hand it over to her.

“Here, for if you get cold.”

“Thanks, kid. You got this like last year, right?” She laughs, and it’s evident that she’s been hanging out with Cassidy too much.

“I’m only six years younger than you.” For some reason this only makes her laugh harder.

I let out a long sigh but smile as I put my truck in drive and start our drive to Palos Valley.

Once we hit the interstate, I watch her as she settles into her seat—taking off her shoes, crossing her feet under her legs, and slipping my hoodie on. I don’t miss the moment she brings the front of it to her nose and smells. Did I wearit after my shower while I packed up and got everything ready? Sure as fuck did. Glad I did it, too.

I hand Harlow my phone and turn my radio on.

“Here, open Spotify and pick a random playlist. Let’s see what comes up and make our own playlist for the ride home.”

Harlow smiles wide. “What are we calling our playlist?”

“How about ‘Harrison is cooler than Harlow’?”

“How about you’re dumb?”

I laugh loudly.

“You can name it whatever you want. Let’s start.”

Harlow starts on what seems like a classic hits playlist. It goes from the Beatles to The Temptations. We name the songs we like, and she adds the ones we agree on. I learn that she loves women artists and alternative EDM. Her musical range is all over the place, and it helps to expand mine. I’ve been listening to the same tunes for so long that I didn’t realize what I was missing out on.

She doesn’t have a great voice, but it’s not that bad. She sings quietly to many of the songs we add to the list. I smile and watch her—her hands are tucked mostly into the sleeves of the hoodie with only the tips of her fingers and black nails peeking out.

She likes to tap her nails on the tops of each other, moving from one hand to the other. I’ve tried it, but my nails are so short I don’t think I’m getting the same experience.

She plays a few indie bluegrass songs that she thinks I would like, and she’s spot on. I love them. She’s expanding my range in so many areas. Movies. Music. Sex. It’s great.

I haven’t told her about the mare we’re going to look at, but I know she’s going to love it.

I look over to her for a moment, and it’s nice to see herin my oversized green hoodie. The color suits her. She’s like the stem of a rose—supportive and thorny.

Harlow changes the music to some calming genre she tells me is lo-fi. It’s different and consists of mostly covers. She hums a few tones and then grows silent next to me.

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