My stomach growling pulls me out of my travel from the 1800s to the twentieth century.
Reaching for my phone, I decide I need to start taking pictures of documents and saving them.
Double damn it! My phone’s dead, I forgot to charge it last night after everything that happened and then crying myself to sleep.
Grabbing my charger, I plug in my phone and then use the room phone and call down to the front desk to see if they have a small scanner I can use in the room. Looking at the time, I realize I never had breakfast this morning, and it is past lunchtime, so I put in an order for room service.
Four hours later, I have a scrupulously neat and arranged digital file for all the paperwork I stole from Harris. I pat myself on the back for using my very expensive, advanced business degree my father paid for researching every land law and contract law I could think of for the Harlow’s benefit. I skimmed through the Native American Land Governance, but I would need a whole other degree and a lot more time than just an afternoon to familiarize myself with all that.
So I stop at a quick print store to make copies ofeverything and put together what I can to ensure the Harlow’s have nothing to fear from my father’s company.
When I pull up to the Harlow Ranch, I park next to the giant trucks that are sitting in a line in the round driveway. It’s just after dinnertime and my heart is racing in my chest. After the little showdown yesterday because of Harris, I’m hoping Gray will talk to me.
When I left the hotel in my new rental, the butterflies in my stomach felt like they were trying to punch through my gut. With each mile, my stomach has twisted, and my chest is so tight I keep taking deep breaths to fight back the worry that’s gripping my spine.
Shutting the passenger door, I get a good grip on the stack of folders I’ve rubber banded together. I look up to the porch and my heart lodges in my throat. Gray is standing on the porch alone, he looks even better than he did yesterday.
His ball cap is on backward, and his green and black flannel is open, his gray t-shirt tucked behind his belt. I stop in my tracks and suck in a breath, he looks angry with me still. His hands are hanging loosely on his hips, and I think of how rough they are, but how tender they can be.
“What are you doing here, Elly?” His voice is sharp and my heart cracks. Blinking away the burning in my eyes, I take a deep breath to keep myself focused.
Taking a few steps to the front of my rental, I clear my throat and lift the folders in my arms a few inches. “You, uhm, left without the files I promised to you.”
The screen door opens behind him and Mr. Harlow steps out onto the big front porch. “Afternoon, Elly.”
Reluctantly breaking the staring contest I’m having with Gray, I look behind him. “Hi, Mr. Harlow. I brought the files I promised. I was hoping to explain a few of the documents if you have just a minute.”
He looks at me for a moment, but I can’t get a read on him.I wonder if he is angry with me as well. “Come in.”
Gray’s shoulders slump a little, knocking little cracks in the facade of indifference I’m trying desperately to hold on to, and when I move my gaze back to him, he looks away in the distance behind me. The lump in my throat is threatening to choke me and making it impossible to swallow. I nod my head. “Okay.”
When I get to the steps, Gray is still avoiding eye contact, and he steps to the side as I walk past him, like I might burn him if I touch him. The smell of smoke and sandalwood makes tears prick the backs of my eyes, but I smile and follow Mr. Harlow into the house.
He leads me to his office, where I set the folders on the large desk that looks like a ring from a giant tree trunk. As I am setting them out in order, Mason and Gray come in behind me.
Mason takes his usual spot leaning against the window frame, his gaze scrutinizing, and I don’t turn around to confirm it, but Gray is behind me against the door. I can feel his eyes on me, and it’s making it impossible to focus. I want to feel the same affection I felt from him yesterday morning, not the anger that’s needling my back in waves right now.
Mr. Harlow is standing on the other side of the desk and is watching the folders. “That’s a lot of paperwork.”
Clearing my throat again, I flick my eyes up to his with a smile and look back down at the first folder. “Yes, I spent the day getting this organized. I have the folders separated and labeled by the documents inside of them. This folder,” I set my hand on the first folder, “contains copies of the land deeds and changes made to the acreage over the last hundred years dating back to 1887.”
Gray’s feet shuffle behind me and his scent curls around me.
“This folder,” I set my hand on the next one, “containsland and contract laws that pertain to your case and will be helpful if or when you get your attorney involved.”
“Why would we get our attorney involved? Have you or your boyfriend already done something that would bring it to that?” Gray’s deep voice is closer than I thought, like he was looking over my shoulder and the anger laced in his tone cuts through me like a hot blade.
Mr. Harlow’s eyes meet mine in question, and the only change in Mason is that his gaze moves from the folder under my hand to mine. I can tell they both have questions, but maybe the tension between Gray and I are stopping them from asking.
I turn to Gray and tip my head back to make eye contact. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s an angry co-worker who wants my job.” I whisper, my eyes locked on his. His face is a blank mask and the only reaction I get is the tick in his jaw. I want to tell him more, but not in front of an audience. “I think he has been trying to build a case, but he can’t find a loophole against you, your ancestors made sure the land was out of reach of anyone outside the family.”
The silence in the room is so thick it’s practically suffocating me. My fingers are itching to touch his face, but I resist the urge and curl my fingers into my palms at my sides.
“What’s this other folder?” Mr. Harlow’s voice breaks through the tension.
Gray’s eyes slide to his dad and I look down at his chest. He’s already shut me out.
Trying to dislodge my heart from my throat, I clear my throat again as I turn around to face Mr. Harlow. “This folder is thinner because it’s what I could find regarding Native American Land Governance that can help you, but I’m sure there’s more. There was so much, and I was trying to quickly get these to you.” I let my voice trail off.
