But I’m feeling everything.
Chapter Three
LOLA-MAE
One week down.
I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into. And by that, I mean I thought that there could have been something between Harlan and me when I first arrived.
But since I haven’t seen him at all this week, I’m going to assume it was all in my head, which kind of sucks, because he seems nice, and he’s gorgeous even if he’s a bit grumpy. Honestly, the grumpy thing is a bit of a turn-on.
I’ve seen him when I’m coming to and from his home office. There is an exterior entrance, so I don’t have to go through the house, but it wouldn’t matter because he’s never inside anyway.
He’s always at the barn just across the dirt road… the one my only window faces. He watches me turn on the lights and get situated for the day. He watches me, but he doesn’t say anything.
He just stares, and then he’s gone.
This beautiful man.
I shouldn’t care that he’s beautiful in a rugged cowboy kind of way.
He’s grumpy and never smiles, and yet, for whatever reason, he’s still absolute perfection. Every morning, I look out my window and wave. He doesn’t wave back. He doesn’t even blink. He just jerks his chin in my direction, then turns around and walks into the barn.
I can’t look away from him. My gaze is drawn to him, to every single part of him. I watch as he appears again from the barn, this time on the back of a horse. My entire body melts as my phone rings with an incoming FaceTime call.
It’s Shandy.
Harlan’s horse takes off, and I flick my gaze down to answer the call, but before I do, I plaster on a smile.
A smile that she sees right through—instantly.
“What the hell is going on there? Are you okay?”
She sounds really concerned, especially since she was the one who talked me into doing this. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and my smile, my real smile, stretches out on my lips. I lean back in my chair, a small laugh bubbling up from my throat.
“I’m okay,” I say.
“No, you’re not.”
“He’s hot,” I whisper, as if he can hear me, which I know he can’t.
“A guy named Harlan is hot?” she asks. “Are you telling me he’s not a seventy-year-old grumpy rancher?”
I cover my lips with my hand before I lower it and lean closer to the phone, whispering my next few words. “He’s not even forty, and he’s beautiful.” I pause. “And grumpy, too.”
“Are you gonna mix business and pleasure?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.
“No…” I say, my words trailing off.
I’m not sure I believe myself, though. Because I really want to mix business and pleasure.
Like… really bad.
HARLAN
The cattle come into view. They’re grazing on their grass. Grass-fed, grass-finished Angus. I have spent my life on this ranch. This is my home, where I was raised, but it’s lonely now.
Really goddamned lonely.
