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With nothing left to do, I walk back into the kitchen to find it empty. “Great. Now what?”
Chapter Five
Harlan
A coward. A mother fucking coward is what I am. I spent the better of a day handling deliveries into the store, something one of my stock boys could have easily handled just to get out of the house early enough to not be tempted to fuck a hole in the mattress with her under me. Once the deliveries were done, instead of going home at ten in the morning, I stayed and did mundane shit, anything to keep busy and out of the house.
Now, here I am seven at night sitting at the bar in the Saloon, drinking my fucking hormones in dormancy. This fucking girl has me fleeing my own home trying to do the right thing. “Harlan.” Mayor Lloyd says, sitting on the stool next to me.
“Surprised to see you here, Mayor. Lady Hollow let you out of the house?” I snicker, yanking his chain. Everyone in town knows he is the one who is hard pressed to be away from her. Hell the truth is I want it for myself.
“She is having a meeting with all of the wives in town. They are having their first monthly Mail Order Brides Club meeting.” My eyebrows raise, not really sure what he is talking about.
“Didn’t know there was such a thing.” I say taking another sip of my Lager.
“Rachel started it. She figured that the women coming here are going to need support, a community of women like themselves in a strange place with no family. She is coming to the founders meeting next week. She is hoping to get it ratified so we can start delegating funds their way.” His eyes bore into me and I get the message. He is making sure I am not going to vote against his wife.
“No problem for me.” I say looking toward the television.
“You seem to be more short than usual. Everything alright?” Yeah okay like I can tell him I have jailbait in my house right.
“Just a crazy twenty-four hours.”
“You are not lying. I answered an ad for a young lady looking to be married and sent for her to come here. When she arrived, it was with a fake I.D.” This piques my interest. “Turns out she isn’t eighteen. She is just seventeen.” Son of a bitch.
“What did you say to her?” The beer no longer has any taste.
“I told her to get herself out of our town. Can you believe it?” he clicks his tongue before chuckling. My hands are sweating right now because it is dawning on me that I am harboring someone that was told to leave.
“When will she be eighteen?” I am pushing my luck asking this, plus I know she vaguely answered the question but I need clarification. I need to know how much torture I am in for.
“Well after she left I had hr social security number looked and it says her birthday is the day after tomorrow.” I damn near yell hallelujah in the place. One more day of smelling her but not touching her. “I figured if she really wants to be matched, once she is of age I would get in touch with her and offer her a match then.” ver my dead fucking body. If my little bunny wants a husband, she damn well is going to get one.
Suddenly guilt hits me. I have been avoiding her all day knowing she hasn’t left the house and I am the only person she knows here. Such a bastard. Pulling money from my pocket, I throw it on the bar top, nod the Mayor off and walk out the door.
I walked here from the store and now eager to get home, I don't bother going back for it. I walk fifteen minutes to the house and take a deep breath before walking in. I am not sure what I expect when I walk in the door but it is definitely not for her to be in the kitchen washing dishes in nothing but a shirt. Holy shit! The shirt covers her ass but barely. Her waist length hair is hanging, moving side to side, dangling over the bullseye that is her eye, taunting me.
Her short, thick legs move about and I watch her work my kitchen like she was built into it. She grabs foil off the counter and turns to put it away when she gasps and puts her hands to her chest. “Oh crap. You scared me.” She says taking deep breaths. Now she knows how it feels.
“My apologies. I didn’t want to interrupt you. You seem at ease.” When I say the words they ring true. She seemed almost calm while she was moving about the room.
“I-I yeah. I love to cook. I mean I watch a lot of cooking shows. I made steak and potatoes. Yours is in the microwave.” She says matter of factly. She drops the dish towel in the sink and walks to move past me. “Well I am going to turn in for the night. Goodnight.” She says, her voice low and sad. The depth of sadness I can feel coming from her hits me right in the chest like a fucking wrecking ball. What is making her this way? Is there anything I can do? Everything in me is fighting against letting her walk out of this room without making her smile but if I don’t let her go, I am going to do something I won’t regret but could change the trajectory of everything. I have to be strong. So, I grab her arm as she passes me. A small gasp slips past her lips and shivers through her body. Good. I am not the only one affected.
