“Harlow? Where are you? Are you okay?”
At the sound of Nash’s worried voice, Harlow spun her back to the stall door and clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears flowed over her fingers, but try as she might, she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, especially Nash.
Hiccupping, gulping, she attempted to squelch the sobs.
Suddenly, a pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders and turned her around. Slowly, gently, Nash drew her against his chest.
Maybe she should have resisted, but she couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Nash Corbin had been her shoulder to cry on for most of her life, and she’d been his. With that much history between them, turning to him now was only natural.
With a shuddering sob, Harlow buried her face into his fleece hoodie. He smelled of fresh air and Gus’s coffee, his strong arms an anchor in her personal storm.
She shouldn’t trust him at all, but in this moment, she did.
Tears, those stubborn beasts, kept coming.
“Go head and cry if it helps,” he murmured. “It’s just me.”
Just Nash. Just the man she loved. She’d needed him and, this time, he was here. He hadn’t been before, but today he was and she was grateful.
With a deep sigh as if he, too, needed the comfort, Nash rocked her back and forth in his arms. She curled her fingers in the neck of his hoodie, felt his keloid scar brush her skin and cried all the harder. She cried for the sold rings, for lost dreams, for the secret she’d kept locked inside for four years, and finally for the empty place Nash had left in her life.
For a while, his large hands rubbed soothing circles on her back. Then, he moved to her hair, smoothing the long strands over and over again as he murmured soft, incomprehensible assurances.
Harlow let herself rest in the sound of his voice, the safety of his strength.
Time and space seemed narrowed to this moment. She never wanted to leave the comfort of his embrace.
But duty and common sense pulled at her. She had responsibilities inside the house. The family must have heard her drive in. They’d be wondering about her by now.
It would not do for someone to come looking for her and find her crying in Nash Corbin’s arms.
Emptied of tears, shaky and weak, Harlow eased away from him. Eyes burning, cheeks hot, she raked her sleeve across her face. She must look a fright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No.” Nash stopped her with a gruff word. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize. What’s happened? Who hurt you? I’ll tear their heads off.”
His fierce assertion brought a tremulous smile, her heart soft as velvet because of his kindness. “I did it to myself.”
Which wasn’t exactly true but close enough.
He turned her hands up, scanned them and then looked her over. Concern creased his forehead, soothing a bruised place on her soul. “Are you injured?”
“Only my feelings.” She slid her eyes away from his intense, probing gaze. If he looked close enough, he’d see too much.
In one corner of the stall, a moth dangled from a thin spiderweb. Harlow felt like the moth, her world precariously hanging by a thread.
“Tell me,” Nash insisted, and tugged her close enough to place a hand on either side of her face and force her to look up.
Something sparked between them. An awareness, perhaps surprise, flashed across his face.
His lips parted.
He canted toward her and, for half a second, Harlow thought he might kiss her. Which was madness on her part.
Instead, he used his thumbs to wipe away her tears while he studied her face. The earth seemed to shift beneath her.
Did he feel it? Or did his unexpected tenderness have her imagination running wild? She hadn’t leaned on anyone in ages, and this was Nash in exactly the way she needed him.
Regardless of the grief he’d caused, Harlow remembered the good man he’d once been.
She sniffed, still teary and snuffling, but more composed.
“What’s happened?” he asked again. “Tell me.”
The story tumbled out. The money issues, the well service expense and the sold wedding rings. Later she’d question the decision to share her troubles, but at the moment, she needed a shoulder and his was wonderfully broad and strong.
Her emotions waffled all over the place. She was a mental disaster. Despising him, needing him.
She still loved this man. And he was here, tenderly inquiring, interested in her heartaches. Caring.
“Your mother’s wedding rings?” He held each of her hands in his as they talked. “The antique ones? Is money that tight?”
She nodded.
“That stinks. I wish—” Nash made a frustrated sound and dragged her back into his arms.
She didn’t resist, even as she wondered what his wishes might be.
He cupped her head in his hand and pressed her against him. She felt the brush of something on her hair. A kiss for comfort, perhaps? It was so like the Nash of old.
Being this close, the two of them alone, made her long for him all the more. He was the Nash she’d always loved, tender and compassionate.
Even the barn, her usual solace, the place she came to pray and cry, couldn’t hide her from her feelings for Nash Corbin.
“Could I ask you something?” His voice rumbled in the quiet atmosphere.
Reluctant to leave his embrace but knowing it was the wise thing to do and aware of a certain tension springing up like weeds, Harlow moved slightly away. “What?”
“Since I arrived,” he said, “as pathetic as I was and as kind as you’ve been, I’ve felt this push-pull attitude from you. One minute, you’re my best friend and the next you look as if you could stab me through the chest with an ice pick.”
The ramifications of the required explanation rolled around in her head. Davis. The investments. Eventually, she’d have to tell him about Davis. The investments were on him.
Opting for a vague, nonreply, she settled for, “Did you have an actual question?”
His mouth tilted. “Always sassy. Harlow, I’ve missed you.”
He’d said that a few too many times to believe.
She snorted, jerked her gaze away before his charm made her say things she’d regret. “No, you haven’t.”
He reclaimed her upper arms, holding them lightly with his fingers. “I’m sorry I stayed away so long.”
“Me, too.” I loved you, you big galoot. Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you come back? Why couldn’t you love me, too?
In the small space, he shifted, his broad arm brushing hers. He rotated to face her again, forcing the issue of eye contact, wearing an expression she couldn’t comprehend, yet that soft look in his eyes increased her pulse.
Foolish, foolish woman.
Nash swallowed, parted his lips to speak, but seemed to change his mind and took a step back instead.
“When do you ever take a break, Harlow? Do something fun?”
That strange light in his expression had been about having a good time?
“I have fun.” Turning to the stall corner, Harlow freed the helpless moth. It fluttered to the window and landed there, exhausted from its struggle. She understood its exhaustion. Would blurting everything free her in the same way?
“When?”
The question stumped her. The last time she’d had any real enjoyment was at Christmas watching Davis tear into his gifts.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I run a ranch, care for my child, and two members of my household are hobbled. I’m busy.”
“You are. So, let me fix dinner for you at my place tonight.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You, me, a couple of grilled steaks. Kick back and relax.”
“You don’t have any steaks.”
“I will have if you’ll go into town and get them for me.” He grinned the grin that always made her smile in return. Boyish, charming, persuasive. “And one of those packaged salads and some dinner rolls?”
Harlow’s short laugh burst forth, half-disbelief, half-amusement. A few minutes ago, she’d been crying her eyes out, and now she was laughing.
Nash possessed the strangest power to make her feel both passionate anger and exuberant delight. “In other words, you want me to bring dinner to your house.”
“I’ll cook. And pay. You relax.” He stopped, frowned, held up one finger. “I think I still have enough money to pay.”
He said the words as if he actually doubted his ability to pay.
“You mean cash money?”
“Right. Cash. I don’t carry much cash.”
Most people didn’t these days, and he certainly didn’t want her using his credit or debit card. The whole town would know in minutes that Nash Corbin was back.
She tapped his impressive chest with her index finger. “Then, you’d better dig under the couch cushions like we did as kids because I’m coming over for steak dinner and you’re paying, mister.”
Surrounded by dark, scruffy whiskers, Nash’s smile flashed. He pulled her into another of his easy hugs. Gentle, friendly, warm. Really warm.
Harlow drew in a long, relaxed sigh, and hugged him back.
Her neighbor felt wonderfully familiar. Like memories and good times and a friend to lean on.
As she stood in the smelly, cold barn gently enveloped in his powerful arms listening to the thud of his giant heart, Harlow knew—oh, yes, she knew—it was too late to keep her own heart safe from Nash Corbin.
That afternoon, Harlow once again drove Monroe’s Jeep, this time to the grocery store in Sundown Valley. Davis came along for the ride and the hope of scoring a pack of gummy bears.
She still ached from the decision to sell Mama’s jewelry and the trip provided a much-needed distraction.
Nestled deep in the Kiamichi Mountains, Sundown Valley was a typical, friendly small town where everyone knew everyone, at least by name. Surrounded by wilderness, lakes, forests and low, rolling mountains, the town was remote but thriving, due to a determined population. Even though they lived on the outskirts, Harlow’s family was involved in local events, church and Friday night football games such as those Nash had starred in.
Driving down Main Street, she approached the Bea Sweet Bakery, a favorite hangout when she was a teenager. Today, the business produced light meals and delectable sweets. Cakes, cupcakes, sweet rolls. Pie. Nash loved pie.
When the thought struck, she pulled against the curb and took Davis inside to buy dessert for tonight’s dinner, a rare treat, but Nash could afford it. She added a cinnamon roll for Poppy, a bear claw for Monroe and a blue frosted cupcake for Davis.
Ms. Bea, the bakery owner, asked about Monroe’s leg and Poppy’s injuries as she settled up the bill. The woman had her finger on the pulse of the entire county.
Winking, the baker tucked an extra cinnamon roll in the bag. “Tell Gus that one’s payback.”
Harlow tilted her head. “For?”
Bea laughed. “He’ll know. Tell him I’ll drive out Sunday after church if he’s up for a visit.”
Did Poppy have an admirer? She liked to think so, especially if the admirer was a nice, Christian lady like Bea Cunningham. As part of the same Bible study group, the pair saw each other every week.
Harlow left the bakery, stopped at the newspaper office to buy Poppy a paper and then headed to the grocery store.
Nash, whether by accident or design, had given her something besides her own trouble to think about. His invitation and request that she shop for steaks kept her too busy to dwell on the sold rings. It was done. Time to stiffen the spine and move on.
Change the things you can. Accept the things you couldn’t. Good advice, she thought.
The key was to know the difference between the two.
Which was where she waffled. The issue of Davis and Nash was never far from her thoughts.
As she pushed Davis around the IGA in the grocery cart, filling it with Nash’s order and a few items of her own, she ran into numerous people she knew. That was one of the pleasures of small towns.
Nash was fortunate no one had discovered his presence.
When a lanky cowboy rounded the end of an aisle and almost wiped her out, they both laughed. He touched the brim of his hat.
Wade Trudeau, owner of the area’s largest ranch, pushed a basket brimming with groceries.
“How you doing, Harlow? I see you’re traveling in fine company today.” He tapped the top of Davis’s hand. “Hi, Davis.”
“And you’re out and about all alone.” A longtime single dad of triplets, Wade had recently married a sweet teacher from Tulsa.
“The perks of a great wife and a big family.” He held up a list written in a feminine hand. “I volunteered for grocery duty. I had to come to the farm store anyway so why make two trips? Monroe still laid up?”
“Hobbling around. Poppy joined her.”
Concern drew his eyebrows together. “What happened?”
She told him. “The tractor’s still on its side in the pasture.”
“Bowie and I can take care of that for you.”
“I hate to ask.”
He waved off her feeble protest. “You didn’t. Consider it done.”
Another benefit of small town living.
They parted ways, Harlow’s spirits lifted by Wade’s simple kindness. One less thing on her worry list.
A short time later, she drove up the still muddy driveway to her home, splattering mud, and parked the Jeep. After unbuckling Davis from his car seat, she handed him the smaller bakery sack and began unloading the groceries.
“Good timing.” Nash crowded his big, attractive body next to hers and reached for the bags.
She hadn’t seen him coming. Why was he even still here?
“Good timing for what? It’s not dinnertime.”
He pumped his eyebrows. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Curious now, she grabbed the bag of potatoes and the bottle of laundry detergent and followed him into the house. After he’d deposited the groceries, he exchanged conspiratorial glances with Gus, and guided her back outside.
“What is going on?” she asked, chuckling at his secretive behavior.
“Gus said I could.”
Harlow snorted. “You sound like an eleven-year-old.”
“Remember the fun we used to have on that tire swing Dad built in my yard?”
“You’d spin me until I cried uncle.”
“Oh, no, lady, that was you, spinning poor little gullible me until I nearly threw up. You wouldn’t let me off.”
“True. You were so wimpy.” She widened her eyes, teasing. Nash was anything but wimpy.
“Close your eyes.” He took her hand. “Go on, close them. It’s not a trick. Trust me. I won’t steer you wrong.”
At that completely untrue statement, Harlow almost backed out. But Nash exuded charm, and he was obviously excited about something fun, so Harlow closed her eyes, covering them with one hand.
He slipped a muscled, rock-hard arm around her waist. She couldn’t stumble if she wanted to. He was that solid, that strong.
The barn episode flashed in her mind. Nash, comforting her.
She’d once trusted him with her whole world.
“Making a turn to the right,” he said. “Stop here for the big reveal.”
“Am I on HGTV?”
He laughed. How she loved his rich, throaty, masculine laugh. The sound rumbled from deep in his chest.
“Open your eyes.”
She did. Her heart kerplunked. Her eyes misted.
From the massive sycamore tree on the south side of the house hung an old-fashioned tire swing. Exactly like the one they’d played on as kids.
Why had he done that? Out of kindness? Nostalgia? Boredom? Was he trying to make up for past mistakes in some small way?
Or was this like the dinner invitation, a sympathetic gesture to ease her grief over the sold rings?
How did she stop caring too deeply for a man like that?
Davis would love the swing. She loved it and the sentiment it represented.
Oh, Nash. You’re breaking my heart all over again.
“What do you think? Do you like it? Do you think Davis will like it?”
He sounded like an eager boy.
“It’s perfect. I’ve wanted to get him a swing set, but—” She let the truth slide away. She had no money for large yard toys.
Spontaneously, Harlow circled his waist with her arms and hugged him. “Thank you.”
His powerful arms embraced her in return, and she rested her ear against the logo on his hoodie.
Twice in one day. Or was it three times? Being this close to Nash was getting to be a habit she liked too much.
Nash holding her. Doing something nice for her and her son. His son.
He’d built a toy for his son, and he didn’t even know it.
Oh, the irony.
Tears gathered in her eyes. The need to tell him about Davis pushed in.
Fear and worry and what-ifs followed.
He shifted slightly but didn’t move away. If anything, his embrace shifted too, changed, gentled, moved slightly closer. He rested his chin on her hair.
“You like it,” he whispered in a satisfied voice.
Why was he whispering? They were outside, no one around but the dog.
She nodded. “Love it. Love...” She’d almost said, Love you too.
“Good. I wanted to make you happy. To see you smile again. You work and worry too much. I hate seeing you cry.”
They remained in each other’s embrace for longer than was probably prudent, but he made her feel the way she’d once felt with him. Safe, cared for, important.
Slowly, almost as if he was as reluctant to move as she, Nash eased back to look down at her. “Want to give it a whirl?”
“Will it hold me?”
“Guaranteed. Double ropes. You first, then we’ll give Davis a ride.”
“He’ll be wildly excited.”
So was she.
Nash held the swing steady while Harlow climbed inside the cold rubber ring. In seconds, his epic strength had her flying through the air, an adult pendulum on a worn-out truck tire. She laughed. Shouted. Enjoyed Nash’s return laughter.
Then, with a glint in his eyes, he caught the double rope and rapidly wound the contraption tighter than a spring.
An anticipatory squeak escaped Harlow.
“Ready?” he asked.
She clutched the sides of the tire. “No.”
With a wicked chuckle, Nash gave the swing a mighty heave.
For the first time in ages, Harlow wasn’t worried. She wasn’t scared. She was a carefree kid again, all because of Nash Corbin.