NINETEEN

Stone

I drove past the Muddy River Inn and gazed wistfully at the parking lot.

Inside was exactly what I needed—enough alcohol to steel my nerves and make what I was about to do seem like a good idea. But no. I had to do this sober.

Tonight I was going to confess everything to Harper and hope for the best. I was already on borrowed time since my brothers knew. I was just lucky Cash hadn’t already told Red.

Telling Harper was the right thing to do, so why did I have such a pit in my stomach? Because I knew it could ruin everything between us, that’s why.

I parked in front of Agnes’s house along the curb rather than pulling around the back. I figured parking on the street would make it easier to drive away after Harper threw me out of the house. Then I could drive to the liquor store, grab a bottle, and go home to hide in the chicken coop.

It was a good plan for a worst case scenario. God, I hoped it didn’t come to that.

Maybe she wouldn’t throw me out. Maybe she’d want me to stay so she could yell at me. If that happened, I’d sit there and take it. I deserved whatever she dished out. I only hoped she’d forgive me.

It was that hope, that we’d get through this and come out the other side stronger for it, that propelled me forward.

I walked around the house and in through the back door, hoping it wasn’t the last time I did so.

“What’s wrong?”

My gaze whipped up to find her standing by the refrigerator refilling her water bottle.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Dammit. Here I was doing it again. Hiding. Denying. When I should be confessing.

She raised a brow. “You don’t exactly have a poker face, Stone.”

“I don’t?” I frowned.

Generally I did pretty well when I played cards. But that wasn’t the point. What was, was that I had to tell her.

Obviously Harper could sense something was wrong. She was suspicious by nature. But this time there actually was something I was keeping from her.

I knew how my woman’s mind worked. What she was imagining was probably far worse than the truth. By now, she’d have built a whole story about why I’d been avoiding her for the past two days. 

She probably thought I had a wife and kids and a whole other life in another county or something equally ridiculous.

Sighing, I forced my gaze up to hers. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. There is something up with you. I knew it.”

She grasped for the edge of the stove and braced on it, looking like she might hyperventilate. 

I took a step forward, afraid she might collapse, but she held up one hand and said, “Just tell me. Is it . . . someone else?”

“What? No—”

“Is that why the sex has been so good lately? You’re practicing on someone else.” Her voice cracked on the last words.

Being a man, a man who truly enjoyed the pleasures of being with a woman, the sex part of her question of course caught my complete attention.

“Wait, sex has been extra good lately?”

While I basked in the compliment, Harper was breaking down. Her eyes filled with tears, making them look even more like indigo pools of water than usual.

Now was obviously not the time for sex talk. She was really upset.

I was a little upset myself. She believed I'd cheat on her? 

That was crazy. And kind of insulting. I’d never done anything to betray her trust in me. 

Well, except for writing a few comments on the Mudville forum. In the total scheme of things, that was pretty small potatoes compared to what she had accused me of.

“Harper, I’m not with anyone else.” I let out a snort. “How could I be in this town? With the gossip around here the way it is, I'd never get away with it.”

Her eyes flew wide. “Is that the only reason you don't cheat on me? The town is so small I’d hear about it?”

Crap. I was digging my own grave here. Still, again I had to wonder how, after all this time, she could doubt my love for her. My unfailing commitment to us.

I took a step closer and gripped both her arms. “No. Harper. Jesus. I love you. There’s only you in my life. There’s only been you since the day I first laid eyes on you at the farm stand. I swear to you.”

She folded her arms, creating a physical barrier between us. I hated it.

“That can’t be true. We didn’t get along at all the day we met at the farm stand.”

“Just because I thought you were an annoying city girl didn’t mean I wasn’t imagining kissing you.”

She raised her gaze to meet mine. I saw her soften, just a bit. “Really?”

“Really.” I nodded.

She fought the smallest of smiles, but I saw it through her tears. I reached out and brushed the dampness from her cheeks.

“Stone, if it’s not someone else, what is it? It feels like you’re hiding something.”

I drew in a breath. “I am. There is something I’ve been hiding from you, for a little while now.”

Harper drew in a breath. “Okay. Tell me.” 

I could see her physically steel herself, as if she was about to receive a physical blow.

Falling apart one moment and tough as nails the next—that was my Harper. I only hoped she remained my Harper.

“I um . . .” I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m Anonymous.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. You’re anonymous for what?” Her eyes widened. “Like in AA? Are you trying to stop drinking?”

“No. I’m the Anonymous.” When I could see she still wasn’t grasping it, I added, “Mister Naughty. From the Mudville forum. I’m the person behind the advice posts and comments. I’m the guy you hate.”

The crease between her eyes deepened. “You? But you loathe social media.”

“Yup.” I nodded. “I do.” 

“So how . . .?”

“I heard people were posting stuff for sale on the forum and I wanted to see if there was anything good. So I started logging in on the iPad you gave me. Then I saw some asshole posting something completely wrong about keeping chickens. I had to correct him, of course. Those poor birds were going to freeze if I didn't.” I let out a breath. “It was all downhill from there.”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Wow.”

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to step on your toes or steal your name. I never wanted any of it. It all just snowballed.”

When I moved closer and pulled her against me, she let me. I held her tighter and rested my head against hers. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“When you said how much you hated Anonymous, I was afraid. I thought you might dump me.”

She pulled back to frown up at me. “Seriously? You thought I’d break up with you over that? What kind of horrible person do you think I am that I would do that?” 

“You’re not horrible at all. But you were really mad,” I said in my own defense. Not to mention she’d started killing off the male characters in her books.

“I would hope we were stronger than that. That we could withstand even me being angry.”

“I know. I was being a wimp.”

“No. You’re just a man. Conflict averse. Hiding from the drama.”

I let those insults against my sex pass without comment, particularly since there was more I hadn’t yet told her.

This was the part I was even more afraid to reveal, thereby proving I was all the things she’d accused my sex of being.

“There’s more,” I said and waited.

She stiffened in my arms, then pulled back just a bit.

I felt that small increase in the distance between us to my core.

Even though she had left her arms loosely around my waist, even though she was only a few inches farther away, it felt like we were suddenly miles apart.

“More?”

I hated seeing the wariness return to her. I cursed the day I ever stumbled onto that forum.

Swallowing hard, I said, “The newspaper contacted me.”

She waited. When I didn’t elaborate, she said, “Okay.”

“I said no.” I wanted that part known, nice and clear, right up front. “But they offered me a column.”

The crease reappeared in her forehead. “As mayor?” she asked.

“No. As Anonymous . . . under the name Mister Naughty.” There. I’d laid it all out. Every last sordid detail. Then cringed and waited for her response.

“You got offered a column? As Mister Naughty?” she repeated, sounding as baffled as I had been myself by the offer.

“I didn’t take it,” I reiterated.

“But they offered it to you.” Her face went hard. Blank. Like an expressionless mannequin. Impossible to read.

“Yes. But I never wanted it. Harper, I don’t want to be a writer. You’re the writer. Not me. That’s your domain and you’re welcome to it.”

Hell, all I wanted to do was correct some idiot city guy’s wrong assumption about a coop light. How that one action had snowballed and landed me in this situation was crazy.

It didn’t matter how I’d gotten here. What was most important was making sure Harper was okay with all this. That we were okay.

“Please forgive me.”

She lifted one shoulder. “It’s not your fault they offered you the column.”

“It is my fault I didn’t tell you. All of it. Right away.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay.”

I watched and waited, almost wanting her to be angry. To yell. To lecture. Something. Anything other than this detached, emotionless nonchalance.

It was almost as if she didn’t care. And if she didn’t care about what I’d done, did she not care about me?

Finally she raised her gaze to mine. “Are you coming upstairs?” 

I wasn’t sure that question was for me to answer.

“Do you want me to?” I asked. At this point, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“Only if you want to.” The cold edge of her words chilled me to the bone.

“I want to,” I said with enough fervor she couldn’t doubt it.

“Okay.” Water bottle in hand, she spun and led the way up the staircase.

But as I followed I had to think that things were far from okay.