He stood, arms crossed. Not a good sign for her.
“I’m not doing it.”
She wasn’t surprised by that. Furthermore, she didn’t care. He wasn’t hurting her feelings any. He was so much taller than she was, yet she wasn’t about to cower to this man. She looked him right in the eyes and asked, “Why?”
He clenched his jaw stubbornly and looked outside toward the barn a moment. “I won’t have you use my face, and my stupid reputation, to further your company. I love what you guys do and offer, but I don’t want to be the face behind it.”
She thought about that for a moment. So he didn’t want the attention? She figured it wasn’t enough money they were offering him, but apparently that wasn’t the case. Heartbreak Harper didn’t want to use his reputation to make a few extra bucks? Hmm. How about that?
This man was nothing like she had assumed. He was also nothing like the nickname behind his name, but maybe that was because he didn’t see her like that. It was easy for him to be nice to her because he wasn’t looking for . . . companionship . . . with her. They were not romantically involved.
“I’ll be sure to pass that message along and be out of your hair as soon as this hateful storm is over,” she said with a smile.
****
Out of his hair and out of his life? Sounded good to him. Or did it?
He wasn’t sure anymore. He barely knew this person. They had only known one another three whole days, but there was something about the way she carried herself. Something in the way they could banter.
Was he falling for her? Oh hell no. This was the farm, not some sappy romance movie. He wasn’t falling for her at all, but he was getting used to her being around. A warm cup of coffee always waiting when he would come in from the chores. Someone there—conversations here and there . . . well, except for when he’d been mad at her. Plus, she was just nice to look at.
He needed to get off the farm, he decided. If three days stuck inside with a city woman were making him feel comfortable with having women around again, he definitely needed to go out. Not with women per se, but he needed to at least see his friends.
Lonely was not a term that “Heartbreak Harper” should ever be. And yet somehow, her mention of leaving made him feel lonely. Not at all what he was expecting.
How about that?
****
They had to camp out that night in the living room where the fire was keeping them warm. Beckett had told her he had a generator they could use, but since the oven was gas and the fireplace could provide heat, they would hold off on the generator until they absolutely had to. Save the fuel for if they truly needed it.
She had kept to herself and played games on her computer until almost exhausting the battery. Her phone was off to save for the next day in case she didn’t get to charge it for a while. And when her laptop battery was starting to fail her, she resorted to reading a book on her Kindle. She didn’t know what Beckett did, but he was on his tablet doing something.
The big argument was finally over. Beckett was talking to her again, yet it wasn’t quite the same. He wasn’t flipping her as much crap and felt a little withdrawn. But that was okay with her as long as he wasn’t mad anymore.
It was hard enough being snowed in with a stranger. Being snowed in with a stranger who was ticked at her was just plain horrible. Good thing she had Mable, though all Mable did was sleep; this time, she curled up on the wooden rocking chair in the corner, close to the warmth of the fire.
Jordyn and Beckett had both fallen asleep that night on opposite ends of the huge, comfy couch. It was so soft she didn’t mind. But she did notice he stayed as far away from her on the couch as he possibly could. It shouldn’t bug her considering he now knew what she was there for.
Somehow early that next morning, Beckett had snuck out to do the chores before she woke. It was around 7:00 a.m. when she heard the door shut as he left. She noticed he had added his blanket to the stack of blankets over her when he snuck out.
That one little thing shouldn’t have made her smile so much.
Furry Patient
CHAPTER 6
Beckett had spent all of twenty minutes outside before he knew his Wednesday had gone to hell. The wind wasn’t as bad as yesterday, but for some reason, the snow had picked up again. When it wasn’t blowing, it was snowing. He guessed the weatherman had gotten the forecast right for once. And if the weatherman was right, then the snow and wind wouldn’t let up until Thursday night—Thanksgiving. Jordyn was going to be stuck with him more than likely for the weekend before they could dig themselves out of this mess.
And oddly enough, he was okay with that.
The electricity was still out. That had meant the water heaters for his cattle had all stopped working and he had to chip the ice off the top of all the waterers. Then he did some extra haying and checking of his herd. He was about to go in for a break when he noticed one of his prized heifers was bleeding.
Crap.
There was no way he was getting the vet out here today. He was going to have to deal with this himself. It didn’t look bad, but there was an exposed area of skin that could get irritated or infected if he didn’t treat it; it’d at least need covered up. And knowing she would be hunkered down in the hay trying to keep warm would probably not help matters with all the particles that could get into the open wound.
Damn. How did this even happen? He supposed the wind had scared her and she got too close to the fence. That or some coyotes came wandering up for shelter and spooked her. Both were solid possibilities.
It took forever, and a lot of bribing her with corn feed, but he finally got the injured heifer over to the barn. Then he had to walk back and get the tractor. He had almost been done with the hay in the feeder, so he quickly finished up the morning feeding. Then he drove the tractor back over to the barn so he could work with the hurt heifer.
Fortunately, the last time this happened, the veterinarian stocked him with enough meds to help him sedate and clean any future wounds. He took a picture of the wound and texted it to his vet, Mason, who also happened to be one of his better friends.
As a retired pro baseball player from the neighboring town of Homesteel, Mason was one of the few people Beckett felt understood him. They both knew what it was like returning to their prospective hometowns after living out their professional athlete careers. And they were the only professional athletes in at least a fifty-mile radius. Mason was the only person who really understood the whole small-town celebrity thing.
After a long phone conversation with him about what needed done, Beckett realized this was going to take a while. He administered the sedative and got ready to clean the wound before he would have to roll up his sleeves and do some stitches.
****
Seriously, what on earth could be taking him so long? Was he all right? The wind didn’t seem as bad today, but then again, maybe she was just used to it. Or maybe he was still just mad at her, trying to avoid the house.
Regardless, it was almost lunch. The morning chores never took this long. She was toying with the idea of starting up her truck and going to check on things when she realized that her phone was still mostly charged and Beckett hopefully had his too.
Though the electricity may still be out, this was the twenty-first century after all. Smart phones. What in the world did people ever do without smart phones? After searching beside her truck keys, which Beckett had hung on a magnetic hook on the fridge, she found the piece of paper he’d left with his cell number and sent him a text.
This is Jordyn. Are you still okay out there?
Having made breakfast hours ago, she kept reading on her Kindle, which was about to die, while waiting for his response. She tried not to check her phone every few minutes but failed. Where was he, and why wasn’t he answering? Did he not have his phone?
Was he stuck out there in the cold? It was so cold out someone could get in trouble in a hurry if they were unconscious or something. And she didn’t know her
way around his farm. She wouldn’t even know where to look for him. Twenty minutes passed, and she got nothing.
At the thirty-five-minute mark, she tried texting him again. HARPER. Please answer me if you have your phone. I’m getting worried here.
Exactly six minutes later, he did respond. So it’s back to Harper when you’re angry, huh, Houston?
Thank God. So he was okay. Whew. And his smart-ass tendencies hadn’t froze off in the cold yet. Bummer.
At least I knew how to get you to respond, she texted back.
She could imagine him smirking at that, his one dimple doing its thing.
He responded not even a minute later. Smart woman. One of my heifers has an open wound I’m tending to in the barn, but thanks for checking. It’ll take me a while, but I’ll be in in an hour or so probably.
In the barn? She could see the barn out the big living room windows. And she knew for a fact that Harper hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all day. He had snuck out in an effort not to wake her. Now it was almost noon.
She hit the remote start key for her truck and went to work. She searched around the cupboards until she found a coffee mug and set yesterday’s coffee in a pot on the stove to warm. Then she put together a sandwich. She got out a plastic bag and threw in some cookies, a cinnamon roll, a muffin, and a bottle of water too.
When she was done, she figured the truck was probably warm enough, so she bundled up and headed for it. There was a small drift around the right front wheel, but she was hoping the four-wheel-drive truck was enough to take it.
It was terrifyingly cold out—so cold she sucked in that initial breath—but she tried to focus on the task at hand: getting Beckett some food. The icy wind stung her cheeks like she’d been slapped. What was this? The flipping Arctic? Satan had it all wrong. Fiery hell? Nope. He should just make people walk around in this crap eternally.
Finally in the warmth of the vehicle, she put the truck in gear and slowly headed for the barn. It was less than a quarter of a mile, but she wasn’t going to walk if she didn’t have to. Fortunately, once she got out of the driveway, she could just follow the path the tractor had made over the last few days. It was easier than she thought.
She pulled up by the barn. This barn was possibly her favorite part of the place. It looked just like you thought a barn should, from the red paint to the white trim. And it was big, its strong frame looming above her like a hundred-year-old redwood tree. It matched the house in that it exuded history from its weathered wood, but had also been well taken care of.
Being outside for the first time in days, she took a long look at all the snow that had drifted in white blankets across Beckett’s farm. It was a beautiful place—she had to give him that.
She parked her truck at a safe distance where she was sure she wouldn’t get stuck in the snow and walked the short distance to the barn. She slid open the door. There was Beckett on his hands and knees, humming away to music playing from his phone while working on a cow who was clearly hurt and bleeding.
Was he stitching—just like he had joked about days ago? What in the world?!
“Jordyn??” Squinting, he looked up at the door when the light spilled in with her entrance.
“I brought you coffee,” she said, holding up the goods for him to see. “And food.” She hurried to shove the heavy door shut, more than happy to stand in the warmer barn.
He smiled and looked at her appreciatively. “My hero. I wish you wouldn’t have walked over here in this weather though. Especially on that bum ankle.”
“I didn’t. I brought my pickup.” She overly emphasized “pickup” with a grin.
He chuckled. “You are quite resourceful.”
She smiled at his compliment, sarcastic or not. That was two today if you counted him calling her smart earlier. It said a lot about the state of her current love life if she was counting and logging compliments from this man.
“Unless this is part of the ploy for the commercial?” he added, half teasing, half serious.
She shook her head. “No. Actually, this was just me trying to be thoughtful. A real southern belle.”
He looked at her a moment, as if trying to decide if he believed her or not. “Well, thank you, then. But given what you’ve told me, I think southern belles wouldn’t be out in this weather.”
“That’s definitely true.” She laughed at that but added a “You’re welcome.”
“Let me finish up here cleaning this cut, and then I promise I will devour whatever you brought me before I go to work sewing her up.”
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked. He looked like he had it under control, but he wasn’t a veterinarian for Pete’s sake. Should he really be doing this? Then again, with the weather as it was, did he really have any other option?
He smirked, as if he knew she was questioning his skills. “I’ve got it. But you can stick around and keep me company if you want.”
What else was there to do? The house was empty and without electricity. Her Kindle was almost dead, and her current book made her angry with a stupid plot twist anyway. Mable was cute and all but kind of boring. Since this was the first time Beckett seemed fully back to normal, she didn’t want to leave just yet. She didn’t know why he was back to being this way, but she didn’t want it to end.
****
After the sedating and cleaning, he had taken a break to get everything ready for the hard part. He took off his medical gloves and washed up in the sink in the barn. He had some coffee and ate the sandwich she brought, realizing how hungry he really was. Then he got right back to work. He was three stitches in when Jordyn went and blew his mind, not for the first time today.
He had been humming to one of his favorite country playlists on his phone while Jordyn looked around the barn. He would do a stitch and then pat the neck of his heifer. She was sedated, loopy, numbed, and not in any pain, but still sort of awake at times. He needed to keep her as still as possible, so he kept soothing her by murmuring to her and singing along with the music. Not that he had a good voice by any means, but animals in pain just needed to hear someone tell them it was okay; they needed to know the person working on them didn’t mean them any harm.
And then here came Jordyn.
She plopped down cross-legged in the hay and rested the heifer’s head right in her lap. Then she ran her hands along the heifer’s neck, speaking gentle words to her so Beckett could keep working. If she was bothered by the hay, the smell of cow, or the bloody cut on the heifer, she was doing a fine job of hiding it. She took it all in stride.
Yep. Mind-blown.
He’d known a lot of city women. A lot. None of them would’ve ever been thoughtful enough to bring him food and warm coffee to his barn, and none of them would’ve been willing to sit in the smelly hay and pet a cow. Then again, he didn’t let any of them near his farm. His farm was his place of solitude.
Or it was—until Jordyn got stuck with him here. And he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know her. He wanted to get to know her. Even though the storm meant more work for him in less than favorable conditions, he still felt okay with her being stuck with him for at least another day or two. She had texted him to check in with him. And in that moment, she was instantly forgiven for the real reason her boss sent her. She didn’t have to check on him, but she did. That wasn’t Jordyn working and trying to sell a commercial pitch; that was just Jordyn being Jordyn.
Maybe if she would just let him in a little, he could figure her out. That was one thing he hated about high society and all the fancy events he used to go to. Everyone was wearing a mask, putting on a show, trying to be their best, portraying something they weren’t. One of the reasons he liked football so much was you couldn’t fake it in football. If you went out there trying to do anything half-assed, you were going to get yours handed to you on a silver platter.
He wanted to know the woman behind this mask. He knew she had been burned. He knew she was analytical and logical in everything she did. But t
here was more—and he wanted to know it. All of it. All because she sent him a text and brought him some food. He was pathetic really.
And lonely. There was that word again.
He looked up at her. “This is going to take me another half an hour by the time I finish it and cover it, so why don’t you tell me about why it is you hate football players so much? We’ve got time. And though this isn’t our sixth or seventh date”—he paused to chuckle and look around the barn and at his furry patient— “it is something.”
The Doozy
CHAPTER 7
She brushed the cow’s neck again. Here they were, taking care of this gentle beast, and he wanted to talk about that??
“Why?”
He shrugged and looked her right in the eyes. “Because I want to get to know you.”
The way he said it made her feel all warm. She couldn’t tell him no. She didn’t want to share this story though. Not here, not now, probably not ever. But if he wanted to know her, it was only fair. If he had even a spark of interest in her, even in just being her friend, it would vanish with the telling of this story. So really she’d be doing him a favor.
She sighed in defeat. “I don’t hate you, Heartbreak Harper, if that’s any consolation.”
He looked at her and waited like he knew she was gathering both her thoughts and her courage—and the silence provided her a bridge to the past. A bridge she had wanted to burn a long time ago. And not just burn, but incinerate, pick up the ashes, back them over with her car, stomp on them, then reburn them in the flames.
“I guess I should start out the story with when I was sixteen,” she began when he moved to get back to the stitching. She swallowed back the pain that still tried to overtake her when she thought of those years. “My mom and I were never close. She wasn’t really much of a provider. Or much of a worker. She could never keep jobs, so she married as her form of working. When I was sixteen, she was about to marry the third guy, this time leaving town. She knew I loved my friends and where I was at, the small town we lived in. I was shy enough that she didn’t want me to have to start over in a new town in the middle of high school. So she gave me the option to stay, which may have been the most motherly thing she ever did for me, honestly.”
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