“You on your way back?” he asked after greeting her hello.
“Not exactly. I think I’ve figured out a way to get Beckett to do the commercial.” She winced when she realized she had called him Beckett, but her news was so exciting to Walt that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Hot dang! Tell me more.”
By the time she was done explaining her idea, Walt was practically bouncing with excitement on the other end of the line, his voice getting louder and louder the longer the conversation went. A few times she even had to hold the phone away from her face.
“Jordyn, you’re a genius!” he hollered. “That sounds better than the theme marketing had decided on. I’ll make sure they change gears, but I’m going to need you to lead this. It’s your vision, and I want you to make sure they get it done right. I don’t want to mess this up now that we finally have a fighting chance with Harper.”
She sighed. “I know. Beckett insisted upon my being in charge too.”
“You sure he’s not just trying to get you to stick around longer?” Walt asked with a laugh.
“Actually, I’m quite sure that has a lot to do with it. He’s demanded I stay through the filming, partly because he trusts me to be in charge and partly because he wants me around,” she explained seriously. No sense in lying to her boss about what was going on when he was a huge part of the reason for it. This mess was all his fault.
It took a good long minute before she could say anything more over the robust sound of his laughing.
“Are you done laughing now?” she asked, trying not to smile.
Walt chuckled again. “Jordyn, I’m not laughing at you. I just—I should have known. You’re a force of nature, girl. You get stuff done. The poor man never had a chance.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “At first I didn’t want him to do the commercial if I was part of the reason he was agreeing. But now I think his reputation could use us. He needs to do something as Beckett Harper and not Heartbreak Harper, you know?”
Walt was thoughtful a minute, back to being serious. “Interesting. But if he ends up breaking your heart, he and I will have words.”
“Says the man that sent me here because he needed a cute face,” Jordyn reminded him, annoyed.
“Fair point, Jordyn. Fair point. But I knew you were just the woman for the job. And look? You got it done. I’ll make sure you get your raise and your extra vacation as promised. I’ll have to speak with Harper and send him the contract soon.”
She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. “I figured as much.”
“Good work, Jordyn. I swear there isn’t a department in this company you couldn’t lead. You aren’t after my job, are you?”
She laughed at that. “No, and no thank you!”
Having gotten things in motion for next week while Beckett finished up the lights and the chores, she decided she had to live it up and do something she couldn’t ever do in Texas—build a snowman!
****
He had finished the chores and headed inside as the sun was setting. It was early, around 5:00 p.m., and he couldn’t wait to talk to Jordyn. She would have called work by now and officially bought them some more time together. He didn’t know how much time; he just knew he had to keep her around longer. He was insane doing this commercial just to have more time with her, but her idea really was a good one. Honoring the American farmer was the only way he’d do it. Bonus points for it allowing Jordyn to stick around. And now that the decision was made, he felt good with it; it felt right.
He walked in the house, and for once a meal or some sort of goodie wasn’t ready. The oven wasn’t even on. Not that he cared at all, but it just wasn’t like Jordyn to not be baking or cooking something. He wasn’t sure which she liked more, him or his kitchen. Probably the kitchen, honestly.
The house was oddly quiet. He was starting to get concerned when he spotted some movement through the living room window. He squinted. It was Jordyn making a snowman in the yard.
Or trying to.
He chuckled. She was such a weird combination: a bookworm and kitchen dynamo, yet competitive and adventurous. She was predictable in some ways, but then totally unpredictable in others. He’d been putting women in categories all his life, and she was just not categorizable. She could have done anything she wanted while he was doing chores, and she chose to make a snowman.
And he loved it.
“Hey,” he called as he grabbed his boots and jacket and headed out the patio door.
“Hey,” she said, stopping only to give him a quick smile.
Her snowman was significantly leaning. As he walked closer, he noticed she had to get creative with her buttons on the snowman because they were rocks, not buttons. And though her snowman did in fact have a carrot nose, it was a baby carrot and looked ridiculous in size proportion. The sticks for arms were at least decent shaped; they just weren’t even in either length or position. And for the hat, she’d stolen one of his, but it was too small for the snowman’s head, so it looked like a bad attempt at one of those things Jewish men wore.
Ridiculous. It looked ridiculous.
“I know. You can say it.” She wrinkled her nose and threw a sideways glance toward the snow creature.
“Say what, sweetheart?” he asked, hands in his pockets, trying his best not to laugh at her work.
“My first ever snowman is . . . well . . . he sucks.” She busted out laughing as she admitted it. “I don’t even care. I’m still proud of it. My first ever snowman. My sucky snowman.” As she finished explaining, she took off her own scarf and added it to her odd snowman. “It was more work than I thought it’d be.”
“You could have told me what you were up to—I would’ve helped.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I think this was something I needed to do for myself.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t ever made a snowman before.” He shook his head with her.
“We get maybe an inch of snow maybe every two or three years in Houston. Of course I hadn’t.” She shrugged.
He looked at her mischievously. If she hadn’t ever made a snowman, chances were good she hadn’t ever done a snow angel, right?
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, Beckett Harper, the answer is no way,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Come on, Houston. Time to make a snow angel. I’m assuming you haven’t done one of those either?”
She sucked in a breath of air. “And lie down in the snow? Brrrr! No, and no thank you.”
He laughed. “Scared?”
She nodded aggressively. “Yes. It was cold enough touching the snow through waterproof gloves.”
She was in his sister’s overalls. Granted, they were a little big, but she’d be fine.
“Beckett,” she warned.
And then he took off after her. She got all of three feet before he caught her and gently tackled her to the ground. They were rolling and laughing in the snow before she suddenly got serious on him. He propped himself up on an elbow in order to look at her.
“Okay, since I’m already in the snow, teach me your ways,” she said.
Unable to help himself, he rose his eyebrows, flirty-like. “Alllll my ways, Houston?”
She blushed and reached out to punch his arm. “What’s your middle name?”
What? Where did that come from? “William.”
She punched him again. “No, Beckett William Harper. Not the ways you are thinking of right now. I mean angelic ways, of the snow variety.”
He laughed, actually liking her using his full name on him. He wasn’t sure he’d heard his middle name since his mom passed away. “I knew what you meant—I just like to see you squirm.”
“Rude,” she pointed out as he began showing her what to do.
Snow angels soon freshly made, they lay there a moment.
“Will you help me up?” she asked. “I don’t want to ruin my masterpiece before I can see what it looks like.”
A chance t
o get closer? She didn’t have to ask him twice. He got to his feet and took it upon himself to lift her into his arms and move her back so she could see her finished product without footprints messing it up.
“Well played, Beckett.” She was smiling as he put her down to stand side by side and look at their snow angels. “Mine is better than yours though.”
He nodded his agreement and put an arm around her, noting how red from the cold her face and nose were. “Let’s go inside now, Houston. Get you warmed up by the fire before you freeze.”
She bent down to fix her boots, which were again his sister’s pair and way too big for her. Chances were good there was snow in them and her feet were freezing by now. “One more thing,” she said softly. “Come here.”
Well, that sounded more like it. Things were looking up. Maybe a little make-out frolic in the snow wasn’t off limits after all. Sometimes the best part of playing in the snow was getting to warm up . . . right?
He closed the distance between them in a hot second and was all up in her wheelhouse, pulling her into him. “This what you had in mind, honey?”
She leaned in, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then stopped a moment to whisper in his ear, “No, but this was.”
And then, as snow came crashing down on his forehead, she was out of reach and running for the house.
****
So after a little impromptu snowball fight— or were snowball fights always impromptu? —Beckett again tackled her into the snow, this time getting what he was bargaining for in kissing her again. It was cold and fast, but it made her heart ache that he wanted to do fun things like that with her. They were so playful with one another, from their banter to the stupid excuses they created to be close to one another. It was good to feel so carefree with him. She wasn’t sure she had felt carefree since her mom left town at sixteen.
Actually, she hadn’t felt carefree since she was old enough to know her mom wasn’t being much of one. She had had to grow up fast. She had a few good memories, and she tried to hold on to those ones. Thinking of all the hard times did nothing but frustrate the heck out of her. She didn’t have kids, but if she did someday, she vowed she’d be nothing like her own mother.
She had totally forgotten about making supper in her snowman-making concentration, so they decided to make breakfast for supper together. They laughed and laughed about her snowman and how preposterous he looked. She had to go back out to take some pictures of both her snowman and her snow angel for future use. Then Beckett shared some snow-related stories from his childhood: sledding behind four-wheelers, making huge snow forts with tunnels—stuff like that.
Afterward they settled in for popcorn and a movie on the couch. Apparently the day’s events had worn her out, for it wasn’t long into the movie, snuggled into Beckett’s warmth, that she nodded off and fell asleep.
****
He finished the movie, and though he wanted to do nothing more than be selfish and stay on the couch again with her, he also wanted to show her how much he respected her. So he did the opposite of what he wanted to do and picked her up and tucked her into the guest bedroom. Mable followed him in and curled up at the foot of her bed.
“Traitor,” he whispered at the cat, who just curled tighter into a ball as if to tell him to shut up.
He kissed Jordyn on the forehead and left like a freaking gentleman. It felt weird, but he wanted to impress her, and he wanted to do this right. He had no idea what the hell that even meant for the big picture.
He lay in bed for a long time after that, wondering about what to do with Jordyn and this new relationship. He liked her. Hell, he more than liked her if he was being honest with himself. And yeah, he had bought them some extra time—but what was he going to do when she finally did run out of time?
He couldn’t keep her on the farm forever. And he couldn’t ask her to quit her job and move here. Yeah, it sounded both ridiculous and awesome. But if he could actually convince her to move, between the small town talking about them and the resentment she would eventually feel for her having to give up her job that she was good at and liked, they’d be over before they ever really began. And that was the last thing he wanted.
So what could they do? The long-distance thing?
He didn’t like it. Actually, he hated it. He was so used to her being with him every day that he didn’t like the idea of it at all, but if it was what he had to do to prove to her that he was willing to date her seriously, he’d do it.
Tomorrow was a week. One week with this city woman and he was not only ready to try dating, actual dating, but he was thinking of long-distance dating?
She had some sort of womanly superpower. He was just sure of it.
He had been doing just fine. Life was good; the farm was great. He didn’t feel lacking in anything. Then she sprained her ankle and got stuck with him, and he was afraid that life was never going to be the same.
Jealous of the Pie
CHAPTER 12
“Good morning,” he said with a kiss to her forehead as he grabbed his coffee and headed for the laundry room to dress for chores.
When did they become this close? She knew how he liked his coffee, and he gave her a kiss on the forehead before he went out to do chores? She almost felt like she was playing house with him. It was fun. Okay, fantastic really—but the truth was that this wasn’t her house. His house and this farm were quickly coming to feel like more of a home than she had ever had before. And it scared the heck out of her. How could she ever leave this? And not just leave, but go back to her life, which was nine hundred miles south of here. She wouldn’t be an hour or two away; she’d be sixteen hours away.
“Good morning,” she said, trying to shake her bad feeling. Waking up this morning in the guest room—knowing that Beckett had the decency to tuck her in and sleep in his own room—messed with her emotions. Is that something “Heartbreak Harper” would’ve done? No. That was something Beckett Harper would do.
“I’m going to do a quick job of the chores, and then I’m going to try to scoop out the drive. If I can get it accomplished and the highway is clear, we may have to head in to town for a late lunch at my aunt’s café. What do you say to that?” he asked, dimple popping.
“That sounds amazing.” She nodded. Maybe that was what she needed. Fresh air. Perspective. A reminder of who Beckett Harper was and who she was. And she wondered if he would still dote on her in public. This could be good in more than one way. It would get them out of this little idealized bubble they were currently living in. Blizzard conditions weren’t real everyday-life conditions.
“It’ll probably take me a while, but you’ll be able to see me from the windows in the living room when I start on the scooping,” he explained. “I’ll pile it into a huge mound for you to see all the snow, southern girl.”
“Can I help?”
“Help me scoop out the drive?” He looked surprised.
She nodded. It sounded fun!
“You want to sit in the tractor with me while I shovel the snow?” he clarified.
She nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, when is the next time I am going to see this much snow?”
He looked wounded for some reason. She couldn’t figure out what his deal was but then he said, “You’re going to have to leave here. I get that. But you are welcome here whenever, however. Always.”
His strong words surprised her. By the looks of it, they maybe even surprised him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” she apologized. “We have at least this week, right? I’m starting to realize how much I’m going to miss this place. I just wanted to play some more in the snow, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay. We’ll get this figured out, Jordyn. I don’t want this to be over in a week.” He looked like he was going to kiss her again, but then he put his gloves on instead. “Chores will take me an hour, and then I’ll swing by and pick you up in my chariot.”
She smiled. “It’s a date?”
He smirked a
t that. “With you, they’ve all been dates.”
****
Well, this was new. A woman in his tractor with him. Lord, if the tabloids could see him now. He was pretty sure there were super cliché country songs about this very thing. Still, he had to admit he liked it. More than liked it. She was so attentive and wanted him to explain to her how everything worked. Which he was more than happy to do. Sometimes he was so used to tractors and animals that he had to take a minute and remind himself that it wasn’t the way everyone made a living. He had known how to drive a pickup and tractor by the time he was—what—twelve?
He tried to get her to drive the tractor, though she refused. Somehow, he convinced her to run the levers for the loader. She was almost on his lap. That idea definitely paid off.
And the look on her face as she was pushing snow with a tractor was pure joy. She was a kid in a candy shop. Who would have thought that a grown woman would find so much entertainment in something so ordinary and simple? Maybe it was because she was from the South. Maybe it was because she had had a crappy childhood. Or maybe a combination of the two. He didn’t care. She was different. Good different. His favorite flavor of different.
When they finished, they hopped in his pickup to make the short drive to check if the highway was clear. And it was. Having the green light for a trip to town, they headed back to the house for him to shower up so they could go into town to get lunch. He was excited. Aunt Rose was going to have a cow when he waltzed in there with Jordyn. He had texted her last weekend that he had someone from AgGroSo snowed in with him. He didn’t tell her it was a woman.
And Aunt Rose . . . He should probably prepare Jordyn for her. But there wasn’t really any preparing for a woman like Rose. Come to think of it, they’d probably be thick as thieves in about five minutes.
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