Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  “You could’ve asked me for a jacket.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him that he intimidated her so much she wouldn’t dare venture to his side of the house and snoop around to find his bedroom. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

  Harlan licked his lips. “Maybe you like being wet.”

  Georgia eyed him, knowing exactly what he was implying. She let the comment roll off her shoulders, but tightened her bathrobe’s sash for good measure.

  Harlan cocked his head, almost as if he was going to say something important, but then seem to shake the thought away. “Let’s find something for you to eat.” Harlan strode to the fridge and swung back to her. “It isn’t just for you,” he corrected himself. “I could go for a sandwich.” He opened the door and eyed the contents. “Humm.” He bent, searching under one of the shelves.

  “Well, I’m good.” Georgia’s hand trembled when she pointed to the fruit basket. Had she caught a chill outside in the rain? “The banana hit the spot.”

  Harlan turned to her and rubbed his chin. “You sure?”

  “I’m positive. Sorry I interrupted you.”

  He didn’t turn back to the fridge. Instead he eyed her, blatantly checking her out in a way that made her stomach flip.

  He hates you, remember? He probably ogles anything with boobs. Still, she needed to thank him, and waved her phone. “I don’t know how or when you did it, but thank you so much for finding this.”

  “I got a little restless,” he said, giving her legs a once-over. “So I tore that gooseberry thicket to shreds.”

  “In the dark? In the pouring rain?”

  “It wasn’t raining much, and I have headlights on my truck. See, I would’ve caught you if you were lying to me about losing it.” He grinned, and she saw a little bit of a dimple peek out on his left cheek.

  “Well, now you know I wasn’t,” she said, leaning against the cold granite counter, watching him reach into a large cabinet full of liquor bottles next to the fridge.

  “Want one?” he asked pulling a thick, sparkly glass off a shelf.

  “No thanks.” Georgia thought about going back to her room, but instead mulled over her thoughts, weighing whether she should explain, and if he’d care enough to stay and listen. She took a deep breath, summoning her courage. “Hey, about the ride this afternoon.”

  Harlan turned back to her, suddenly wide awake. “We’re doing true confessions now, are we?” he asked, in a sexy, raspy tone he hadn’t used before. His attention fixed on her lips, making her breath catch. “Because I’m not sure you can handle mine, Peach.” He poured a finger of dark amber liquid into the glass and set the bottle on the counter. “I can’t wait to hear yours,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

  She swallowed past a lump in her throat, avoiding him by looking down and smoothing the front her borrowed bathrobe. “Um, I haven’t ridden a horse since I fell. I was a big deal in 4-H and Gymkhana.” Georgia peeked up to see his reaction.

  “Oh?” Harlan raised a brow and took another sip, eyeing her over the rim.

  “Uh-huh, my specialty was ropin’.”

  He choked, looking up from his glass. “Cattle or men?” He laughed, and—holy hell—a squadron of butterflies took off in her stomach at the sound. “I didn’t take you for a roper.”

  She laughed, clutching the collar of the bathrobe at her neck. “Yeah. I was, and then I fell. It was a bad one, and I broke my leg.”

  He gave her his full attention, and wasn’t sneering, so she felt okay about continuing. “I used to ride at my grandparents’ house in Massachusetts every summer. My grandpa always told me to get back on the horse after a fall. And I did, for a while.” She chuckled, thinking about the ornery gelding, Zorro, her grandpa had. “I used to fall all the time. But that last time, at the show, in front of all those people, I didn’t. Actually, I couldn’t,” she shrugged. “Compound fracture, sort of hard to get up.”

  Her mind drifted to the ride to the hospital that day, when her mom and dad were still together. “And I never rode again.”

  “Huh.” Harlan’s eyes softened. “Well, how you reacted makes sense, then.” He pressed his lips together. “I had a nasty fall too. Broke my collarbone when I was ten, riding Colt’s damn pony. Irritable son of a bitch. So I get it.”

  “Today was the first time I’ve ridden, in...I don’t know...it has to be at least twelve years.” She hadn’t talked about the fall in so long, hadn’t needed to.

  “All this depressing talk isn’t going to change my mind about you.”

  “What do you mean?” Georgia frowned, trying to read him. She thought they were having a normal, honest conversation for once.

  Harlan set his drink on the counter. “You ready to hear my confession?” he asked, approaching her. “I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

  “What? Where did this come from?” Georgia backed away from him.

  “I don’t trust you, Peach. I’m not sure what your angle is, or how you managed to wrap my brother around your finger, but I’m watching every move you make.”

  Georgia blanked out for a second before her jaw hit the floor. Her heart stopped, but then burning rage pumped through her system, like a defibrillator, jolting her back to life in an instant. Her brain flooded with so many insults she didn’t know where to start.

  “You’ve been living in a cave for too long, Harlan Beckett. Don’t blame me if you’ve been hiding from the public and can’t even tell fact from fiction. You don’t know why your brother wants me to do his story? Why don’t you ask him, you big bully?”

  Harlan folded his arms and leaned back, eyeing her.

  She swiped her phone off the counter. “I should probably go now.” Forgetting where she was, or what she was doing for a moment, she bumped into the door frame and took off down the hall to her bedroom.

  “Good niii-ight,” Harlan called out from behind her.

  9

  Harlan grimaced while he waited for the wood to thoroughly catch. Once it did, and satisfied his fire would stay lit and there were enough logs to last the day, he strolled past the front window, hoping for a sign it would stop raining. But he’d lived in Montana long enough to know there was no such thing. The rain would stop when it stopped.

  Back in the kitchen, he surveyed the table, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Plate, fork, knife, napkin, mug, and papers. And, oh yeah. He scoured the junk drawer, rattling through the miscellaneous batteries, paperclips, and bits of broken contraptions until he found a pen. He placed it on top of the papers close to Georgia’s place setting.

  Family was at stake. Harlan checked on the bacon and wiped down the kitchen counters for the fifth time, promising himself he would avoid being alone with her again. He was probably exhausted after all that writing and mixing in his studio last night. Harlan hadn’t experienced a creative streak like that in a while.

  “Morning.” Georgia breezed past him, smelling like cookies and flowers this time. “I’ve decided to trust you received my message last night, loud and clear. So there is no need to discuss it again. Oh, and Boone’s home. He just invited me to his show at The Owl.”

  Harlan grunted and turned back to the stove. He stirred the eggs, making sure they didn’t stick to the pan. “His show isn’t until Thursday. You sure you can stay that long?” Boone, what the hell are you doing?

  “Boone said he won’t approve the story unless I see him play there. Is it a fun venue?” When he didn’t answer, she added, “Hey, I only asked because I’m trying to be civil.” She meandered to the table.

  “Yeah. Linda’s great.” Harlan cleared his throat, feeling tension knot his shoulders.

  She had her back to him, so he stole a glance at Georgia, with her hands on her hips, bending, checking out the table. “Wow, is all this for me?”

  It was just a place setting. He didn’t know what the big deal was, except for the papers. “Yes.” He gave her a hard smile. “Make yourself at home.”

  Georgia sat on the ot
her side of the table, probably so she could stare at him straight on and keep him on edge. Harlan grabbed the skillet and tongs, walked to the table and served her the bacon. Keeping half an eye on her, he sauntered back to the stove and took the other pan off the heat.

  “This looks yummy. Thank you.” Georgia smoothed the napkin over her lap.

  “Eggs,” he said, scooping a ladle full of cheesy scramble on her plate.

  Her wide eyes looked up at him with delight, a normal reaction to the best eggs in Lonesome.

  “Coffee’s in the carafe. There’s cream and sugar there too.” Harlan put the pan back on the stove and turned the gas off. He picked up the cup of coffee he’d been sipping on and leaned back against the counter.

  “Aren’t you going to have some?”

  “No. I already ate.”

  Georgia poured her coffee and added cream and sugar. Harlan sipped while she stirred the coffee-cream mixture, and watched her reaction when she tasted the bacon. Her face lit up, and she dived in for the eggs. He liked women who weren’t afraid to eat.

  “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had real bacon. I’ve gotten so used to turkey.” She sipped the coffee and fingered through the papers. “Are these for me?” She frowned. “What am I supposed to do with them?”

  “Just answer all the questions honestly and then sign, if you would.” She pursed her lips while she set her mug down and picked up the first page.

  “This?” She cleared her throat. “‘In order of priority, in twenty-five words or less, please state your motives for interviewing Boone Beckett.’” She glanced up at him and returned to the questionnaire.

  He pointed. “Uh, there’s a pen, right there next to the sugar, for your convenience.”

  “‘Are you currently or have you ever been involved in any court action? Please explain in the section below.’” She chomped on a strip of bacon. “You’re kidding me, right?” She flipped the page and skimmed. “‘What is the most amount of money you’ve secretly received from a newspaper, magazine, blog, Instagram account, or any social media platform or any organization whatsoever. Check the box which best applies. Ten to fifteen thousand. Twenty to thirty-five. Forty to sixty?!’”

  She glared up at him, fidgeting in her chair, scooting it back. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

  Harlan turned on the faucet and rinsed his cup. “You seem to be intent on going through with this interview, and I’m afraid access to our family is no joking matter.” He raised his voice above the running water, clarifying over his shoulder. “Boone and I prepared the questions months ago. I just forgot to give them to you.” He couldn’t help but notice Georgia’s face had turned from pretty pink to beet red, and if he wasn’t mistaken, steam was coming out of her ears and eyes.

  She pushed back from the table, bolted upright and marched over to him faster than a pissed-off bull. He stepped back, bumping into the counter. “Whoa, now.”

  Waving the pages at him, she yelled out the next question. “‘Name the tools of your trade that best suit you in the course of your profession: Wiretapping, hidden camera, covert recording of subject?’” She smacked her forehead, then shook her head.

  “You’re the first reporter who’s been allowed on our ranch. I’m only protecting my brother.”

  She fumed, pacing back and forth over his black and white tile. “And I protect my sources in every situation,” she shouted. “I would never betray Boone’s or anyone else’s trust.”

  He admired her spunk, he’d give her that. Harlan folded his arms, debating which tone he should use. “You don’t know what he needs.”

  “I know what he doesn’t need.” She parked her hands on her hips. “He doesn’t need you getting in the way of this opportunity. Do you have any idea what the circulation of my magazine is? Do you know Boone will be on the cover? That other media outlets will most likely pick it up? That this will save my job?!”

  Well, short answer, no. Harlan hadn’t known Boone was the cover story and Georgia’s job was on the line.

  Her chin started trembling. “Y-you r-really think I’m that l-low?” Georgia’s voice broke, and her teary chocolate eyes met his while she sniffled. “I w-worked h-hard to get where I am.” She sniffed again and...aww shit, that’s when he saw the tears roll down her cheeks and time seemed to stand still.

  Harlan rolled his shoulders and scratched at his neck. It pained him to look at her. “I, ah...um...please, stop crying.” He reached out for her. Oh, God, he hated seeing her cry.

  “Take ’em back!” Georgia rammed the pages in his gut. Harlan doubled over and then scrambled to pick them up without getting the paper wet.

  He hadn’t exactly thought this situation all the way out to the end. Harlan knew she’d be upset, but not like this.

  “You can shove those fucking questions up your ass!” Georgia stormed out of the kitchen just as Boone came in from the living room.

  “It’s just a simple contract.” Harlan explained, following her into the hall, just as Georgia stomped through the foyer. She clipped Boone’s arm, making him pull back.

  Boone threw him a shell-shocked look and then turned to watch Georgia tear through the living room on a rampage, aiming for the guest bedroom’s hallway.

  Boone rubbed his arm. “What the hell happened this time?”

  10

  “Georgia, please talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Boone.” Georgia sat cradling her arms, leaning against the headboard. “And it’s not you, just so you know. It’s your brother.” Your smug, infuriating, rude, asshole brother.

  “I’ve been talking to this door for the last five minutes,” Boone replied. “If you’re not mad at me, why am I standing out here?”

  Georgia stared at the doorknob, trying to decide what to do. Truth was, she didn’t know what the conditions of the roads were and couldn’t find a decent report on her phone. If she wasn’t worried about the possibility of being buried in mud, she would already have hit the trail and finished the interview by phone. “Was that questionnaire your idea?”

  Silence.

  “We need to discuss it face-to-face. It’s not what you think.” Boone sounded sincere, and maybe just a little sad.

  Georgia unfolded her arms. “Fine.” She scrambled off the bed, plodded over the plush carpet, and opened the door.

  “Thank you.” Boone entered the room and gestured to the floral, cushiony chair in the corner. “Mind if I sit?”

  “No.” She shook her head and sighed. “Of course I don’t mind.” Georgia plunked on the edge of the bed that faced him.

  Boone leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I don’t know what it is between you and Harlan. I’ve never seen him act this way. I think that whole thing with his”—Boone shrugged. “Never mind, I can’t get into it. I can tell you I think having the press turn on him affected Harlan more than I originally thought.”

  She raised her brows.

  “The questionnaire was something we created during his media blowup...as a joke, really. We’d decided to never talk to a reporter again.”

  “I don’t understand what you guys are so upset about.” Georgia frowned, repositioning herself on the bed. “I mean, obviously, no one likes to be caught in the act of having an affair—"

  “Stop. Just stop.” Boone put his hand up. “It’s not my place to discuss what went down with Harlan. That’s something you’ll have to ask him about.” He nodded sternly, then softened. “But I did talk to him today and made it clear I want you to do my first interview. I trust you.”

  She let her head fall back, ready to break down in tears. “You do?”

  “Yes. And to be fair, Harlan didn’t mean to make you cry.” Boone looked at his hands. “He’s a good guy. He really is. He’s just a little protective when it comes to his family.”

  “A little?” She let out a slow smile. It felt good to know where Boone stood.

  “Okay, a lot.” He chuckled, shifting a
nd digging into his pocket. “Damn. I forgot,” he groaned, skimming a text.

  She turned to the rain outside and watched the way it splattered against the pane.

  “Listen, there’s something I need to do,” Boone got up, and stuck the phone in his back pocket. “Remember my ex’s mom’s busted barn door?”

  Georgia nodded.

  “She’s missing a few cows now, she’s by herself over there, and I promised I’d help her find them. I’ll be back later tonight.”

  Georgia rose, letting out a huge breath, thanking the stars Boone was so reasonable. “I admire that you’re able to still hang out with your ex-girlfriend. A lot of people can’t handle that sort of thing.”

  Boone froze, staring back with an expressionless face. “No. Just her mom.” He whispered. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in seven months. She moved.”

  Seeing the anguish written on his face, Georgia quickly changed the subject. “We’ll pick up the interview later, no problem.”

  “Rebecca is OFF the record.”

  “Got it!” Georgia threw her hands up, seeing Boone’s anger flare for the first time. It wasn’t pretty. He didn’t lift his penetrating blue stare from her, silently backing her down, even though he didn’t need to. When something was off the record, it stayed off. Georgia would never violate a confidence. “It’s no problem. I won’t bring the subject up again.”

  Boone kept his stare on her a few seconds longer, as if to double-check. Finally, he took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. The old Boone seemed to be back. “Are you okay with staying another night?”

  “To be honest, I’d like to go back to my hotel the minute the road clears.”

  “It won’t. Not today. Our road is at the bottom of the priority list, and I’m sure Jimmy’s crew won’t get to it until it stops raining. I just want you to feel okay about staying here.” He offered a warm smile.

  “Not that I have a choice.” She slumped, not at all looking forward to being locked in her room all day.

  “Exactly. But here’s the thing. Even when the roads are open, and you can leave, I’m hoping you won’t.”