Dream of Me (Harmony Falls, Book 1)

by Gaelen Foley

  “Any other dirty old man, you mean. I distinctly recall Vanessa Montclair warning me your boss can be handsy.”

  “Not with me standing right there. Anyway, Curt’s not a perv, he’s just your basic, old-school, male chauvinist pig.”

  “Humph. Says the professional Culpeper apologist,” Bea replied in aloof amusement. Then she lowered her head, pondering it all.

  Harry waited. Finally, she lifted her chin and looked into his eyes. “Okay,” she announced.

  “Okay, as in, okay–okay?” he asked with boyish excitement.

  “Yeah,” Bea said slowly. “I’ll do it.” She gazed at him with an apprehensive smile. “It’s a great plan, Harry. I mean…I really owe you one. So, okay. If Culpeper will agree to this, I’m game.”

  “Excellent,” he said without missing a beat. “Because your buddy Zander has already offered us a ride into the city tomorrow morning on his helicopter. He’s got a pickup in downtown Pittsburgh tomorrow morning at eleven AM. He said he’ll take us, but we can’t be late.”

  She bolted upright in her chair. “Whoa! Don’t we need to prepare first?”

  “We’re good,” Harry said. “Curt’s been anxious to hear from me, so I figure we might as well plunge in while we’ve got his full attention. Plus, this will give us the advantage of surprise.”

  “Wow.” She stared at him, wide-eyed, then blew out a long breath. “Okay,” she said uncertainly. “It’s your call. Might as well get it over with anyway before I lose my nerve.”

  He flashed a smile. “You’ll do great.”

  Just then, there was a hesitant knock on the edge of the screen door and one of Lance’s pals bobbed behind the screen. “Uh, Ms. Palmer, could I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure, Tico, come on in,” she said. Tico slipped in and hurried through the kitchen, heading for the powder room on the first floor. Bea smiled at the kid as he passed, then glanced at Harry. “I’d better get out there myself, since everyone else is working their butts off for my sake. Might as well salvage what we can from this year’s summer’s crops before it’s ruined.”

  He nodded. “I’ll join you.”

  Bea finished the last swallow of her coffee and rose from her chair with a nervous flutter in her belly at the prospect of meeting the notorious Curt Culpeper tomorrow. Harry and she headed for the screen door. As he escorted her across the kitchen, he gave her mid-back a soothing caress, as though he sensed her anxiety.

  Mystified by all his efforts on her behalf, Bea paused and turned to him, looking up into his deep blue eyes for a moment before they joined the crowd outside.

  “What is it?” Harry murmured.

  Bea searched his chiseled face. “You really make it sound like all of this could actually work.”

  “That’s because I happen to believe in you,” Harry said quietly, holding her gaze. “I have, ever since you told me off at the Knickpoint, and maybe even before that. When you put me in my place at the farm stand. I know your confidence got knocked down a few notches after everything that happened since that accident you told me about, Bea, but contrary to what I said in the car the other night when we were fighting, I know that you can do this. You just needed someone in your corner.”

  Her heart clenched at the sincerity glowing in his eyes. With a tender smile, she pushed up onto her toes, closed her eyes, then brushed his lips with a light kiss—startling him, it seemed.

  He looked at her with surprise when she lifted her lashes and ended the kiss, going back down onto her flat feet. “What was that for?” he murmured.

  “For being in my corner.” She paused, tilting her head as Harry’s gaze drifted down to her lips. “What do you say we try again with another dinner date? Something on a humbler scale this time?” She poked him affectionately in the chest. “My treat.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “What did you have in mind?”

  Bea bit her lip, then slanted a glance out toward the barn. “Picnic in the hayloft? Say, eight o’clock tonight?”

  A spark of interest flared to life in his eyes, and a slow, sexy half-smile spread across his lips. “I’m there.”

  CHAPTER 13

  By the day’s end, Bea was looking forward to getting Harry alone. After a well-earned shower, she had come out here to the hayloft to set up for their date.

  Harry had hit the shower after her and was still in the house getting cleaned up, but it wouldn’t be long before he joined her.

  Outside, the farm was quiet now. The cows had been milked, all the animals had been fed, and all of their intrepid volunteers had gone home for the day. Even Pap and Gram had gone out to the big spaghetti dinner at the church hall for the whole community still recovering from the tornado.

  As the late evening shadows stretched across the green hills, Bea puttered about in the hayloft getting everything ready for their date—the food, the wine, the music, and a cozy place to sit.

  Or lie down if they wished.

  A little jumpy with wondering where all of this between them was leading, she concentrated instead on the great progress they had made today. Things were looking a whole lot brighter than they had twenty-four hours ago, but still, the stakes were extremely high for her. No wonder she was on edge.

  She was relying on Harry’s street smarts and silver tongue to ace the presentation to his boss. She’d do her part, of course, but she was already tangled up with angst over what to say to the eccentric oil baron, let alone what to wear.

  With a sigh, she did her best to shrug off her anxiety, determined to enjoy her evening with Harrison Riley. If nothing else, it would be intriguing to see his place of work tomorrow and get a closer look at his everyday life in the city.

  As for tonight and what might happen before sunrise, she supposed she’d just have to wait and see. With that, she slid a final hay bale into place, then straightened up, dusted off her hands, and glanced around, pleased with her work. A fortress-like stack of hay bales now surrounded the private, cozy space she had created for them near the open hay door. This rectangular opening in the high loft wall not only let in the silky evening breeze, but also gave them a fabulous view of the fiery sunset over the mountains.

  She’d draped a checked gingham cloth over a hay bale to serve as their picnic table, a serving tray atop it. On the tray, a sweating bottle of white wine rested in an ice bucket. Two wineglasses waited for them alongside the plate of simple snacks she had prepared: slices of artisanal sharp cheddar and Swiss cheese from the farmers’ market, some crackers, and a mound of cherries from her own orchard, as well as a cluster of green seedless grapes from their small family arbor.

  Bea didn’t imagine they’d want anything more elaborate than that, since they’d already eaten dinner when someone had arrived with a massive haul of hoagies, potato chips and pretzels, and bottles of pop from the sub shop in town. Besides, her own fidgety state had dulled her appetite—at least for food. She wondered if Harry was nervous about tonight, too.

  Probably not. He seemed pretty unflappable in general—even in the midst of facing a phobia, she thought in amusement. Well, that makes one of us.

  She busied herself again, fidgeting with the edge of her dark-colored sleeping bag, smoothing it into place, along with the pillows and the large picnic blanket she had arrayed for them in front of the hay door.

  Trying to distract herself as she waited for him to arrive, she reached over and adjusted the antenna on the dusty old barn radio, moving the long silver stick this way and that until she had tuned in the evening jazz show that played on the local college station.

  The music that spilled out into the balmy evening air was low-key and relaxing. A few seconds of Billie Holiday crooning about summertime could calm just about anybody down.

  With everything ready, Bea moved restlessly toward the hay door and leaned with her shoulder against the wooden frame, gazing at the sunset.

  Before long, she found herself musing again on all of their combined ideas of how to make the farm more profitable. W
hat a smart guy. She was so touched by his faith in her. She sure needed it, now more than ever.

  She was especially excited about turning a few acres of Pap’s former cornfields into a Christmas tree farm. She loved Christmas—especially in Harmony Falls, with all the fun and festivities that went on throughout the holiday season. Of course, the trees would take three or four years at the soonest to start maturing, but the other new sources of income they’d discussed would buy her time and let her hire some full-time employees. When she wasn’t so concerned with the day-to-day survival of her business, it was easier to think about a long-term plan.

  Also, she’d have to brush up on the finer points of growing grapes if Culpeper went for Harry’s plan to start a winery. Bea knew there were many wine grape varietals that did well in zone five, as all the wineries up by Lake Erie proved. A few dotted the Laurel Highlands, as well. It sounded like a fun challenge.

  True, it gave her heart a pang to gaze out over the peaceful meadows full of wildflowers and imagine them turned into upscale homes, and the thought of the golf course made the farmer in her wince. All that productive land and water wasted on a game. But so be it.

  She strove to look on the bright side. It would create some jobs, get more money flowing into the local economy.

  “Hellooo?” Harry called in a warm, deep baritone from below.

  The sound of his voice brought a smile to her face. “I’m up here.” Bea moved toward the edge of the hayloft and peered over the side, beckoning him toward the ladder. “Come on up.”

  Harry stopped in his tracks. “Damn. Now that’s what I call a good view.”

  Bea gasped as she realized the slight breeze coming in from the hay door had blown the hem of her sundress forward, giving Harry a clear view right up it from below. He grinned as she backed away from the edge with a small shriek of self-conscious laughter. “And to think I believed you when you claimed to be a gentleman.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault. I’m just walking to the ladder here. Besides, I’ve already seen those great gams of yours.”

  “Great gams? What is it, like, 1945?” She laughed as he swung up onto the ladder. “Next you’ll be calling me a swell dame.”

  “So I’ve read a few classic hard-boiled detective novels in my day.” Taking hold of the rails, Harry climbed up the rungs.

  Bea waited for him above, pink-cheeked and smiling. His black hair came into view a moment later, and then his handsome face. As he stepped up onto the sturdy planks of the hayloft, she noticed he was looking tanned after spending the day outside in the sun. The bronzed glow of his skin set off the white flash of his smile all the more.

  He greeted her with an indigo sparkle in his eyes. “You look lovely. Smell a lot better, too,” he teased.

  “Speak for yourself.” She flicked an approving glance over him. “I like your shirt.”

  “I thought you might. That’s why I wore it.” He grinned and smoothed the red t-shirt against his muscled chest. It was printed with big block letters in white and said, Don’t Hassle Me, I’m Local. He had paired it with a clean pair of jeans and brown leather boat shoes. “That little Italian guy who owns the Falls Creamery gave it to me after I helped lift the Big Scoop back up. Apparently he sells these shirts in the ice cream parlor.”

  “Well, then, I guess it’s official. You now belong to Harmony Falls.”

  Harry smiled, leaned closer, and pressed a kiss hello to her lips, as light and undemanding as the one she’d given him this afternoon. Still, it took her pleasantly by surprise.

  Newly shaved, his chin was smooth, his skin smelled of soap and a hint of shaving lotion, and his brief kiss was minty fresh. Bea’s heart rose in her chest at the gentle contact.

  A small, happy sigh escaped her as Harry drew back and murmured, “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Her smile widened as she clasped his hand between her own, then led him over to the little picnic area she had created. “Have a seat.”

  “This is nice,” he remarked, looking around. She held her breath, wondering what he’d say about the sleeping bag, but he did not comment on it.

  They both had more than an inkling of what might happen tonight, after all.

  Bea’s heart pounded at the thought. She poured the wine and showed him the view out the hay door, but although she was jittery with awareness of him, overall, she was just happy to be with him. Handing him his wineglass, she found him perusing the hayloft, taking it all in.

  For a fleeting instant, she glimpsed her down-home country life through his sophisticated city slicker’s eyes. The dusty old barn radio, the vase with a few wildflowers in it, the pitchfork leaning against the wall, the sunlight filtering in through the small, high windows in the loft called wind eyes, made for ventilation.

  Then he spotted the magnificent spider web that spanned a corner of the rafters overhead, some ten feet away. The evening sunlight caught it just so, illuminating the web’s intricate architecture—and the large, striped barn spider sitting in the middle of it.

  “Holy crap!” Harry jolted to his feet.

  Bea started laughing as he backed away.

  “Hold on, I’ll find something to smash it with,” he assured her, turning with a warlike glint of determination in his eyes.

  “Smash it? No way. Harrison Riley, you are not murdering that spider. Spiders are good.”

  “Are you crazy? That thing’s going down.”

  “Harry, barn spiders are harmless. They eat the bad bugs.” She laughed. “Geez, didn’t you ever read Charlotte’s Web?”

  “If we’re sleeping up here, I don’t want it crawling on me in the middle of the night.”

  “Oh, relax, she’s not going to bother us. All she cares about is catching a few moths for dinner.”

  He frowned at her. “Man, you’re a weird chick.”

  Bea chuckled and handed him his wine. “What do you expect me to do, shriek like a little girl and run away?”

  “Not you, maybe, but I might.” He sent the hairy spider a suspicious frown.

  “Have a piece of cheese, Riley.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her sage advice, but as she held out the plate of snacks, he soon forgot about the barn spider, since it was a reasonable distance from them, and showed no signs of leaving its web, anyway.

  It had been a hard day of toil, so they settled in to watch the dramatic sunset, big, sweeping lavender clouds stacked against a peachy pink sky, lit up with bright bursts of gold.

  Sitting with their feet dangling out the hay door, they drank wine, relaxed, and simply enjoyed each other’s company, chatting about the day and eating the fruit and cheese Bea had prepared. The Bing cherries were especially delicious; they pulled off the stems and threw the pits down onto the distant ground.

  “Maybe one of them will turn into a tree,” Harry said.

  Now and then, they fell into companionable silence, during which they could hear the sheep moving about below. The chickens were quiet, already roosting for the night. But the occasional lowing of a cow reached them from the direction of the pasture.

  Bea smiled at him, listening. “They’re just settling down for the night.”

  A low, fond laugh escaped Harry. “This is definitely the most unusual date I’ve ever been on.” He paused. “I can’t believe I’ve only known you four days.”

  “It does feel like longer,” she agreed, then shrugged.

  “I guess we’ve already been through a lot together in that short time,” he said.

  “And you saved my life.”

  “I’m pretty sure you saved mine, too. During the twister.”

  “I guess we’re even, then. Cheers.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” He clinked his glass to hers.

  When the sky darkened, they counted fireflies drifting over the dark fields, though there were fewer of them now than in June. Bea was getting tipsy. Harry opened a second bottle of wine, and they stargazed, trying to pick out a few of the summer constellations: the Big Dipper, Scorpio,
above it, the Little Dipper, and Cygnus the Swan.

  “Nah, that looks more like a goose to me,” he was saying, when suddenly, they both happened to glimpse a shooting star.

  Bea gasped as Harry let out a wordless exclamation—but, just like that, it was gone.

  “Make a wish,” he said softly, taking her hand.

  “We both saw it; we both get one.” Bea smiled at him, her skin tingling with the way he was looking at her. “What should we wish for?” she asked, suddenly captivated by him. “That we both get our dreams?”

  He held her stare earnestly, his face sculpted by starlight. “Actually,” he whispered, lifting a hand to her cheek, “I think I’m already looking at mine.”

  Then, to her wonder, he tilted his head and pressed his lips gently to hers. Heart thumping, Bea leaned toward him and kissed him back ardently while the stars twinkled above them. A breathless moment later, they moved away from the hay door, deeper into the loft.

  Harry sat back against the stack of hay bales that bordered their little private area, and drew Bea to him by the hand. She stepped over his sprawled thighs and lowered herself onto his lap, straddling him. She draped her arms over his wide, brawny shoulders, and he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her to him again for a longer, deeper kiss—and then another.

  Bea’s heart was pounding as his tongue stroked hers. His fingers played at her nape, ran through her hair, followed the line of her jaw. The way he touched her made her feel so safe, cherished. She ran her hand down his chest, molded her palms over the hard curves of his shoulders, and found herself gently rocked astride on his lap.

  Harry was caressing her everywhere, holding her by her hips one moment and then tracing the neckline of her dress the next, his fingers sporting with her cleavage. His touch followed the line of her arms and rounded her shoulders, descending down her chest. She moaned restlessly as he cupped her breast through the thin cotton of her sundress.