Harm's Hunger

by Patrice Michelle

  He frowned. “No. The house—”

  “Won’t be included in the deal,” she cut him off. “I told you I’d sell you a portion of the land, Harm. You’ll get the space you need for your horses,” she managed to finish in an even tone even though she shook with anger inside.

  He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head before turning to retrieve Ranger’s saddle and pad from the saddle rack.

  * * *

  The entire time he’d been working alongside Jena the last couple of days, all Harm could think about was how good she’d smelled and felt in his arms that night they’d spent together. That one night of utter bullshit! The past few weeks had been easier to wallow in his anger, to roll around in its thick protection and coat himself good so Jena wouldn’t wiggle her way inside his head once again. Keeping her squarely pegged as the conniving, self-serving woman who’d used him as her own personal entertainment toy, a woman whose lies he’d been fool enough to buy into like a blinded idiot, had mostly worked to dampen his attraction for her.

  Until yesterday.

  What she’d said about her reasons for lying—that she wanted to believe he was capable of believing in a happy-ever-after—pretty much jerked the rug of indignant righteousness out from under his boots. She’d even called him Tin Man. Did she really believe he didn’t have a heart? Or was she just messing with his head yet again, pulling her wily feminine strings and pushing his buttons to convince him he was totally at fault in how everything between them turned out? Damn the woman twisted him up; he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore.

  He didn’t quite know what to make of Jena. Her brother said she was a free spirit, but even though his head tried to remind him she’d been deceitful and manipulative, his heart didn’t want to believe her intentions were so calculating. He’d stayed quiet the past couple of days mainly because he didn’t trust himself around her. He didn’t trust that he wouldn’t start to believe in some parts of the story she’d woven about them. He wasn’t going to be stupid enough to make a fool out of himself all over again

  He knew asking about her brother would make her angry. It had been for an entirely different reason, but he let her believe what she wanted. It was a low-down thing to do, but being around her made it easier and easier to forget that night wasn’t real. All those thoughts chipped away at his resolve to keep his distance, which in turn raised his self-preservation hackles to full defense mode.

  For both their sakes, he had to keep his wits firmly intact. The last thing he needed was to go down that path twice. She made it clear she believed in a white knight carrying her off into the sunset. Sadly, she was right about one thing; he wasn’t capable of that kind of grand gesture or the crazy leap of faith that came with it. Yep, it was best for him to stay the course. He wasn’t sure he’d come out sane the next time around.

  The rest of the day flew by as Jena took her frustration with Harm out on the outside shutters. She could’ve painted the porch instead, but she felt like punching something, so a scraper sloughing away weathered paint was as close as she was going to get. She got so into her project, she skipped lunch and tuned everything out until a male voice called up to her, “You going to the fair like that?”

  Jena gasped and dropped the scraper. Holding her hand on her chest, she said, “Geeze, you scared me, Hunter.” As his words sank in, she quickly glanced at her watch. “Am I late?”

  Dressed in boots, jeans, a big belt buckle shaped like Texas, and a short-sleeved button down shirt, he thumbed his hat back, then bent to retrieve the scraper. As he handed the tool to her, his gaze appreciatively slid up her bare legs. “No, but while I think you look hot as hell up on that ladder in a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top, you uh…might want to change for the charity event. We need to be there in thirty minutes.”

  Laughing, Jena hopped down from the ladder. “I think I can meet your deadline.”

  Chapter Eight

  The streets leading to the town center had been blocked off for the festivities. Food vendors lined one side of the main street and carnival vendors running games and fun rides had set up on the other. Jena had never seen so many people at once. She had no idea Boone had grown so much.

  Hunter cupped her elbow and guided her through the crowd, past people and strollers. As they dodged around kids clutching ice cream cones or cotton candy in their hands, their eyes wide in wonderment at the pony rides and games with bells and lights flashing, Jena couldn’t help but wonder if Harm attended things like this.

  If he didn’t, she’d totally drag him to the next one just to see him finally loosen up and have some fun. The fact Harm took up so much space in her head, when he was obviously ready to boot her completely from his life dampened her mood a little.

  Jena lifted her chin and inhaled deeply, absorbing the smells of salty buttered popcorn mixed with the sweetness of powdered funnel cakes. The scents conjured fond memories of coming here with Ty and her great aunt, chasing thoughts of Harm to the back of her mind.

  It also made her realize she hadn’t eaten anything other than a bowl of oatmeal this morning. Since they were moving at a brisk pace to make it to the event on time, now wouldn’t be the best time to stop and buy a hotdog. Hunter had promised her she wouldn’t have to work the whole night, so she ignored her growling belly and let him lead her to his mother’s event.

  “Jena’s here,” Hunter called to his mom who was talking to a DJ setting up his equipment just inside the entrance of a huge twenty-five foot by twenty-five foot cordoned off area. Tiny Christmas lights hung in crisscross fashion over the entire squared-off space, giving off a soft warm glow against the dusky sky.

  Mary glanced up and waved, saying, “Be there in a sec.” While she finished up her conversation with the DJ,

  A long line was just starting to form in front of the booth just outside the cordoned entrance. On the other side of the line, a crowd of guys huddled around a bulletin board sporting the bold red title: Tenth Annual Juvenile Diabetes Charity Event. Select Your Dance Partner(s). With only fifty slots, their cards fill up fast, so don’t wait!

  Jena’s gaze strayed to the girl selling tickets. That job didn’t look too taxing. Hopefully she’d only have to work the ticket booth for an hour.

  As the crowd of guys standing in front of the bulletin board made their way over to the back of the long line to buy tickets, a few of them glanced her way and smiled. Friendly bunch. She smiled back and was surprised when a couple of them pulled out their wallets and pointed to her. What was that about?

  Then several more guys in line cast their gazes her way and did a double-take. The line moved up, but the men kept staring at her instead of moving. The break in the line finally allowed her a view of the contents on the bulletin board. Her jaw dropped when she stared back at a picture of herself in a lineup of potential dance partners for the charity event. She and nine other women in their mid-twenties were being auctioned off. Well, at least her dance time was. People could buy a dance with her that lasted one song.

  Her gaze widened in disbelief as she looked at Mary leaning over the DJ and pointing to something in his three-ring binder. A list of songs maybe? Mary must’ve snapped that picture of her while she was shopping a week ago. Thank goodness she’d put on makeup and curled her hair that day she’d bumped into Mary at the supermarket. The three times Jena had seen Mary around town, the woman’s bob haircut was tucked behind her ears, and she had on casual shorts and a cotton top. Today, Mary’s hair was coiffed to beauty-salon-meets-a-can-of-hairspray perfection, and she rocked a vibrant coral blouse under a sharp navy blazer she’d buttoned over matching slacks. Mary had transformed her look so completely for this event, Jena couldn’t help but feel a little duped. She swung her gaze to Hunter. “Why didn’t you tell me I was part of the main attraction?”

  He looked completely taken aback. “I told you it was a dance-a-thon.”

  She pursed her lips, then channeled Princess Bride. “I don’t think that term means what
you think it means.”

  “You dance, right?”

  She nodded. “Of course, but—”

  “It’s for charity, Jena.” He smiled and shrugged. “Then, no biggie.”

  That’s easy for you to say.

  “I’m planning to buy a couple dances myself,” he said, winking at her. “In the end, the kids benefit. That’s all that matters.”

  What could she say to that? Dang, right now she felt a kinship with the horses Harm planned to buy from that guy—did she have nice teeth, sleek lines, and good hindquarters? Was she a smooth, pleasurable ride? But unlike the horses getting Harm’s undivided attention, here she stood, being auctioned off for the bargain price of…

  Jena squinted at the board to see the cost per dance. Twenty bucks! For a three-to-four minute song? She barely resisted the urge to whistle. At those rates, and if every girl’s card filled up, Mary would raise good money for her charity over the course of the two-and-a-half hour event. This woman definitely had some business savvy.

  Jena chanced a glance at the line of men waiting to buy tickets; a couple of them openly leered at her, and one pointed to her, then formed a heart with his hands over his chest. Then again, four minutes might seem like an eternity. Suddenly she regretted wearing a blue jersey dress that clung to her curves.

  She’d chosen to wear it because Harm made her feel like she blended right into the barn walls. The electric color definitely made her stand out, so she thought a little attention would do her ego some good, but now her stomach clenched at just how much attention she seemed to be drawing. Her belly’s sudden rumbling growl didn’t help settle her nerves; now she felt nauseous too. Ugh, she really regretted not grabbing that hotdog. Swallowing her grimace, Jena focused on the goal of Mary’s event. It’s for the kids, she chanted in her head over and over.

  By the time the event was about to start, the sky had darkened and small café tables and chairs had been set up outside the cordoned off dance floor. Many of the chairs were already filled with men waiting for the dance to start. Other people sat in the chairs enjoying the popular pre-event dance music the DJ had been playing for the last twenty minutes.

  Clapping her hands, Mary picked up the mic and beckoned Jena and the ladies standing outside the dance floor. “Come on in, ladies. Line up over there, single file so everyone can see you.”

  Once they’d done as she asked, Mary swept her hand toward them as she spoke to the crowd. “Give these ladies a big round of applause, won’t ya?”

  Everyone began to clap, and many of the guys whistled while a few hooted and hollered.

  Mary beamed. “All right. Settle down. Are you all ready for the Tenth Annual Juvenile Diabetes Dance to start?”

  “Hell yeah. Get on with it, Marybeth!” an older man in a flannel shirt, dark jeans, and black boots called out.

  She gave him a stern look. “Watch your manners, Sam, especially on the dance floor.” Turning her gaze back to the crowd, she continued, “That goes for all of you who buy dances tonight. There will be no inappropriate groping of the wonderful ladies who’ve volunteered their time to help out. If I so much as catch you tryin’ it, you’ll be booted—with no refund—and someone else can buy your slot. Got it?”

  A round of masculine agreements rumbled through the crowd.

  Nodding, Mary turned to address the line-up of women as she pulled a stack of index-sized cards out of her blazer pocket. “Okay, ladies. I have your cards here.” A pleased smile lit up her face as she flipped through them, then glanced up at the crowd. “Some cards are filled. There are about twenty slots left. We’ve got a listing of who still has some availability over at the sign-up booth.” She flashed a mega-watt smile. “And don’t forget…each card can have one more slot added if you’re willing to pay the premium price for it.”

  While Mary reminded everyone of the options and rules of the event, Jena whispered to the redhead next to her, “What’s the going rate for premium price?”

  The girl smiled as she brushed her long, wavy hair over her shoulder. “Fifty. My card’s full, plus the premium dance.”

  Jena slid her gaze down to the girl’s very generous rack pushing against her black v-neck dress. “I take it you’ve done this before?”

  She nodded. “Three years running. This year my card filled in five minutes. That’s a new record. Last year was fifteen.” Her gaze flicked to a bear of a guy standing just outside the dance area; his arms crossed over his barrel chest and a deep scowl creased his brow. “My boyfriend’s livid he couldn’t afford to buy the whole card, but I committed to this before I met him, so...”

  Jena put her hand over her stomach to muffle the rumbling. Her nerves really didn’t help matters. “Someone can buy a whole card?”

  “If they can afford the upcharge. Sure.”

  “What’s the upcharge?”

  The redhead giggled. “Twenty-five per dance.”

  Jena quickly did the math. Twelve hundred and fifty dollars! Mary’s running quite the racket. “That’s crazy expensive.”

  “Yes it is. I’m Sophie, by the way.”

  “I’m Jena.” Jena swept her gaze back to the crowd as the men who bought the first dance started to line up just outside the entrance. Hunter was standing at the ticket booth with this wallet in hand. “Guess I’m as ready for this as I’ll ever be.”

  Mary walked down the line of girls, handing them their cards. Since she was the last one in line, Jena shifted from one foot to the other while Mary spoke to each of the girls. God, what if she only had a couple of slots filled? Those men might’ve liked the way she looked, but the cost wasn’t cheap. Then again, Hunter was over there buying a couple of dances, so she wouldn’t look like a total reject.

  Mary shook her head and chuckled as she handed Jena hers. “I thought Sophie would be the one this year, but you’ve just broken another record.”

  Jena takes the card, and when she sees a big red X has been stamped across it, heat suffused her face. “Um, I don’t understand. Does this mean no one bought any dances?” It was on the tip of her tongue to say that Hunter planned to when Mary laughed and patted her on the shoulder.

  “No, dear. It means—”

  “I bought your card,” Harm finished for Mary as he stepped around the older woman and held out his hand. “Care to dance, Miss Hudson?”

  Jena’s mouth suddenly dried up as she stared at Harm. He wasn’t dressed up like the other guys, who’d come to the event with their hair all combed and wearing their darkest jeans and shiny boots. Harm looked like he did everyday, hair slightly windblown and dressed in scuffed boots, faded denim, and a button down shirt with rolled up sleeves. The only difference was, he wasn’t wearing his cowboy hat.

  His eyebrow elevated slightly and an amused smile lifted the corner of his lip. “The music has started Jena,” he said softly.

  He might not be dressed up, but he’d never looked better to her. Jena’s hand shook as she set it in his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. Question after question pinged in her head. Why did he buy my card? That’s a crap-ton of money. Why would he do that? He’s pissed at me. God knows he doesn’t trust me. It just doesn’t make any sense.

  Harm used his hold on her hand to spin her into place in front of him. When his other hand lightly rested at the base of her spine and he began to dance to the slow song, Jena looked up at him. “Why did you do this? This doesn’t seem like your kind of thing?”

  He stiffened slightly. “I can dance.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. This just didn’t seem like something you’d be interested in.”

  He chuckled, then glanced back toward the crowd. “Half the crew from my ranch is here, but yeah this isn’t my thing.”

  Jena saw a few men pointing at them and nodding their approval. “Then why in the world would you torture yourself like this?”

  Harm shrugged, his gaze drifting down to hers. “I came into town to run an errand. When I saw the signs Mary had posted
about the dance event and you were one of the dance partners, I knew this wasn’t what you thought you were signing up for, so I stuck around.”

  Jena tensed in his arms. “Why didn’t you just wait to see if my card filled up? I don’t need your pity, Harm.”

  His fingers flexed on her back. “You think this is me pitying you? Hell no, I figured you didn’t want to be groped by total strangers for a few hours.” He paused, suddenly going still. “Or was I wrong about that?”

  Jena shook her head and squeezed his hand holding hers. “No, I didn’t want that, but well…” She shrugged. “It’s for charity at least.”

  Harm resumed dancing, mumbling, “That doesn’t make it okay. Mary should’ve explained what volunteering entailed.”

  Jena snickered. “Why would she? She just got the biggest donation ever, thanks to you.”

  Harm snorted. “Don’t remind me.”

  At that moment, Mary tapped Jena on the shoulder. “Just wanted you to know you’ve got a premium add-on. Hunter bought your last dance.”

  “Sounds like your charity will do well tonight,” Jena said, smiling.

  Mary rocked on her heels, her eyes glistening as she glanced at Harm. “Thanks to Mr. Harmon Steele’s donation.”

  Once Mary walked off, and as Harm began to dance once more, guilt wedged in Jena’s stomach. She pressed her hand to his back to get him to look at her. “Thank you for the gesture, but I’ll give you half the money. You really didn’t need to do that.”

  His dark eyes flashed. “Don’t insult me, Jena. I might not have Prince Charming’s manners, but I know how to do what’s right.”

  Jena’s gaze widened. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I know you’re a good man. I—” she paused and bit her lip, unsure what else to say that wouldn’t tick him off more. She seemed to have a knack for it.

  “Hey.” Harm’s fingers folded around hers, drawing her gaze back to his. “Truce for tonight?”