Heartbreaker

by Kate Kisset

  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.

  Chapter Nine

  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 other 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?”

  Chapter Ten

  “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 and 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.”

  “I don’t think I’m following you.”

  Boone tilted his head from side to side. “With the show coming up, and the new release, I’ve got so much on my plate.” He pointed out the window. “I have a new song I’m trying to finish. There’s a studio behind the barn. Come around tonight, and I’ll show it to you.” He pinched his forehead. “Listen, I realize downtown is only forty minutes away, but it would be so much easier for me if you could stay here. I know it wouldn’t be easier on you, though, but decided to ask anyway and hope you’ll be willing to do it.”

  Not what she expected. Georgia folded her arms and rocked. “I get it. I do. You’re probably being pulled in a million different directions. And you know how much I appreciate you giving me an exclusive. You probably have a million reporters, magazines, and shows begging to talk to you.” She let out a long breath. “Yeah. Of course, I can stay here.” She brightened with an idea. “But if you want to sweeten the deal, you know what I’d love?”

  He shook his head, looking at her intently. “Hit me with it.”

  “I’d love to be able to go riding, and I’m sure not going to ask Harlan if I can borrow Jess. Would you let me take Delilah out whenever I want? Within reason, of course, and only if you’re not riding her.”

  “No problem, sure. I won’t be able to ride her much anyway, and I know she’ll love it.”

  She held out her hand, and he chuckled, shaking it. “Deal. How about we start today?”

  Boone frowned and glanced out the window. “I guess I could ride Morticia to hunt for cows, and we have rain gear in the barn you’re welcome to use, but are you sure you want to ride in all this rain and mud?”

  “It’s better than being cooped up here with your brother.”

  RIDING HIGH ABOVE GROUND, covering Beckett Ranch’s wide-open spaces astride Delilah, made Georgia feel alive. The experience was the opposite of her everyday life of writing in cramped quarters, trying to concentrate amid New York City’s constant racket. This was just what the doctor ordered.

  She’d been seeing a psychologist to help her get out of the funk she’d been in for the past few months. Dr. Jennings was convinced a better diet, more exercise, and sunshine would be enough to turn her mood around, and for the first time in a long time, Georgia was starting to believe her.

  She was beginning to remember the girl she used to be, the one who rode daily in the fresh air every summer she spent at her grandparents’ house. She was so overwhelmingly elated about the possibility of finding a way back to her roots and becoming that happy girl again, it might have been why she didn’t notice the hole. Maybe her head was so far up in the clouds she lost her balance.

  Georgia landed hard on her side in the thick mud. Adrenaline stormed through her as she gasped frantically, trying to catch her breath. Rolling onto her back, she blinked through the rain, staring up at the grey clouds, tasting dirt and rain on her tongue. She smeared a hunk of mud across her icy cheeks, scraping the earth away from her nose so she could breathe.

  Everything her grandfather taught her about falling came back. Get your feet out of the stirrups, clear the horse, find a patch of earth without rocks, and let go.

  Her eyelashes fluttered, but she tried to keep the rest of her body still while she searched for Delilah, smiling softy when she spotted her on all four healthy legs off to the side, near a tree.

  It wasn’t Delilah’s fault Georg
ia fell. Boone’s pretty palomino merely dipped and skipped over the hole so she wouldn’t trip, and had behaved like a perfect lady the whole ride. Georgia had no business taking her out in heavy rain. Although to Georgia’s credit, the rain had picked up after they left, and they were on their way back when the accident happened.

  When her breathing returned to normal, Georgia lifted her head up out of the mud and slowly turned her neck to the left and right. She wiggled her toes, and shook her legs, expecting the worst, but didn’t feel any pain. She flopped her arms and stretched her fingers. No pain. Maybe if she’d remembered what her grandfather taught her about falling all those years ago, she wouldn’t have broken her leg. Why had everything come back to her today, in that split second?

  The sound of thunder caught her attention. The earth rumbled, sending vibrations under her back and shoulders. Georgia dazedly turned, resting her cheek on the cold, wet soil and saw Harlan rapidly dismount Jess and run to her.

  How did he know where to find her?

  “Don’t move.” His words were raw and heavy as he dropped to his knees, bending over her, shielding her from the rain.

  Tired and jittery at the same time, Georgia closed her eyes and breathed in his clean, mulberry scent, happy to be okay. No matter how angry she was earlier, it was a relief to see him.

  When she heard Harlan draw a jagged, sharp breath, Georgia scanned up past his rain poncho, to his dripping wet face. Wasn’t his hat supposed to keep him dry? Anxiety covered his perfect features as he shifted, examining the top of her head. “I’m okay,” she whispered, “but you’re still pretty rotten.”

  “I see you’ve managed to keep your sunny disposition,” Harlan’s rich voice was so close to her ear, it reverberated through her. She could tell he was holding back a laugh. “Please stay still.”

  Georgia closed her eyes again, thinking the adrenaline must be seeping out of her system, because even though she could move, she didn’t want to. An aching tiredness covered her like a blanket, and she enjoyed the warmth of Harlan gently moving her hair and checking her scalp—for blood, most likely.