by Cat Johnson
We’d run up the back stairs to the attic, then down the grand staircase to the foyer twenty feet below.
As a kid, all I could think about was trying to unearth those secrets, even if I was scared shitless at the idea of running into ghosts in the old mortuary rooms in the basement.
Yup, quite a history that house had, from a wedding gift for a rich banker’s daughter, to a funeral parlor, and then back to a home again.
Ironic that as an adult—when I hadn’t even been looking—was when the house chose to show me a few of its secrets hidden in the attic.
The attic that was now Harper’s apartment.
As I parked along the curb in front, I smiled as I glanced up and saw the lights on upstairs. Knowing Harper, she was probably on her third outfit by now, no doubt agonizing over what to wear to the game.
In the end, she’d still be unhappy with her choice and have to borrow my sweatshirt.
With a chuckle at that thought, I stepped down from the Morgan Farm Market truck and slammed the door behind me, not bothering to lock it.
I bypassed the front door and headed around back. Anyone local knew to use the kitchen door for everyday visits. As I’d guessed, Agnes was there getting dinner ready.
“Hey, Agnes.”
“Stone. Nice to see you. Another Friday already. Time just flies.”
“Yes, ma’am. It does.” I heard the clacking of hooves as Petunia came around the corner from the TV room. I bent to pet her head as she came to me. “Hello, Petunia. You ready for your mascot duties? Big game tonight. The team we’re playing was undefeated last season. You’d better be on your game.”
The pig looked up at me as if to say if I wasn’t going to feed her something, then I should just shut up and leave her alone. With one final pat on the head, I did just that as Petunia headed for the pantry, probably to check for food.
Straightening, I glanced at Agnes. “Harper get her words written today?”
Agnes moved toward the radio on the kitchen counter and turned down the volume a bit, before glancing at the door of the back staircase that led to the upper floors.
“Not quite.” She cringed. That wasn’t a good sign.
Dating a professional writer was a bit like dating a drug addict. I’d learned that from experience over the past couple of years.
When Harper met her daily writing goal she was riding high. Euphoric. Adrenaline—nature’s upper.
But when she didn’t get the planned number of words written, and when that happened a few days in a row or too close to a deadline, those could become some dark days—for everyone.
Agnes, Red, Bethany and I had a group text set up for that very reason. A kind of early warning system.
“How bad?” I asked Agnes, not elaborating. She’d know what I meant.
“On a scale of one to ten? About a six. Maybe seven.”
Seven out of ten. Okay. I could handle that. We’d been up at a ten before, a real red alert, and we’d all survived. This too would pass.
“She turned in the last book on time, thank heavens, but that means—”
“She has to start the next book,” I finished the sentence for Agnes.
“Exactly. Apparently she has no ideas and doesn’t think she’ll ever have a good idea again.”
I drew in a breath as I sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Sounds about right.”
“I told her she’d have plenty of ideas if she’d get off the internet, go outside and do something besides obsessing about the community bulletin board she suddenly can’t get off of.”
I whipped up my head at her mention of my own current obsession. “Um, what? Why is she on the bulletin board?”
Agnes stopped stirring the pot on the stove. She glanced at me and shook her head. “You’ll have to ask her. It’s a whole thing. But it’s her latest crusade to show Mudville who’s boss.”
I remembered Harper’s first crusade in this town well, when she’d taken on the village library for not shelving romance.
When my girl got a bee in her bonnet, she didn’t rest. But what could have gotten her riled about the bulletin board?
That question was quickly followed by an answer. It could be just about anything. I’d gotten pretty crazed myself over a few of those posts.
The sound of footsteps on the back staircase ended the conversation immediately and had both Agnes and me angling to face the doorway.
As Harper stepped through, I stood and moved toward her.
“Hey, baby.” I pressed a kiss to her mouth and then said, “You look nice.”
She wrinkled her nose and lifted one shoulder beneath her long-sleeved Mudville Hogs T-shirt. “I might throw on a heavier shirt before we leave.”
I had lots of experience with her throwing on a new outfit. It wasn’t as quick of a process as the word suggested.
Rubbing my hands up her arms, I said, “I’m bringing a sweatshirt. I won’t let you get cold.”
That worked. Her lips bowed up in a smile.
“Thank you, baby.” She kissed me and then turned toward the stove. “That smells amazing, Aunt Agnes.”
“And it’s ready to eat so sit yourselves down. Don’t want Petunia to be late for the game.”
I hid my smile that Agnes was on the job, making sure Harper and I got out of here on time.
As she carried over two bowls of soup and set them down in front of Harper and me, she said, “So, Stone, I heard about Boone.”
My eyes flew wide. Shit. Agnes was going to tell Harper about Boone’s engagement before I had a chance.
Damn Mudville gossip mill.
“Um, yeah. That’s why I came over early,” I said, scrambling. “To tell you the good news.”
For such good news, why was I braced for a punch to the gut?
“What about Boone? And what news?” Her dark brown brows drawn low, Harper glanced from Agnes to me.
“Well, the damn kid asked Sarah to marry him. And she said yes,” I said
“Really?” Harper blinked a few times, as if trying to wrap her head around it.
“I know. Crazy, right?” I let out a short laugh to reinforce how crazy it all was.
Maybe this wouldn’t go too badly for me after all, if she agreed with me that it was too fast. That Boone was too young. That smart people, like us, in mature relationships, like ours, didn’t rush things.
"Not so crazy. They obviously love each other. Why not get married? And Sarah’s forty, isn’t she? If she wants kids, she shouldn’t wait.” Agnes, from the older generation, told it like it was. She sat with her spoon poised over her soup and lobbed that truth bomb without pulling any punches.
I lifted my spoon and slurped, making myself busy with the soup and keeping any further comments on the topic to myself.
It seemed the safest course of action was not to debate the subject. So silence it was, for lack of a better idea. Though I did glance sideways at Harper.
She still had a furrow between her brows. And she’d gone quiet. Her silence was not a good sign.
If she was on her phone, or iPad, or laptop, then yeah, sure. She’d be completely absorbed and not talk to me or even glance up for hours. But there was not an electronic in sight now. Just the soup she was slowly sipping.
I pulled my cell out of my back pocket and, hiding it under the table, typed in a text to Cash.
Stone: You tell Red about Boone yet?
My brother’s reply came back quicker than I expected.
Cash: Yes. All good here. You?
I glanced at Harper again. Her jaw was now set as she shoved the soup spoon in her mouth with a single-minded resolve.
Stone: Not so great.
So I was alone in my misery then. Drawing in a breath I put my cell away and concentrated on the food like I was a condemned man and this was my last meal.
“I heard they’re thinking of a Christmas wedding,” Agnes continued, just as I prayed she’d be quiet.
“This Christmas?” Knocked out of her
silence, Harper’s gaze flew up.
“That was my understanding. Stone, do you know?”
I drew in a breath. Answering Agnes's question was the last thing I wanted to do but I did it anyway. “Yeah. I think that’s what he said.”
After another shocked glance at me, Harper plunged her spoon back into her bowl without further comment.
Yup. She was not happy.
Damn you, Boone.
FIVE
Harper
“Did you hear?” I asked the moment Red arrived at the ball field about half an hour after us.
She and Cash didn’t have to deliver the team’s swine mascot on time the way we did, but that thirty minutes wait to talk about this Boone situation nearly killed me.
“Uh, oh. Did I hear what?” Red cringed, looking as if she’d braced herself physically for my revelation.
She’d better be prepared for a shock. She was going to be as blindsided as I’d been that the youngest Morgan brother—the one who’d been dating for the shortest amount of time—was getting married. In just a few short months.
I glanced at Stone, who’d just been joined by Cash where he tended the bonfire.
“Boone and Sarah are getting married this December,” I said.
“Oh, that.” Red looked relieved. “I thought the old biddies had done something else.”
“No. Not that I know of. But don’t you think that’s crazy?”
Red shrugged. “No. Not really. I mean Boone’s already pretty much living with Sarah. Cash says Boone sleeps over Sarah’s place like every night. I figured a ring wouldn’t be too far behind.”
I felt the frown settle on my brow as I considered that.
“Does Cash sleep over your place a lot?” I asked Red.
“Yeah. Not all the time, but quite a bit. Except during calving season. Or when he makes plans to do something with Bart at night, like watch a movie or play video games or whatever.”
Stone rarely spent the entire night with me. Once or twice he had, but only because he’d been drinking and didn’t want to drive back to the farm. Otherwise, once one or both of us would start to nod off—either while watching TV or after having sex—he’d say goodnight and go home.
“What’s wrong?” Red asked.
“Nothing,” I lied.
Nothing except obviously there was something very wrong with our relationship. I felt my chest tighten.
I barely heard Red as she asked, “How’s your Operation Revenge going?”
“My what?” I knocked myself out of my internal angst and glanced at her.
“Your plan to get back at the old ladies for calling you Ms. Naughty,” she elaborated.
“Oh. Yeah, that.” I sighed. “It’s not going so well.”
That was another thing for me to be depressed about. I’d been very excited about my plan but so far it looked like a dud.
“Why not? What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I put up a post today and commented on a whole bunch of other posts and so far, nothing. Nobody commented.”
Red laughed. “Harper. One post, a few hours old? You have to give it time. Be patient.”
“Patient?” Stone startled me by walking up behind me and laying his hand on my shoulder. “Red, have you met Harper?” he asked, his tone ripe with sarcasm.
Behind Stone, Cash let out a burst of a laugh and Red smiled and said, “I know. I know. Not sure what I was thinking.”
Everyone seemed to be having a fun time teasing me. The only one who wasn’t having a good time, was me. I turned to look up at Stone. “Can we talk?”
His eyes widened before they cut to Cash and then back to me. “Uh, yeah. Sure. You cold? The sweatshirt and the blanket are—”
“I’m not cold.” Well, I was, but I didn’t want him to be distracted trying to warm me up. This conversation was too important.
I led him a few steps away from Cash and Red.
“You all right?” Stone asked.
“That’s my question to you. Are we all right? You and me?”
His sandy brown brows lowered into a line above his eyes. “Yes. Of course we’re all right. Why wouldn’t we be?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I was just worried.”
He shook his head and took a step closer, pressing his thigh between mine.
His head low, he wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck.
The warmth of his breath tickled my ear as he said, “We’ve never been better. I’ll prove it to you when we get home later.”
I glanced up into his eyes, the gorgeous hazel color I loved hidden from me in the dim light. “You sure?”
“Yes. Why? What happened—” He pressed his lips together. “This is because of Boone.”
“No—”
“Yes. You were fine until Agnes brought it up.”
“It’s not about Boone,” I denied. “How come you hardly ever sleep over?”
His brows shot high. “Because it feels disrespectful to Agnes to just move into her house.”
“I did exactly that.”
“You’re her blood relative.”
I felt the pout settle on my mouth and forced it away. “I like living with Agnes.”
“As you should. She’s great. The house is great. It’s huge enough for both of you. And she’s not young anymore. I think it’s helpful for you to be there with her.”
“But if I had my own place, you could—”
“Harper. Stop.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to move out of Agnes’s. You want me to sleep over more, I will.”
I scowled. “Well, I mean don’t force yourself—”
His string of muttered obscenities cut off anything further I might have said. So did the fact he was now dragging me by the hand to behind the bleachers.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ve gotten some crazy ideas into your head tonight. I intend to knock them out.”
He palmed my ass cheeks and hauled me close as his mouth captured mine. I succumbed to his seduction, opening for him as his tongue slid against mine. He groaned and tightened his grip around me.
I felt his hard-on pressing against me through his jeans, but I was more concerned about how good his thigh between my legs felt pressed so tightly against my core.
We were making out in the dark behind the bleachers like a couple of teenagers while a town full of football fans stood just yards away and I didn’t care.
We were both a little breathless when he finally broke the kiss.
“You going to stop talking crazy now?” he asked, resting his forehead against mine.
“I don’t know. I might need some more convincing,” I teased.
I felt rather than saw his smile as he sniffed out a laugh. “That I can do.”
Stone undid the button on the fly of my jeans.
“What are you—”
“Shh.” He slid one hand down, inside my underwear, until he hit a spot that had me jumping. “Mmm. You’re already wet for me. I’m gonna make you come so hard.”
His words shocked me. Stone wasn’t normally a dirty talker.
Then again, we didn’t usually do naughty things in public either . . . Well, except for along the riverbank that first summer. And in the corn maze that one time.
Okay, maybe we did do some stuff in public, but Stone had never been one for X-rated commentary as we did.
I was too thrown to decide if I liked it or not. Though it seemed my body responded to the rough low words growled against my ear. My muscles tightened and my breathing quickened.
Panting, I buried my face against the warmth of the soft flannel that covered his hard chest.
Surreally I was just thinking how his shirt smelled nice, an odd mix of fabric softener, pine trees and bonfire, when the orgasm hit.
I gripped his arms tighter as my knees quaked.
“Yes,” he hissed against my hair.
I came hard, clinging to him, my open mouth pressed against his chest to muffle the
sound.
Stone bit out a curse when I’d finally stopped grinding against his hand.
I could only hope no one heard my gasped breaths. My soft moans. No one but Stone.
He reached down and adjusted himself inside his jeans. “Shit. I didn’t think this through. Everyone here is going to see the baseball bat in my pants. You’d better stand in front of me until I can get it to go down.”
My hand encountered his in the dark on my way to his zipper. “Let me take care of that for you.”
He hissed in a breath as I slid my hand inside his jeans and encountered his hard length. I gave it a stroke.
Wanting more freedom, I opened the fly on his jeans wider.
“You probably shouldn’t,” he said, not sounding all that convinced himself.
“Want me to stop?” I teased, freezing all motion of my hand even though I had no intention of stopping.
“Hell, no.” He reached down, covered my hand with his, and guided my quick, short strokes.
So that was how it was going to be, was it? A token protest to ease his conscience while he helped me jerk him off in the dark.
My lips twitched with a smile. I liked this new bad boy side of Stone.
He came fast, his mouth against my hair to smother his grunts of satisfaction. One palm kept my head held close against him while the other hand directed the mess onto the grass rather than on me.
The whole thing was crazy. Now that it was over, I could appreciate exactly how crazy.
Anyone could have walked up on us. We’d been lucky no one had. And yet, I felt better. So much better. About Stone. About us. Even about Boone’s impending wedding, even if I did think he was being a little rash and it was too soon.
But above all else, I needed more of Stone. Wanted him inside me. In a bed. Alone.
We should both be satisfied after what we’d just done, yet I wasn’t.
I didn’t know what it was. The place. The relief that Stone and I were fine. That he wanted me as much—more—than ever.
Whatever it was, it made me want to take him back to my bedroom in Agnes’s attic and do all sorts of varied and wild things.
If only I could.
I drew in a breath and said, “Ready to get back and face the crowd?”