by Jamie Magee
“Wait,” Wyatt said, taking it from her and moving her with his body to a corner away from the others. “Have you drank before?”
Harley had a sip here or there with a toast at an event. The only time she had really drank was that one summer night with Collin, and that ended with her in a fit of tears; needless to say, she never went down that road again.
“Yeah,” she said with a slow smile, hoping against all hope that he would not ask her when or how much.
“Not beer, huh?” Wyatt asked, playfully narrowing his ice blue eyes on her.
Harley took the beer back from him and downed it, hating the taste of it, but she was skilled at not showing how she really felt outwardly. When she lowered the all but empty bottle, she gasped, “Not that kind before.”
Wyatt busted out laughing. “Just keep it slow. The fun is never worth the hell you feel the next day.”
“Never?” she said, lifting a brow and moving her body against his.
Just as he leaned down to let his lips brush against hers, Ava pulled her from his arms, wanting her to dance.
Wyatt just stood there for a second, watching her laugh, the way her eyes gleamed, the flow of her hair as she spun around.
His cousins and friends that had all been at the farm over those summers each found a way to say something to her. She’d stop her dance and pull them into a bear hug.
“I thought you were bringing Harley out tonight? Who’s that girl?” Memphis goaded as Wyatt sat down in the booth next to him.
“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Wyatt said, downing his water. Harley and Ava had both had him on that dance floor for the last hour. Wyatt didn’t dance, at least not before this night. Harley was still out there, only with Truman now, the only other guy in here besides Memphis that Wyatt wouldn’t be a little uptight about. He knew none of his brothers from the house that were out tonight would make that move; his family knew better, but he had a deeper trust for his own brother and Memphis.
Memphis only nodded as he sipped from his long neck and gave Wyatt a what the hell? glance as he asked the waitress for another glass of water, then all at once Memphis understood. Most nights when they would all go out, everyone would crash at Memphis’ place, which was in walking distance. Memphis had a good feeling the last place his boy wanted to end up that night was on his living room floor.
“Did you finally ask her to move in with you?”
Wyatt nodded and gave him a sly grin, one that didn’t need the words to explain that it was easier than he thought it would be.
Wyatt had wanted to do that from the first morning he came home and found his bed empty; in the weeks since then, it had almost killed him not to say something. Truman was giving Wyatt hell about the musical beds that Harley was playing at the station, and Memphis had overheard. He outright asked him what the deal with that was. Wyatt had said he didn’t want her to think it was too soon, when in truth that Collin guy was in the back of his head.
Collin had said Harley was living with him. Since that one day, Harley had not even mentioned the guy’s name, and the last thing Wyatt wanted to do was bring it up or even try to explain to his boys that his girl was faking a relationship with that rich guy before she came back to Willowhaven Farms. He barely understood why, and he knew they wouldn’t at all.
Even without spilling all the ugly details of where Harley’s address currently was, or even this future they never really talked about, Memphis managed to understand and get through to Wyatt just the night before.
He’d told Wyatt to see that time apart as one long winter. Winter was over, and endless summer had begun, a line Wyatt had planned to borrow and tell Harley if she hedged when he asked, but she didn’t. That gave Wyatt hope that whatever this game she and Collin had been up to was long over. For all he cared, they could keep whatever stuff she had up there, burn it. He’d make sure she had everything she needed here.
“You need some time off to go get her moved?” Memphis asked as if he were reading thoughts behind Wyatt’s eyes.
“Maybe in five or so weeks; that’s when her daddy’s birthday is. I know she’s going up for that party. We haven’t talk about much past that.”
“Maybe you need to, man.”
“Since when you are you the Mr. Sensitive, tell-me-how-you-really-feel kinda guy?” Wyatt teased, looking away before Memphis read his eyes once again.
“I’m not. I don’t think. But I was the one that chased your ass to Washington and lived in fear of being arrested for a good two days, all to figure out years later that the girl was walking around parking lot B and we were in A—not into repeating that hell.”
“That was different. They separated us.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if you two had talked about the risk of the shit you were pulling, then you could have come up with some fool commutation plan before they did that—how drastically would that have changed a few situations.”
Wyatt met Memphis’ stare. That night led Wyatt out on the road, with Easton at his side. Easton found a demon lurking in the various bars that they hung out in, and that girl followed him home. Wyatt did shoulder the blame for that when it happened, but now they all figured out that Easton came through that life change like a pro and was better for it.
“Look at her, Memphis,” Wyatt said with a nod to the dance floor. Harley was laughing as she danced, talking to everyone that passed her like she had known them for years; some she had. “Does it look like she belongs anywhere else but here? We’ll worry about her daddy and the rest when we have to. Right now…it’s just good right now, and that’s the way we want it.”
“You don’t think you need to have a conversation with her dad? You mean to tell me that Beckett hasn’t already made you have one?”
Wyatt came from southern blood, they all did. There were unspoken rules about respect that were never broken. If you planned to make a life with a girl, talking to her daddy was not a suggestion, it was silently demanded. Down right rude not to.
Wyatt’s father hadn’t brought it up, not clearly at least, but Wyatt knew it was coming. It needed to happen, he knew that, he had not left things right with Garrison Tatum. The last time he saw him, well, that was the darkest day of Wyatt’s life, and Wyatt acted like anything but the gentlemen his parents had raised him to be.
Wyatt would have talked to Garrison weeks back if he understood whatever this deal that Collin and Harley had been tied up in. Wyatt assumed sooner or later Garrison would surface at the farm, and he would look him in the eye and tell him. If not, then when he took Harley to get her things, later on, Wyatt would talk to the man.
“Everyone is taking it slow, no rush.”
“I don’t care how slow you take it. I just don’t want to see you go down that dark road again. I honestly don’t think you can survive it.”
“Not going to happen,” Wyatt said and meant it.
His expression turned cold as he saw Dorcas making her way toward Harley. He hadn’t even seen her come in. Normally, she was easy to spot; if she was not trying to hang on to Truman, she was lingering near one of the Doran cousins. “We might need to head out,” he said as he stood to make his way to Harley.
Harley was on cloud fifty; she had not stop dancing since she had gotten there. She was moving so much that she managed to hedge off any buzz that might have taken her over the edge with that one beer she’d downed, and the sips of Truman’s draft she had taken. She felt numb, but it was a good numb and she doubted the beers had much to do with that. Outside of Willowhaven Farms, this was her new favorite place in the world.
She was so at ease that her smile didn’t even falter as Dorcas walked right up to her in the center of the dance floor. The entire bar seemed to focus in on them all at once.
“They said Miss Priss wasn’t getting enough attention in her world, so she faked some drama out on the back highway just so Wyatt would come to the rescue.”
Harley looked this girl up and down; all time had done to her was encourage her to add more makeup
and wear her shirts even lower. “You’re the one that told me he forgot my name; I figured a dramatic entrance might trigger a thought or two.” When Dorcas looked at her like she was insane, Harley went on. “Oddly, though, he never forgot my name, never forgot a single thing about me.” Harley stepped up to her, let her eyes fall down and up her. “It’s going to take far more than your ignorant wannabe insults to rock my boat tonight.”
“Screw you and your holier than thou attitude. What right do you have to get my girl kicked out of that apartment? That’s right, you don’t have one. You just didn’t want any competition because you know southern boys all come to their senses when it counts.”
“Go to hell,” Truman spouted. “I kicked her out. We board horses, not bums.”
“That’s not what you said when you were hitting it,” Dorcas yelled over Harley’s shoulder.
Harley moved to her side just to come eye-to-eye with Dorcas.
“Look right here,” Harley said, pointing to her own eyes. “The Dorans, they’re southern royalty. The only thing I compete with in their presence is myself. The only thing I strive to do is have the amount of class and style this family has.” Harley tilted her head to the side slightly. “If anyone was asked to leave Willowhaven Farms, it was because they lacked both.”
“Your rich little boyfriend know where you are? He does now. I just emailed him. A nice little picture of you and Truman rubbing against one another, you gulping his beer.”
Harley smiled slowly, glanced to her side at Wyatt as he approached, looking murderous. “Come here, baby, smile for the camera. Dorcas is trying to develop a talent in photography. So far, she’s managed to learn how to aim her camera at the wrong Doran.”
“I aimed the camera at the Doran that was all over you. What are they doing, passing you around now?”
Wyatt grabbed her phone and dropped it in Truman’s draft, then stepped forward and looked down at Dorcas. “I told you once, I won’t tell you again: stay away from me and my own.”
Harley doubted Dorcas ever heard that; she was too busy gasping and screaming, “My phone!” While scrambling to get the phone, all she did was manage to pour what was left in the glass down her shirt.
Everyone in the pub all started to laugh, calling out her name or screaming, “Wet T-shirt contest!”
“You owe me a phone!”
“And you owe Harley an apology,” Wyatt spat back.
“Somebody owes me a beer!” Truman said, raising his empty glass. “Pub Foul!” Every one in the bar started to chant the same thing, laughing as they did so.
Harley put her arm around Dorcas. “I don’t need an apology. You didn’t offend me. I’ll buy you a phone, maybe even a beer.” Harley pulled her closer where only she could hear her over the chants. “I’m either going to be your best friend or your worst nightmare. You choose.” She then leaned away from her and caught the waitress that was passing her by her and grabbed the beers on her tray. “Tell whoever’s these were the next round is on me.” Then she turned and handed Truman a beer and carefully displayed the other for Dorcas, offering a warm smile. “Friends?”
Dorcas was looking at her like she was insane. Someone in the crowd started to chant, “I’ll be your friend, Harley,” then even more caught on. Dorcas shook her head, grabbed the beer, and took a sip. As she did, the entire bar cheered.
At that moment, the band started to play “Lean On Me,” and the entire pub was on its feet, swaying back and forth and singing along.
Harley felt Wyatt’s arm go around her waist, then turn her to face him. The second she did, she reached up and claimed his lips.
“You just let that girl get away with murder,” he said, trying to hide an amused grin.
“No, I didn’t. I gave her what she wanted: attention. Now she has no reason to bother me while I dance with my Doran Boy.”
“Boy?” he said as he playfully lifted his brow.
“Man,” Harley said as she pulled him closer.
Wyatt was completely captivated by her. He had seen this side of her before, this carefree, almost wild side. The side that demanded what she wanted. But each time he had seen that, it had only been the pair of them, when they were playing around in some stolen moment at the farm back in the day, and always when they were locked in a fit of passion. To see that side of her outwardly displayed for the world to see, it stole his breath.
He reached his hand for her face, brushed his lips against hers. “Every day, I think it’s impossible to fall deeper in love with you,” he kissed her lips, “and you keep proving me wrong.” The crowd was swaying into them, keeping their course with the band, but the pair of them stood still in the wave of them. “I’m going to marry you, Harley Tatum. Spend the rest of my life in awe of you.”
“Promise?” she said with a smile as her lips met his. That sweet kiss, so full of reverence and passion, caused everyone in the bar to stop their beautiful course and cheer.
Wyatt wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, then spun her around. She broke away, only to laugh, then slid down him and swayed against him as the song ended.
All Wyatt could hear in his mind was that one word, ‘Promise;’ it made his heart thunder. She was seeing forever with him, something that would have seemed impossible just over a month ago.
Chapter Seventeen
Harley didn’t even think about that image that Dorcas had taken until Collin called her the next morning. He told her the only reason he knew that photo was even of her was because of the outfit she had on, that you couldn’t see her face, only Truman’s. The hum of the night before was slaughtered with a random thought that Dorcas could have done a lot of damage if she was capable of taking a clear photo and sending it to her mother instead, but then the very next second she realized she wouldn’t have cared.
At one point or another, her mother was going to figure out what was going on. But like Collin, she would rather reveal her heart with wit, a shocking moment, in a near public eye. Because sadly, in her mother’s mind nothing was real until the world was aware, until you had no chance to alter the story to anyone’s benefit.
And that moment would come soon enough, but right then Harley decided to live her life in the moment she was in, not fearing an end or even plotting an escape. Rather, she decided only to worry about it on her phone calls every two days, calls that at times were barely fifteen minutes at best.
Harley became addicted to the pub, to the people, to dancing. To laughing so hard that her sides hurt, to just being young, carefree. She and Wyatt made their way there at least once a week, if not twice. It fit perfectly into the routine of the barn time, the time with Wyatt’s family, and their sacred alone time.
During barn time, Wyatt was only on the side that Harley worked on first thing in the morning. Now that Danny Boy was past his thirty-day stall rest, he had to be worked again. For good measure, Wyatt treated him like a horse that had never been ridden, carefully tacking him up to get him used to the feel of the saddle, walking, sometimes an easy canter.
It would be a while before Danny Boy was jumping again, brought to his athletic ability, but the process eased Harley. It was like that break, pause, erased all the bad habits he had picked up over the years, gave him a clean slate. Everyone knew without a doubt that no one had seen the best of Danny Boy yet; he was entering his prime with nothing but talent, experience, and now reverence to soar him forward.
After the morning lessons, Wyatt spent the day with the yearlings, or any other task his father had aimed the farm to accomplish while Harley taught her lessons.
Every day he wasn’t at the fire department, like clockwork he picked her up on the four-wheeler. Before dinner, they would race around the farm, watching the sunset from the hilltops, slipping into the creek on the hotter days. Sometimes, when the wind had just enough strength to wash away the summer heat, they found their way to the hayloft and lost themselves in a fiery fit of summer passion.
“How come you never bring that pretty gi
rl of yours around?” Camille asked Easton as he made his way past her office.
“Stingy with time, I suppose. Your boy around? He’s been M.I.A. forever now.”
Harley stepped out of Danny Boy’s stall, curious as to what girl Easton had that he was hiding and what boy he was looking for.
Wyatt was right about Easton not coming out much, and if he did it was late. As many times as she had been out with the boys from Station thirty two and Ava and her friends, she had only seen Easton twice, and he was alone each time. A walking mystery, that one was.
“Is he with you?” Easton said with a slow smile, looking in the stall she just came out of.
“Should be here soon. What do you mean M.I.A.?” Harley asked, moving to the hose to wash off the dust of her day. “You’re the one that’s M.I.A. You owe me a dance.”
“You want me to dance?” Easton said, widening his bright green eyes as he pointed his finger at his broad chest. “Not enough beer in the world.”
Harley busted out laughing. “What are you and Wyatt up to?”
She could have sworn that she saw him pull up hours ago.
“Fixing that pump in his truck. But he was supposed to be getting a part that was sent here for that Mustang of Memphis’ we’re building when we get the chance. He vanished on me, and I gotta get going.”
“Hold your horses, Daddy-O. It was at the house,” Harley heard Wyatt say. He had emerged from the side aisle way.
“What did you do? Take a bubble bath?” Easton said, noting that Wyatt’s hair was still damp. His clothes had not been touched by the summer heat or whatever project he’d been working on that day.
“It’s called a shower. You didn’t think I was going to get oil all over Harley, now did you? Come on, Memphis’ part is on the four-wheeler.”
Harley glanced at Camille. She had only looked up from her desk for an instant, but a lingering smile was on her lips. Harley knew why; Easton and Wyatt, even Memphis and Truman, they were the definition of best friends. Always there, always had been. Shared the same passions, in more than one avenue of life.
