“Nice to meet you, Russell,” Aiden said, though his gruff voice and the tense set of his shoulders implied the opposite.
“Call me Cowboy.”
They stared at each other, unflinching, as neither moved to pull his hand away.
Harper rolled her eyes. “Cowboy was just leaving, weren’t you?”
His gaze flicked to her before he finally let go and took a step back. “Right, just leaving.” He started to turn away but stopped and looked back at Harper. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
She nodded.
He waited, but when she didn’t say anything, he finally turned and walked down the path to his truck. Harper and Aiden stood watching, his arm still protectively wrapped around her waist until the truck pulled away and out of sight.
Aiden’s hand fell from her side as he turned to her. “You need me to teach that guy a lesson?”
“No, he’s—he’s just an old friend.”
Aiden studied her face for several seconds before he took her arm in his and started leading her to the front porch, leaving the potted gardenia plant on the walkway. “Why don’t you tell me about this friend over dinner?”
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve got time.”
STILL DAY 1
Harper took a sip from her glass and let out another tiny moan that made Cowboy shake his head. He’d generously brought her to the bar over in Dublin for what seemed to be a much-needed night of mind-numbing alcohol, and any other girl would have jumped at the excuse to throw caution to the wind and get completely wasted on his dime.
But not Harper Maddox. Apparently, her idea of a good time was a giant glass of sweet tea, and not even of the Long Island variety. They’d been here for a total of twenty minutes and she was already on her third glass of the stuff.
Jesus, this girl couldn’t let herself relax even if she tried.
Despite promising to pick her up at seven, she’d actually looked surprised when he showed up outside her door at two minutes ’til, and he’d found himself frowning. Cowboy was many things—easygoing, arrogant, a shameless flirt—but he was no liar. At least, not when it was important. When he gave his word, it was solid. And when he set his mind to something, there was no changing it.
She’d tried to send him away, but he threatened to stay on her porch until her grandmother and little sister got home, so she’d finally relented. Now, almost an hour later, she was silently scribbling on a bright green bar napkin while he tried covertly to figure her out. He’d grown up in school with this girl, remembered her as a quiet, introverted little thing, who seemed to live with her head between the pages of a textbook.
He couldn’t even remember a conversation with Harper Maddox that wasn’t related to some school assignment or class project she’d taken the lead on, yet somehow he’d managed to get her to share virtually her entire life’s story after only a few questions from his end. Add that to her frustrated scowl and dismissive attitude toward him earlier that day, and he found her disturbingly intriguing.
Maybe she was just nervous. Sitting with tense, hunched shoulders and her eyes permanently downcast, he could read her discomfort from a mile away, and his earlier assessment of her was confirmed. This woman was in desperate need of letting loose. Hence the glass of water and three untouched shots of whiskey on the table between them, which he’d ordered alongside her sweet tea.
She looked like she wanted to be just about anywhere else. Especially after he’d redirected any questions she had back at her. She’d given up asking eventually, turning her focus to the napkin she was currently writing and doodling on, while occasionally sneaking peeks at him that he pretended not to notice.
He observed the room around him, automatically taking note of the seven—no, eight—women in the bar dressed in high heels, sheer tops, and barely existing skirts. A few of them he even recognized.
“Why are we here?” she finally asked as her eyes scanned the bar around them. No doubt, she felt out of place in her worn-out jeans and faded Moulin Rouge! T-shirt.
“Because Wade’s burned down,” he told her, referring to the bar and grill in their hometown of Willow Creek, which had succumbed to a grease fire only the day before.
“No, I mean what are we doing here, you and me?” A leggy brunette walked by, giving him a sultry smile in the process, and Harper nodded toward the woman once she passed. “In case it wasn’t clear, I’m not like these other girls. You’re barking up the wrong tree here.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not going to sleep with you.”
He chuckled. “I don’t remember asking you to.”
“You’re seriously telling me you invited me out tonight with no ulterior motive?”
“Despite what you seem to believe, I don’t actually sleep with every woman I come into contact with.”
She continued frowning at him.
“I told you. You need to relax and unwind, and it’s clear you could use a friend to help with that. You’re too uptight.”
She turned her attention back to the napkin as she started drawing what looked like one stick figure strangling another. “I am not uptight,” she muttered.
“You bit my head off for offering to help change your tire.”
“You were using me as an excuse to avoid Darla.”
“Dana.”
“Whatever.” Harper shook her head as her jaw clenched. “Then you didn’t even recognize me after we’ve known each other for more than ten years. That doesn’t make me uptight.”
Cowboy leaned forward, resting his arm on the table between them. “Then what does that make you?”
She hesitated, not meeting his gaze. “Tired.”
“Of?”
“Of being the meek girl no one listens to or remembers. Of feeling like I have to constantly be in control all the time.”
“Okay,” he said, “so let’s change that.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “How?”
“By getting you out of your comfort zone.” He leaned back in his chair. “Let’s play a game. I give you a dare, and you do it. Simple as that.”
“You realize there’s zero incentive for me in that, right?”
“You’re the one who wants to let loose and open up like me.”
She scoffed. “Like you? You think I haven’t noticed the way you refuse to talk about yourself or answer any of my questions? You don’t open up. Sure, you act all free and easygoing, but you’re more closed off than I am.”
“I’ve slept with four of the women in this bar,” he said. “How exactly is that closed off?”
“You have intimacy issues. That’s why you call a stranger by a fake name just so you can get away from your one-night stand. You don’t open up about anything real with anyone. Why should I open up to you?”
He stared at her silently, and for the first time since they entered the bar, she held his gaze in challenge. His teeth ground together. “Fine. You do the dare, you get to ask me a question I have to answer honestly.”
“Like truth or dare?”
“Better. Truth and dare.”
Harper frowned while he waited for her to reject his little game. Which would be fine by him. It wasn’t like he was dying to share all his personal thoughts and feelings with some random woman he hadn’t seen in four years. If she didn’t want to accept his sage tutelage, all the better for him. It was still early. He could get her back home and still have plenty of time to find a woman more than willing to entertain him for the night. Just like the last night. And the night before that. And the one before that.
“All right, fine,” she finally said.
A small smile took hold of Cowboy’s lips.
“What have you got?”
He pointed to the drinks on the table. “Three shots.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Three shots,” he repeated, “or we can call this friendship attempt a bust, I can take you home, and y
ou can go back to being the girl no one remembers. Your choice.”
She bit her lip, staring down the three shots like they were already planning a mutiny against her.
“You’re the one who said you wanted a change. That starts here.”
She let out a long, slow breath. “What the heck?” She grabbed one of the shots and threw it back, then immediately started choking.
“Oh God!” She spluttered and coughed while clutching her chest. “That’s disgusting!”
Cowboy chuckled as he waited for her to stop coughing. “So how often do you come back home? I don’t see you around.”
“Usually every weekend, but I don’t go out much.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She stuck her tongue out at him. She picked up the second shot and forced it down with only slightly less hacking and choking. “So, do you actually listen when you ask questions, or is it just to keep the attention off of yourself and your personal life?”
“You have a younger sister, Sadie, who you used to be really close with but not as much since you left for college. Your parents owned and operated the Willow Creek B&B in town until they died ten years ago, after which your grandma took you and your sister in. You’re graduating from Georgia Tech—I’ll try not to hold that against you,” he winked, “in a month, with a bioengineering degree. You applied to and were accepted at Boston U’s med school where you will be attending in the fall.” He took a sip from his water.
“Wow,” she said, her mouth slightly gaping. “I’m actually a little impressed.”
He grinned. “And if I told you acting like I care is the easiest way to get a woman in bed?”
“Less so. And I’m not sleeping with you.”
“So you’ve said.” He pushed the last shot toward her.
Harper grimaced but took it anyway. She swallowed it down and shook her head before she set the shot glass down with a hard thump. “I don’t think these things are working. I feel fine.”
“Give it a minute,” he muttered, slowly taking in the jeans and T-shirt, blond ponytail, and lack of makeup that were completely different from the form-fitting orange dress and heels she’d been wearing when he found her on the side of the road. While some women dressed like that on a regular basis, he was starting to suspect she’d been making an effort for something…or someone. “Tell me why you were so upset this morning.”
“I thought we covered that.”
“I mean before you ran into me. I may be an ass, but you looked ready to murder before I even stepped out of the car. And something tells me you’re not the type to get homicidal over a ruined dress. So what were you doing that made you so angry?”
Harper set her pen down and crossed her arms, the napkin she’d been drawing on forgotten. “If you must know, I was on my way back from a date.”
His eyebrows nearly hit the roof. “A walk of shame?” he asked, sitting up taller in his chair. Maybe she wasn’t as uptight as he’d originally pegged.
“Hardly. We met for brunch this morning.”
“Ah. I take it that didn’t go well.”
“It was horrible.” Harper held her hand up, ticking off each finger. “First, he was late. Then he was on his phone the whole time, practically ignoring me. And I swear to you when he did talk to me, he called me Hannah through the entire thing.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t do blind dates.”
“I know. I tried to tell Grams—” Her forehead creased. “Wait, how did you know it was a blind date?”
“Well for one thing, it was a first date and he took you to brunch.”
“Right? Who does that?”
“No one,” he said flatly. “At least not if the guy’s actually interested. So there’s no way the date was his idea. Second, any guy who chooses to stare at his phone over you in that orange dress is either gay, a workaholic, or a narcissistic asshole.”
“It was coral,” she corrected.
“Not the point. In that dress, his eyes should have been on you the entire time.”
“Um…thank you?”
He shrugged. “And calling you the wrong name is just a dick move.”
“Says the guy who called me Lexi just this morning.”
Cowboy’s lips curled. “Point taken,” he said before taking another sip of water. “Either way, you’re probably better off. The guy sounds like a douche.”
“Yes! That’s exactly what he was. A douchey douched douchebag…whoa.” She looked down at the empty shot glasses. “Those things really creep up on you.”
He slid the glass of water in front of her. “Here. Drink some of this, and then I’ll take you home. Maybe if you’re nice I’ll pick up some food for you on the way,” he lied. He’d already decided to stop the second he realized what a lightweight she was.
She nodded, taking the glass. “Don’t I get to ask you a question first?”
His stomach turned to concrete. Dammit, he’d really been hoping she would conveniently forget that part of the deal. It wasn’t that he thought she’d go sharing his personal shit with Willow Creek’s infamous gossips. He’d only spent half an hour with her and even he could tell she was the discreet type. But talking about his life and his past meant thinking about them, and he generally tried to avoid that when he could.
“Fine,” he said through a tight jaw. “Ask away.”
Harper chewed on her lip, and Cowboy squared his shoulders.
“Did you really not recognize me this morning?”
Cowboy’s rigid muscles relaxed. That was her big, intrusive question? With that kind of creativity, he may just get through this little game of theirs unscathed.
“Not at first, when I told Dana to pull over, but the second I saw your face I knew who you were.”
“So why pretend?”
“Because you are surprisingly adorable when you’re scowling at me—see.” He pointed to her face. “Just like that.”
Harper shook her head then readjusted her glasses from where they’d slid down her nose. “I can’t tell if you’re teasing me.”
“That’s because you’re drunk.”
“I only had three shots!”
Cowboy leaned forward. “That’s all it takes for a little thing like you. What are you, five two?”
“Five three and a half, thank you very much,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Tall enough to kick your ass.” Her eyes grew wide, like she couldn’t believe the words had actually come from between those full, pouty lips of hers.
Cowboy’s laugh rang out through the bar. “That’s some big talk coming from you, Short Round.”
“Seriously? Is that supposed to make you Indiana Jones in this scenario?”
“Well, if the square jaw and rugged good looks fit…” Harper rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t help but laugh again. “All right, what would you have me call you then?”
“My name might be a nice change,” she growled.
“No, that won’t do.” His fingers tapped on the table’s wooden surface. “You ever hear of a midge? It’s this teeny-tiny little fly that looks harmless, but it’s got a bite that can hurt like a son of a bitch. Kind of reminds me of you.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Cowboy chuckled. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, taking a few bills out and laying them on the table. “I don’t remember you being this mean in high school, Midge.”
“Don’t call me that,” she grumbled like a grouchy little fairy. Was she always this cute, or was it purely the alcohol talking?
“Sure. I could always call you pipsqueak or squirt.”
“And I could always call you a doctor to remove my foot from your ass.”
Cowboy’s grin doubled. He put his wallet back in his pocket, along with the doodle-covered green napkin he’d discreetly swiped from the table when she wasn’t looking, and stood. He grabbed her hand to pull her up. “I think I’m really going to enjoy being your friend, Midge.”
Chapter Four
Harper s
tared at the recipe in front of her through her small, red-rimmed glasses. It was just a simple biscuit recipe, nothing too intimidating. Sure, she’d had a few rough attempts cooking in her apartment in Boston, but she suspected that was largely due to the fact that Aiden would always stop her before she could get in her groove. She’d gone to med school, for crying out loud, how hard could it be?
You also nearly flunked out of med school.
“No one asked you,” she grumbled to herself. So far, only Aiden knew about that. She certainly didn’t want people in Willow Creek gossiping about poor Harper and her failed attempt to go off to school, become a doctor, and make her lifelong dream come true.
Harper glanced over the recipe one last time before she checked the pantry, looking for each of the ingredients. She found flour, salt…no baking powder. But she did find baking soda—that was practically the same thing, right?
She went to the fridge. Crap. She’d forgotten to buy milk at the market yesterday. That meant water would have to do. She checked the recipe in her hand. Shortening. Harper wasn’t even sure she knew what that was, let alone if they had it. She was scouring the fridge with no idea what to look for when she heard the front door open and close. Footsteps traveled into the room behind her.
Harper spun around to find her little sister coming through the kitchen doorway in tennis shoes, running shorts, and a flowy workout tank while her blond hair sat in a messy bun on the top of her head. Her face was glowing beneath a sheen of perspiration.
“Good morning!” Harper chimed with a radiant smile. She let the refrigerator door close and came to stand across the island from where Sadie was pouring herself a glass of sweet tea from the pitcher Harper made first thing that morning.
Sweet tea, at least, Harper could make. “I didn’t realize you were up already. Where’ve you been?”
“Went for a run,” Sadie muttered as she poured the cold, brown liquid into the glass.
Harper stared at her in awe. The only time she ever remembered Sadie running was when they used to play tag outside the B&B when they were little. “Since when do you run?”
“Almost a year ago. It helps me blow off steam.”
Daring to Fall Page 3
