Harley pushed out a breath and turned, striding toward Ruby.
Crew followed her, having no trouble keeping pace with his longer legs. “Can’t or won’t?” he demanded.
Harley swung around to face him. “Can’t, won’t, both! What does it matter? We don’t work.”
Crew glowered at her. “Who says we don’t work? Jane Austen or Harley Redland?”
She poked her finger in his face. “Don’t make fun of me, Crew. I have big plans and they don’t include a cowboy who’s never leaving Southwestern Wyoming!”
Crew actually laughed at that. Then he sobered and stroked a hand tenderly along her cheek. “You have true love in your grasp, and you’re throwing it away, for what?”
Harley couldn’t help but lean into him and smile a little bit. They used to love The Princess Bride. “Stop teasing me.”
“I’m not teasing you, love.” Before she could do anything, he bent down and gave her a lingering kiss. Her lips tingled and she was about ready to pledge her love when he pulled away and whispered, “This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?”
Tears pricked at Harley’s eyes. She shook her head and backed up a step. Crew’s hand fell away and so did his smile. This wasn’t true love, it couldn’t be. Her dream was waiting for her out there in the world. She was so close. This perfectly wonderful cowboy that she was falling in love with couldn’t change her future any more than she could.
“I’m sorry, Crew,” she whispered. “I have to go to England. It’s my destiny, it’s fate.”
He nodded. “Then go … but come back to me. I’ll wait, Harley. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
His offer was so sweet, but the obstacle between them was bigger than the Tetons. “That … means so much, but you don’t understand, Crew.” She swallowed hard, then told him the truth. “I’m not coming back.” She gestured around at the mountains and horses as his eyes grew wary. “This isn’t my dream, it’s yours. I couldn’t be happy here.”
“You couldn’t be happy with me?”
“It’s not you.” The words ripped out of her and she knew she could never explain. If he found out how much she did love him, he’d never let her go, but she didn’t want to settle down, have children, cook nonstop, and wash chore clothes. It wasn’t Crew’s fault that his dreams were here, but it wasn’t her fault that hers weren’t. “I’m going to England, Crew. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, so please don’t try.”
A muscle worked in his jaw and his hands clenched. Finally, he muttered, “And there’s no hope of you ever coming back?”
She shook her head.
Crew stared at her. Harley held his gaze until she couldn’t take it anymore, hoping to make him realize she was serious. She hurried to Ruby, grasped the reins and the saddle horn, jammed her boot into the stirrup, and swung up onto the horse. She didn’t wait to see if Crew would follow. He knew the way home.
Home. The word yanked at something deep inside her. Was she wrong to pull up roots and want to forge a different kind of home? Tears streamed down her face. Crew’s kiss and declaration of love had touched something deep inside of her, but her dreams were too firmly planted to allow that kiss and his love to alter them. She had to be strong, and that meant she had to stay far, far away from Crew. The tears came harder then. She kicked Ruby into a trot, wanting the wind to carry her tears away along with her hopeless dreams of being with Crew.
Chapter Ten
Harley hated to admit to herself how miserable she was over the next few days. Her family all noticed, and Ryker and her dad didn’t tease her. She really doubted Crew had said anything to them, but they were treating her like she was breakable. Ryker even offered to let her do his quarterly taxes, though she knew he was more than capable of doing them himself. He was trying to distract her by keeping her brain busy.
Saturday night she put on a pencil skirt, a silky blue blouse, and a long, pink beaded necklace and matching bracelet and earrings to go meet James for dinner. She couldn’t say she was excited about it, but she was determined to keep her eyes open and give the guy another chance. If nothing else, she could learn more about England.
As she walked into the great room, nobody was in there but her dad. She thought he was asleep in his recliner and almost just left without saying goodbye when he said, “Where you going, pretty girl?”
Harley walked over to him and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I’ve got a date in Jackson Hole.”
His blue eyes looked a little sad. “With your proper Englishman?”
She smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you like him?”
“No, not really.” Harley put a hand over her mouth. Shoot!
Her dad’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”
“What do you mean?” She plucked at her bracelet.
“It’s obvious to everyone but you that you love Crew.”
She gasped and shook her head. “What? How? I don’t …” Yet she couldn’t lie to her dad. “I can’t love Crew, Daddy. I’m leaving and he’s definitely staying.”
“So, irreconcilable differences?”
Harley sank onto the couch closest to his chair. “I love him, okay? Does that make you happy? I love Crew Harrison!” She shouted it, and her dad smiled wryly. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t stay. I want so much more than this.” She gestured around at their home.
Her dad nodded. “I know that.”
“Not that I think I’m better than you. I’m just different.”
“Oh, darlin’, don’t worry about offending this old coot.” He smiled gently at her. “Where do you think you got that big old brain of yours?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you think you just came that way?”
“Smart?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugged. School had always been easy and her teachers had always made a fuss over how smart she was, but she’d also been a hard worker and wanted more than anything to make something of herself. “I guess.”
“Well, it wasn’t from my side of the family.” He winked at her. “Do you have any clue how smart your mama is?”
Harley had never thought much about it. Her mama could remember every recipe ever known to man, could play hundreds of piano songs from memory, and never forgot a phone number or a birthday. She’d always considered her mama to be very with it, but her mama also seemed perfectly content stirring up a batch of brownies or playing a concert piece for her own enjoyment. She never seemed to want anything beyond this little valley or even the four walls of her home.
“Ask her about all the books she’s published sometime.” Her dad winked at her.
“What are you talking about?”
He tried to stand, but was obviously too tired and weak. “Go get out some of those recipe books.”
Harley hurried into the kitchen and opened the large cupboard that contained her mama’s treasured recipe books. Harley had never so much as glanced at them before, instead cooking from her mom’s instructions or her own imagination. She pulled out Baking on a Schedule and was floored when she saw Sadie Redland as the author. She whipped around to face her daddy. “What? How did I never know about this?”
He looked so proud of himself. “She’s had over a dozen published. They’re all geared toward busy, career-oriented people who also want to have home-cooked, healthy food. Your mama’s not one to brag, but I thought you should know.”
“That’s really great.” She turned the recipe book over in her hand. It was hardbound and really professional.
Her dad motioned her back to him. “Even though your mama was obviously head over heels in love with me, it was hard on her when we were first married and I was busy growing the ranch and Ryker was little and was the grumpiest baby you can imagine.” He chuckled. “She needed something that felt like her own. Does that make sense?”
It did. Her mom wanted to create, wanted to make her own way. Harley nodded.
“And it didn’t
mean that she didn’t love me or love that cranky baby. She’s always put her family first.”
Harley nodded again, but stopped herself. “But that’s where we’re different. Maybe I’m just too selfish, Daddy. I’m not ready to put anything or anyone before my own plans.”
He gave her an odd little half smile. “What are your plans, darlin’?”
“Come on, Daddy, you know all about my plans.”
“Do I?”
After her entire family had basically patted her on the head as a young teen and told her that her dreams were nice, she’d only mentioned them occasionally. She said quickly, “Go to England, get my MBA from Cambridge, travel the world, and hopefully marry an Englishman.”
“So what do you plan to do with that fancy degree?”
She sat there for a few seconds. “Well. You know I want to work for a Fortune 500 company and I want to travel and experience different lands and cultures. That’s why I can’t marry Crew.”
Her dad shrugged. “Who said you had to?”
“You want me to.”
“True, but you have to forgive me for interfering. I’m dying.”
Harley hated when he reminded her of that.
“Sorry, I forget you and your mama don’t think that’s as funny as I do.” He winked. “Tell me truthfully, though, love: how do you know that some guy in England, or wherever you end up, is going to have all the desirable characteristics that Crew doesn’t have?”
“Who said Crew didn’t have desirable characteristics?” Her face flushed red as her dad smiled. She cleared her throat. “Crew’s a great guy, Daddy, but when I made the Jane Austen Pact I promised I would marry …” She lowered her voice in case Ryker was anywhere within half a mile and said, “Mr. Debonair. Now it’s not so much about the pact as it is exploring the world and experiencing everything.”
He didn’t laugh at her, which she appreciated. Thinking about not being with Crew was starting to make the Jane Austen Pact seem really stupid, but she knew she needed to go for the dreams she’d worked so hard for. At this point it was more about the degree and experiences from Cambridge than some unknown man, but she’d never be content if she didn’t go.
“I don’t think I’ve told you enough, but I am right proud of you, darlin’. You’ve worked your rear end off and you’re brilliant. But if you don’t mind me asking, just because you go to England, do you have to marry an Englishman?”
She shrugged. That had always been her plan, but the characteristics she wanted weren’t exclusive to Englishmen.
“Is it possible you could find a man who was debonair and not from England?”
Hesitantly, she nodded. It was funny to hear her dad say that word. She noticed he was focusing his arguments on the Jane Austen Pact, not her need to wander the globe.
“And Crew isn’t debonair?”
She laughed then. “Come on, Dad. He’s a cowboy.”
“I take offense to the way you say that.”
“I thought I couldn’t offend this old coot.”
“Ooh, got me there. Okay.” He grabbed the iPad sitting on the coffee table. “Let’s see what Oxford Dictionary says about debonair. You have to accept their definition; they’re from England.” He winked, scrolled through for a second, then read, “Deb-o-nair,” pronouncing it slowly and stiffly. “Adjective: of a man, confident, stylish, and charming.” He set the iPad down and stared at her. “Hmm. Sounds a lot like the Crew I know.”
Harley found her pulse speeding up as she thought about Crew in his navy-blue suit last Sunday. Yes, he had definitely fit the description that day—confident, stylish, and charming.
“Maybe a cowboy could be debonair.” Her dad sagged back in his chair.
“You look tired,” she said.
“Whoa, deflection. Did I just win an argument with my brilliant daughter?”
“I failed on my research. I’ve never looked up the word before.”
He grinned.
“But that doesn’t mean that I can fall for Crew, Daddy. I’m still going to England. I still don’t see myself ever coming here besides for short vacations, and I don’t see Crew ever leaving Wyoming except for short vacations.”
“You can’t fall for Crew?” he asked.
“That’s what I said.”
“Tough to say you aren’t falling when you’ve already jumped off the cliff.”
Harley laughed at his expression, though her heart ached at the truth of it. She had fallen for Crew, but their obstacles hadn’t changed. She stood. “I’d better go. I’m going to be really late for my date.”
“Love you, darlin’. Be safe.”
Harley kissed his cheek. “Love you.” She rushed out the door.
Her dad had given her plenty to think about on the hour-long drive into Jackson, and it turned out she was almost half an hour late. The restaurant was small, a little house that had been converted into a restaurant. The décor wasn’t anything special, just blue tablecloths and a large painting of a lion on the wall, but she knew from experience the food was delicious and expensive.
James was waiting at the table and stood as she approached. He pulled her chair out and leaned in close. His breath reeked of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting for you, my lady.”
“I apologize. I was talking with my dad and I don’t want to miss those opportunities.”
He didn’t acknowledge her excuse. “The restaurant will be closing promptly.” He lifted his hand and a waitress scurried over. “Another glass of Chardonnay, and I’d prefer the rack of lamb, and the lady is privy to …” He looked over at her like she was an annoyance.
“The trout will be wonderful, thank you.” She nodded to the waitress, who rushed off to put their orders in. Harley should’ve called when she knew she was going to be late, but did he really need to be this condescending? She wondered how many glasses of Chardonnay he’d already had. “How’s the painting going?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded pleasant. She’d driven over an hour to meet him; at least she could give the date a try—though truly, she’d give anything to be talking to Crew right now.
“Couldn’t be better. These simple country folk love my work.”
She smiled vacantly. These simple country folk? Those were her people he was talking about in that snooty English accent. Harley was startled to realize how badly she wanted to defend her Wyoming family.
James started droning on about how successful his latest showing was at Sterling Pennington’s gallery. Everyone knew the movie star who was now a local to Jackson Hole, but Harley couldn’t help but feel James was just bragging about the association. She tried to respond when he paused occasionally, but her mind was on Crew and she couldn’t help wondering what he was doing right now.
Chapter Eleven
The last five days had been sheer misery. Crew sluggishly dressed for church as he mulled over what had gone wrong. He’d had his dream woman in his grasp, but no matter what he’d said or done, she slipped away. He didn’t think of himself as overly confident, but every woman he’d wanted to date, besides Harley, had been thrilled to be with him. What a kick in the pants that the one woman he loved wouldn’t return the feeling.
He finished tying his tie with jerky movements. The worst part was he thought she might love him, but she wouldn’t give up on her stupid Jane Austen Pact. He’d about burned his Austen hardcover books last night when he found out she’d gone to meet that English idiot again. But somehow, parting with those books would be like parting with Harley. He wasn’t going to have much left of her when she went to England. How could she never want to come back to this beautiful valley, to her roots, to her family, to him?
He stomped down the stairs, through his great room, and into the garage, climbing into his truck. Last week she’d liked his fancy suit. Did he dare hope that she might like the way he looked enough today to at least talk to him? She’d avoided him since their horseback ride on Tuesday, and he missed her. How in the world was he going to survive when she left him for good
?
He drove quickly into town and parked in the church parking lot. He searched everywhere for Sadie’s Cherokee or Ryker’s or Clint’s trucks, but didn’t see any of them. They were probably running behind. Maybe Harley stayed up so late with that fool Englishman that she was making them all late.
He stormed into the church and sat next to Jessie.
“Wow, big brother, want a little thunder to go with that rain cloud?”
Crew growled at her.
She laughed and put her hand up next to his mouth. “You gonna bite if I get too close?”
“I might.” He leaned back against the pew as the first song started and tried to unclench his fists and the knots in his shoulders. Resting his arm behind Jessie, he leaned down. “Sorry, little sis.”
“Whoa,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’ve ever apologized to me before.”
He smiled, grateful she was here to tease him. “That’s because for the first time this isn’t your fault.”
“Woman trouble?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Talk to me, bro.”
He half-laughed. “Why would I talk to you about woman trouble?”
She harrumphed. “I’m a woman. I can help.”
“You aren’t a woman, you’re a child.” Crew’s only brother had died as an infant right after Crew’s fifth birthday. Crew hardly remembered Sutton, and because of his loss there was an eight-year gap between him and his next sibling, Jessie.
“Oh,” she gasped. “I know a lot more than you think!”
The song had been semi-masking their voices, but it finished and the silence exposed the echoes of their conversation. His mom gave them “the look”—as did most of the congregation, it seemed.
Crew smiled apologetically, then glanced around to the Redlands’ empty pew. Where were they? He’d been at their house last night, and besides Harley being on that stupid date, everything had seemed fine. His stomach tightened. Harley. What if something had happened to her last night? Wouldn’t somebody have called him?
“Tell Mom I’m sorry,” he whispered to Jessie.
Seeking Mr. Debonair (The Jane Austen Pact) Page 9
