CHAPTER 8
Harper seriously hadn’t thought this through.
Like, at all.
She didn’t regret her decision, but that didn’t mean it was easy.
Part of her wondered if this was exactly what needed to happen, to see if she could scare him off.
The other part of her was terrified because if her story didn’t send him for the hills...nothing would.
And that was almost scarier than her past.
Almost.
After they’d checked the hills for hot spots, she and Sterling had parked the quads and headed to the house.
He’d grabbed his phone.
She’d fought for something intelligent to say, but failed miserably, and with that sexy as hell grin of his, he had walked to her pickup.
And here they sat as she took the winding road up to her and Jasper’s home, her thoughts as tangled as knotted fishing line.
But if Sterling noticed, he didn’t comment.
Smart guy.
“You like country?” Harper finally broke the thick silence.
“I don’t know much of it, but I like what I know. Thanks for driving me, by the way. It kinda kills me that I still can’t drive anywhere but the ranch.” Sterling sighed as he turned his gray gaze out the window.
“You’ll probably get cleared when you go back to Seattle for your check up. As long as you don’t drive a stick shift.”
“I’ll put that on my list of what not to buy when I go to purchase a car.”
Harper looked to him. “You don’t have a car?”
“Nope.” Sterling shrugged. “I liked being deployed. There wasn’t much use for one when you were overseas most of the time.”
Harper nodded once. “I see. Do you even know how to drive a stick?”
Sterling gave her an irritated grimace. “I can drive anything with more than one wheel. Over any terrain, thank you very much.”
“Touchy.” Harper grinned, relaxing since she was able to tease him a bit.
“I may be crippled for the moment, but don’t take away my skills.”
Harper lifted a hand in defense. “No skill shaming here.”
“Good. So, tell me about your horse,” Sterling said.
Harper relaxed further, even as she could feel his gaze like a caress. She pushed the awareness of it to the back of her mind as she focused on the question.
“Spartan is a barrel racer. He’s a gelding, about sixteen hands, so he’s a big boy.”
She saw Sterling nod from the corner of her eye as she took the driveway to the barn.
“He’s persnickety and basically a huge lap dog. But he races like hell is on his heels and has my back.” Harper smiled as she thought of the big black monster. Damn, she loved that horse.
“How long have you had him?”
Harper felt her smile fade. “Only a few months, but it feels like a long time. The horse I had before him died. It about broke my heart.” She gave a mournful look to Sterling as she put the truck in park. “But she died giving me Rake. He’s at the trainers right now, but he’s pretty amazing. He’ll be a good barrel racer like his momma was. He’s just got to grow up a little bit. Well...a lot.” Harper grinned, opening her pickup door.
Sterling slid from the seat and shut the door, his gaze scanning his surroundings. It was different than how most people scanned their surroundings. Sterling’s gaze seemed to catalog each detail, as if evaluating the exits, entrances, and places for cover. Oddly, it didn’t make her feel on edge; rather, it made her feel safe.
“You done?” Harper asked, leaning against her truck as a slow smile spread across her face.
Sterling’s gaze cut to her as his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You’re evaluating our position, soldier.” She winked and pushed off the truck, turning to the barn, but catching the chagrined smile that teased his lips.
“Caught that, did you?”
“Yup.”
“Good times,” he replied from behind her.
Harper could hear the crunch of gravel under his shoes as they approached her barn. As she slid the door open, Spartan let out a welcoming nicker.
“Hey, handsome.” She strode over to him, kissing his muzzle and tracing his cheek with her fingertips. “Miss me?”
“You two need a moment?” Sterling asked from behind.
And Harper turned to glare. He was slowly making his way into the barn, the sunlight silhouetting his form, accentuating the broad expanse of his shoulders and the trim V of his waist. She forgot her irritation and turned back to Spartan to distract herself.
“Nope. Jealous?” Harper teased when she regained her senses.
“That would be weird,” he answered with a teasing tone as he approached the horse slowly.
Spartan straightened his neck; his ears perked forward as he blew out a breath and sniffed the air around Sterling. Pawing the ground impatiently, he nickered lowly and shook his head.
“Is he trying to tell me something?” he asked, tucking his hands in his jean pockets.
“He’s telling you to back off.” Harper bit her lip, grinning.
“Backing off.” Sterling took a step back.
Spartan kept his dark gaze on Sterling as if deciding whether he was friend or foe.
“He’s fine, you big dork.”
Harper tickled Spartan’s nose, and the horse relaxed, turning his gaze back to her.
“Come here.” She waved Sterling over, and Spartan froze, waiting.
Carefully, Harper took Sterling’s hand, its warmth seeping into hers. Gently, she placed it below Spartan’s muzzle, letting him get a good whiff.
She released his hand. “Let him get used to your scent. Then, when he relaxes, slowly move your hand so he can figure out what you’re doing, and pet his nose softly.”
Sterling gave a meaningful nod and waited.
Spartan took a few breaths, and then his ears relaxed, twisting to listen to other sounds rather than focusing on the man in front of him. Then, just as Harper instructed, Sterling moved his hand purposefully and stroked a long line down Spartan’s nose. The horse stilled and then pushed into his hand.
“Aw, he likes you.” Harper grinned then broke into a fit of giggles when Spartan started scratching against Sterling’s hand.
“Whoa.” Sterling balanced himself as he cast Harper a confused and amused expression.
Harper rescued him. “Hey, none of that. He’s not your scratching post.” She shoved off the horse’s massive head and met Sterling’s grin. “He’s a wily one. Likes to get away with that stuff.”
Harper stepped away from Spartan, wondering when Sterling would break the ice and ask about the phone call earlier.
Or was he simply waiting for her to be ready?
As if that would ever happen.
Like a Band-Aid, rip it off.
“So, you ready for this?” Harper asked, bracing herself for the story.
Sterling’s gray gaze was resolute, strong, determined. “Only if you are.”
Harper gave a humorless laugh. “Not at all. You could Google it if you wanted, public record and all, but I’d rather you hear it from me.”
“Google. Teller of secrets,” Sterling joked, and Harper relaxed slightly.
She reached out and stroked Spartan’s nose again, taking a calming breath. The familiar scents reminded her that she was safe.
It was safe to talk.
Safe to release her demons.
They had no power over her here.
“I met Brock when I was a freshman in high school,” she started, focusing on the way Spartan’s breathing was an even, rhythmical cadence. Closing her eyes, her memory flooded her with images. Brock’s smile...the way his dark hair waved over his eyes...the strength in his hands when he squeezed her hand tightly—too tightly—reminding her that she was weaker.
That he was stronger.
“We got married the summer after we graduated high school. We were the same age, literally.” She cast a furtive glance to Sterling. “We were born a week apart.”
Sterling nodded, regarding her with a cool gaze that gave nothing away.
She continued. “I didn’t... No. That’s not true. I did know. But I didn’t understand. That’s probably a better way to say it.” Her brow pinched as she considered how to continue. “Brock was abusive. It started small, in ways that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, and in ways that were easy to excuse—normal to excuse. Or so I thought.” Harper took a deep breath, inhaled the sweet smell of hay and horse, then continued. “It got progressively worse after we moved to Seattle to go to college. I hid the bruises, but what was more dangerous was that I believed him. Everything he said—at first I fought it—which led to the bruises—” She took a shaking breath. “But that’s the hardest part of abuse. You believe the lies. And I did.” She met Sterling’s gaze.
His full lips were drawn into a firm line, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he forcibly swallowed, nodding once for her to continue.
Harper exhaled a tense breath. “When I found out I was pregnant...” She paused, blowing out a breath, trying to keep her emotions together. “...I thought, surely this will make things better. I mean, a baby.” She hitched a shoulder as a warm tear slid down her face and dangled from her jawline. “How could you not love a baby, your own little miracle?” She shook her head, and the tear fell from her jaw, landing in the dust.
She turned back to Spartan and stroked his soft nose. “When I told Brock, he seemed happy. And I had hope, you know? Real hope. Things got better for a month or so, at least I wasn’t as scared. Looking back, I can see just how depressing it was to think things were better, it was just that bad that only verbal assault was a huge improvement in my life, rather than verbal and physical.” She shook her head. “I got a few texts from my ob-gyn, and I didn’t add the name of the clinic as a contact. Brock found my phone and accused me of cheating on him. He didn’t even read the messages, just saw the random number and jumped to that asinine conclusion.” Harper wiped a hand across her face, smearing the tears from her cheeks as she stared at the ground, not able to make eye contact.
“I was putting away a few things I had purchased for the baby. The spare room was at the top of the stairs, and I remember shivering as Brock yelled, his shoes pounding up the stairs. The sound was so loud—I don’t know why, but that sound...it’s like I knew, you know?” She wiped her nose and hazarded a glance at Sterling, watching as his nostrils flared, but his eyes were gentle, not full of anger like she’d expected.
It gave her courage to continue. “He yelled, accused me—I won’t go into detail—but I tried to run away, and that just pissed him off more. As I made it to the stairs, he pushed me from behind...” She breathed in through her nose, closing her eyes and focusing on what she could feel, what she could smell—home.
“I woke up in the hospital, and the first thing I remember was the heart monitor. I was far enough along that I’d already heard the baby’s heartbeat once. And even in my foggy state, I knew that I only heard one heartbeat—one heart monitor.” Warm tears streamed down her face, and she hiccupped a breath. “There should have been two.” She shrugged.
She collected herself, taking a few deep breaths before she wiped away her tears almost furiously. “I was lucky to be alive. The stairs were oddly steep and hardwood. When I landed, I broke my collarbone in two places, broke six ribs, and one punctured my lung—to name a few things. I was busted up to say the least.” She sighed. “But what I found out later was that I’d already miscarried. So, my fall didn’t kill the baby, which is the only reason why Brock isn’t behind bars for a long time, and why he’s able to apply for parole.” She released the tense breath she was holding and met Sterling’s gaze. “The divorce was finalized before I even got out of the hospital, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t scare the shit out of me. So, I moved home, and I’m really good about telling Jasper where I am at all times, and I have a really big horse that makes me feel safe.” She shrugged, glancing to Sterling.
Waiting for the verdict.
His gaze was kind, but not pitying. His jaw was tight, gritted, but Harper wasn’t afraid of his silent fury. She knew it wasn’t directed at her.
His hands clenched, then relaxed, then clenched again as he seemed to work through all her words before opening his mouth then closing it. Tilting his head, he exhaled a deep sigh, glanced to the ground, then nodded once, making eye contact again. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”
Harper’s heart froze then picked up double-time. Well, you wondered if you’d scare him off...
Seemed like she had her answer, and she realized just how disappointed she was, and that told her how much she had wanted the opposite.
Which was terrifying.
She took a breath to say something—anything—but Sterling lifted a hand for her to wait.
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. It probably freaked the hell out of you, given your history.” He shifted his weight and frowned as he met her gaze.
“That’s not why I told you—” Harper shook her head. “You deserve to know that my issue isn’t with you. It’s with my past trying to haunt me. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s lying. So, I’ll be honest, too honest—every time. So, this is my laying it out. Take it, leave it, do what you want, but there it is.” She lifted a shoulder.
“That took a lot of balls, Harper.”
Harper burst into a laugh. “Wow. Thanks?”
Sterling rubbed the back of his neck. “Seriously. It’s a compliment.”
“Good to know. Anyway, that’s all.” She blew out a breath and glanced up at Sterling, feeling all sorts of awkward. How did someone move forward after giving the rundown of a sordid past?
“You hungry?” Sterling asked, tilting his head just enough to make his gaze slightly sideways.
Harper blinked but nodded. “Sure?”
“You don’t sound sure.” Sterling grinned.
“I’m hungry.” Harper rolled her eyes. “But I can’t go anywhere. I gotta finish up some paperwork.” She remembered the filing and documentation she promised to do for Jasper. Biting her lip, she quickly thought of a way to keep Sterling around and get her work done.
She ignored the concept that she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
That didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Right?
“I didn’t mean to keep you.” Sterling took a tentative step back and winced.
“Actually, I was going to offer to make you lunch here.”
“Oh. Well, since I just realized you’re my ride back”—he cocked an eyebrow—“that sounds like a plan.”
“Didn’t realize I’d keep you captive, huh?” Harper teased as she walked out of the barn and into the sunshine. The warm air relaxed her from the tense atmosphere of the barn.
“If I’m willing to stay, I’m hardly held captive!” Sterling called out as he exited the barn.
“You saying I haven’t scared you off yet?” Harper asked, turning around and walking backward so that she could see his face.
“Believe it or not, you’re not the scariest thing I’ve seen,” he shot back.
“Really?” she replied in a disbelieving tone, joking with him.
“Not even close,” he replied. “Don’t get me wrong. You can be plenty demanding and a hardass when you want to be, but not that scary.”
“Good, as long as we know where we stand.” Harper chuckled and turned back around, thankful she hadn’t tripped on the stairs that she’d almost run into.
“Smooth!” Sterling called out.
Harper lifted her middle finger and saluted as she swung open the metal screen door.
Sterling’s chuckle followed her into the kitchen. As she scanned the small but homey room, she opened the closet door that led to the pantry shelves.
“So, you can ride horses and cook? I’m almost impressed.” Sterling’s voice preceded his footsteps into the room.
“More than you can say,” Harper replied without giving a backward glance. She pulled out two cans of tomato sauce and a loaf of bread.
“I can make some mean French toast,” Sterling defended.
“Mad skills.” Harper shook her head and tossed the bread on the counter. It felt good to be able to joke, to have the air clear, to not feel like she had to pretend. It was a constant struggle. To try to act normal when your life wasn’t, but to feel like you needed to behave that way so that people didn’t suspect, but it was a vicious cycle, and it simply moved in circles that never ended.
There was a freedom in not keeping secrets. But it also wasn’t information she divulged to just anyone.
But Sterling was safe, instinctively she knew that.
“Do you like grilled cheese?” Harper asked as she moved to open the fridge door.
“Sounds great.”
“Good, there wasn’t a Plan B.” Harper took the cheddar cheese from the sliding compartment of the fridge and set it on the counter. “Can you start slicing this?”
She opened a drawer and pulled out a knife and set it to the side of the cheese then pulled out the cutting board.
“Trusting me with sharp objects? I feel honored.” Sterling ambled over and lifted the knife, tilting it slightly to study the edge.
“Meet with your approval?” Harper asked as she opened a nearby drawer and grabbed the handheld can opener.
“It will get the job done. How do you want me to cut this?”
“Like I said. Sliced.” Harper gave him a sarcastic grin.
“Yeah, caught that. Are you a thin-slice girl or a thick-slice girl? Trust me, there’s a difference.” He pointed at her with the knife then set it down on the counter, and slid the cheese from the plastic bag.
“I want to taste the cheese on my sandwich. If you give me some skinny-ass piece of cheese—”
“A thick girl. I like it,” Sterling flirted.
Harper glared. “Don’t mess with my food.”
“Point taken.”
Harper bit back a grin as she went to make the tomato soup. She dumped the contents of the two cans into the pot and added several things, tasting in between each addition to make sure it was up to standard.
“You ready?” Sterling called to her, and she set the spoon down.
“About time. Now, answer this very carefully. Because there will be judgment if you answer wrong.”
Sterling chuckled, glancing to the floor and shaking his head. “All right, noted. What’s the burning question?”
“Mayo or butter on your grilled cheese.” Harper arched a brow and cocked a hip, waiting.
Sterling narrowed his eyes, tilted his head and took a step toward her. “Both.”
“No.” Harper rolled her eyes.
“Yup. Both. Haven’t you ever seen Diners, Drive-ins and Dives? It’s like the secret sauce for grilled cheese.”
“It is not.”
“Totally is. Google it.”
“Google.” Harper scoffed.
“Seriously. Try it.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let me educate you.”
Harper narrowed her gaze, studying him. “If I hate it, I’m blaming you. And you get to deal with my hangry self till I deem it enough punishment and take you back to the ranch.”
“Deal. And when you love it, you owe me.” Sterling didn’t wait for a reply and turned to the loaf of bread on the counter. “Where’s a bowl?”
Harper reluctantly pulled one down from the shelf beside her and handed it to Sterling.
“Mayo and soft or melted butter, if you’ve got it in the cabinet.”
“Always.”
“Soft butter, soft heart.”
“Don’t get carried away,” Harper shot back.
After she offered him the dish of room-temperature butter, she moved to the fridge and took out the mayo. As she handed it over, she caught his stare, and her face heated with a blush.
It was strangely intimate, cooking in the small kitchen with Sterling. She hadn’t anticipated the cozy atmosphere they had created, and it was doing peculiar things to her nerves.
Making them far more sensitive than they needed to be.
It was just the kitchen.
It was just lunch.
It didn’t mean anything.
Yet, she was reminded that she kept saying that over and over.
It didn’t mean anything.
And she was pretty sure it was just a lie she was telling herself.
Because the truth was, it was something.
Odd, how she was so damn determined to be honest with everyone.
But herself.