Texas Big Man

“Hey!” The word comes a split second before the man disappears, flying feet away from me and tumbling into the dirt. Harlan is on him in a second, and with ruthless efficiency delivers a punch to the head that renders the man still.

I can only blink when he turns to me, and I stare at the still body on the ground. Everything happened so fast, that my body doesn’t know what to do with the adrenaline. I’m not afraid anymore, but I’m still shaking. Harlan steps in front of me, lifting my chin so he can inspect my face in the light from the diner. “Are you hurt?”

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.

A ghost of a smile is on his face before it’s gone. “I heard you leave, and then I didn’t hear you come back. It was long enough that I was worried, so I drove down the road until I saw your car.”

My heart skips a beat. “How long have you been waiting for me?”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Instead of answering, Harlan steps back, letting me catch my breath from being that close to him, and then he picks up my notebook from where it’s fallen on the ground, open. His eyes scan the pages, and there’s immediate interest. Oh fuck. He can’t read that. Because it’s all about him. Everything on those pages is inspired by him and I was just dumping out all my thoughts.

I snatch the book away from him, which makes him smirk. There’s no way he’s going to let that go—I can already see it. Instead I try to change the subject, picking up the box with the pie that’s now partially smashed.

“I got this for you,” I say. “I’m sorry it’s kind of crushed now.”

“For me?”

I nod. “I had a piece while I was in there, and it was delicious, so I thought you should have some too. But I might need to get you more than pie for what you just did for me.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Mel,” he says, taking the box of pie.

I’m not so sure that he’s right. If he hadn’t decided to follow me, it could have been a lot worse. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “I just needed to get out for a while.”

Harlan stares at me for a moment. “Away from me?”

I shake my head. “No. Yes. I don’t know, I just needed to not be there for a little while.”

Thankfully he doesn’t comment on the fact that I might have done this to get away from him. “If you need that again, at least tell me where you’re going,” he says. “I can come with you, even if it means sitting in the car in the parking lot.”

I would never do that. We both know it. But I’m glad that he offers anyway.

“Are you okay to drive? We could come back for your car tomorrow.”

“No, I’m fine,” I say. I need the space to think and breathe and make peace with what just happened. We separate to our cars, and he follows me home. I can see his lights in my rear-view mirror the whole way, and it’s comforting.

What am I going to do with myself? Harlan Decker is pulling me in, and I don’t know if I have the strength to stay away. He’s a bundle of contradictions wrapped in a bow, and every time I unwrap a new side of him, I only like him more.

Maybe sleep isn’t going to happen tonight after all.

8

Harlan

Days off on a ranch like this pass slowly. There’s not much to do if you’re not working—at least not yet. But even though we’re not working on Trevor’s property, I do some work on mine.

My piece of land is on the shore of the spring-fed lake. It’s beautiful, and it’s clear that I got one of the best pieces of land here. Without a doubt. I have plans to build a house here, and Trevor agreed to have his crews frame out my home along with the other buildings. Which means I need to get started with clearing the land and finalizing the plans. I have a good idea of what I want, but it’s not solid yet.

I spend a few hours on the land, picking exactly where I want the house to be and getting the view right, and then I start to clear the brush and the few trees from that space. But it’s still my day off, and I don’t have to run myself into the ground. Yet the sun is already fading when I head back toward the house. I let myself get so engrossed in my plans that I didn’t notice how much of the day had slipped away.

While I was working I didn’t let myself wonder what Melena was doing, but as I walk back to the house to shower and relax, I do wonder. Was she writing again? I saw my name in that book I picked up last night, and I’m desperate to get another look.