The Bride Wore Denim (24 page)

“Believe me. I don’t think for one second it would be one sided.”

“Nice save.”

He tried to gather her to him again, and this time it wasn’t fear of him but fear for herself that forced her to push him away and stand.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, tired and disappointed. “Fine,” he said.

It
almost
changed her mind. “I won’t make love to you just to leave afterward,” she said. “That’s how it would always be after that, stolen lovemaking. Like you and Mia used to have. I do remember that.”

He stood then, his features more than disappointed.

“Run away, Harper, if that’s what you have to do. But at least be kind enough to stop comparing us to Amelia and me. This is nothing like we ever were. Ever. I resent that you keep making this out to be a sister swap.”

She hung her head. He was right. It wasn’t fair. It was one of her countless reasons for not wanting to hurt him or get hurt herself.

“I’m sorry.” She raised up to kiss his cheek. “You’re right. You aren’t that kind of person; I know it. But I can’t do long distance. Not when a relationship needs more care than that. Not to mention what Paradise needs. We have to leave it in the hands of the people who will be here every day to care for it and make decisions.”

He didn’t reply. She’d finally made her point. When she turned he didn’t stop her, nor did he see the tears beading in her eyes.

She closed the front screen door quietly behind her, gulping a deep, calming breath. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the door.

“He’s right, you know.” Mia’s voice beside her drew a sharp gasp from Harper’s throat.

“Who’s right about what?” she asked.

“Cole. We’ve never had, in all the years we were together, what’s grown between you in two months.”

“But . . . ” Harper tried to find the right words. “You were perfect together.”

“For about two years. In high school. After that we were on again and off again more than anyone ever knew. And you are right about one thing—long distance is hard. But mostly it wasn’t even that. We were pretty much trying to live up to our own hype and everyone else’s hopes.”

“Wait. You stayed together for us?”

“I think we wanted it to work at first. It sounded good on paper.” She laughed. “Two ranching families united. Could it get any better? But then I got my dream job, and his dad lost the Double Diamond. We were finally able to step back and admit what we’d known for a long time. We liked each other. We didn’t love each other. I doubt we ever really did.”

Harper’s mind whirled. This was not the picture she’d ever had of Mia and Cole. How many secrets had they all kept from each other over the past twelve years?

“But wait. You haven’t liked it when Cole and I are together. The other morning when you found us on the couch, you were angry.”

“Do you want to know the truth? I was annoyed at first. I was never jealous—but I kept thinking that if I didn’t want him, I didn’t want any of you to want him either. It was reflex. But then I started to watch you both. You two are perfect opposites and yet exactly alike. He’s calm and level-headed. You’re passionate and emotional. He’s all about the facts. You’re all about the feelings. And yet, you’re both so nice it hurts.”

“I am
not
nice.” Harper laughed. “Not if thoughts count.”

“You know they don’t. Besides—you get to be the emotional tree hugger. I get to be the bitch. Don’t even try and take that from me.”

“You aren’t—” Harper covered her mouth to hold in laughter at Mia’s candor. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a conversation like this.

Mia waved her hand. “I am. Sometimes. But the other morning? I wasn’t mad, I was shocked. Because I’d actually been thinking maybe you two were perfect for each other and that I should even tell you. Then you went and beat me to the punch. Plus—I
was
tired and mad at that frickin’ stupid Lieutenant Busybody Harrison.”

“Aww,” Harper changed the subject briefly. “He’s adorable.”

“He’s an arrogant, ex-army megalomaniac.” For a moment there was silence and then Mia laughed. “Oddly enough, I’ve heard that about myself.”

“Not from me. Maybe I called you a know-it-all. When we were kids.”

“I know there are more problems between us than Cole. But I told him when we split up three years ago that I wanted him to have someone perfect. Whatever our issues have been, Harper, you’re that perfect one, and I don’t want to see you lose each other. Despite what you think, I’m not cold or heartless.”

“I don’t think—”

“Sometimes you do. You all do. Ever since we were kids. And . . . ” she held up her hand to ward off Harper’s protests. “I thought—sometimes still think—you’re an idealistic ostrich with your head in the sand.”

“I see. So is this something we should talk about now, all these years later?”

“No. Maybe. Harper, I’m sorry. I guess I perceive your life as one big hippie love fest, and I’ve never known how to deal with that.”

“I don’t even know what that is.” She thought her heart should be breaking over these revelations, but the truth made her feel like she could say anything. “What is it you think I do?”

“Truthfully? I have no idea. Isn’t that sad? I imagine you bringing people together with tambourines and singing Kumbaya. You do have an uncanny knack for uniting. Maybe not this family so far, but you’re wonderful with people.”

“You must be good with them, too. You’re a doctor after all.”

“I can be. And I can be tough—as everyone loves to point out. I’m a surgeon. I spend limited time with my patients. It’s easy to have a great bedside manner for consultations and talking to relatives after an operation.”

“Why are you suddenly bringing all this up?” Harper crossed her arms. “Because I’m leaving?”

“I don’t blame you for being suspicious. We don’t have a good track record, do we?” Mia studied her nails, rubbing one with a thumb. Hesitating. “Tonight it’s about Cole. Later, maybe I’ll tell you how envious I was of you as a kid.”

“Ex
cuse
me?”

“I was jealous of how you managed to be yourself in this place where conforming was always the expectation.”

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever hear—me being myself. I hid it all the time. It is true. We were expected to be nothing but good little cowgirls.”

“Yeah. And after I told Dad I didn’t want to run this place, ever, I was very far from being a good Crockett cowgirl.”

“You thought Dad was mad at
you
?” Harper snorted derisively. “He was so disappointed in me—wasting my life on frivolous pursuits.”

“Are you kidding? He thought you were amazing.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a denial. You’re the one who had his heart in your palm.”

Mia didn’t say anything for several long moments. She finally looked up with shining eyes. “Maybe we’re both a little right. I don’t think I can work all that out right now. But I’m not bringing this up because you’re leaving. It’s because I wish you weren’t.”

“Good grief.” Now she’d heard everything.

“I’ve been watching all of us since Mom and Joely were injured. Every one of us is fragile. I feel like I should be able to fix them, and I can’t. You’re torn between here and Chicago. The triplets want to come and help. I think we owe it to them to work harder on figuring out what to do with this place. For some reason, I think you and Cole might be a big part of that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“I don’t know . . . ”

“Do you still want to sell?”

“I don’t know that either. Maybe selling is the right thing. Maybe not. All I have learned is that it’s not something to be angry about. I’ve been really angry. I’m sorry.”

“Mia, I . . . I don’t know what to say. I have to go back. I’ve got a big new opportunity in Chicago. I can’t stay here.”

“I know that, too. It’s just, it feels like it’s you and me right now. The triplets are fantastic and smart, but they’re so young. Joely’s still critical. Mom’s in no shape to figure this out. Grandma is living out her time.”

She was right. The weight had been there for days now, unnamed but heavy on Harper’s mind.

“Could you ever come to Chicago?” she asked, surprising herself with the question. “We could . . . talk. Some more?”

Mia nodded. “I’d like that. I still wish you could stay.”

“You haven’t met Cecelia Markham.”

“No. But I’ve met Noble Westin, our chief of staff. I’ll pit him against your Cecelia any day.”

Harper had to laugh. “I’d like to see that. Except I like Cecelia.”

“It’s good you like your boss.”

“She’s not a boss . . . ”

“She’s telling you when to come back to work, Harper. If it looks like a duck . . . ”

Harper bristled slightly, but her sister was right. “Whatever you label it, I’m obligated to fulfill my part of our agreement.”

“It’s true. You are. You’re a professional now.” She sighed, but for once it wasn’t in exasperation. “Look,” she said. “I started this whole thing because I really believe you shouldn’t give up on Cole. You two have something special, as new and unexpected as it is. Don’t run away from it.”

“Yeah,” Harper said, scowling. “About that eavesdropping.”

“Wish I could say I was sorry.” Amelia stood. “Think about it. He’s a pretty special guy.”

“Yeah. He is.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Harper reached in first for a hug. Mia’s embrace eased another load of bricks from Harper’s shoulders.

“I will think about what you said,” Harper told her. “You’ve given me a big gift. I didn’t want to hurt you with Cole.”

“I know.”

“I’m more worried about leaving Mom and Joely. I’m leaving you alone with them. That’s a lot. You’ll call me if you need help? Despite what I said, I’ll tell Cecelia Markham off and come running.”

“Do not worry about that. I’ll check in with you every day. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, Skylar was here looking for you earlier. Be sure to talk to her tomorrow before she heads back out to help with the cows. You’ll be missing her show.”

If Harper’s world hadn’t already been tilted completely off its axis, the bottom would have dropped out then. How could she have forgotten that?

F
OR THE FIRST
time since moving to the city on Lake Michigan, Harper found Chicago all but intolerable. The party Cecelia had thrown to introduce Harper to some of her friends and clients had been successful, but it felt excruciatingly stuffy after the few days spent in the company of horses, cows, and Cole.

She missed Cole. It would have been so much easier if she didn’t.

Cecelia was nothing but sweet and solicitous, and yet there was a new air of propriety in her pride. Harper couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t smugness, or vanity, just an overprotective, over-helpful, over-mothering sense that managing Harper’s career was the new most important thing in her life. It was impossible to be ungrateful. But Harper was slowly seeing exactly the number of strings that had come with the generous grant.

She spoke to her mother every day. Joely wasn’t up to talking yet, still sleeping most of the time. But they were getting her up when they could. Raquel replaced Kelly as the triplet at home and kept her up-to-date on everything. She didn’t hear any more from Mia. Or Cole.

The Sunday of the art exhibition, Harper consoled herself by painting and waiting for news from Raquel, who’d promised to attend. The regret at not being able to see her kids’ pictures on display stung. She’d tried to empower them to do something brave, and here she was, unable to follow through.

Not that she didn’t appreciate the time she did have to work on her own pieces. The decadence to have all day for painting blew her away. Still, she missed the interaction with other artists—even budding ones at a Chicago community ed center, or baby ones on a makeshift retreat in Wyoming.

Her phone didn’t ring until well after ten. She saw Raquel’s number and answered breathlessly. It wasn’t her sister.

“Hi, Harper?” A quiet, half-timid voice came through the phone.

“Skylar?” Her heart pounded with happiness, which was silly, but the surprise delighted her. “How are you, sweetie? How was the show?”

“Well . . . ” The long pause had Harper on the edge of her stool, and when Skylar spoke again the words were no longer uncertain. “I won!”

Won?

“Won?” She jumped from her seat.

“I won the whole thing. The best entry. They want to hang it at the hospital. Oh my God, Harper, can you believe it? Raquel let me call and tell you myself.”

“That is fan
tastic
, Sky. I’m jumping up and down for you!”

She skipped across the room, hugging herself, wishing desperately she was in Wyoming to hug her young friend instead.

“Yeah. I was pretty shocked. They said it was one of the most sophisticated paintings from a middle school artist they’d ever seen.”

“Baby, that’s cool. Oh, I’m so proud. And proud of myself for seeing your talent.” She laughed.

“Harper?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Thank you. You made this happen.”

“Bah. I read a sign. The talent is all yours. I’m so glad you called.”

“Sure. Hold on.”

The rumbling, happy voice that followed Skylar’s still didn’t belong to Raquel either. “Well, Madam Art Teacher. What do you think?”

Her regrets hit full force. She wanted to hug him. To celebrate. To be there. “I’m totally blown away,” she said. “How was it? The coolest?”

“Absolutely the coolest. She deserved it, Harpo. Her painting really is phenomenal.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I really am.” She hesitated. “How . . . how are you?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to check on you, though. We’ve got the second herd sorted and preg tested. Third group gets sorted tomorrow. Almost done. We should have a decent crop of calves. The cows are looking good. We might have caught a break—prices have gone up.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful!”

It was all so normal, much more boring and mundane than the parties she had scheduled through the holidays. And yet, all she could think about was the sound of cattle mooing and snorting their way into pens after the long walk from their summer pastures.

“Sorry,” Cole added. “Totally boring. It’s my life at the moment. Everyone’s life.”

“No, it’s not boring at all. I want to hear.”

“But the girl of the hour is about to get taken out for a late treat by her mom and dad. Nate and Lily are coming as well, and Raquel and I will represent you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I wish I could fly back and join you.”

“Aww. Harpo, we’d wait for you.”

“Tell her I’m proud of her. And the others, too.”

“Lily got an honorable mention in her photography category.”

“That’s fantastic.”

“Nate’s being as nice to Skylar as if he’d won. Mia thinks there’s a little something there. I don’t know. Skylar barely looks at him as far as I can tell.”

Harper laughed. “Be glad, Cole. Your days on the pedestal might be coming to an end.”

“I should be jealous?”

“Yup. I think so.”

“Girls. You’re all fickle. Okay, gotta go. But we wanted you to know.”

“Thanks. Will you . . . call again? Sometime? Keep me updated?”

“Sure. If you want me to.”

She hesitated, about to break her own edict about not fostering something they couldn’t continue. “I do.”

She waited for a snarky comment, but he chuckled. “Talk to you soon. Go paint pretty pictures.”

She hung up and stood over her canvas, liking what she saw but hating the thought of finishing it now. Two of Cecelia’s paintings were already complete. This one would have to wait. She turned on her phone again and scrolled through her address book to Tristan’s name.

“Hey!” she said when he answered. “Do you know any decent bars open late? I’m looking for someone to drink a toast with.”

Tristan’s laugh held none of the warm, sexy comfort that Cole’s did, but he was a friend, he’d never turn down a good glass of wine, and he appreciated good art. As a stand-in for celebrating in Wyoming, he’d have to do.

S
KYLAR STARED UP
at the cold, dark heavens and tried to let the crowding stars comfort her as they always did. She loved the night sky, which was why she had chosen two in the morning to leave. This early Wednesday morning, however, anger consumed her and left no room for comfort. The stars were no more than hot white pinpricks in the black sky. She’d never been so furious with her parents. Ever. In two days she’d gone from celebrating the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her, to hating almost everything about her life.

She tightened Bungu’s cinch and heard Asta crying in the barn. Skylar almost relented. The puppy had grown to double her original size in the past six weeks, and she was smart as could be, but she wasn’t quite big enough to trek into the mountains. She’d be fine for two days until Skylar got back. And if Skylar didn’t go now, she’d say something really stupid to her parents and be grounded for life. She might be anyway after this, but if she’d learned anything growing up on a ranch it was that you had to get your anger under control or you couldn’t do your job.

She was going to climb her anger out on Wolf Paw Peak, but she highly doubted she’d ever forgive her mother this time.

Not display her winning picture?

Her eyes still burned from the hours of tears she’d shed after the edict had come down.

So there was a couple kissing on the painting. There wasn’t anything weird about it—you could hardly see any detail at all because they were silhouetted. But her mother was such a freak. She acted like a nun or something.

“This is not an appropriate way to show off your first artwork,” she said. “People will expect you to do more of the same. You’re only fourteen, Skylar. You can’t be painting love scenes already. There’ll be another art show. Why don’t you go paint something equally beautiful but without the sex?”

There was no sex. It was a stupid kiss. Her mother was . . . well, she was what Grandpa Leif said about bats and shit and crazy—but if anyone heard her repeat that, she’d get a toothbrush full of soap.

So she was running away. Well, not really; she wasn’t that stupid. But she’d tried to find someone who’d sympathize with her, and nobody was around except Grandma Sadie. Everyone else was at the hospital or had gone home or was out doing fence repair. And Cole had flown off to Chicago. Which kind of made her mad, but only because she knew he’d be on her side and now he was gone. So she had to go and figure out what to do next by herself.

She checked the cinch after tightening it and made sure her thick bedroll behind the cantle was secure. October had arrived, but she knew how to pack for camping in the cold. There wasn’t any real snow yet, just a dusting on the peak. She’d take her time and follow the trail she knew until dawn. Then she’d take a nap in her pup tent and make it to the top by evening. She’d camp overnight one more time and come home. Maybe she’d have a plan by then for convincing her parents to change their minds. She’d camped plenty of times on trail rides, and her dad and brother were experts. At least she’d show them she wasn’t some baby who shouldn’t have her picture hung in public.

She zipped her jacket up to her chin and pulled on her fleece mittens. The air was cold, but she’d dressed for frigid temperatures. Even though the slight breeze would be at her back, she knew cold could settle in unexpectedly when you were sitting on a horse. She had plenty of food, like energy bars and peanut butter crackers, along with water in her saddle bags. She knew where the safe streams were anyway. And she had long underwear and a mummy-style sleeping bag in her roll. The idea of her adventure sent adrenaline surging through her veins. She’d wanted to do this forever. Everything felt perfect. And exciting. And only a teeny bit scary.

“Come on Bungu,” she said, and she lifted her foot into the stirrup.

C
OLE DIDN’T REMEMBER
the West Chicago neighborhood looking so shabby the one time he’d been here before. Now, in the growing twilight, he could see the unkempt lawns and the overgrown gardens that signaled lack of care on the residents’ parts. Not that he cared that much about appearances, but this was where Harper lived. He didn’t want to think of her in an unsafe place.

The house she shared with four roommates was better maintained than some of the others, but the stone steps up to the front door were cracked, and the foundation plantings were late fall dry and wildly overgrown. The privacy fencing looked new, however, and although the blue shutters badly needed painting, the white house color wasn’t too old.

Cole hesitated before ringing the bell and hoped Harper had gotten his text. He hadn’t warned her he was coming until he’d landed at O’Hare. Faith and audacity—that’s all he had on his side after imagining he’d heard genuine longing in her voice the night of Skylar’s big win. He hoped she’d let him in. After that he couldn’t guess what would happen.

Still, he laughed at the thought of Harpo turning anyone away. She would never have to worry about not properly entertaining angels unaware. Yet another thing he loved about her.

He pushed the bell.

The door flew open in fewer than five seconds, and her greeting surpassed his wildest hopes. She was in his arms like an ecstatic puppy, hugging him, peppering him with kisses, burying her head in the crook of his neck, and laughing.

“What are you
doing
here? I couldn’t believe when you texted you were on your way from the airport.”

“You said I could check on you.” He unwrapped her arms and pushed her far enough away to smooth the sleek, flowing dark hair from her face and kiss her forehead and then the tip of her nose. “Otherwise, no excuse except that I missed you, whether you missed us or not. And I came to show you that twelve hundred miles is not insurmountable.”

She mirrored him, cupping her hands around his jaw and smoothing his cheeks with her thumbs. With a happy smile, she placed a sweet kiss on his lips. “Of course I missed you. I miss everyone, right down to the cows.”

“Would you like to prove it?” He kissed her back, his heart flying with hope.

“How?”

“Let me in?”

Her laugh added pure joy to his hope. She grasped his hand. “Oh, all right. C’mon, there are only two of us home at the moment. It’s not even chaotic.”

He entered the warm, eclectic living room, filled with mismatched furniture and bright, bold colors, and waved to one of the roommates, Natalie, watching television in a corner.

“Welcome back to Chi-town,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“How long are you staying?” Harper asked.

“Three days. We finished with the cattle. There were two days of downtime before we start fencing. Leif was going to work on some tack mending, and I asked for some vacation. Gotta leave Friday.”

“Will you . . . stay here?”

“I have a hotel room. Wasn’t sure where we stood, so I didn’t presume. We’ll talk about it.”

“Well, I took over the third floor and spread out to paint. Molly moved into my old room on the second floor. It’s a little more private up there.”

“Whoa, are you inviting me to see your, um, etchings?”

She smiled. “No etchings, sorry to say. The space isn’t even very presentable—smells like paint and linseed oil. But you can come up and see what I’ve been working on the past week. Has it really only been a week since I left?”

“Eight days,” he agreed.
Eight long days
. “I’ll come up, but please tell me I can take you out tonight. Isn’t this supposed to be the best place in the world for pizza? I’m starving.”

“Poor thing.”

“Yeah, they don’t feed you much on planes anymore.”

“I wouldn’t want that fantastic body to waste away.”

The light in her eyes flared hot and strong. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t fantasizing. This wasn’t the Harper who’d pushed him away and run practically screaming from his arms in Wyoming.

“What do you know about this body?” he teased.

“I refer you back to that spider incident again. And I’ve seen the bottom half in a whole lotta pairs of nice, worn jeans.”

“I’ll be danged. Who knew you were paying attention?”

She only grinned and led him up two flights of stairs to the open, full-floor room on the third level. “Not presentable” took on humorous clarity when he entered her space. A single bed, thick with blankets and rumpled sheets, stood unmade against one wall. Clothing spilled over the sides of a wicker basket, whether dirty or unfolded he couldn’t tell. In a far corner he took in a dorm-sized refrigerator covered with boxes of granola bars and a basket of bananas and a few other random pieces of fruit. Next to it was a trash can in the same state as the laundry basket.