Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(79)

Harley put her arm around Dorcas. “I don’t need an apology. You didn’t offend me. I’ll buy you a phone, maybe even a beer.” Harley pulled her closer where only she could hear her over the chants. “I’m either going to be your best friend or your worst nightmare. You choose.” She then leaned away from her and caught the waitress that was passing by her and grabbed the beers on her tray. “Tell whoever’s these were the next round is on me.” Then she turned and handed Truman a beer and carefully displayed the other for Dorcas, offering a warm smile. “Friends?”

Dorcas was looking at her like she was insane. Someone in the crowd started to chant, “I’ll be your friend, Harley,” then even more caught on. Dorcas shook her head, grabbed the beer, and took a sip. As she did, the entire bar cheered.

At that moment, the band started to play Lean On Me and the entire pub was on its feet, swaying back and forth and singing along.

Harley felt Wyatt’s arm go around her waist, then turn her to face him. The second she did, she reached up and claimed his lips.

“You just let that girl get away with murder,” he said, trying to hide an amused grin.

“No, I didn’t. I gave her what she wanted: attention. Now she has no reason to bother me while I dance with my Doran Boy.”

“Boy?” he said as he playfully lifted his brow.

“Man,” Harley said as she pulled him closer.

Wyatt was completely captivated by her. He had seen this side of her before, this carefree, almost wild side. The side that demanded what she wanted. But each time he had seen that, it had only been the pair of them, when they were playing around in some stolen moment at the farm back in the day, and always when they were locked in a fit of passion. To see that side of her outwardly displayed for the world to see, it stole his breath.

He reached his hand for her face, brushed his lips against hers. “Every day, I think it’s impossible to fall deeper in love with you,” he kissed her lips, “and you keep proving me wrong.” The crowd was swaying into them, keeping their course with the band, but the pair of them stood still in the wave of them. “I’m going to marry you, Harley Tatum. Spend the rest of my life in awe of you.”

“Promise?” she said with a smile as her lips met his. That sweet kiss, so full of reverence and passion, caused everyone in the bar to stop their beautiful course and cheer.

Wyatt wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, then spun her around. She broke away, only to laugh, then slid down him and swayed against him as the song ended.

All Wyatt could hear in his mind was that one word—promise—it made his heart thunder. She was seeing forever with him, something that would have seemed impossible just over a month ago.





Chapter Seventeen



Harley didn’t even think about that image that Dorcas had taken until Collin called her the next morning. He told her the only reason he knew that photo was even of her was because of the outfit she had on, that you couldn’t see her face, only Truman’s. The hum of the night before was slaughtered with a random thought that Dorcas could have done a lot of damage if she was capable of taking a clear photo and sending it to her mother instead, but then the very next second she realized she wouldn’t have cared.

At one point or another, her mother was going to figure out what was going on. But like Collin, she would rather reveal her heart with wit, a shocking moment, in a near public eye. Because sadly, in her mother’s mind nothing was real until the world was aware, until you had no chance to alter the story to anyone’s benefit.

And that moment would come soon enough, but right then Harley decided to live her life in the moment she was in, not fearing an end or even plotting an escape. Rather, she decided only to worry about it on her phone calls every third day, calls that at times were barely fifteen minutes at best.

Harley became addicted to the pub, to the people, to dancing. To laughing so hard that her sides hurt, to just being young, carefree. She and Wyatt made their way there at least once a week, if not twice. It fit perfectly into the routine of the barn time, the time with Wyatt’s family, and their sacred alone time.

During barn time, Wyatt was only on the side that Harley worked on first thing in the morning. Now that Danny Boy was past his thirty-day stall rest, he had to be worked again. For good measure, Wyatt treated him like a horse that had never been ridden, carefully tacking him up to get him used to the feel of the saddle, walking, sometimes an easy canter.

It would be a while before Danny Boy was jumping again, brought to his peak athletic ability, but the process eased Harley. It was like that break, pause, erased all the bad habits he had picked up over the years, gave him a clean slate. Everyone knew without a doubt that no one had seen the best of Danny Boy yet. He was entering his prime with nothing but talent, experience, and now reverence to soar him forward.

After the morning lessons, Wyatt spent the day with the yearlings, or any other task his father had aimed the farm to accomplish while Harley taught her lessons.

Every day he wasn’t at the fire department, like clockwork he picked her up on the four-wheeler. Before dinner, they would race around the farm, watching the sunset from the hilltops, slipping into the creek on the hotter days. Sometimes, when the wind had just enough strength to wash away the summer heat, they found their way to the hayloft and lost themselves in a fiery fit of summer passion.