Kissing the Cowboy Read online

  My phone dings, and when I notice it’s from Knox, I read it just in case it’s about the goats.

  Knox: Kane blew me off for Hadleigh. Wanna meet up at the bar?

  Knox and Kane might be twins, but they couldn’t be more different. Kane is low-key and grounded, whereas Knox is the wild child. Uncle Jackson has had to bail him out of jail a few times, and most of us have driven him home after a night of too much drinking. Not sure why he’s hell-bent on not growing up, but one thing’s for sure, he knows how to have a good time.

  Ethan: Sorry, can’t. Harper just got here. Try Grayson.

  Considering he was giving me shit this morning for not hanging out with him tonight, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to party.

  Knox: You’re both so damn pussy whipped but getting no pussy. At least come out with me and get some.

  I roll my eyes and lock my screen.

  “Everything okay?” Harper asks.

  “Just fine. Gonna grab some drinks, then we’re set.”

  Harper grabs the bag of popcorn and empties it into one of the big bowls. I already melted the extra butter she likes, and she pours it on top before following me to the living room.

  “Alright, Cowboy. Whatcha have planned for tonight?” she asks as we settle onto the couch.

  “Ladies’ choice.” I grab the remote and hand it to her.

  “Hmm…” She browses through the TV shows. “We could catch up on Schitt’s Creek.”

  Before I can suggest something else, she clicks it and realizes it’s not the same season we left off on.

  “Ethan! Have you been watchin’ this without me?” She glares at me, pinning me with her mesmerizing baby blues.

  “Noooo…” I drawl.

  “You liar!” She throws popcorn at me. “You’re a cheater!”

  Laughing, I hold up my hands to block her shots. “Alright, calm down.”

  Harper continues chucking food at me, and in an attempt to stop her, I grab her wrists and hold them above her head as I push her down on the couch.

  “Let me go!” she playfully shouts, trying to wiggle free.

  My body towers over hers, and she meets my gaze, knowing it’s useless. Pieces of popcorn are all over, and I lower my mouth, grabbing one that fell on her collarbone.

  “You gonna be a good girl?” I watch her chest rapidly rise and fall. Her eyes drop to my lips, and I’m suddenly aware of how our bodies are intertwined.

  This is it. My chance to make a move and see how she reacts.

  My hand releases her wrists, and just as I’m about to grab her face, she digs her fingers into my sides.

  “Fuck.” I hate being tickled, and she knows it. “Harper, no.”

  “Payback’s a bitch.” She giggles as my body convulses.

  “You know I’m twice your size, right? I could hog-tie you in five seconds flat.” I remove her grabby hands from my aching sides.

  “I’d like to see you try.” She waggles her brows.

  Before I can, the front door swings open and is followed by my sister’s big mouth. “Hey, bro! You home?”

  Shit.

  I jump off the couch and pull Harper up with me.

  “In the living room,” I call out.

  “Oh, hey!” Her eyes light up when she sees us. “Sorry to barge in, but Mom said she had some creamy chicken casserole left, and I was craving some.”

  “Oh, uhh yeah…I ate all of it.” I scratch the back of my head, waiting for her to explode. “Sorry.”

  “Ugh. That’s my favorite!”

  I apologize again with a shrug. “Ma didn’t tell me you were comin’ to get some, or I would’ve saved you some. There’s some cornbread left.”

  “Well, I’m sure she didn’t expect you to finish it off. But then again…she should’ve.”

  I smack my hard stomach. “Man’s gotta eat.”

  Elle digs around in the fridge for something else, then gives up and leaves. Harper and I settle back on the couch, but all I can think about is how I was seconds away from kissing her.

  Perhaps that was a sign—don’t kiss your best friend.

  “Oh, guess what?” Harper asks after we watch the episode of Schitt’s Creek where Moira yells at David to fold in the cheese. We laughed as the scene unraveled. “You know that small business conference I go to every quarter?”

  “Yes, the one you sometimes hate going to.”

  She smirks. “Yes, that one. Well, they’ve asked me to speak on a panel at the next one.”

  My eyes widen with pride. “Wow, that’s awesome! Do you know what subject?”

  “It’s basically just speaking about how I grew my small business utilizing modern-day social media.”

  “You’re gonna kick so much ass.”

  “Yeah, well, now that I’ve committed to do it, I’m nervous as hell. The president’s daughter, Shayla, is gonna watch and criticize every damn word I say. I’m already starting to second-guess myself.”

  “Who the hell is Shayla?” I wave her off. “Never mind. I don’t care. I only care that this person doesn’t make you lose confidence in yourself. You know your shit and deserve the opportunity.”

  Her shoulders slump as she frowns. “I know, you’re right. I just…ugh, she drives me crazy. She’s my biggest competitor, and she’s one of those friendly fake-type people. I’m not jealous of her success. I’m just annoyed that she steals ideas—including mine—to get to the top. She’ll step on anyone if it means staying up there.”

  “Well, she sounds awful. You’re busting your ass to make a name for yourself. And you’re doing it the right way. People like her always fall down, so don’t worry about her too much. Karma will take care of it.”

  Harper sighs, then smiles. “Hopefully sooner than later.”

  Chapter Six

  HARPER

  The more I think about answering questions in front of hundreds of people, the more I want to vomit.

  I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished in only a couple of years. It’s not been easy, but I’ve had the best support system, and that’s helped me get to where I am now. I love making videos for social media, showing my process, and talking about restock days. It brings me so much joy to see everyone so excited.

  But the moment I see Shayla’s company announcing nearly the same damn thing and releasing it before my launch really makes me shabby. I wanted to do something special for fall, so I put together a box of fall-inspired items—pumpkin spice soap, pumpkin cheesecake lotion, apple crisp lip balm, and apple pumpkin butter face cream. It’s called the Fall of Hart box, and it’ll be my biggest launch to date. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks and finally decided to do it. That way, I could talk about the success of it at the event, but now it’s gonna look like I copied Shayla even though it was my original concept.

  However, I know the truth, and that’s all that matters. My customers will see the cute little personal touches I add to each box and appreciate it even more. Since I’m packaging today, I decide to set up my tripod and take a video of me putting orders together. Sometimes, I add some trending music, and other times, I don’t so they can enjoy the ASMR sounds. I usually get thousands of views and tons of comments. There’s no way I can respond to them all, but I try to answer the most common questions.

  After I’ve done about thirty orders, I take a break to eat lunch and edit my videos to post this afternoon. Once I’m happy with the finished product, I publish it, then get back to work.

  A couple of hours later, I see a couple of texts from Hadleigh. She’s at work today and usually checks in with me during her breaks.

  Hadleigh: Dude, are you okay? What the fuck!

  Hadleigh: Don’t listen to them, Harper.

  I furrow my brows as I re-read her message. What is she talking about?

  Then I remember I never checked how my video was doing so I go to my profile and see it’s going semi-viral. I smile, giddy about the exposure.

  But then I click on the comments and see dozens of people
have tagged Shayla’s shop.

  I ordered three weeks ago, and I’m still waiting for my order!

  Shop at Goat Soap Suds! They ship within 48 hours!

  It shouldn’t take this long to ship! I want a refund! Shayla never takes this long.

  Instead of making videos, maybe you should be packaging the orders you already have.

  I think this business is a scam. I’m still waiting for an item I bought a month ago.

  I swallow down the bile that threatens to surface. I’m used to a few negative comments, but these go on forever like Shayla sent her people to swarm my videos. So not only is she stealing my ideas but she’s also now trying to turn my customers against me.

  I work my ass off to make products and ship within my four-to-six-week timeframe, but sometimes doing everything on my own gets overwhelming. When Hadleigh’s able to help, we get twice as much done, but she usually only has a few free hours on her days off. Meanwhile, Shayla has a whole ass team of people to work the back end of her business. She barely lifts a finger and is as fake as her acrylic nails, but of course I can’t say that. She knows most small businesses can’t ship that fast and brags about it nonstop to entice people to shop with her instead. I wouldn’t care if she was being ethical, but she’s not.

  My face heats as anger flows through my blood. The sucky thing is there’s nothing I can do about it. While I could go through and delete these comments, there are hundreds of them, and I don’t have time to. Even though there are good ones too, most people go search for the bad ones.

  I could delete the video, but then she wins.

  And I’m not willing to give her the satisfaction.

  Instead, I turn off comments so no more rude ones can be posted, but it doesn’t make me any less angry about the whole thing.

  Ethan drops by after work and brings me a plate of lasagna from the B&B. It brightens my mood a little, but I’m still bitter. Of course, he notices and tries to help by making me laugh, but it doesn’t work. Considering he’s tired and I’m not the greatest company at the moment, I tell him he should go home and get some rest.

  I prefer to sulk in private anyway.

  Once he’s gone, I get into the tub and relax with a glass of red wine. I soak in the hot water, hoping to relieve the tension from my shoulders. I shouldn’t let things like this get to me, especially her, but it feels like high school drama all over again. I left that place eight years ago, but apparently, Shayla hasn’t. There’s room for everyone at the top, even if she doesn’t believe that. People love goat soaps and lotions. There are plenty of customers to buy from all of our shops, yet she thrives on turning it into a capitalist competition. She also passively tears down small businesses as if we’re peasants compared to her. If it weren’t for the resources and knowledge the association provides each quarter, I wouldn’t bother to keep paying dues. However, it’s helped me network with wholesalers and collaborate with other companies, which has been priceless for helping me grow.

  As the stress melts away, I think about my winter launch. To avoid anyone copying me, I don’t plan to announce it until the day before I post the items on my website. I also want to add goat milk bath bombs to the boutique and hope to debut them in my holiday collection. I’d definitely need another person to help me get my inventory started, but bath bombs are fairly easy to make and profitable.

  Feeling optimistic and excited about the future, I get out of the tub and dry off. I pour another glass of wine, getting more of a buzz than I typically allow myself, but it’s been one hell of a day. After I throw on a robe and brush my hair, I browse Pinterest and drink.

  Once I’ve pinned about fifty scent ideas and nailed down what options I want to offer, I finish off the bottle. Tomorrow morning’s gonna be rough, but that’ll be a future me problem.

  Against my better judgment, I go on Facebook, which I hardly ever do except to post on my business page. After checking my notifications, I scroll my newsfeed until I come across a post in the small business association member group. Since I’m speaking on the next panel, I read the most recent announcement from Charlene.

  Attention everyone who’s attending next month’s meeting!

  We have a very special guest coming and we’ll be hosting a dinner Saturday evening.

  We need a head count for reservations, so comment below if you’re coming and/or bringing a plus-one.

  We promise this will be super beneficial to your business, and you won’t want to miss out!

  Then I read the comments, and of course, Shayla’s the first one.

  I’ll be there and bringing my fiancé, Leon!

  I roll my eyes at the ring emoji she added at the end. Like we needed a reminder after how obnoxious she was at the last meeting and online.

  More comments pour in about people bringing their spouses or business partners. Then I come across one where Charlene’s tagged members who haven’t RSVP’d yet, and I see my name.

  Harper, do you plan to come? And if so, are you bringing a plus-one?

  Before I could reply, Shayla responded.

  Probably her mom again.

  With a smirking-face emoji.

  And if that wasn’t snarky enough, fifty people “ha-ha’ed” her comment.

  She knows damn well I’ll be there since I’m presenting, but she had to dig her knife deeper as if me bringing my mother would be the worst thing.

  There are a couple of nice comments below hers.

  I hope so, her mom is so lovely!

  Mrs. Hart is so sweet!

  Though, they’re all from middle-aged women who couldn't care less if I’m single or not. At least they didn’t have the nerve to laugh at Shayla’s stupid comment.

  Before I can think twice, I type out my response.

  Of course I’ll be there! Excited to bring my fiancé with me. It’ll be his first meeting!

  As soon as I hit enter, I immediately regret it.

  Fuck. Damn wine is giving me more courage than I need.

  What am I doing?

  Before I can delete it, a flood of notifications comes in.

  Oh my God! Congrats!

  What? I didn’t know you were engaged!

  Can’t wait to meet him!

  Congrats, Harper!

  Who’s the lucky man? Congratulations!

  Noooo. No. No. No.

  What the fuck did I just do? I definitely can’t delete it now.

  Luckily, none of them are locals, so they don’t know anything about my personal life or family, but this can still backfire and bite me in the ass. And knowing my luck, it will.

  I have no idea how I’m going to get out of this. It’s not like I’m gonna find a boyfriend anytime soon. Even if I found someone through a dating app, asking him to pretend to be my fiancé would probably ensure I never hear from him again.

  Five minutes later, Shayla sends me a private message.

  Hey girl! OMG, I can’t believe I didn’t know you were engaged! I didn’t see a ring on your finger last time. So what’s his name? My mom needs to put it on the reservations list.

  Shit.

  Of course she’d point out that I wasn’t wearing a ring.

  My heart races as I panic about how I’m going to reply. There’s no getting out of this now.

  Hey! We just announced it. His name is Ethan.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I shake my head at how fast I typed my best friend’s name. He’s the only person I could think of, and since she already stalks my social media, she’ll see pictures of us on my personal Instagram so it won’t be completely far-fetched. Though they’re photos of us hanging out as friends, it’s better than nothing.

  Still, I don’t doubt she’ll go to extreme lengths to find out more details.

  That’s great! Look forward to meeting him.

  She signs it with a wink-face emoji.

  Now, I just have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with only a month before the meeting.

  I could say he got sick at the last
minute. Or he had a work emergency. Maybe I could say we broke up?

  Except lying to get out of a lie never works. Pretty soon, they’ll all blur together, and I’ll forget what’s real or not.

  Shayla finding out I made this all up would be the worst kind of humiliation, and I have no doubt she’d find a way to use it against my business. Maybe if I come clean now, it’ll blow over by the time of the event.

  I put my phone on do not disturb last night and have ignored it all morning. I woke up with a major headache and vowed never to drink a whole bottle of wine alone again. Now that I’ve decided to admit that I’m not engaged and hopefully avoid a significant scandal, I grab my phone and get ready for the daunting task.

  Checking my notifications first, I see Shayla’s tagged me in the group. Oh fuck, this can’t be good.

  Let’s all congratulate Harper on her engagement! We can’t wait to meet Ethan at the next conference!

  It’s followed by over a hundred comments.

  My eyes widen in horror as I read them and realize there’s no way out of this.

  Throwing my phone, I groan and curse my alcohol-induced stupidity that got me here. Falling on my bed face-first, I beg the floor to swallow me whole.

  There’s no way I can show my face at that conference without a fiancé. And I can’t ask my best friend—the guy I’ve been dreaming about for years—to pretend to be with me. I’d like to think I have more dignity, but after last night, that’s debatable.

  Knowing Ethan, he’d agree, but that’s not the problem.