Leave Him Loved_Harloe Rae Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Harloe Rae, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher listed above, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or purely coincidental.

  Editing: Red Adept Editing

  Cover Artist: Book Cover Kingdom (www.bookcoverkingdom.com)

  Photographer: Rafa G. Catalá

  Cover Model: Alfredo

  Interior Design: Champagne Book Design

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  NOVELS BY HARLOE RAE

  DEDICATION

  PLAYLIST

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  WHAT TO READ NEXT

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Reclusive Standalones

  Redefining Us

  Forget You Not

  #BitterSweetHeat Standalones

  Gent

  Miss

  Lass

  Silo Springs Standalones

  Breaker

  Keeper

  Loner

  Total Standalones

  Watch Me Follow

  Ask Me Why

  Left for Wild

  Leave Him Loved

  For my baby girl, Briella Jean.

  If it weren’t for her patience and utter infatuation with being in a sling wrap, this book wouldn’t be done.

  Also, to the love of country boys. Who can resist, right?

  “Where the Green Grass Grows” by Tim McGraw

  “Good Directions” by Billy Currington

  “Big Green Tractor” by Jason Aldean

  “This is How You Fall in Love” by Jeremy Zucker

  “Grow As We Go” by Ben Platt

  “Favorite T-Shirt” by Jake Scott

  “Stupid Boy” by Keith Urban

  “Home to You” by Sigrid

  “You Can Have Your Space, Cowboy” by Kacey Musgraves

  “Who Would Have Thought” by Dylan Dunlap

  “Surrender” by Natalie Taylor

  “Better Half of Me” by Tom Walker

  Listen on Spotify here!

  I’m a city girl—born and raised.

  My plans for the future include a towering high-rise that overlooks the hustle and bustle.

  Living in farm country? That possibility never had a place on my bucket list.

  Until now.

  Enter Reeve Colton—local bachelor and shameless flirt.

  Bumping into him on my introductory stroll down Main Street is a delicious housewarming treat.

  The small-town charm of Bampton Valley begins sinking in that afternoon.

  Maybe this temporary relocation is a blessing in disguise.

  It turns out Reeve and I have more in common than our mutual appreciation for good barbecue. Don’t even get me started on his magnetic personality and ridiculous good looks.

  Striking a bargain with him is a no-brainer.

  What starts as a bit of fun becomes complicated in a hurry.

  But that won’t change the inevitable.

  When my contract is done, I’ll be leaving him—and Bampton Valley—behind.

  The swig of lemon shandy sends a cool burst of bubbling zest across my tongue. I swallow and allow a smile to curve the corners of my mouth. Something about this crisp brew lifts my spirits. Being in the company of my best friends definitely boosts my mood too. Each moment in their presence is becoming more precious as graduation looms one day closer. Cheap pitchers and greasy nachos on Sunday nights at the Library will soon be a memory. With a bumpy roll of my shoulders, I shove the gloom into a far corner. We’re not here to dwell on our individual departures. Celebrating our accomplishments is more like it.

  A cool tingle of foam tickles my upper lip before I wipe all traces of evidence away. When I glance up, Vannah and Clea have matching smears of froth from their latest gulps of beer. Presley dips her head, probably erasing the proof before anyone dares to comment. Not that the regulars of this shabby-chic establishment ever would, but she’s always been concerned about the image her actions portray. I shoot her a small grin, and she shrugs.

  Clea raises her mug, nearly sloshing out the golden contents. “Let’s do a toast.”

  “Another one?” I take inventory on the condition of my stomach and find no upset, not yet at least.

  “When’s the next half-price affair where we’ll be gathered together?”

  Vannah bobs her head. “Yeah, this week marks the end of our college journey. On Friday, we’ll go our separate ways as the responsibility of adulthood settles onto our laps.”

  I barely bite back a groan. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  A furrow forms between Clea’s brows. “What’s with the blue hue?”

  “It’s nothing.” The churning in my belly—that has nothing to do with alcohol—screams otherwise.

  “Spill it,” she urges.

  I twist my lips to one side, knowing better than to argue. “Bellmoore still hasn’t contacted me with more details.”

  Vannah waves off my concern. “They’ll call. You secured that teaching slot months ago. The administration would be foolish to let such a bright star escape their orbit.”

  “You make me sound so celestial,” I murmur.

  She tucks a curled section of auburn hair behind her ear. “Thank you. My astronomy professor would be happy to hear that.”

  “Too bad that won’t come in handy at your fancy-pants office gig.” Clea clucks her tongue.

  Vannah sends her a pout. “Yeah, planets and space travel don’t play well with corporate real estate.”

  “Everyone needs a side hustle.”

  “True story.” Vannah nudges her and grins.

  I belatedly realize how quiet Presley is. Reserved or not, she’s being more withdrawn than usual. I lean in so my whisper won’t carry. “Are you okay?”

  She nods, almost too quickly. “Yeah, I’m good. Just enjoying the college bar scene while I can.”

  Vannah and Clea are still absorbed in their conversation, oblivious to Presley’s odd attitude. Maybe I’m projecting my sorrow onto her. I give myself another internal shake and attempt to remain in the present.

  As if on cue, the scent of buttery popcorn wafts over from the far wall. My stomach rumbles from the t
empting smell. A group of guys chant and down a round of shots. I recognize one as a fellow student from several of my elementary education classes. Maybe that’s his major as well. I can’t help wondering if he secured a contract yet. The thought vanishes with an internal curse. What does it matter? The simple answer is that it doesn’t.

  Other familiar faces litter the crowd. We’re all chasing away reality, one gulp at a time. This has been our frequent stomping grounds over the years. It’s a safe haven of sorts. A heavy sigh deflates my posture. I’m going to miss this.

  Clea jostles her drink in front of us. “Okay, enough shop talk. I’m getting thirsty, and my arm hurts.”

  We clink our glasses before we swallow our required sips. I notice Presley doesn’t take a swig, but she fakes it. Now that I’m paying more attention, she looks a little green around the gills. I part my lips to question her methods of madness when Vannah’s melodic tone breaks the silence.

  “Where are you moving to again, Auds?”

  I trace a finger around the rim of my mug, trying not to picture a swirling drain. “As of now, I haven’t finalized a lease.”

  Her gaze holds a sympathetic shine. Or maybe that’s from the booze entering her bloodstream. “Waiting on the job?”

  “I figured that’s best practice.” I almost cringe at the hollow pang in my voice.

  “Don’t fret, love.” Presley settles her hand over my fidgeting ones. “Everything works out the way it’s meant to. Give yourself enough grace to plan for the worst while knowing there are always options.”

  “Oh, wise one, I can always count on you for solid advice.”

  Her smile wobbles, but it sticks regardless. “I’ll keep the faith for both of us, if necessary.”

  “Pass a spoonful of that optimism my way,” Vannah grumbles.

  I squint at her. “Who gave your kitty a salty lick?”

  She sputters on her sip of beer. “Are you calling me a salty kitty?”

  “If the hissy fits.” I glance at my nails, picking at the chipped polish.

  “Very funny,” she deadpans.

  “Or is it punny?”

  Vannah crosses her arms and flops back against the booth. “Not sure it matters.”

  “Out with it then,” I prod.

  After another exaggerated huff and roll of her eyes, she finally blabs. “I had a bad date. Horrific, really. I’d rather not discuss it further.”

  I exchange a wince with Clea and Presley. Vannah has a tendency to find guys with the dirtiest track records. Kudos to her romantic heart for giving them a chance at redemption, regardless of their sordid reputation.

  “The next one will be better,” Clea assures.

  “Absolutely,” Presley adds.

  Vannah grumbles beneath her breath, but she can’t stop a grin from spreading. “Maybe. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed. Tasting some fresh meat after years of the slim pickings in this wading pool will be much appreciated.”

  I smile at my friends as they get lost reminiscing about hot frat boys and house parties. Upbeat chatter buzzes in the background. People hum with glee as they gather, their bouts of laughter blending into the mix. Everyone is getting lost in celebration, or should be. A catchy song blares from the speakers, encouraging patrons to get off their seats and dance. I’ve never been shy about shaking what my mama gave me, but this isn’t the time for bumping and grinding.

  Resistance be damned, these familiar comforts swaddle me tighter than a warm embrace. I decide to let the uncertainty float away—for tonight, at least. Sullying our evening with my mounting concern isn’t fair to anyone. I probably have nothing to worry about. And I’ll keep telling myself that until proven otherwise.

  A tumbleweed rolls across the narrow road, somersaulting toward an overgrown ditch. The sight would be comical if it weren’t a conveniently placed prop in my dose of harsh reality. I find myself gaping at the spindly object as if it’s a mythical creature. It turns out those things actually exist. Shame on me for assuming otherwise. I figured Western movies used them as ironic ornaments to set the stage. Although, to be fair, each passing mile suggests that’s precisely where my target destination is located.

  The view from my windshield shows a very appropriate backdrop for such a film. My sweaty palms slip along the steering wheel as the weight of what lies ahead sinks in. I pull over on the dusty highway to stare for a moment. Sprawling acres of lush greenery and fields of wheat welcome my scrutiny. The breeze whipping through my open window offers a slight reprieve from the rising heat. I inhale deeply, granting myself a lungful of fresh-cut hay and sweet pollen. In the distance, a herd of cows chomp on grass. Roaming free while basking in the sunshine doesn’t sound half-bad. I can almost picture Wayne and Trigger loping across the plains, guns blazing as the criminals try to escape with their bags of loot.

  Oh, man. The humidity must be getting to me, but that’s not all. A glance in each direction is a stark reminder of what the next year holds for me. This is so far out of my norm that I’m becoming a jumble of tension. I rest a hand on my forehead and suck in a calming breath. Driving across remote farmland in Iowa is the complete opposite of what I’d originally signed up for. I should be settling into a cramped apartment in downtown Minneapolis. How did this happen?

  Repeating that question until I’m hoarse won’t change the outcome. My snort is half-hearted at best. The entire fiasco is ridiculous. Spoiler alert, the cushy job at Bellmoore Academy—a private school in the city—didn’t pan out. The deal was fishy to begin with. Their continued lack of communication should’ve clued me in. I chose to be forgiving and allow blind faith to guide me.

  When available positions are first posted in the spring, established teachers snatch them up before new graduates have their resumes finalized. I can’t blame the districts for choosing those with more experience, but I dared to be optimistic. That confidence paid off. Landing one of those coveted spots had me peering at the horizon behind rose-tinted lenses. My career path was set in motion, and I was zooming full speed ahead.

  Most levelheaded professionals would’ve jumped ship when Bellmoore didn’t send a contract or any formal terms for employment. I’ll admit to being wrapped up in the whimsical glamor of their offer. Red flags were staked and waving, but the potential possibilities outshined the pitfalls. As the weeks trickled on without word from them, suspicion replaced my naïve acceptance. My growing doubts were warranted.

  Thankfully, the hope I clung to didn’t stubbornly stick until August or later. I managed to pull my head out of the clouds by late May while other opportunities were still in full bloom. Not that I had a shot at most of them. As if sensing my overdue rejection, Bellmoore sent an email that week confirming what I already guessed. They had to make unforeseen budget cuts and could no longer afford to expand their staff. As if that update couldn’t be passed along earlier.

  A chime from my cell saves me from traveling further along my downward spiral. I glance at the screen, and a knot loosens in my stomach. With a quick swipe, I answer the call.

  “How did you know?”

  Vannah laughs in my ear. “We’ve been attached at the hip since orientation freshman year. It’s basically a sixth sense at this point.”

  “Those are cherished moments.” A drawn-out sigh escapes me.

  “That noise doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong?”

  “Other than moving to an entirely different state? Being separated from all my friends? Starting over completely from scratch?” I’m not prideful enough to hide the slight tremor in my voice. A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow.

  “Do you have some cheese to go with that whine? An aged gouda should pair nicely.”

  “You’re such an elegant snob,” I mumble.

  “And that’s why you love me,” she chirps.

  “Thanks for the emotional support. Is that why you rang?”

  “Just wanted to check on your progress. Have you arrived in Boondocks Valley yet?”

 
; “Bampton,” I correct.

  “Pardon me.” Vannah laughs. “Is there a difference?”

  “Now you’re really being a snob.” I glare across the flat valley to my left. “What’s stopping me from ending this riveting conversation?”

  She huffs down the line. “Oh, I’m just teasing. I have to mask my pain somehow. It’s my only defense against your absence. In all honesty, living in the country would be a great escape for me.”

  “You could always work remotely,” I suggest.

  “In real estate? I’m not ballsy enough to take on that challenge. Maybe after my first promotion or my company sets up an office down there, whichever comes first.”

  “Don’t get too attached to the idea. My situation is temporary.”

  That reminder plays on a constant loop in my mind. Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful for being hired. By a reliable district willing to take a gamble on an inexperienced teacher, no less. Sure, I could’ve taken a chance and held out for something closer to home. But I’d stretched my luck far enough. Getting a full-time schedule with my own classroom is a blessing. I’ll never take this good fortune for granted, but that doesn’t mean I plan to stick around longer than financially necessary. No offense to them, of course. Being this far from home—my family and friends—isn’t meant for me.

  “Don’t set an expiration date on this adventure. You never know what’ll happen.” Vannah breaks the daze I’m floating in.

  I blink, and my surroundings zoom into focus. The endless fields of crops spread far and wide, a mix of green and gold dancing in the wind. The natural beauty isn’t lost on me. It’s such an organic vision to witness, one I’m not used to seeing. The contrast to my typical view of concrete and streetlights is almost startling.

  “I’m a city girl,” I argue.

  “Only because you haven’t lived elsewhere.”

  “On purpose.”

  She clucks her tongue. “Be careful. Someone might call you a highbrow.”

  That gets a laugh out of me. “And will that person be you?”