Harry on the Prairie

Chapter 30

                   

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  A big thank-you to everyone who loves Frankie & Harry as much as I do. I truly appreciate every read, vote, and comment.  Much love. xo

TWITTER: @styles_orama

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I'm shameless
Honey, I don't have a prayer
Everytime I see you standing there
I go down upon my knees

               --Garth Brooks

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HARRY:

My chair scrapes against the floor, followed by the shuffle of my boots, and then the door creaks open to reveal my least favorite person in all of Colorado.

Reverend Payne.

*****

FRANKIE:

The Monday appearance of Reverend Payne in the doorway is enough to send some stray cornbread crumbs down the wrong pipe, causin' a tickle and sputter in my throat. I greet the Reverend with a silent nod as I sip my coffee, tryin' to prevent myself from chokin' and dyin' outright. At least if I die in the presence of the Reverend, I can have my last rites read to me all proper.

Harry's fingertips whiten as his grip tightens on the doorknob, and I know he's wishin' that knob was Reverend Payne's neck. Niall thinks I don't see him snag the last piece of ham durin' the doorway stand-off, but I do.

"Good day, everyone," the Reverend smiles and nods. "Harry," he says, extendin' his hand for a shake. The veins in Harry's neck are movin' 'neath his skin like a mess of rattlesnakes all riled up, and his nostrils flare like a wild animal, yet somehow he manages to nod and accept the Reverend's hand, so I'm mighty proud of him.

Harry's good behavior gives me the strength I need to rise to my feet and greet the Reverend proper. Wiping my hands on my apron, "Can I get you a cup of coffee, Reverend Payne?" Harry bristles at my offer, the air in the room thick like gravy.

"No, thank you – that won't be necessary." Turnin' to Harry, "I was hopin' I could have a quick word with Frankie, if you don't mind." The Reverend pauses. "In private."

Faster than a prairie fire with a tail wind, Harry's hands are full of the Reverend's coat and he's got him pushed up against the cabin wall hard enough to rattle the rifle that's hung over the doorframe.

Niall finally stops eatin' and rises from his seat at the same moment I do. I try to run to Harry, but Niall extends a strong arm in front of me so I'm unable to pass without rasslin' him outta the way.

"You listen to me," Harry spits his words out mere inches from the Reverend's face. "I don't know what kind of game you're tryin' to play here. Ya just saw her yesterday at the picnic and it's rainin' harder out there than a cow pissin' on a flat rock. Niall has reason to be here, pickin' up his wagon – but you, my friend – you do not." 

The Reverend's more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs as Harry lets go of his lapels, and straightens and smooths them out for the Reverend with his large hands, real slow and deliberate like.

"Now, Rev-er-end," I hold my breath as Harry draws out the Reverend's name. "Since that's settled, is there anything else I can do for you?"

*****

While Harry's out in the rain seein' off our guests, I'm in the kitchen washin' dishes and sayin' silent prayers of gratitude that there won't be any bloodshed today. I'd be peepin' out the front window if Niall wasn't out there to keep things straight.

Just thinkin' about the Reverend fills me with confusion. I don't know why he would mean me any harm. What could he possibly have to gain from my ruin? On one hand, I'm a little mad at Harry for treatin' a man of the cloth with such disrespect. But at the same time, I thank my lucky stars that he protects me the way he does, like I'm his own blood – something precious to keep safe. He makes me all warm inside, but am I worthy?

The front door opens and closes with a bang, and soon a long and lean Harry Styles graces the doorway to the kitchen, lookin' like a drowned rat. He's such a mess, I have to laugh, and when I do, he shakes himself like a dog after a swim in the creek, sendin' water droplets all over the damn place.

"Harry Styles! Why didn't you at least wear your hat?"

"Because I left outta here pissed off and forgot it."

His pout makes me smile because he is so handsome. Not to mention cuddly, and  – Holy Jesus, I still need to say my penance for the things we done. I blush and damn near break into a sweat when I remember his eyes meetin' mine as he looked up from devourin' my secret garden like a starvin' man eatin' a slice of watermelon right down to the rind – makin' sure he didn't miss a lick.

My knees weaken and I'm swept up into a wet Harry's arms. "You okay, darlin'?" His eyebrows knit in concern, makin' me blush all the more, so I cover my face with the dishtowel.

Harry carries me to the kitchen table and plops himself down in a chair, me in his lap. "Now we'll have none of that, now," he pulls the dishtowel away from my face, and I squirm to get away.

"You need to go change, Harry. You're gettin' me all wet."

"All wet, you say?" He drawls, slow and deep. "This sounds like a serious predicament you may need some help with."

The corners of Harry's mouth turn up into a smile so beautiful that I'm almost convinced he's the devil in boots. I mean, he's got to be, right? I feel myself swoon, and my secret garden throbs, and different parts of my body are doin' different things, and he ain't even touchin' me in the places I'm feelin' it the most.

I should be figurin' a way out of this mess with the Reverend instead of sittin' here in Harry's lap, feelin' his manhood bloom beneath me. One more little wiggle and . . . oh, yes.

Harry's eyes widen briefly before his lids droop to a half-closed position. I bring my hands up to his wet curls and push them away from his handsome face, and I lean in, pressin' my lips to his. Once, twice, then he parts his lips to nibble mine, his tongue runs a smooth line along my bottom lip. Just when I expect his tongue to fill my mouth, he pulls away leavin' me wantin' so much more that I ache.

"Frankie?" Nervous, his breathing quickens, "Will you be my little woman?"