17: Honest Answers

Balling his fist against his lips, "We're not having this talk right now."

Looking at her like she's a stranger, "I can't believe you're -that- selfish," he turns his back to her.

"What?"

An open palm lands on her chest as she's taken aback, "ME?"

Insulted by the attack on her character, "It's not -selfish-," she tries to look at him from over his shoulder, "Wanting to make sure we can have a profitable future with something your family is CLEARLY gifted at doing."

Hating that he's refusing to look at her, "Besides," she unties her cloak and steps around to face him.

Swooping the fabric around his lower back, pulling him closer and softening her tone, "Did you ever think that's why no one wants to take this place off your hands? No one makes wine -that- delicious."

Raising her eyebrow, pressing her body into his, "Investors across the -country- would pay for that stuff! Hell, even my dad!"

"That's not–," he cuts himself off with an eye roll and a groan.

Cupping her shoulders and bringing his face close to hers, "No one in this county needs a farm this size."

Clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils, "And the locals are a superstitious folk that scares newcomers away."

"Huh?"

Tilting her head with a deepening curiosity, "Superstitious about what?"

Backing away and waving his caned hand to impatiently dismiss her question, "Stop changing the subject!"

Clyde places his hands on his hips, "I do something wrong, it's the end of the world."

Fumbling through his pockets only to withdraw an empty, cardboard pack, "-You- do something wrong and you immediately deflect."

He crushes the box in his hand before throwing it on the ground.

Kicking a pebble from the path with a groan, he bends to pick up the trash, "Take some accountability for once. Lord knows you make me face all my fuck-ups when they happen."

Watching him tuck the garbage into his pocket, she mutters, "Fine."

Harper grimaces at the sound of her own voice, her lips curling in against her teeth before she shouts, "Fuck!"

Maybe he's right this time. But does she -really- want him so bad that she doesn't care how crazy he makes her look? Her momma didn't raise a "Sorry Susie." Although, it might be difficult living with him after this if she blatantly defies him.

"I'm sorry," she tucks loosening coils behind her ears, hesitant to look at him, "I saw some bimbo getting too friendly with my -husband- and I don't know," she sighs.

Hanging her head, "I guess I just snapped…"

Making eye contact then looking away, heat filling her cheeks, "Happy?"

"No," he tilts her chin up, examining her face as though he suspects insincerity and she glares.

"You get on my ass about a few beers here and there after -you- guilted me into drinking in the first place," he lets her go and spins around, "Just so you don't feel like the "only one" having a good time getting slammed at -every- party."

Nearly grinding her teeth, she pushes him and points in his face, "I already told you it -wasn't- the alcohol!"

Ushering for her to keep it down, he surveys the area when he hears laughter nearby. Pulling her from the path, a group of people talking along the path pass them without a glance, though Clyde nods and smiles.

The moment they're alone he looks up at the sky, as if contemplating something dire. Shoving his cane into her hands, she squeals when he scoops her up bridal style.

"We can't finish this here," he glances from hazel eyes to the distance, embarking on a new path.

Pointing behind him with the cane, "Don't leave my shoes!"

"Woman," he chuckles, clenching his jaw and turning around, "You really need to get your priorities straightened out."

Cutting through the lamp-lit garden to a storage shed, he sets her down on the concrete platform beside him before working to open the red, wooden door.

Asking jokingly, "Is that where you're going to hide my body?"

He narrows his eyes at her unamused.

"I might consider it now."

Harper slaps his shoulder and he chuckles.

"That's not funny."

Harper jumps when he punches the door, items on the inside falling and clanking against one another.

"You always paint me out to be the monster in your head when I -could- be a lot worse. Everything I do is for you and you're so volatile and jaded you can't see that."

Harper's jaw drops. Is that how he sees her?

"What? I'm no–," Harper breathes deep.

Nodding, accepting she's not any closer to being Ms. Perfect, "There's just a lot of stuff that happens in a marriage that I wasn't prepared for…"

Placing her hand on his, he looks at her, "You know my parents weren't the definition of a "happy couple"."

Clyde embraces her, resting his chin against the side of her head, "Ditto. But I'm doing my best. I really wish you would see that," he kisses her hair and she pulls back slightly to look into his eyes.

"I'm seeing it now," she whispers, searching sea-green tides for forgiveness, "I'll try to keep seeing it as long as you don't jump to using your fists instead of your words."

Clyde frowns, his eyes glossing over and he nods while holding her tighter.

"Oh stop!"

She pushes him back, gently pressing along her face to check the position of her jewels, "I don't want you to mess this up, hugging me so tight."

Flaring his nostrils at what he believes to be ridiculousness, she reassures him with, "If I gotta go back with my tail between my legs, I'm going to look good doing it."

Harper nods seriously until a grin slowly stretches across her lips.

Exasperated, "Honestly, if it wasn't alcohol," he leans his forearm against the shed while pulling her closer to him by her corset cords, "What's gotten into you?"

Running her teeth over her bottom lip, "I don't know…"

Stroking his wrist, "But I don't want it to go anywhere," she brushes her nose against his then stares at his lips.

Clyde kisses along her jaw to her neck, groping her hips and butt while nipping and rolling his tongue over her neck. Grabbing his sides she sighs, resting her head to the side and granting him more access.

A hot hand slides up her corseted side to her chest, Harper yelping, "How are you doing that to my ankle?"

"I'm flattered but," he withdraws, examining her face, "Even I'm not -that- good."

Harper pushes him away and jumps back with a scream.