Chapter 3

Harmony

“HARLEN,” I MOAN AS his mouth travels down my neck to my breast and he pulls my nipple into his mouth. My clit pulses and my toes curl. Running my hands up his chest and neck, I slide them into his thick hair to hold him where he is. My head digs deeper into my pillow, and my breath hitches when his hand slides over my hip. Squeezing my eyes closed, I wait to feel his fingers against my pulsing clit.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“No,” I pant, rolling to my side. I shut off the alarm then reach into my bedside drawer and quickly pull out my vibrator. Closing my eyes, I flip it on then finish myself off. Once I come, I lie there waiting for my breath to even out and my body to cool down. “This is getting ridiculous,” I groan to the ceiling then roll to my side, hugging my pillow.

It’s been three months since Harlen came into my life, and in that time, we’ve grown close. He’s always around when I have time off work, when I need someone to bitch at about things that are happening with the doctors or other nurses. He’s around when I need help putting together furniture, need a shoulder to lean on, or a just need a friend. So he’s around a lot. I like having him close; what I don’t like is wanting him the way I want him and being so afraid to lose what we have that I’m paralyzed to do anything about it.

Knowing I’m not going to find a solution to that problem right now, I sit up, drop my vibrator back in the drawer, toss back the covers, and scoot out of bed. Putting my feet to the floor, I head out of my bedroom and past the living room, smiling when I see the coffee table and standing lamp Mom and I picked out. We went to about ten shops before I found the vintage style rectangular coffee table with burnt wood and iron wheels, and three more after that before I found my lamp, a tripod base with a burlap shade. What I love more is that both pieces blend perfectly with the barstools Harlen and I found in the same vintage burnt wood, but with pretty dusty rose velvet tops and black grommets. Even Harlen, who is all man, said they were perfect. Okay so he didn’t say that but I could tell he thought so.

I turn on my coffee pot, grabbing a can of Dizzy’s food from the cupboard. The second I pop the top, he hops down off the couch where he slept last night and comes to sit at my feet. I dump his food in his bowl, set it to the floor, and then make myself a cup of coffee. Once I’ve added cream and sugar, I go to the back door and open it up a couple of inches so he can get out when he’s done eating.

I take my coffee with me and head for my bathroom, where I set it on the sink. Reaching in to turn the water on hot, I strip out of my nightgown, tossing it to the hamper. When I step into the shower, I let the hot water clear away the rest of the dream and the worry that’s been plaguing me these last few weeks—worry about my feelings, worry about Harlen’s feelings. Worry that I’m still not really living life.

Once I’m out, I dry off, put on a bra and panties, tie my still wet hair up into a ponytail, and then head to my closet to get dressed. Today is my last day off for the week, which means it’s going to be a busy day. I have plans to meet Harlen at one of my favorite bars in town to get a drink and watch a fight that is playing there tonight. I don’t really want to watch a fight, but I do want to see him before I can’t see him for a few days. So while he watches the fight, I’ll drink and soak up as much of him as I can. Before that though, I need to run to the bank to pay my mortgage, since I haven’t set it up to be drafted out automatically yet. Then I have an appointment at eleven a.m. to get my hair done by Ellie. And after that, I’m meeting my dad for lunch.

I get dressed, choosing a pair of jean shorts with lace showing through the holes in the material, a light pink satin tank with a high neckline and round hem, and my favorite leather T-strap sandals that have large rose gold crystals down the center strap. After I finish getting ready, I grab my cell phone and coffee before shutting off the light in my bedroom, and head into the living room, taking a sip from my mug as I walk.

Going to the back door I look out at Dizzy, who’s busy chasing the birds around the yard, and then open up the door wide and lean out. “Dizzy!” I yell, and his head swings my way, his ears perking up. “Come on,” I call, and he rushes through the yard, up the steps, and across the deck to me. Once he’s inside, I push the door closed behind him. I still haven’t gotten a doggie door put in. When I looked into putting one in, I found out that, with the door being glass, it’s going to cost me a small fortune. So I’m waiting and saving up the money I need to have it done.

“I’m going out, but I’ll be back.” I pick him up with one hand and kiss the top of his head. “Be good while I’m gone.” I set down my coffee then open the jar on the counter where I keep his doggie treats. Giving him one, I kiss the top of his head again before setting him to the ground and watching him run off with it in his mouth.

After taking the last sip from my coffee, I set the cup in the sink and fill it with water then grab my purse and keys. Locking the front door behind me, I head down the steps to my car. Seeing my neighbor, Misty, outside with her phone to her ear while she’s watering her flowers, I wave, watching her tuck the phone against her shoulder and wave back with the hose. Misty, her husband Matt, and her daughter Molli came over a few days after I moved in, welcoming me to the neighborhood with cookies, and since then, we’ve had a few over-the-fence conversations, but we haven’t really had a lot of time to get to know each other. It’s the same with my other neighbors. We wave hello and goodbye, but for the most part, everyone tends to stick to themselves.

Getting in my car, I start the engine and back out. I go to the bank first and take care of business there, then head to the salon. I park out front and get out, taking my bag with me, and head inside. I don’t remember when Ellie started doing my hair. It seems like forever ago. I used to go to a girl in Nashville, but when Ellie started working for Frankie, and my cousins started going to her, I gave her a try and haven’t gone to anyone else since.

I open the door, and the minute I spot Frankie, the owner of the salon, behind the counter, a smile splits my face.

“Harmony,” he greets me, coming around the counter toward me. Taking hold of my upper arms, he kisses both my cheeks. “How are you, gorgeous?”

“I’ve been really good. How are you?”

“Good.” He smiles then looks through the small opening in the wall to the back of the shop. “Ellie is just finishing up with her last client. You don’t have a long wait, but you do have time to get a coffee if you want one.”

“I’m having lunch with my dad across the street after this. I don’t want to ruin that by drinking too much coffee.”

“Got it.” He grins then his eyes go past my shoulder when the door chimes, and I turn to watch a woman walk in. “Jenna.” He lets me go then greets her the same way he did me, with the arm hold and cheek kiss. “I’m all set up. Are you ready?” he asks her.

“Ready.” She smiles at him.

His eyes come to me. “Make yourself comfortable. Ellie will be out soon.”

“Thanks, Frankie.” I take a seat on the purple couch in front of the window and drop my purse to my side. Pulling out my cell phone, I send a text to my dad reminding him about lunch today, and then I reply to a text from Willow who wants to go get dinner next week. I send her back a text saying yes then I send my mom a message asking if she wants to go with me to have dinner with Willow. When she responds with a yes, I send Willow another message letting her know that mom is coming along.

“Hey, girl,” Ellie says, and I shut down my phone and drop it into my bag looking up at her.

“Hey.” I stand and skirt the coffee table, giving her a hug.

“You ready?”

“Totally.” I smile at her as she takes my hand and drags me with her to the back of the salon to her station.

“I have to show you a photo. I came across it the other day, and I swear the second I saw it, all I could think is Harmony needs this haircut and color.”

“Show me.” I sit in her chair then take the photo she hands me.

“Am I right?” she asks, and I study the woman’s hair. It’s shorter than my hair is now, just below her shoulders, with lots of layers and highlights.

“I love it.” I lift my head and smile at her in the mirror.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s hot. Can you do this today?” I lift the photo in my hand.

“Heck yes!” She grins at me, and I grin back.

“Then make me pretty.”

“Please, you’re gorgeous. You don’t need any help with that.” She pulls out a hot pink cape, drapes it around my shoulders, and spends three hours highlighting, lowlighting, cutting, blow-drying, and curling my hair. When she’s done, my hair doesn’t look like the woman in the photo’s hair. It looks better. The cut makes me look like the kind of woman who lives her life wild, the kind of woman who takes risks and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.

“You are amazing.” I look from my reflection to Ellie in the mirror and smile.

“I think this is the best cut and color I have ever done.” She runs her fingers through my hair, watching the choppy layers fall into place.

“I love it, thank you.”

“No problem.” She takes off the cape, and I pull my card out of my wallet and hand it to her. “You wanna meet me in the front to sign?”

“Sure.” I pull out cash for her tip and set it on her station, knowing from experience that she won’t take it if I try to hand it to her. Going to the front of the salon, I sign the receipt she hands me.

“Do you want me to set up your next appointment now, or do you want to wait?”

“I’ll wait. I’m not sure of my schedule right now, but I’ll call.”

“All right.” She comes around the counter to give me a hug. “Tell everyone I said hi.”

“I will. Do the same and kiss Hope for me.” I say, referring to her daughter, and wave at her over my shoulder as I leave then head across the street. I sent my dad a text when Ellie was almost done, so I’m not surprised when I spot him through the window at the restaurant, already seated in a booth.

“Hey, Dad.” I slide into the seat across from him and his eyes widen.

“You changed your hair?”

“I did.” I run my fingers though it, loving how soft and light it feels.

“It looks good.”

“Thank you.” I drop my bag next to me.

“Ordered you a Coke with your usual Monte Cristo sandwich and fries,” he says, and my mouth waters. A Monte Cristo is ham and Gouda cheese between two thick pieces of Texas toast, which is then dipped in egg batter and fried to a golden brown. Then they cover it in a drizzle of raspberry jam and powdered sugar. I probably wouldn’t want to know how many calories are in the sandwich, but it’s one of my favorite things to eat whenever I come here, and totally worth taking the stairs at work.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “So how are things with you?”

“Things are good,” I tell him, then I smile at the waitress when she drops off our drinks.

“Yeah, what about you and Harlen?”

“Dad,” I sigh. This happens every time I see him lately. Really, it happens every time I see anyone in my family. They always ask what’s going on between Harlen and me, making me feel like a broken record.

“What?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“We’re just friends.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I keep saying it, because it’s the truth. He’s my friend. I like him. If I was with him, I would tell you that we’re together, but that’s not the case.”

“Hm,” he grunts, rubbing his jaw, and then asks, “Did you hear back about the class you wanted to take?”

“Yeah, they didn’t accept me this time, so I’m going to try again when it comes back around. And if that doesn’t work, I found an outside school that has the same program. I’d just rather not have to pay for the class if I don’t have to.”

“Your mom and I will pay if you need us to.”

“I know,” I agree with a noncommittal shrug, and then I move my hands off the table when the waitress comes over with our food.

Setting my sandwich and fries down in front of me, she places my dad’s burger and fries in front of him and asks, “Do you two need anything else?”

“I think were good,” I answer, and she nods before wandering off to another table. Picking up a fry, I pop it into my mouth, chew, swallow, and then ask, “What’s going on with Bax and Talon? Are they still planning on moving home?”

“Yep, they’re getting things sorted out now. Hopefully it won’t be long before they’re here.”

“It will be nice having them around.” I know both my parents want all their kids close, but Bax and Talon, just like Nalia, had other ideas about what they wanted. After the boys both graduated, they decided to move to Alaska. First, they bought a fishing boat, thinking they could run it in the summer and make enough money to get them through the rest of the year. Unfortunately, their first and second fishing seasons sucked, leaving them broke. They ended up selling their boat and moving to Montana, where they began working for a log home company. They both ended up loving it so much that they started their own side business building tiny hunting cabins in Alaska in the middle of nowhere during their time off. That business took off, so they have been traveling between Alaska and Montana for work. They now have a plan to start a similar company in Tennessee, which means they need to be here, at least for a little while.

“When they get home, I want to get Nalia out for at least a week,” he says, bringing me out of my head. I study him, trying to read his mood, the same thing I do when he or Mom talks about her. My sister Nalia and my brother Sage were both adopted. I don’t recall when it was, since I only ever remember them being a part of our family, but I know they were young, maybe around two years old. Not long after Nalia turned eighteen, she decided to get in touch with her birth mother, and now she lives in Denver not far from her. My mom and dad have both been supportive of her relationship with her mother, even if it hurts them to have her so far away. But Sage hasn’t been supportive. He won’t even speak about the woman who gave birth to him, and that has taken a toll on his relationship with Nalia.

“Maybe we can plan a trip to the Smoky Mountains, rent a couple of cabins and a boat, like old times,” he continues. “Your mom would like that.”

“I’d love that, so I know Mom would really love it,” I agree, wondering if Harlen’s ever been to the Great Smoky Mountains. He would love it there, nothing but tree-covered mountains and good people. I used to love going to the Smokies when I was a kid, visiting Dollywood and all the other places set up with things to do. The whole town is built with family and fun in mind.

“We’ll plan for it.” He smiles before taking a bite of his burger.

“Maybe I’ll invite Harlen.” I grin, and he grunts, making me laugh.

***

Feeling my skin prickle, I look at Harlen and catch him staring at me again. “You’re making me self-conscious,” I sigh.

“I can’t believe you cut your hair,” he says while I pick up my drink and down half of it. He didn’t say he liked it when he came to pick me up. No, the first words out of his mouth after I opened the door were “What the fuck did you do to your hair?” making me want to kick him in the shin.

“Well, I did, so drop it,” I snap, fed up and a little bit drunk. Okay, a lot drunk.

“Babe, I like it. It’s just going to take me some time to get use to it,” he soothes, and I turn to look at him again.

“Whatever,” I gripe, and he smiles, making me narrow my eyes. “I’ll be back. Can you order me another drink?”

“Sure.” He nods, and I slide off my stool. Going to the bathroom, I take care of business then look at myself in the mirror as I turn on the water.

“I like my hair,” I mutter to my reflection as I wash my hands. Once I’m done, I grab a paper towel and dry them quickly then use that same paper towel to turn off the water and open the door out of habit.

The moment I step out of the hall, Harlen’s eyes come to me. “Ordered you some water,” he tells me, and I shake my head.

“I wanted another drink, not water.”

“You can have one after you drink some water.”

“Whatever,” I mumble again, climbing up onto the barstool next to his.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I turn my head and meet his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Still pissed at me?” he asks, and I drop my eyes to his mouth and see his smile.

“No.”

“Angel,” he laughs, and my belly tugs. God, I love it when he calls me that. It’s not all the time, but it’s always sweet. “You’ll get over it.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and I know he’s going to kiss the top of my head, but instead of tipping my head down to let him, I tip it back without telling myself to do it. Then I lean forward, putting my hands on his chest. The moment our mouths meet, my lips part and my tongue slips out, touching his bottom lip. My nails dig into his chest through his shirt, while one of his hands slides into my hair at the back of my head and his other molds around my hip. Tipping my head to the side, his tongue flicks over mine and I whimper.

“Fuck,” he growls. Then he’s gone. Ten feet away, across the room, with his back to me as he disappears down the hall toward the bathroom.

“Oh no.” Breathing heavily, I realize what I just did, what just happened, and I look around, jump down from the stool, and grab my bag, booking it to the door. I don’t think about what I’m doing or where I’m going. I run toward the end of the block. I didn’t drive us here; Harlen did. So I don’t have my car—not that I would drive in my state, but still, I could hide in it if I had it.

Reaching the corner of the building, I press my back to the wall and pull out my cell phone, unlock the screen, and bring up my Uber app. I need to get out of here and do it quickly. Thankfully, there is a driver close, so I press the button I need and wait until they are parked. Only then do I leave my hiding spot and run across the street.

“Harmony?” a girl asks, rolling down her window. I nod, open the back door, and get in, ducking down in the back seat. “You okay?”

“Yep,” I lie, and I hear my cell phone ring in my hand. Looking at the screen, I then squeeze my eyes closed.

“You sure?” she asks, and I open my eyes and meet her gaze in the rearview mirror. She’s pretty, really pretty, with dark hair and big blue eyes. She doesn’t look like any Uber driver I’ve ever had. Then again, I don’t take an Uber often.

“Yeah, just a little tipsy,” I fib as my cell phone starts to ring again.

Hitting Deny, I watch a text pop up on my screen.

Where the fuck are you?

I sit back and close my eyes. I must be drunker than I thought I was. I know for sure I’m stupider than I thought. Opening my eyes, I text back.

Sorry, had to go. I’ll see you around.

Not even two seconds later, my phone chimes again.

Where are you?

I ignore that text. I also ignore my stomach turning and my eyes stinging, and I keep ignoring everything that I’m feeling until I’m home in bed. Then I turn off my phone and proceed to ignore the pounding on my door. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore the way my heart hurts.