She’s staring at my last piece of bacon though she’s still rambling on about diets and calorie counts. She looks like she’s considering starting an affair with breakfast meat.
“Here,” I growl holding my bacon out to her. Reacher sits up in his bed hoping I’m talking to him.
“Oh no. You should eat that. I’ve had more than enough to last me for the day,” she chirps. Is that what they call it wheneverything she says sounds like it’s an audition for a movie about cute woodland creatures?
“Take it,” I try again. This time, she carefully reaches for the bacon. She takes a tentative bite as I watch how her pouty lips close around it. Jesus, I need to get laid more. The last thing I need is to fantasize about Travis’s houseguest.
“Oh my gosh,” she exclaims suddenly. “I haven’t even introduced myself. How much ruder can I be? First, I grope you in your kitchen thinking you’re Travis, not that I’m the type of woman who just randomly gropes any man. Anyway, I’m Harmony Ellis.” She extends her hand to me.
“I know who you are.” Why does my hand tingle when I take hers in mine? Does she feel it? She must because she jerks her hand back to her side of the table. Or maybe she just finds me repulsive. I’m not too concerned either way.
“You do?” Her soft blue eyes grow wide.
“Mmm,” I grumble getting up from the table. There’s no way I’m telling her that I have her first album nestled among my mother’s vinyl collection. I’ve preordered the second one for the moment it’s released. It wasn’t just a fluke that she landed a recording contract once that video went viral. She’s got talent.
Turning on the hot water at the tap, I ignore her while I wash up the dishes. Mom always insisted she didn’t want a dishwasher, and I’ve never gotten around to installing one. With just me living here, it’s not that hard to hand wash the dishes. Of course, the chatterbox notices.
“You don’t have a dishwasher?” She steps next to me as she places her plate in the sink. Her warm arm brushes mine. Thoughts of licking every inch of that skin flood my brain. I’m going to have to get out of here for a little while if I want to save my sanity. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”
“Mmm,” I grunt again. She almost knocks me out with her brilliant smile before she walks toward the bathroom. Is thathumming I hear? When the bathroom door closes, I hurry to pull on the rest of my clothes. “Come on, boy.” Reacher springs to his feet and follows me out of the kitchen.
I step into my insulated coveralls and boots by the back door of the mudroom and walk outside. The snow reaches halfway up my calf. For an area that rarely has snow, that’s crazy.
Last time it snowed like this I was a kid. Travis and I spent the day sledding down an old dirt water tank that’s behind the house. School was canceled for days, and except for checking hay, my parents stayed snuggled up on the couch watching old movies.
There’s not much I can do out here in this weather. The horses need to be fed, but not until this evening. I was smart enough to put hay out for the cattle yesterday. They’ll be good for a few days without feed. I need to keep an eye on their water, though. If it freezes too hard, they won’t be able to break up the ice.
I guess that leaves carrying more firewood from the barn to the mudroom. I whistle for Reacher who’s bounding through the snow checking all his favorite spots. He runs to my side panting and watches as I load my arms with logs.
“What can I do to help?” Harmony asks the moment I step inside the mudroom. Her hair is still wrapped in a towel from her shower, but she has on a pair of rhinestone covered jeans, a fuzzy red sweater, and thick socks. “Do you want me to put a couple of logs on the fire?”
“Sure,” I say handing her two pieces of firewood. That should keep her busy while I go for the next load. When I return, she’s organized the firewood that was already there into a neat stack at one end of the wall.
She’s also wiped all the snow off Reacher. He stands at the kitchen door wagging his tail. Chances are good he’s already found his new best friend. Traitor.
“I thought that the wood that’s already warm, we could use first,” she says. Makes sense. “Where can I find kindling? We’re running a little short.”
The next time I enter the house, I bring another stack of wood and a bucket of kindling. “Oh, perfect.” She takes the bucket from my hands. “It’s nice and toasty in there now.” I have visions of an inferno shooting out the top of the chimney.
“That should do it,” I announce on my last trip. My back is starting to complain, and there’s only so much firewood that can fit against the wall.
“Good. I have the kettle on for hot chocolate.” She seems more excited about the drink than I would think possible. “I even found some marshmallows.” She watches me set the last of the wood down, then leads me into the main part of the house.
“I thought I might make a coffee cake for this afternoon if that’s okay with you.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Is that all right?”
She stops and turns to look at me. I just now realize that I’ve stopped somewhere between the kitchen and mudroom to stare at her. Who is this woman who makes hot chocolate and coffee cake on a whim?
It takes everything I have to even my face back out from the scowl that graces it. I would make a snide comment except she looks worried. She can’t possibly think that I wouldn’t be okay with a piece of warm, brown sugar-covered goodness. Would she?
“I’m sorry,” she says, her shoulders slumping. “My sister always tells me I can be too much.”
“Your sister is a bitch.” Good Jesus, did I just say that out loud? I watch as Harmony bites on her bottom lip as she studies me. Would it be too much if I offered to bite that lip withmyteeth? Then she laughs.
“So you know my sister then.”
“Not really. I remember Travis complaining about her.” Harmony’s sister had a reputation for being the Regina George of Dansboro High School according to Travis. I didn’t know her personally, which I’m not sorry for. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Oh my gosh, Beau Rayburn has almost said a full paragraph that doesn’t contain any grunting,” she teases. I roll my eyes and walk past her into the living room. “I bet you’re exhausted from the exertion. Have a seat, and I’ll get our drinks.”
