Home > Until Harmony (Until Her/Him #6)(11)

Until Harmony (Until Her/Him #6)(11)
Author: Aurora Rose Reynolds

Watching her walk away, I head back toward him, and like he knows I’m close, his eyes come to me. My stomach does the same thing it always does around him, which is more than a little annoying. I wish I could get over this crush and focus on the fact that I’ve got a really great friend.

“Everything okay?” he asks, studying me.

“Yep, Willow just wanted to get dinner. Since I’m here with you, I told her I’d drive up to Nashville tomorrow and spend the night at her place for some sister time,” I say, taking the beer he has in his hand, putting it to my mouth, and watching him smile as I take a sip and force it down.

“That’d be good.”

“Yeah,” I agree then look around. It’s getting late, meaning most of the people who are still here are no longer just hanging out. Most of them are finding partners to spend the night with.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks, and I look at him once more.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“Only had two beers. I’m good,” he promises, and I watch him lift his chin to someone across the fire. Looking that way, I watch his friend Everret come toward us with a chick under his arm.

“You taking off?” Everret asks once he’s close, and the girl looks me over then tucks herself tighter against him like I’m going to pull him magically into my snare.

“Yeah,” Harlen answers, taking the beer from me and tossing it into a bin off to the side.

“Cool,” Everret mutters, and then his eyes come to me. “Good meeting you, Harmony.”

“You too.” I give him a smile then watch him and Harlen do the man handshake-back-pat thing before he walks off with his arm around his girl.

“Ready to go?” Harlen asks, tipping his head down toward me.

“Yep,” I say, and then his large hand closes around mine so that he can lead me to his bike. Once he’s on, I get on behind him and hold onto his waist as he pulls off the grass and onto the road. Just like every other time I’ve ridden on the back of his bike, the warmth of him seeps into my skin, the smell of him filling my lungs, and for a few minutes, I pretend we’re something we’re not.

Chapter 3


“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.

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