Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“It hasn’t?”
He takes a pull from his beer, which I can tell he’s not really enjoying, so I make a mental note to stock normal beer in the fridge. Not that I know if he will be back, but just in case.
“The town’s small. People tend to stick to what they know. It’s taken a while for people to realize we’re not in the business of fucking people over. Unlike some of the more established shops in town.”
“What do you mean?” I question before taking the last bite from my first slice, leaving the crust.
“We don’t fuck around with fixing cars or bikes. If you come to us with an issue, we take care of the issue. We don’t do a half-ass job so you have to come back in a week or a month for something else. We also don’t mark up the prices on work or parts to get more money.”
“That’s nice.”
“No, that’s good business,” he says, and I nod in agreement.
“I’m glad things are picking up for you guys.”
“Me too,” he agrees, and I take a pull from my own beer then turn toward the TV to watch the show that’s on, not really seeing it as I eat. “You want another slice?” he asks, and I turn to look at him, seeing his eyes on my now empty plate.
“Two more,” I reply, and he grins then unfolds himself from the couch, taking my plate from me. Sipping my beer, I watch him go to the kitchen to get us each more pizza, thinking I also liked the feeling of having him in my house and wonder if I can convince him to come back again after tonight. Then I think it’s stupid to wonder that, because he is obviously just here because he is a nice guy. Okay, a scary guy, but still a nice one, who wants to pay me back for looking out for him.
***
“Thank you for helping,” I tell him four hours later, standing in my open front door with Dizzy against my chest, watching Harlen slide on his leather vest. After we ate pizza on my couch, we unpacked, and then we took a break to eat my dessert pizza while standing in my kitchen, before unpacking some more. He didn’t talk much, but I found that he was easy to talk to, easy to be around, and funny. Not in-your-face funny, but still funny in a way that made me laugh and do it often while we worked.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” he says, moving past me to stand just outside the door, close enough I can smell a hint of something intriguing, but not close enough to be in my space.
“It was. We got almost everything done,” I tell him, looking back into the house. Most of the boxes that were stacked up in the living room and kitchen are gone, emptied and broken down in the spare bedroom, ready to take to the dump. And the stuff that’s left has been stacked up to drop off for donation. All I have left to do is put away my clothes and hang some of my photos and art. “I feel like I owe you payback now,” I add truthfully, meeting his gaze once more.
“Tomorrow, come by the compound,” he says, and my head tips to the side.
“The compound?” I prompt. I haven’t been there. My cousins and even my sisters have, but not me. I know it’s a part of the auto shop he works at and that some guys who have recently been discharged from the military live there, but that’s really all I know about it.
“We’ll hang out, play some pool, and drink a couple beers. I’ll call it even.”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, sliding my eyes away, and then his warm fingers wrap around my chin. My body jolts from the touch and my eyes shoot to his.
“Six.”
“I—” Before I can tell him no, his fingers tighten, not painfully but just enough to get me to shut my mouth.
“Six,” he repeats, then his head lowers, and my breath catches as my eyes slide closed. I don’t know if I expect him to kiss me or not, but when his lips brush my hairline at my forehead, disappointment fills my stomach. “Lock up,” he orders, and then both he and his touch are gone.
Opening my eyes, I watch him head down to his bike and get on. Knowing I don’t want to look like a teenager with a crush or a lovesick fool, I close the door, making sure to lock it behind me. Then, without anything else to do and really too tired to do anything more, I go to bed, where I spend the night tossing and turning.
Chapter 2
Harmony
PUTTING ON MY WATCH, I look at the pile of clothes on my bed and the rest of it scattered across my floor, shaking my head. I didn’t do what I should have done today—that being put away my clothes, and unpack my bedroom. Instead, I spent the day overanalyzing every moment from last night, between running errands, picking up beer at the grocery store, and trying to figure out what I would wear to see Harlen.