Until Harmony (Until Her 4)

Once I pay, I grab my soda and take my ticket with me over to one of the tables to wait. I pull out my phone and send everyone in my family a quick thank you text then scroll through Facebook out of boredom.

“Harmony.”

Hearing my name rumbled in a familiar deep voice, I jump in my seat and my eyes scan up from a pair of black heavy-looking boots, jeans that have been washed so many times they have started to fray at the seams, and a faded blue shirt that shows off every single muscle of his torso under a black leather vest.

“Babe, you okay?” Harlen questions, and I tip my head farther back and blink up at him, shaking my head.

“Sorry, yes.” I smile awkwardly. “Long day of moving and unpacking along with not eating has put waste to every brain cell I have left,” I tell him. He nods then pulls out the chair next to mine and takes a seat.

“Evan said you got a place in town and that he and Wes were helping with the move today,” he says, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles on the outside of mine, effectively blocking me in.

“They got roped in with everyone else.” I take a sip of my soda, studying him, but trying not to look like I’m studying him. His hair and beard have grown longer since the last time I saw him, and I’m not sure if he looks hotter or scarier. I do know the longer beard makes his lips seem even more inviting.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, breaking into my thoughts about his mouth and what it might feel like to have it on mine.

“Getting pizza then heading back home to eat and unpack some more. I have to get back to work on Saturday, so I’m trying to get as much done as I can before then,” I ramble.

“I’ll help,” he states, and I blink at him.

“Pardon?” I ask, sure that I heard him wrong, because I can’t imagine he has nothing better to do than help me unpack.

Shrugging one big shoulder, he tips his head to the side. “My order’s to-go. I’ll bring it with me to your place, we’ll eat, and then I’ll help you unpack.”

“That’s sweet, but—”

“Payback,” he cuts me off before I can tell him it’s not necessary.

“Payback?” I prompt.

“You helped me out, and this is me returning the favor. I won’t take no for an answer. Besides, you look beat.”

Great. I look beat. Good to know. “Really, you don’t have to help.”

“I know I don’t. Still going to,” he says, and I see the determination in his eyes.

“Fine,” I sigh, realizing I’m not going to be able to refuse, and really not sure if I want to.

“Order seventeen and sixteen are up” is called, and I look at my receipt and see that one of those orders is mine.

“That’s us.” He takes the paper from my hand and unfolds himself from his seat.

“Now what?” I whisper to myself, watching him head toward the counter. With no answer and no other choice, I grab my bag and let out a breath as I stand.

“Ready?” he asks once he’s turned toward me with the three pizza boxes that look minuscule in his large hands.

“Yep,” I lie, and his eyes roam my face.

“Let’s go.” He jerks his chin toward the door for me to lead the way and then he follows outside, where I see his bike is parked next to my car.

How he was going to ride his bike carrying a pizza, I have no idea, and I don’t have a chance to ask him before he’s depositing the pizzas in the back seat of my car and opening my door. “I’ll follow you,” he mutters.

“Right.” I slide in behind the wheel before he shuts my door and I start my engine. I wait for him to mount his bike, and then I ignore the funny feeling in my chest when his eyes meet mine and he lifts his chin.

With a shake of my head, I reverse then head out of the parking lot, back toward home, watching Harlen in my rearview mirror following behind. I try to convince myself on the drive to my house that none of this is a big deal, but my stomach is turning with nervous butterflies and my heart has started to thump hard against my rib cage. I don’t remember ever being attracted to anyone the way I’m attracted to him, and it’s making me feel excited and completely freaked out. Pulling into my driveway, I watch him park his Harley next to my car, liking the look of his bike in my drive. I ignore that feeling too, or at least I tell myself to ignore it, as he opens my door before I can, and holds out his hand to help me out.