Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Her eyes go from me to the closet and then back to me before she shakes her head. “No.” Bending it and walking out of the bar. I follow her to her car, watching her get in, and moving out of the way before she decides to run me over. I watch the tail red lights fade into the distance before I walk back in, finish closing up, and then head to the back to get my own shit to head home. The muscles in my neck are tense as I pull onto my street. The houses are all pitch black except for a couple of porch lights that are on.
The street is peaceful and serene as I make my way down it, my eyes going to the car parked on the street in front of Harmony’s house. Passing by the car, I spot the driver sitting behind the wheel. His face turns to watch me as I pull into my driveway. The hair on the back of my neck rises as I get out of my truck. I look over at him for a split second before I see headlights coming down the street, turning into her driveway. I watch her get out of her car, not even noticing the man watching her.
I start to walk toward her when I hear the sound of his door being closed, and now her eyes fly up to the man walking toward her. My feet speed up even faster. “Harmony Cartwright,” he says when he gets close enough to her. I watch the man holding something in his hand and my pulse stops, ice fills my veins.
She must feel the same way because she closes the back car door, making sure her son is safe. “Excuse me?” she responds, and I’m at her side at the same time the guy stops in front of her. My hand goes out in front of her to stop him from getting any closer, as half my body moves at the same time to shield her.
“Are you Harmony Cartwright?” he asks again.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snap, my voice tight.
He moves his hand up, and I see a folded paper. “I’m looking for Harmony Cartwright,” he says, ignoring my question.
“It’s after fucking midnight,” I remind him. “You want to find someone, you come when it’s light out and not in the middle of the fucking night.” I advance on him; not sure I can stop myself from putting my hands on him.
“Listen, I’m just doing my job.” He must sense he’s one second away from me putting him back into his car.
“Who are you?” Harmony asks from behind me.
“I need you to confirm you are Harmony Cartwright.” He looks over me at her.
“I’m Harmony,” she tells him, and he nods.
“You’ve been served.” He reaches around me and holds the paper out to her.
“Excuse me,” she says, her hand coming up automatically to grab the papers from him.
“I’m a process server,” he finally says, and my body relaxes, if only for a bit. “Paid me double to make sure you were served when you got home.” He looks at her as if he feels sorry before turning and walking back to his car.
I watch him the whole time, getting into his car, starting it up, and then pulling into the driveway before backing out and going down the street. I look over my shoulder, seeing Harmony open the papers and read whatever the fuck is on them. “What is that?” I ask, and she just shakes her head.
“Nothing,” she lies.
“Nothing?” I repeat to her. “It has to be something if he served you in the middle of the fucking night,” I retort, wondering how pissed she would be if I snatched the papers out of her hands. I’m contemplating doing just that when the back door opens, and Wyatt sticks his head out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“We’re home?” he asks sleepily.
“Yeah, baby,” Harmony murmurs quietly, folding the papers and placing them in the back pocket of her jeans. “Get your bags,” she tells him, and he grabs his bag getting out of the car.
“Hi, Mr. Thatcher,” he says before walking to the steps. I wait until he’s far enough before I turn my eyes back on his mother.
“Harmony,” I say her name as if I’ve said her name my whole life.
“Good night, Brady,” she says, turning on her heel and walking up the steps to join her son before slamming the door, making it crystal clear she’s done with whatever conversation we were going to have. I look up at the sky, seeing the twinkle of stars, and count to ten to calm myself down. If Wyatt wasn’t in there, I would have probably stormed the door to get to her. Instead, I wait and watch for the lights to turn on, but nothing happens. The house stays dark, and I have no choice but to head back to my own house, my head spinning over what just happened. Only one person I know would do this to her, and my hands fist. The fucking nerve of him to have her served in the middle of the fucking night. I shake my head, the anger creeping up so fast it’s a wonder I don’t explode as I storm up the front steps of my house.