“Can I let you know?” I ask, wondering if my warranty will cover the cost of having it fixed.
“Of course,” he agrees, giving me a smile, and that smile makes him even more gorgeous.
“Dad, I’m hungry,” Max says, and he pulls his eyes from me to look at his youngest boy.
“When aren’t you hungry, kid?”
“I don’t know.” Max shrugs, looking down at his feet.
“I’m hungry too, Dad. Can we go to McDonald’s?”
“Christ,” Gareth mutters, and his eyes come back to me when I laugh.
“Go feed your boys. I’ll let you know what happens with the taillight.”
“Right.” He lifts his chin. “Nice meeting you, Harmony.”
“You too, and thank you for being honest about this.” I toss out my hand toward the trunk of my car.
“Anytime. Later.” He lifts his chin once more, turning on his boots.
“Later.” I smile, watching the boys run, skip, and push each other as they cross the street and head up their walkway.
Pulling my attention from them, I look at my taillight and mentally add getting it looked at to my list of things I need to do, before I head back inside to finish making coffee. Once the pot is done brewing, I take a cup with me outside and lean against the railing, wishing I had at least something to sit on. I need to get some chairs, a table, and maybe a barbeque for out here, but my first priority is rugs for the living room and my bedroom. Winter will be here before long, and wood floors tend to be cold, so I need something to help counteract that. I also need a bed for my guest room, and maybe a desk and chair for my third bedroom, but I still haven’t decided what I want that room to be yet.
Thinking about all the things I still need to buy for the house and all the money I will eventually have to spend, I sigh. I love having a place to call my own and a house to decorate, but not having an endless supply of money to do what I want sucks. Taking a sip of coffee, I watch Dizzy for a few more minutes then go back inside, leaving the door cracked for him to get in.
I take a quick shower, leaving my hair dry so I don’t have to blow it out again, then get dressed in a pair of jeans, a lavender long sleeve, scoop-neck T-shirt, and a pair of strappy cream-colored sandals. After I finish getting dressed, I do minimal makeup—mascara, bronzer, and blush—then go in search of Dizzy. Finding him still running around the backyard, I call him inside, close the door, and lock it before grabbing my bag and my keys from the island. I stop when my cell starts to ring, and I pull it out of my purse. Seeing a local number I don’t recognize on the screen, I put it to my ear as I head toward the front door.
“Hello,” I answer, grabbing Dizzy’s leash that’s wrapped around the handle of the coat closet in the hall.
“Harmony Mayson?” a woman asks, and I frown.
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Julianne Drudgery. I teach the trauma and critical care class at the hospital.”
“Hi, Julianne,” I say, looking down at Dizzy, who’s waiting impatiently for me to hook his leash to his collar.
“I just had a student drop out of the class and wanted to know if you’d be interested in filling her spot. Of course, you’d have to make up a couple of assignments, but it shouldn’t take much to get you caught up.”
“Really?” I whisper in surprise and happiness.
“Really.” She laughs. “Are you interested?”
“Yes!”
I hear her smile when she murmurs, “That’s great news. Can you come by the hospital today to pick up the paperwork you need to fill out and the assignments to complete by class next week?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good, just come to the basement. You’ll see a sign directing you to the classroom as soon as you get off the elevator. I’ll see you when you get here, and we’ll talk then.”
“Thank you so much. See you soon.” I hang up.
Staring at my phone for a moment, I smile then toss my hands up in the air and let out a loud whoop. Dizzy barks, spinning in circles at my feet, happy because I’m happy. Picking him up, I hold him to my chest. “I’m sorry, boy, but since I gotta go to the hospital, you can’t come with me.” I kiss the top of his head and he licks my chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring you back something special from the store.” I rub behind his ears then set him back to his feet.
Hanging his leash back up on the knob, I head for the door, feeling like I’m floating on air. Getting in my car, I start it up, back out of my driveway, and head straight for the hospital. When I arrive twenty minutes later, I get in the elevator and head down to the basement, and just like Julianne said there would be, there’s a sign with an arrow pointing to the classroom that’s at the end of a long hall. When I reach the door, I find the lights out and the door locked.
“Harmony?” a woman calls loudly, and I turn to find a petite, older woman with lots of curly white hair coming toward me from down the hall, wearing bright blue scrubs and white clogs.
“Yes.”
“Sorry, I had to run upstairs.” She comes forward and sticks out her hand to me. “I’m Julianne. It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” I smile while I wrap my hand around hers.
“Dr. Hofstadter said you were pretty. He didn’t lie,” she says, and the smile I’m wearing slides right off my face.
“Dr. Hofstadter?” I ask, and her head tips to the side.
“He’s the one who recommended you as the replacement student for the class,” she explains, and my stomach drops.
“Oh,” I whisper, wondering how he knew I wanted to take the class. We never spoke about it, and I never even mentioned I want to work in the emergency room when I was around him.
“Isn’t he such a nice guy?” she asks, keeping hold of my hand, and I try to focus on her and not the unease filling my stomach.
“Uh, yeah. Nice,” I agree, and she grins.
“Well…” She gives my hand a squeeze before letting it go. “You’ll have to take him out for coffee as a thank you for the recommendation.” She turns and unlocks the door, and I stare at her back, thinking, That is never going to happen. “Come on in,” she calls, and I come unglued from my spot just outside the door and move into the room behind her. Looking around the empty class, my stomach turns with indecision. I know I don’t want to miss out on this opportunity, but I also don’t want to owe Dr. Hofstadter anything, and I have a feeling that if I take this class, I will be setting myself up for just that.
“Here’s the paperwork and the reading material we went over this week, along with the homework assignments you will have to complete before class starts next week.” She holds out a thick folder toward me, and I stare at it like it’s a snake ready to strike. “Are you okay?”
“Um… yeah, sorry.” I shake my head and take the folder from her, trying to smile but failing miserably.
“It’s okay.” She gives my shoulder a reassuring pat. “Class is from ten to four on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, every week for nine weeks. In your case, eight, since you missed out on class this week.”
“Okay.”
“If you have any questions, my cell number is in the packet. You can call me any time, and I’ll be more than happy to help you out with whatever you might need.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem, and…” She smiles softly. “If you’re worried about what you missed this week, don’t be. We didn’t do much in class besides get reacquainted with health and safety regulations. Next week is when the fun will start.”
“I’m looking forward to that.” I give her a small genuine smile, and she studies me for a moment like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Is your plan to work in the emergency room here at this hospital?”
“That’s my goal.”
“This class will help you get your foot in the door, and I’m sure Dr. Hofstadter will give you a recommendation. He couldn’t say enough good things about you when we spoke this morning.
”
Yes, I’m totally setting myself up. I’m so screwed.
“Thank you for this opportunity, and I’ll see you next week.”
“See you next week,” she agrees cheerfully, and I leave the classroom. I go back down the hall to the elevator, and once inside, I open the packet and look at the outline for the class. It all seems easy enough, and I know I won’t have a problem with the workload if I take the class. I just don’t know if I want to take it now.
Closing the folder when I reach the lobby, I head outside to the parking lot, and when I reach my car, I get in, start the engine, put on my seat belt, and then stare at the hospital in front of me. “What should I do?”
With no answer from the windshield, I put my car in reverse, back out of the parking space, and then drive to the grocery store, where I pick up stuff to make dinner and a frozen chocolate cream pie, because everyone knows pie makes everything okay. I also get Dizzy some peanut butter doggie ice cream from the frozen food section. When I get home, I drop the folder with the information for the class on the island and try to forget about it as I get to work on dinner, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.
Needing to talk to someone about it, I pick up my cell phone and dial Willow.
“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” she says, answering on the second ring, and I smile, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Maybe our twin ESP is finally kicking in,” I joke, spreading cheddar cheese over the spicy ground beef I cooked earlier.
“I doubt that.” She laughs, and I grin, thinking about a game we used to play when we were younger. I’d think of a number, and she would try to guess it by reading my mind, and I’d do the same to her. It never worked, ever, but that didn’t stop us from trying over and over again. “So what’s going on? How are you and Harlen?”
“We’re good. I just needed someone to talk to about something happening at work.”
“What’s that?” she asks, as I start laying out the tater tots on top of the shredded cheese.
“You know that trauma class I wanted to take at the hospital?” I question.
“The one you didn’t get into?” she asks, and I nod even though she can’t see me.
“Yeah. Someone dropped out of the class, so one of the doctors put in a recommendation and I got a call this afternoon that a spot’s mine if I want it,” I tell her as I open the door to the oven.
“That was nice.”
“It was nice, except this doctor gives me the heebie-jeebies, and now I’m not sure if I should take the class. I don’t want to feel like I owe him,” I tell her, putting the casserole dish in the oven.
“Are you worried that if you accept a place in the class, he’s going to hold it over your head?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. Hearing it said out loud from someone else makes it seem ridiculous.
“I think you should take the class, and if he says anything you’re not comfortable with, just talk to HR about it.”
“I guess you’re right.” I chew my bottom lip, wondering if I’m overthinking this, but feeling like I’m not.
“Don’t overthink it.”
“Now you really are reading my mind.” I laugh.
“No, I just know you. You overthink everything. It’s who you are. It’s a good thing most of the time, but sometimes you just need to accept things as they come.”
“I’ll try,” I agree, setting a timer on the stove.
“Good, now tell me when I get to come for a waffle breakfast?”
Apparently my mom has been bragging to everyone about Harlen’s waffles.
“You know you’re always welcome, waffles or not.”
“Have you gotten a bed for your guest room yet?” she asks, and I let out a deep breath.
“Not yet. It’s on my long list of things I still need to get for the house, but I should have one before Christmas hopefully.”
“Christmas is a ways away.”
“I know,” I agree. I also know I might not have the money until after Christmas, depending on how much I spend on gifts for everyone.
“Well then, I’ll come down before that and sleep on your couch. We can spend the day vegging out, watching movies, and drinking way too much wine.”
“You got a date.” I smile, walking into the living room and taking a seat on the couch before flipping on the TV.
“Good, because I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” I whisper, hating that I haven’t seen much of her since I moved.
“I hate to run, but I need to get back to work,” she says, and I look at the clock on the DVR and see it’s just after four thirty. She doesn’t normally get off until five thirty sometimes six depending on what time the bank closes.
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too, talk soon.”
“Talk soon.” I hang up and drop the phone to the coffee table. Flipping through channels, I stop on a crime drama and end up so engulfed in the show that I scream when Harlen appears in the living room, having used the key I gave him to get in.
“Christ, what the fuck?” he asks, as Dizzy jumps off the couch and runs to him, circling and bouncing at his feet.
“You scared me.” I hold my hand to my chest, feeling my heart pound against my palm.
“I see that.” He bends to scoop up Dizzy and comes to where I’m still sitting on the couch. “What are you watching that’s got you freaked?” he asks, and I lose sight of the TV when he blocks it and I try to look around his big frame.
“A show about a girl that went missing. No one knows what happened to her. She got in a car accident and called the cops, but when the cops got to where her car was, she was gone, vanished, and she’s been missing for years now.”
“You really think you should be watching that shit?” he questions.
I shrug, looking up at him. “It’s interesting.”
“It might be interesting, but it obviously freaks you out.” He shakes his head, dropping Dizzy to the couch before bending at the waist to put his fist in the cushion on either side of my hips. “What happened to your taillight?”
“Crap.” I lean my head back and close my eyes. I totally forgot about my taillight and spaced getting it fixed after I went to the hospital and the grocery store.
“Did you get in an accident?” he asks, sounding concerned, and I open my eyes to look at him.
“No, the boys from across the street were playing in their front yard and accidently hit a ball into my car. I was supposed to take it to get it looked at this afternoon, but I forgot all about it being busted.”
“I’ll drop you off at work tomorrow and take it to the shop,” he says, and I smile.
“Thanks, honey.”
“No problem, Angel. Now, are you finally going to fucking kiss me?”
“I don’t know.” I grin, and he growls, lifting a hand, tangling his fingers into my hair, and bringing my mouth close to his.
“You don’t know?”
“You could kiss me,” I suggest, looking into his beautiful eyes.
“I could,” he agrees, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes drop to my mouth.
“Harlen?”
“Yeah, baby?” His gaze lifts to meet mine and I slide my fingers up into his hair, putting pressure on the back of his neck.
“Please kiss me,” I whisper, and he smiles right before he slants his head and places his lips against mine. Feeling his tongue touch my bottom lip, my mouth opens and he slides in. Liking that so much, I whimper into his mouth and lift myself higher to get more of him. Then I groan in annoyance when I hear the timer for the stove go off. “That’s dinner,” I tell him, after pulling my mouth from his, and he turns to look toward the kitchen.
“You cooked?” he asks, not even holding back his surprise.
“Yes.” I grin, wrapping my hands around his shoulders and pushing back, but he doesn’t budge, not even an inch.
“What’d you make?”
“
Cowboy casserole.”
“Don’t know what that is, but it smells fucking amazing.”
“It tastes amazing too, unless it’s burnt, so you need to let me up so that doesn’t happen,” I say, and he kisses my nose then pulls me up from the couch to stand in front of him. I walk into the kitchen and grab a set of potholders as he goes to the fridge to grab a beer. Pulling the casserole dish out of the oven, I smile when I see the tater tots are the perfect color of golden brown and the cheese is melted and bubbling.
“You made tater tots?” he asks, and I turn to look at him, finding his brows drawn together.
“No, I made cowboy casserole. It just has tater tots on it,” I correct, setting the dish down on another potholder. Then I go to the fridge to pull out the salad I made earlier, a couple of kinds of dressing, and a tub of sour cream, which is a necessity when you’re having cowboy casserole.
“What’s this?” he asks, and I look to where he’s standing at the island and see him leafing through the folder for the class that I left there.
“That trauma class I wanted to take, the one I didn’t get into.” He nods, knowing what class I’m talking about, since I told him when I found out I didn’t get accepted. “A student dropped out, so I have a spot if I want it,” I finish, watching him take a swig from his beer and his eyes come back to me.
“You don’t seem excited,” he observes, and I turn to grab two plates from the cupboard.
“I don’t know how I feel about it yet,” I say, avoiding looking at him.
“Why’s that?” he pushes, and I wonder how to tell him, or what to tell him exactly.
“There’s a doctor at work, and he kinda makes me uncomfortable. He’s the one who recommended me for the open spot in the class,” I confess, placing scoops of the casserole on each plate along with some salad.
“Look at me,” he growls, and even though I don’t really want to look at him, because the energy in the room has shifted and he sounds angry, I still turn my head to meet his gaze. “How’s he make you uncomfortable?”
“I just don’t like the way he makes me feel. And one of the nurses I work with says she’s heard rumors about him and that there are other nurses who have lost their jobs while he’s kept his,” I admit quietly, and his jaw clenches.