Harmony for Christmas (Dansboro Crossing #4)

Chapter 2

two

BEAU

So. Many. Words. I don’t think I’ve heard someone talk so much in this house since…ever.

Had I known Travis had a guest in tow last night when he showed up, I would have at least put on a shirt this morning. I might have even made more of an effort at breakfast. But when I heard him slip back out early this morning, I figured that was that. I know his schedule keeps him busy. I don’t think twice about him coming and going now.

“So there’s this whole thought that by cutting out the bad carbs from your diet—” I tune her out again. It didn’t go unnoticed that she tucked into her breakfast like she hadn’t been fed in years. A few carbs might do her good.

She’s staring at my last piece of bacon though she’s still rambling on about diets and calorie counts. She looks like she’s considering starting an affair with breakfast meat.

“Here,” I growl holding my bacon out to her. Reacher sits up in his bed hoping I’m talking to him.

“Oh no. You should eat that. I’ve had more than enough to last me for the day,” she chirps. Is that what they call it when everything she says sounds like it’s an audition for a movie about cute woodland creatures?

“Take it,” I try again. This time, she carefully reaches for the bacon. She takes a tentative bite as I watch how her pouty lips close around it. Jesus, I need to get laid more. The last thing I need is to fantasize about Travis’s houseguest.

“Oh my gosh,” she exclaims suddenly. “I haven’t even introduced myself. How much ruder can I be? First, I grope you in your kitchen thinking you’re Travis, not that I’m the type of woman who just randomly gropes any man. Anyway, I’m Harmony Ellis.” She extends her hand to me.

“I know who you are.” Why does my hand tingle when I take hers in mine? Does she feel it? She must because she jerks her hand back to her side of the table. Or maybe she just finds me repulsive. I’m not too concerned either way.

“You do?” Her soft blue eyes grow wide.

“Mmm,” I grumble getting up from the table. There’s no way I’m telling her that I have her first album nestled among my mother’s vinyl collection. I’ve preordered the second one for the moment it’s released. It wasn’t just a fluke that she landed a recording contract once that video went viral. She’s got talent.

Turning on the hot water at the tap, I ignore her while I wash up the dishes. Mom always insisted she didn’t want a dishwasher, and I’ve never gotten around to installing one. With just me living here, it’s not that hard to hand wash the dishes. Of course, the chatterbox notices.

“You don’t have a dishwasher?” She steps next to me as she places her plate in the sink. Her warm arm brushes mine. Thoughts of licking every inch of that skin flood my brain. I’m going to have to get out of here for a little while if I want to save my sanity. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

“Mmm,” I grunt again. She almost knocks me out with her brilliant smile before she walks toward the bathroom. Is that humming I hear? When the bathroom door closes, I hurry to pull on the rest of my clothes. “Come on, boy.” Reacher springs to his feet and follows me out of the kitchen.

I step into my insulated coveralls and boots by the back door of the mudroom and walk outside. The snow reaches halfway up my calf. For an area that rarely has snow, that’s crazy.

Last time it snowed like this I was a kid. Travis and I spent the day sledding down an old dirt water tank that’s behind the house. School was canceled for days, and except for checking hay, my parents stayed snuggled up on the couch watching old movies.

There’s not much I can do out here in this weather. The horses need to be fed, but not until this evening. I was smart enough to put hay out for the cattle yesterday. They’ll be good for a few days without feed. I need to keep an eye on their water, though. If it freezes too hard, they won’t be able to break up the ice.

I guess that leaves carrying more firewood from the barn to the mudroom. I whistle for Reacher who’s bounding through the snow checking all his favorite spots. He runs to my side panting and watches as I load my arms with logs.

“What can I do to help?” Harmony asks the moment I step inside the mudroom. Her hair is still wrapped in a towel from her shower, but she has on a pair of rhinestone covered jeans, a fuzzy red sweater, and thick socks. “Do you want me to put a couple of logs on the fire?”

“Sure,” I say handing her two pieces of firewood. That should keep her busy while I go for the next load. When I return, she’s organized the firewood that was already there into a neat stack at one end of the wall.

She’s also wiped all the snow off Reacher. He stands at the kitchen door wagging his tail. Chances are good he’s already found his new best friend. Traitor.

“I thought that the wood that’s already warm, we could use first,” she says. Makes sense. “Where can I find kindling? We’re running a little short.”

The next time I enter the house, I bring another stack of wood and a bucket of kindling. “Oh, perfect.” She takes the bucket from my hands. “It’s nice and toasty in there now.” I have visions of an inferno shooting out the top of the chimney.

“That should do it,” I announce on my last trip. My back is starting to complain, and there’s only so much firewood that can fit against the wall.

“Good. I have the kettle on for hot chocolate.” She seems more excited about the drink than I would think possible. “I even found some marshmallows.” She watches me set the last of the wood down, then leads me into the main part of the house.

“I thought I might make a coffee cake for this afternoon if that’s okay with you.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Is that all right?”

She stops and turns to look at me. I just now realize that I’ve stopped somewhere between the kitchen and mudroom to stare at her. Who is this woman who makes hot chocolate and coffee cake on a whim?

It takes everything I have to even my face back out from the scowl that graces it. I would make a snide comment except she looks worried. She can’t possibly think that I wouldn’t be okay with a piece of warm, brown sugar-covered goodness. Would she?

“I’m sorry,” she says, her shoulders slumping. “My sister always tells me I can be too much.”

“Your sister is a bitch.” Good Jesus, did I just say that out loud? I watch as Harmony bites on her bottom lip as she studies me. Would it be too much if I offered to bite that lip with my teeth? Then she laughs.

“So you know my sister then.”

“Not really. I remember Travis complaining about her.” Harmony’s sister had a reputation for being the Regina George of Dansboro High School according to Travis. I didn’t know her personally, which I’m not sorry for. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh my gosh, Beau Rayburn has almost said a full paragraph that doesn’t contain any grunting,” she teases. I roll my eyes and walk past her into the living room. “I bet you’re exhausted from the exertion. Have a seat, and I’ll get our drinks.”

She flits into the kitchen as the kettle starts to scream. “I’m surprised you even have hot chocolate, especially the good stuff. I pegged you for a black coffee only kind of guy.”

I shrug as she sets the mug in front of me on the coffee table. Nothing is more boring than drinking the same thing every day. It’s why I learned how to cook. I don’t get into town very often, and I can’t eat the same old thing day after day.

Studying my drink, I see she’s not just added marshmallows, but nutmeg on top. She’s even found a candy cane to stick in it. It takes me a moment to figure out how to drink the stupid stuff.

“Do you just make girly drinks?” I mumble to myself.

“Oh, you think that’s a girly drink. Just wait.” Well, I thought I said it to myself. The woman must have ears like a bat. I’ll have to remember that next time. “So what do you do around here for fun when you’re snowed in?”

“We don’t get snowed in.”

“Yeah, but how about on your days off? What do you do for fun? Got any board games?”

“They take more than one player, so no.” I feel my scowl returning as she looks around the room.

“You might be the only man I know with a television but no video game console.” There is no way I’m telling her that I either read or sketch in my downtime.

I was always good at drawing, and I’m even better now. There are a couple of my works in one of the small galleries in Austin. The sales from them help supplement my retirement fund. I even won the art fair my senior year of high school, but she’s too young to remember that.

“Travis said you don’t have satellite internet,” she says. Travis has a big mouth. “How do you check emails or Google anything?” I shrug again.

To be honest, I don’t miss it that much. There is a point on top of the hill behind the house where I can hit the cell phone tower. I’m usually up there every other day or so. It would probably give her a heart attack to know that I don’t have social media of any kind. If I need to, I can always go to the library in town.

“Hey, I have an idea. Do you get TV reception out here?”

“Should.” I have a tower on the side of the house that picks up a couple of the local channels out of Austin. I do watch the weather forecast from time to time.

“When was the last time you got hooked on a daytime soap?”

“Never.”

“You are in for a treat then.” She grabs the remote and a blanket and moves to the couch next to me. Pressing the remote, she hunts through the five channels until she lands on something that meets her approval.

“Oh, this is a good one. So, that guy’s Andre. He’s the head of a large network of spies.” She continues to lay out the entire plot of the show for me. I’m not really paying attention, but I like when she throws the blanket over us and settles next to me.

Damn if she’s not right. Half an hour later I’m completely obsessed with this shit. This is dangerous. I can just imagine the ranch falling apart around me while I’m engrossed in my “stories.”

Tossing back the blanket, I stand. I grab the empty mugs and walk into the kitchen to put them in the sink. It’s getting close to lunchtime anyway. Usually, I just grab a quick sandwich before heading back out to work. I wonder if she likes sandwiches.

“What are we having?” She’s followed me into the kitchen.

“Grilled ham and cheese?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I guess she can either eat what I make or go hungry. It’s not like I’m running a bed and breakfast here.

“Yum. With soup?”

“Sure,” I agree.

“I’ll do the soup while you do the sandwiches.” I’ll show you something I want to do, I almost say. Instead, I just grunt in agreement.

Throwing myself into making sandwiches helps reroute my mind back to what’s important instead of on my sexy new housemate. At least until she sidles up to me at the stove. She’s humming again as she pours the can of soup into a pan.

“You’re humming,” I point out.

“Am I?” She adds milk to the tomato soup and begins to stir it. “I guess I am. Ever get something stuck in your head that you can’t quite get right? I’ve had a song dancing around up there since I got here. I keep thinking that it’ll either leave or turn into something.”

I study her as she stirs the soup. “I know, you think I’m crazy.” I’m sure I have a scowl on my face that leads her to believe that.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I answer. “Not for that anyway.”

“Oh my gosh.” She hip-bumps me. “Did you just make a joke? Who are you, and what did you do with grumpy Beau?”

“I’m not grumpy,” I mumble. She grins up at me. “Whatever.”

“You’re about to burn the sandwiches,” she adds.

“Shit.” I quickly turn off the burner and slide the sandwiches onto a plate. By the time I set them on the table, Harmony has bowls full of soup to add.

We each take our place across from each other. Reacher ignores my command to move to his pillow and plops down next to her. She takes a bite and moans. I have to hide a smile knowing she likes something I’ve made.

“Now that’s a good sandwich,” she exclaims. I watch as she chews and swallows. It’s the first time I ever remember thinking eating is sexy, but she makes it look like food porn. “You know, I don’t think there is anything better than a grilled cheese and tomato soup on a wintery day. It just makes you feel warm all over. Those ads weren’t lying.”

I like this meal as well as the next guy, but I’m not sure that I’d call it the best for a wintery day. Mom made a mean beef and vegetable stew that was right up there at the top. But if I had to say what was the best, then it would be none other than?—

“Chili.”

“You’re cold?”

“No,” I sigh. “Chili is best on a winter day.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had your chili. Can’t make a ruling until then.” I know she’s teasing me with her flippant answer, but she’s just waved the red flag in front of my face.

“We’ll have it tomorrow,” I growl.

“So not kicking me out yet I see,” she says. Her smile is both sly and glorious. Damn, this girl is getting under my skin. I don’t know if I can handle her for long. I guess that all depends on Mother Nature.

“Not yet anyway.”