11. Brady
CHAPTER 11
Brady
I ’ve done a couple of dumb things in my life. One was not telling my sister how bad the business was until she got home. The second was hiring Harmony, and I have to say this right here. Kissing the shit out of her in the storage closet is number fucking three. Actually, it might be number two instead of number three. But the minute her tongue touches mine, and she swallows my groan, I know it is a fucking mistake. I’m making out with her in a fucking closet. The woman who for the past couple of weeks I’ve let get under my skin, and I have no idea how to get her out from under it.
The kiss deepens as I move her head to the side, both of my hands in her hair, cupping her head, forcing the kiss to go deeper. Her hands grip my sides, and I pull her to me. This time, she’s the one moaning into my mouth. A knock on the door makes us both jump away from each other. My eyes fly open and go to the door and then back to Harmony. Her chest heaves as I hear Autumn’s voice. “Brady?” She knocks on the door.
“Yeah, the door handle broke off,” I answer to the door, trying not to sound like I’m winded or all the blood has been drained from my body with just one fucking kiss that lasted less than a couple of minutes. My eyes watch Harmony’s as she avoids even looking in my direction. Her hands at her sides, which were just bunched at my waist, now hang motionless. The sound of the handle from the other side slides out, and I bend to see out of it. “There is a screwdriver in the warehouse.”
“On it,” Charlie says, and I hear footsteps walking away from the door.
“Are you okay?” My voice is almost in a whisper as I ask her, hoping like fuck she turns and looks my way. She puts her palm against her cheek, then the other cheek. “Harmony,” I call her name and then stop when she still avoids looking at me. When I hear voices coming closer to the closet, I stop talking to her as I hear Charlie tinkering with the door before it’s pulled open. My eyes watch her the whole time, wanting to talk to her about the kiss, but knowing with my sister and Charlie outside the door, it really is not a good time.
She walks out before I can say anything to her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles as she walks past Autumn, looks at her, and then stares at me.
“What did you do to her?” she asks, looking at me and then back over her shoulder. “Were you mean to her?”
I gasp. “Of course I wasn’t mean to her.”
“Hey,” Janelle says, sticking her head into the room, “my tables just left. Can I punch out?”
“Yeah,” I say to her as she waves her fingers at me. “Take her home, will you?” I look over at Charlie, who just stares at me. I avoid looking at him, pretty much the same way Harmony avoided looking at me.
I grab the case of water, then leave the stock room, propping the door open and walking behind the bar. I see Harmony smiling at her tables as she comes back and goes to the POS, waiting for the ticket to come out, and placing it down on the counter. I grab the ticket and the two of us work silently with each other. I only hear her voice when she’s talking and laughing with the customers, who fall under her spell. I even catch a couple of them trying to check out her ass when she walks away, and it takes everything I have not to toss them out.
I’m cleaning behind the bar when the last table gets up and leaves, making sure they wave at me and then Harmony before heading out. She cleans up the table, coming back with the glasses and putting them in the dishwasher before grabbing the rag and the spray bottle.
She walks toward the tables, wiping them all down. My mouth wants to say something to her,
but every time it opens, nothing comes out. Not one fucking word. Not one fucking syllable. Not one fucking thing. It’s like all the words I know are gone. I watch her moving from one table to the next, I try to hurry on my side and make sure we finish together. She makes it to the last table at the same time I finish wiping down the bar. “Is that all there is?” she asks me, and I put my hands on my hips. The guilt about fucking up and kissing her is roaring up my spine.
No , my head screams that is not it. “Yeah,” I say to her instead of forcing her to talk about what happened in the closet.
She nods at me, walking back to the closet as I put my hands in fists on the bar and hang my head. She is about to walk past the bar when I push off and join her. She looks over her shoulder, and I can see she’s wondering what the fuck is going on.
“It’s late,” I tell her as I go to her side. “I’m going to walk you to your car.”
“That’s unnecessary,” she mumbles, stuck in her spot.
“We can stand here and argue about it”—I cock my hip—“or you can let me walk you to your car.” She looks at me. “And while we are talking about things, we can discuss what happened in there.” I motion with my head toward the closet.
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.
Turning the key in the lock and slamming my own door, I go straight up to my bedroom and kick off my boots. I don’t know how I fall asleep. I get up, going to get coffee, and realize her car isn’t there, making me freak out a little, but I push it away. “It’s not your problem,” I tell myself, “leave it be.”
I get dressed and head out to my father’s for Sunday lunch, something we’ve been doing since he got sick. Autumn shows up with Charlie, who comes out to the backyard to sit with me while Autumn spends alone time with Dad. “You hired Harmony?” he asks, bringing his beer to his lips and taking a pull.
“Yup,” I confirm, leaning back in the chair, my own beer in my hand, “I did.”
“Is that a wise decision?” He puts the beer on the table between the two chairs.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snap, and I can see him trying to hide a smirk.
“I’m just asking if it’s a wise decision, considering the shit you had to endure for?—”
I cut him off by raising my hand. “I would never put my sister in the way of anything.”
He chuckles. “You think I give a shit about that?” he asks me. “I dare them to try to fuck with her again.”
“So what’s the problem?” I ask, and I take a pull of my beer before I look over at him and find him studying me. “She needed a job; we needed a server.”
“Just like that?” He tilts his head to the side. “Autumn has been on your ass for the past five months to hire another server, and you’ve brushed her off.”
“I realized she was right,” I admit. “So what does it matter?”
“That all you are going to say?” He looks at me, and I know he’s not going to drop this, so I might as well just tell him. I look into the window seeing the back of Autumn’s head, laughing at something my father is saying.
“I don’t want you to make a big deal about this,” I say, “and I need you to keep this shit to yourself.”
“Don’t like keeping things from your sister.” He looks back at the house, his eyes going soft when he sees her.
“I might have to fill her in sooner rather than later, but for right now, she doesn’t have to know,” I mumble, and he turns back. “Harmony moved into the house next door to me.” I finally tell someone; his eyebrows pinching together.
“What house?” He knows exactly what house I’m talking about. “That house is unsafe to even walk next to.”
I take a pull of my beer. “Yeah,” I agree with him, “she moved in and Winston tracked her down. Showed up blitzed out of his mind.” I look over. “Driving to her and causing a fucking scene with her son in the house.”
“Jesus,” he hisses, “what the fuck is wrong with him?”
“Not enough time in the day to tackle that question.” I put the beer bottle on my knee. “Also don’t give a fuck about him. Got into his face after the first time. Didn’t think he would come back, but he’s a Cartwright and a piece of shit, so he came back again and I got in his face, again. It’s been quiet, or at least it has been.”
“Brady,” he says, his voice warning me.
“Last night she got home and was served with some papers,” I tell him, my hand gripping the beer bottle so tight, I’m surprised it doesn’t break in my fist. “Process server got paid double to serve her on a fucking weekend and after midnight.”
“You know why she’s being sued?” he asks the loaded question and I just shake my head.
“Not something she wanted to share with me while she lugged her sleepy son from her car.” My leg moves up and down with nerves. “Regardless, it probably has to do with that son of a bitch.”
“I would bet my ass it has everything to do with him.” He picks up the bottle. “You need to tell your sister, so she’s ready for whatever pushback this is going to have,” he urges, taking a pull of his beer. “She’s worked too hard to be blindsided, especially by you.”
I take a deep breath in. “Yeah, yeah,” I agree. “I’ll tell her.” I look over at the door, seeing my father coming outside with a tray in his hand. “Just not today.”
He nods, getting up and walking over to my father to help him with the tray. We have lunch together and the whole time my mind wanders to her. Thinking about where she might be, wondering if she is okay. Wondering if Wyatt heard anything that happened last night.
Even when I show up at the bar and start to set up for the day, it feels off. My phone pings from my back pocket, and pulling it out I see it’s a text from Taylor.
Taylor: Hey, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.
I think about ignoring it but instead I text her back.
Me: Hey, yeah, sorry, been swamped at work.
I don’t put anything more in the text and put the phone away, before looking up and seeing a couple of people walk in. We don’t have anyone working on Sunday since the kitchen is closed, so it’s not too big of a crowd. Closing up the bar and wiping down the tables, my head immediately goes to her.
When I pull into my driveway, my eyes automatically go to her house. Seeing it’s just nine, I expect for there to be lights on in her house, but it’s dark. If her car wasn’t in the driveway, I would think no one was there. “At least she’s home,” I tell myself, the tightening in my chest coming on. “At least she’s safe.”