Discovering Harmony (Wishing Well, Texas #3)

“Dead people?” Harmony’s face grew even paler and her green eyes widened.

Putting my hands in my pockets to keep myself from doing something stupid—like reaching up and brushing the stray hair that had fallen over her cheek, cupping her face, and kissing every bad thing in her life away—I inhaled deeply through my nose and nodded just once. “Yep, those are your other two options for community service. Highway cleanup crew and morgue assistant.”

Her eyes narrowed as they searched mine. She was most likely trying to suss out whether or not I was full of shit. I wasn’t. Serving her community service hours here, under my supervision, had taken a load of paperwork and getting a signature from not only my dad, which had been rather easy, but also Judge Patterson, which had not been easy.

“Fine.” Straightening her back, she squared her shoulders and pointed her finger, jabbing it into my chest. “But if I get crushed by the roof, poisoned by a spider bite, or mauled by a rat, it’s on your conscience.”

I was sure that she was serious as hell, but that didn’t change the fact that she was also cute as hell. Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face as I nodded just once. “Copy that.”

As I started towards the main house, Romeo fell in line beside me. With a short whistle and gesture back towards Harmony, Romeo did an about face and bounded back the way he’d come. Glancing over my shoulder I saw Harmony bend down and scratch behind his ears as she told him what a good boy he was and how they had a lot of work to do today.

My eyes zeroed in on the rounded, heart-shaped curve of her ass, and sweat—that had nothing to do with any physical exertion—beaded the back of my neck. It was going to be a long day. And this was just the beginning.

What the hell had I been thinking?

This was beyond being a glutton for punishment. I must be a full-blown masochist.





Chapter 7




Harmony

“Best not to do the crime if you can’t do the time.”

~ Loretta Reed


“Oh, come on!” My arms shook as I tried to leverage my body weight to push the wheelbarrow filled with bricks, wood, and metal scraps out of the barn.

Had I overfilled it? Probably. But I was a one-trip kinda gal. Always had been.

In second grade, I’d trudged my backpack, volcano science project, and change of clothes in a rolled up sleeping bag for a sleepover birthday party the entire two mile walk to school just so I wouldn’t have to go home after the bell rang. Junior year, I carried my cheerleading uniform, homecoming dress, shoes, and make-up bag, all six periods just so I wouldn’t have to either run out to my car after school or to my locker that was on the opposite side of campus. During college, I’d actually tweaked my back and had to see a chiropractor because I’d attempted—and failed—to haul a table and chair I’d bought up the three flights of stairs to my dorm room by myself. To this day when I went to the grocery store, I would carry forty bags, even balancing some on my feet as I walked before I would make a second trip from the car. So all of this back and forth to the dumpster was going against the very fiber of my DNA.

“Ugghhh,” I grunted loudly as my glove-covered fingers tightened around the wooden handles. Taking in a deep breath, I held it as I dug my feet into the dirt floor and pushed with all of my Mighty Mouse strength.

Much to my dismay, the “might” in my mouse was not enough. The sucker didn’t budge.

Knowing that I had no other choice than to lighten the load, I lowered my arms and dropped the wheelbarrow back down with a crash. My shoulders sunk in defeat. I lifted my forearm to wipe the sweat that was pouring down my forehead like a waterfall.

I stood, my breaths coming in labored pants as I took in my surroundings. I should be sipping sweet tea in the air-conditioned comfort of my home while I researched and worked on my Master’s thesis. Instead, I was sweating in cracks and crevices that a lady didn’t dare speak of. Every muscle in my body was on fire due to the fact that I hadn’t worked out since my freshman year of college when Cara talked Destiny and I into going to a boot camp class. And even then I’d only lasted fifteen minutes. Now, thanks to the fact that my breakfast only consisted of two cups of coffee, I was so hungry that the hay was starting to look appetizing.

To sum up, I was miserable.

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