Page 57 of Redeeming Harmony

“I’m sorry?” Harper said.

Hazel’s cheeks turned slightly red. “I was nosy and flipped through the sketchpad.”

Harper grinned. “That’s all right.”

“I noticed the three finished pictures of the coffee themed art, and this one,” she flipped to the nearly finished coffee cup, “and I want to buy them.”

“You want to buy them,” Harper parroted.

“Yes. All four, assuming you’re planning on finishing the coffee cup one. Which I hope you do because it’s my favourite.”

“Why do you want to buy them?” Harper asked.

“For the shop,” Hazel said. “They’ll look great hanging on the wall to the left of the counter. How much are you selling them for?”

Harper hesitated. “Two hundred for all four.”

Hazel cocked her head, a faint line appearing between her eyebrows. “If I wasn’t your boss and just a customer browsing through your website, how much would these be listed for, Harper?”

“One fifty each,” Harper admitted.

“Great. Invoice me, and I’ll send an e-transfer for six hundred,” Hazel said briskly. “When do you think you’ll have the coffee cup one finished?”

“I’ll finish it this weekend,” Harper said.

“Perfect. Bring the invoice with you to the shop on Monday or email it to me, whichever you prefer.” Hazel handed her sketchpad to her.

Harper took it. “Are you sure about this, Hazel?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Hazel arched one eyebrow at her.

“I guess I don’t want you buying these out of pity because of how many times you’ve heard customers whispering about poor Harper and her failed art dream.”

“Your dreams are only failures if you give up on them,” Hazel said. “I’m buying your art because I want it and I think it’s amazing. Don’t ever second guess your talent, Harper. There will always be people willing to do that for you. Don’t let them make you believe you’re less than you are.”

Feeling oddly emotional, Harper blinked back the tears. “I won’t. Thank you, Hazel.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out of here. You were off like ten minutes ago,” she said with a grin.

* * *

Nathan setthe alarm for the clinic and stepped out into the brisk night air. He locked the door before leaning against it and staring up at the sky. It was close to ten, and the stars were out in full force. The clinic had closed at six, but he’d spent the last four hours catching up on some paperwork and doing some of his online continuing education. He checked his phone, considering whether he wanted to text Wyatt to meet him for a beer at the Beaver.

He hesitated with his phone in his hand. Working on a ranch, Wyatt tended to go to bed early and get up early. It was a fifty/fifty chance his best friend would be awake at this time, even on a Friday night. But the thought of going home to his empty apartment was a dismal one. Usually, Nathan enjoyed his alone time, especially after a busy day at the clinic, but he felt restless and lonely tonight.

He’d felt that way all week, but he wouldn’t admit it was because he hadn’t seen Harper once since last Saturday. So what if his assumption that she would pop into the clinic had been wrong. Why would she? She’d agreed with him that sex would be a mistake. They weren’t friends, and she had her own life to live. One that didn’t include him. It was better for both of them if they didn’t see each other that often.

Too bad his dick didn’t agree. It had spent the last week reminding Nathan way too often just how sweet Harper had tasted and how soft her skin was. How perfectly her breasts fit into his hands and how she sounded when she moaned his name.

He muttered a curse to himself, adjusting the crotch of his jeans and refusing to glance over at Warren’s house to see if Harper’s car was there. It wouldn’t be. She would be out with her friends on a Friday night. And if she wasn’t, if she did happen to be home, it was better not to know that. Especially since he knew Warren was at his weekly poker game tonight.

The urge to knock on the door, to ask Harper if she wanted to forget what they both agreed to, and let him fuck her into a coma, was almost overpowering. His dick pressed against the denim, and he grimaced before adjusting again. Christ, if he went home now, he’d spend the entire evening rubbing himself raw. He’d text Lucas and ask if he and Connor wanted to grab a beer.

A door slamming shut broke the quiet. He glanced over at Warren’s house, silently watching as Harper ran down the porch steps and across the lawn to her car. She climbed in, and he wasn’t at all surprised when her car wouldn’t start. The thing was a piece of shit.

It was too dark for him to see Harper’s face, but he heard her almost feral scream of rage before she climbed out of the car and kicked the back door so hard it left a dent.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she shouted before stomping to the front of the car and wrenching up the hood.

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