Chapter 11

chapter

eleven

Cooper

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I look up from trimming the overgrown hedge and wipe the sweat from my brow.

Owen, who's started expanding the garden center at the feed store, has become a font of helpful knowledge lately. From him, I learned that the hedge growing in my new front yard is called arborvitae, a fast-growing cypress that provides good privacy. Not the best choice for a hedge to leave unchecked along the front of a house, though, as it quickly overwhelms the space.

Playing dumb, I reply, "Yard work."

Harmony's eyes scan the surroundings.

"Have you finally succumbed to heat stroke? You're at the wrong house."

With my pruning shears in hand, I turn to inspect the house number.

"Nope, that's my address."

Turning back to face Harmony, her eyes bug out. "Your address? Cooper, what the heck is going on?"

I lean on the fence post and tug off my gardening gloves.

"What's going on? Well, the other morning I couldn't help but notice that you wanted me to find another way to occupy my time. So I found one."

She blinks, her golden, all-knowing eyes taking in her surroundings: me, the pruning shears, the street, the house.

"You bought this house?"

I turn and gaze proudly at the three-bedroom, two-bathroom bungalow that matches Harmony's abode across the street.

"Yep."

"Why? You have a perfectly suitable twelve-bedroom estate thirty minutes from here!"

My fingers comb my sweat-soaked hair. "You know, something about these old mill-worker bungalows speaks to me. I guess I just wanted to preserve a piece of history."

When I turn back to face Harmony, her arms are crossed over her chest. "You just had to have one directly across the street from my house?"

"When you put it like that," I say, "it does seem like a strange coincidence."

"Cooper!"

"Harmony!"

"This has gone too far."

"What's gone too far?"

I pride myself on my ability to play dumb, but now I regret that. Harmony is infuriated.

"I'm not going to date you!"

My answer is too quick. "Harmony, have I ever asked you out?"

She takes a step back.

"Excuse me?"

"Have I ever asked you out? Or tried to make a pass at you, or anything like that? Have I ever been frustrated by being your friend? Have I ever made you feel bad since the day you made it clear that you only wanted to be friends?"

Her pretty brows come together, and she chews on her bottom lip, like she's trying to figure me out.

"No. You're the first to not complain about being friend-zoned."

I drop my pruning shears and she jumps when they clank against the ground. "I hate that phrase. It's stupid. It assumes that the default setting is that men and women can't be on the same page. I fucking hate that shit."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I like being your friend. Seeing you every day is awesome. Doing things for you is fun, because I like it when you interrupt my work to talk to me. I like getting to know you as a person. I like everything about you. I can simultaneously want to grind your ex-fiancé into the ground and also want to chill and hang out and do nothing."

I'm standing too close to her. I know she hates it when I don't wear a shirt.

But before I can pull back, she reaches for me.