Yeah, my sister and Carter moved fast.

  Cooper must feel uncomfortable sharing a mansion with his twin and his twin’s girlfriend, so he’s taken to spend all his time helping me around the house.

  Not that I mind. It’s just a bit much sometimes. It’s getting tougher and tougher to remind myself that he’s just a friend.

  It’s hard not to like him, with his earnest brown eyes, easy smile, and ready-for-anything personality. Not wearing a shirt is certainly a choice. A sweaty, glistening choice that muddles the brain of a woman who’s determined not to trust a man ever again.

  Yesterday, Cooper mowed my grass and fixed a sagging gutter hanging off the house’s side. Today, he’s digging holes for who knows what reason.

  He can do what he wants, I just wish he’d do it fully clothed.

  I pour my coffee and take that first, perfect sip as I stare out the window. The morning sun gleams off his bare chest, already sweaty from working outside.

  It’s not the worst view, first thing in the morning.

  He’s built almost exactly the same as his identical twin, Carter.

  I can see why Summer fell for that one. The twins are both athletic, tall, and eager to help. Cooper has a slight edge over Carter in the athletic build department. He’s got six-pack abs that I could bounce a quarter off of.

  And with all the work he’s been doing outside lately, his golden tan makes it much easier to tell the difference between the two brothers.

  Which means Summer won’t mistake Cooper for Carter again.

  I cringe at the memory.

  Cooper finishes digging a hole and fills it with something gray and wet. Cement? What the heck?

  I glance around and finally notice the stack of posts and flats of flowers and grasses. Well, he’s set himself up for quite a project. One that I didn’t ask for.

  It’s too much.

  He needs to find something better to do with his time. Something less expensive and time-consuming.

  Sighing, I grab another mug from the cupboard and pour a second cup of coffee. Then I think twice and pour that into a big glass jar, adding ice, cream, a modest shot of Jack, then stir it. Why the heck not? It’s not like he has an office job to go to. Although, if he drinks a second one of these, he should probably lay off the heavy equipment if he’s gonna spend the day doing DIY stuff.

  I add a pretty paper straw just for fun. Then, I tighten my robe and head outside.

  When the screen door slaps behind me, Cooper looks up and smiles. My insides threaten to turn to goo at the picture of him grinning up at me, leaning on his shovel, sweat dripping down his chest. But I keep it together by reminding myself, this is a trap. He’s trying to confuse and confound me into becoming more than friends, and it won’t work.

  I’m not looking for a relationship, as I’m not fully healed from the last one. I might live alone for the rest of my life, which will be fine with me.

  “‘Morning.”

  I return Cooper’s broad smile with a smaller one, padding down the deck steps in my bare feet, holding his drink. “Good morning. I have your caffeine order.”

  He eyes me suspiciously then removes his gardening cloves. He takes the jar, examining the contents.

  “Just coffee? What are you concocting here, Dr. Frankenstein?”

  I laugh. “It’s my take on Kentucky coffee.”

  “Sweet! Thanks,” he says, taking it and downing it in one go.

  I try not to stare at the cords on his neck while he drinks, or at the Adam’s apple bobbing. Or at his bare trapezius muscles, or how he looks more tan and ripped than last week.

  I swallow.

  “You’re welcome,” I say, my throat dry.

  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but he still has a coffee mustache, which is too freaking adorable.

  “How is it? I was thinking of some new after-hours coffee flavors for Little Spoon.”

  “Delicious. Too delicious first thing in the morning, but I’m not driving anywhere.”

  This pleases me, then I remember why I really came out here.

  “May I ask what you are doing with all of this?” I ask, gesturing to the cement, the posts, flowers, and equipment nearby.

  He once again leans on his shovel and it’s all I can do not to sigh at his supermodel good looks. “Well, I was just thinking the other day, you could really use a fence. And if you have a fence, you should have a garden bed to border it. That’ll make it really pretty back here.”

  I’m not going to admit that he read my mind.

  “But that was just me babbling. I’ve got nothing to fence in.”

  He shrugs. “Want a dog?”

  No, Harmony. Don’t go there. You must steel yourself.

  “No,” I lie.

  “Well, it’ll give you some privacy then.”

  “This can’t keep happening.”

  “What can’t keep happening?”

  “You. This is too much.”

  “It’s not too much. I like to keep busy.”

  I fight the urge to tell him to find a hobby. Because…I don’t actually want him to find a hobby.

  I’m in this weird space between feeling obligated to him for all the work and money he’s put into the business and the house, and wanting him around because he’s good company. And really good to look at.

  “Then, could you please put a shirt on?”

  Cooper leans on the rake and smiles. “It’s warm today.”

  “I’m well aware of how warm it is.”

  “Okay, I guess you want me to suffer from heat stroke.”

  “You won’t suffer from heat stroke in the middle of September.”

  “It’s supposed to get up to 83 degrees.”

  I roll my eyes. “Drama queen.”

  “It’s part of my charm,” he says with a grin.

  I huff, “But it’s a work day. Do you not have a regular job to go to?”

  He looks at me like I ought to know better. As if we both know good and well how he spends his time.

  “You are my job.”

  A rush of pleasure runs through me. I blink rapidly to hide the shocked expression. “You mean Little Spoon is your job. And we have employees for that. Don’t you have, like, other investments to oversee?”

  The toothy grin is too much. “Do you want me to leave you alone to find other people to invest in?”

  He has my number, and I hate it.

  God, what are we arguing about?

  I try to be subtle as I draw in a long, steadying breath, staring eye level with his glistening chest, ignoring the way it rises and falls, becoming impossibly broader with each rise.

  I blink up at him slowly. “I want you to do whatever you want with your time, Cooper.”

  I gently snatch the jar from his grip and spin around, heading back up the wooden steps, disappearing into the house to prepare for the school day, moving swiftly so he won’t notice the shiver in my shoulders.

  chapter

  nine

  Cooper

  Harmony walks down the street like a wispy cloud, her ruffled skirt swishing in the breeze.

  From the metal box she pays a dollar for the daily newspaper. I silently scoff. “She’d save money if she just subscribed to the paper,” I mutter. Oh crap, I sound like an old man. Actually, I sound like my brother.

  Hell, if Harmony would allow me to be more to her than just a silent partner, she wouldn’t have to pay for a damn thing.

  She wouldn’t have to work herself to the bone Monday through Friday as a teacher’s aide, then spend all weekend working at Little Spoon, that’s for sure.

  But Harmony has her boundaries. I don’t like them, but I have to respect them.

  So I sit in my car with the windows rolled down, making the best of this beautiful September day, and enjoy my coffee and the view.

  My chest aches when Harmony holds open the door of the metal box and grabs a second paper, then hands it to an old man walking up.

  “Thank you kindly,” he says.

  “Come back later for a treat, on me,” she tells him.

  The September breeze blows a lock of hair into her face. She smiles at the man as she tucks it behind her ear. God, she’s the purest angel.

  “That’d be nice,” the old man says. “But you don’t have to treat me. You’re trying to earn a living.”

  “It’s the least I can do. Your goats make the best yogurt. It’s practically a partnership.”

  She squeezes his hand, and here I am, irrationally jealous of a little old goat farmer.

  A nearby crow caws at me, mocking me.

  “Shut it, you,” I say.

  The old man waves goodbye to Harmony and makes his way down the street.

  Harmony stands there for a second, shielding her eyes from the sun, looking for something. Maybe she heard me telling the crow to shut it.

  She seems to be looking straight at me, and when a wide smile breaks across her lovely face, I feel it pierce my chest. But I’m an idiot because that smile is not aimed at me but at someone much shorter and furrier.

  As often happens in Fate, the mayor bounds up out of nowhere, wiggling and begging for attention from her. Harmony squats down in front of Flash, the golden retriever who has now won reelection four times, and gives him scratches behind the ears.

  From the pocket of her frilly skirt, she pulls out a treat. The mayor takes the biscuit in one gulp, his tail wagging wildly.

  “Who’s a good boy? Oh my goodness. Who’s the best boy ever?”

  The crows are cawing like crazy now, mercilessly taunting me.

  Flash moves on to the tattoo parlor down the street, but that place doesn’t open until 11. The mayor trots happily on to find his next big fan.

  I sip my coffee and continue my Saturday morning routine. Not being a sweet old goat farmer. Not being the best boy ever.

  This is my life now: Monday through Friday, I follow her to school, then I go to Little Spoon and take orders from Summer. I run errands or do whatever needs doing. When Summer gets tired of me, I go to Harmony’s house and cut the grass, trim trees, plant flowers, and fix whatever needs fixing, even if Harmony doesn’t know what needs fixing.

  And on weekends, I hang out at Little Spoon with Harmony until she sends me packing.

  Today, I sip my coffee from Love Games and watch her from my car, feeling lovesick.

  I don’t have to go in. I could sit here and watch her move all day and be happy in my misery.

  Harmony unlocks the door to Little Spoon and goes inside. She flicks on the lights, then helps herself to a cup of frozen yogurt. It’s usually chocolate, but it’s something yellow and fruity today. She sits at the front counter and enjoys some alone time, reading the paper and eating her breakfast of dessert.

  When she finishes the paper, she grabs a bottle of cleaner and spritzes down the door and the windows. She clicks on the neon “Open” sign, which turns her face and arms pink as she wipes down the glass with the newspaper’s sports section.

  I know what happens next. She’ll grab whatever new release she picked up from the library and sit behind the register, reading while waiting for customers.

  She doesn’t look up when the doorbell rings but stays focused on her reading.

  I help myself to a cup and go to the dispenser to fill it. Today it’s coffee flavored and vanilla swirl. I add only a scoop of Dutch chocolate chunks on top.

  As always, I set it on the scale. And wait.

  “What do I owe you?” I ask.

  Harmony smirks and tilts her head. “After a month of doing this every Saturday, I think you know the answer to that.”

  “As your business partner, I must tell you it’s not good business to give away product.”

  She smiles. “As your business partner, I should remind you of the markup on these products.”

  I shrug. “Fine. I’ll pay wholesale then.”

  She sighs and rummages around, finally coming up with a calculator. “Making me do long division on a Saturday,” she mutters, punching the numbers. “Okay. You owe me twenty-seven cents based on what we pay for all those ingredients.”

  I tug a twenty dollar bill out of my money clip and toss it onto the counter.

  “Cooper, that’s too much.”

  “Sorry, my brother is the numbers guy. I don’t know any better,” I say, winking at Harmony before taking up my usual spot at the booth in the corner, where I can see people come in and out, so I can keep an eye on other customers.

  “Geez, this guy,” she says under her breath.

  But it’s the tiny, irresistible smile that pulls at Harmony’s lip that gives me hope.

  I try not to stare at her while I enjoy my coffee dessert.

  After some time, she sidles over to the table and hands me the paper. “If you stay here all day, you’ll need something to read.”

  She bounces away, her ruffled skirt swishing back and forth with the swing of her hips.

  I don’t tear my gaze away until she disappears into the kitchen.

  With nothing else to look at, I flip through the ads section of the paper.

  Three-bedroom, two-bathroom house for sale on Ivy Street.

  Huh. Interesting.

  Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me after all.

  chapter

  ten

  Harmony

  Cooper thinks he’s so slick.

  There he sits, in the corner booth, eating his free frozen yogurt, looking so pleased with himself.

  Maybe that’s not the right word.

  It’s just plain confidence that I’ve never possessed.

  The man behaves like a bodyguard trying to blend into the background. But if he thinks he blends in, he’s delusional. Cooper would make a terrible bodyguard because he’s more obsessed with the subject he’s guarding than with potential dangers all around.

  I wipe down the countertops and all surfaces with disinfectant for the second time since Cooper showed up this morning.

  The sneeze guard over the toppings bar is pristine, as I’ve rubbed it three times while Cooper pretends to read the newspaper.

  I would wipe down the tabletops again, but I don’t trust myself to get close to him. I’ll get lost in his brown eyes, square jaw, and sexy crow’s feet.

  For an ordinary girl that would be fine. For a girl looking for a relationship. Which I am not.

  I scan the room for something else to do and pray for someone else to come in and buy some frozen yogurt.

  As I stare longingly at the front door, Cooper makes eye contact. The dreamiest, dreamiest eye contact. Dammit.

  He says nothing, just smiles in that friendly, laid-back way. Eating his yogurt at the speed of a comatose sloth. I tell you, it’s inhuman to eat a dessert so slowly.

  Please, Little Spoon, give me something to do.

  He catches my eye, and his smile makes my breath catch in my throat.

  Why is he here? Why is he doing this? To torture me? To wear me down?

  I might have to go outside and give away vanilla yogurt samples with our newest buttermilk pastry topping. That could draw in some customers.

  Alas, Cooper would probably follow me out there.

  Instead I attack the self-serve nozzles with microfiber and rubbing alcohol.

  “Uh, doesn’t the manager clean those every night after locking up?” Cooper asks.

  I glance at him casually over my shoulder as I clean. “Doesn’t hurt to clean up afterward. The managers are not always perfect,” I say.

  I know that the nozzles and every other fixture in here are cleaned to perfection every night after closing. Our evening manager is a dream come true. She studies cosmetology at the community college two towns over during the day and earns money at nights and weekends at Little Spoon.

  “I think Evie’s even more of a perfectionist than you are; I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Cooper says.

  It shouldn’t chap my hide to hear him talking about Evie in a complimentary way, but for some reason, it does. She’s a perfectly lovely young woman and sweet as can be. Even sweeter than my sister Summer—and everyone loves Summer.

  I scrub the double chocolate nozzle extra hard and breezily say, “She’s an excellent worker.”

  “I’m thinking I might ask her to cut my hair.”

  At that, my blood boils. I whip around before I can stop myself, to see Cooper scrubbing the top of his short-cropped head.

  “Why?” I blurt.

  With a look of surprise, Cooper replies, “To get her some experience. Earn some cash. She is studying for that kind of thing, no?”

  “We can’t have her cutting hair here at the yogurt shop; it’s against health codes.”

  Cooper blinks at me. No one says anything for a moment, and then a hint of a smirk pulls at his lips.

  He’s clocking my little explosion of jealousy, and he likes it.

  Ew. Who likes to make a girl jealous when he knows she’s not even into him?

  “You’re absolutely right, Harmony.”

  He slurps down the rest of his yogurt, pushes out his chair, and saunters over to the trash receptacle. He tosses away his paper cup and chucks the little red spoon in the bin marked for “utensils” to be washed.

  “I was just thinking, we need a decent salon in our town and maybe I can convince Evie to open one here,” Cooper says.

  Why is he still talking about Evie?

  What in the name of all that’s holy is wrong with me?

  I need my head examined.

  I take a deep breath, hoping to calm my blood pressure, and answer, “We? Our town?”

  He shrugs. “What can I say? This place is growing on me.”

  De-escalate whatever is going on in your pea brain, Harmony. You are an intelligent, independent woman and you don’t need a man. You’ve made it abundantly clear to Cooper that you’re just friends. Why shouldn’t he express interest in someone else? Even someone ten years younger than him who works for the company?

  He’s not technically her boss, so it wouldn’t be the human resources nightmare that is Wood Brothers and Love Games. Rumor has it that those construction guys and the gamer nerds started dating their employees the day they were hired.