Lyric and Lingerie (Fort Worth Wranglers 1)

He stormed out, slammed the door, stomped down the hall, and slammed his door.

Clearly there was some subtext she was missing here. She reviewed the last few minutes again in her mind and didn’t find anything that would take Heath from nipples to pissed off in two seconds flat.

She knew he loved her father. Maybe the stress over his knee and her father’s illness was taking its toll on Heath? He’d been so supportive of her, and she hadn’t even thought about how this might be affecting him.

She’d find out what was bothering him and see if she could help.

* * *

Chapter 17

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Lyric still didn’t know what was eating Heath. Inside Cherry Cherry, a black hole of tension swirled around them. It practically sucked all of the air out of poor Cherry Cherry. Even Neil Diamond’s voice seemed muffled compared to the ear-deafening silence.

“I’d like to talk about why you’re upset.” God knew she didn’t like talking about her feelings, and she was pretty sure Heath felt the same way, but this was ridiculous.

“There’s nothing wrong, I’m fine.” He spit the words out like nails from a nail gun.

She might not be the most sensitive person, but even she could tell that he was mad … about something … of which she had no idea.

Clearly, they needed some space.

She really, really needed her own car. Her father’s truck was in the garage. Why hadn’t she thought to drive it? It would have been so much better than this, and it would have given them time apart.

Was he upset about the sex? Had she done something wrong? He seemed to enjoy himself. He could have been faking it. Was it physically possible for men to fake orgasms?

It was probably a bad time to google it.

“Sure you’re okay? Because you look a little … angry.” Maybe his knee was really hurting? They did need to address one very important thing. “I know now might not be the best time for this, but we need to nail down some fake engagement boundaries.” She knew it was a lot to ask, but she couldn’t have her parents finding out they weren’t really engaged until she was ready for them to find out. “Since we’re having sex and keeping up the appearance of being engaged, we need to talk about monogamy. I know it’s a lot to ask, and you’re probably used to having several partners at once, but as long as we’re together, can we agree to, you know … keep things just between us?”

It was the responsible thing to do.

His fingers tightened around the wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

She was eighty percent sure that was rhetorical, so she turned to look out of her window. Maybe he’d tell her later what was the matter.

Ten minutes later, the silence was killing her. Seriously killing her. “So, umm, how about those Rangers?” She couldn’t take it any longer. Surely baseball was a safe subject. It was as American as, well, football, and she knew that was subject non grata. Maybe the weather? She examined the clouds gathering in the sky. “Looks like we might get some rain.”

Heath’s only response was a growl. He actually growled at her.

That was annoying, and also a little worrisome—Heath didn’t get mad. He was the most laid-back person she’d ever met … except for now.

Deciding she wasn’t going to talk to him again until he talked to her, Lyric spent much of the rest of the ride picking at a string on the jeans she’d borrowed from Harmony. She’d never realized how skinny skinny jeans were until she’d worked them on. Maybe her mother had a point about her thighs. But she still had plenty of thigh gap, so her thighs couldn’t be that bad.

Heath certainly didn’t have any complaints about her thighs, even after she’d damn near smothered him with them when her mother had called.

Should she ask Heath what the optimal amount of thigh gap was?

She glanced at him. His jaw was working, and his eyes were mean. Probably not the best time.

All this silence gave her lots of time to think.

Christ. How had her life gone so far off the rails, she wondered, as she leaned her head against the passenger’s-side window. This time last week she’d been fuming over Mistress Kailana, and now she was fake marrying the boy she’d lost her heart and her virginity to before she’d grown up and given up on love.

Now her father might die unless she continued with this farce of an engagement. Lying had never been her strong suit.

Heath took a deep breath and blew it out in a huff that reminded her of the Arctic wind she’d once felt when doing a research trip to the North Pole. Only Heath’s was way colder.