Lyric and Lingerie (Fort Worth Wranglers 1)

Looked like great minds really did think alike. He’d wanted to punch Rob more than once, and he’d never even met the man.

“I’d like to take this time without Lyric to bring up something rather sensitive.” He worked his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out his black American Express Centurion Card, and handed it to Livinia. “I’d like to pay for everything.”

He held a hand up to halt any protest. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. I want no expense spared for my Lyric, and I’d like to help plan everything. The woman I love deserves the best, and I aim to give it to her.”

“That really doesn’t work for me.” Bowman used the remote on the bed to sit up straight.

“Well it’s going to have to, because I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to concentrate on getting better so you can walk her down the aisle. Besides, I have more money than I’ll ever spend in two lifetimes, so the matter is settled.” On the off chance that Lyric wouldn’t go through with the wedding, Heath didn’t want her family to be out even a single dollar.

Reluctantly, Bowman nodded.

Heath turned to Gregor. “Now, let me see those wedding cakes again.”

Gregor glared at him as he handed him the binder. Which only pissed Heath off more. How dare this pompous asshole look down his nose at Lyric? Heath was going to make him suffer.

Heath flipped through them and shook his head. “Gareth, nothing here seems like Lyric.”

“It’s Gregor.” Gregor crossed his arms and sulked.

Heath half expected him to pull some fake flowers out of his sleeve, just like a magician. Besides a superhero, who actually wore a cape?

Still, he shook it off. Gregor was just a means to an end. As long as he could take orders and stay out of the way, the two of them were going to get along just fine. And by fine, he meant that Gregor got to continue breathing.

He knew what he wanted for Lyric … something that was part classic and part off the wall. And all Lyric.

“What about eight or nine layers, with each one being a different constellation? You can make them smooth and clean, like that one.” Heath pointed to a picture of a sleek white wedding cake that looked clean and modern because it was missing all of the flowers and fuss of the others. “But each layer will be a different shape and flavor.”

“I suppose it cans be done.” Gregor sounded like he’d rather not go off book, but he took notes on his iPad anyway. “But it will cost you extra. I’ll get with my baker and have her put together a mock-up for your approval, and we can go from there.”

Was it just Heath, or had the wedding planner’s accent slipped a little? “Grady, where are you from? I can’t place the accent.”

Gregor pulled himself up to his full five-foot-two-inch height. “I’m Swedish by the way of Düsseldorf and Madrid. I am one hundred and seventeenth in line for the Swedish crown.”

What the hell did that even mean? He was probably from Dallas.

Livinia’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “You’re royalty?” She bowed.

Heath didn’t have the heart to tell her that she should have curtsied.

Clearly, being one hundred and seventeenth in line for the Swedish throne didn’t pay very well, or pretentious Gregor wouldn’t be event planning.

“I am used to workings with the brides, not the grooms.” Gregor clearly didn’t like his name not being remembered or his lineage and his accent being questioned.

Heath put his arm around Gregor. “Grainger … Grahman … Gandalf … whatever your name is, let me explain something about myself. I’m a quarterback—that’s an American football term for man in charge. I like to call the plays, and most of the time I like to run the ball myself, which means I’m a real hands-on kinda guy. Sorry, buddy, but Lyric’s really not into this whole wedding business. You get me?” He clapped him on the back a couple of times and then dropped his arm.

Gregor grabbed his lower back like Heath had broken a couple of vertebrae. “Well, this one time I am guessing it is okay.”

“One more thing … I insist on strict confidentiality. Every vendor, including you, will have to sign a confidentiality agreement. My wedding won’t become a field day for the press. Are we clear?”

Like hell was the most important day of his life going to be a three-ring media circus. Lyric wasn’t built for public life. He didn’t want that for her or for himself or for the life they’d build together. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn’t the Wranglers’ quarterback anymore, he was just plain old Heath Montgomery … average citizen and soon-to-be husband of the world-famous astrophysicist Lyric Wright-Montgomery. His fiancée was liberated. A hyphen situation was fine with him, but his name better be in the mix somewhere. People needed to know that she was a Montgomery. He wasn’t going to all of this trouble so Lyric could stay a Wright.

“I am understanding. No press. I will makes sure they stay away.” Gregor looked a little disappointed. No doubt he’d been bragging to his fellow cape-wearing party planners about the Deuce tying the knot.

“Is there some sort of list we need to check off for all of this wedding stuff?” Heath gestured toward the wedding binder. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Wedding stuffs? What is this stuffs you are talking of? This is very important business.” Gregor’s face was turning a very unbecoming red. It was probably the fake accent. They were hard to keep up for a long time.

“Okie dokie. I get it. Very important business.” Heath had to fight the urge to mimic Gregor. “But is there a list or something we need to follow?”