Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“A new baking show?” Harmony knew she sounded like a parrot, but she was having a hard time keeping up.

“Yes, we want to call it Badass Baker, and we want you to be our resident badass. Kind of like Ace of Cakes, but with more sex appeal and more accessible recipes that the average baker can pull off. Kind of a Kat Von D meets Betty Crocker kind of thing.”

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Chapter 2

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“Badass Baker?” Harmony repeated. Damn it, she really had to stop repeating everything that came out of Holly’s mouth. But seriously? “My own show?”

She loved Kat Von D. Personal hero and style inspiration.

But her own show? These things didn’t happen in real life. TV producers didn’t just call you up when you lived the most boring life possible in itty-bitty San Angelo and tell you they wanted to give you your own show.

“Absolutely your own show.” There was a smile in Holly’s voice. “This can’t be that much of a surprise, can it? You dominated Cupcake Cage Match, and not just because of your baking and fighting skills. You have to know how much charisma you have. You’re sexy and beautiful and have a wicked sense of humor. The camera loves you—and so does the audience.”

Harmony glanced down at her pink-and-black Talbots dress and sensible pumps. Not much sex appeal or charisma in this getup, that was for sure. And absolutely no sense of humor. “I don’t know that I fully understand the show concept.”

“We want something edgy. All you have to do is just be your charmingly badass self.” Holly sounded so sure.

She thought about the middle finger donut she’d eaten for breakfast t

hat morning, and again looked down at her soccer mom dress. “I don’t know about the charm, but I have plenty of bad attitude.” A terrible thought struck. “I wouldn’t have to go on Chopped as a judge, would I?”

Holly laughed. “Not unless you wanted to.”

“Good. I’m not eating things made out of Skittles and lamb hearts.” This was a dream that she hadn’t even known she’d wanted coming true. “Will I have complete creative control? I refuse to bake complicated, weird things that no one has ingredients for and wouldn’t want to eat anyway. And there will be no kale.” There were some things a woman couldn’t compromise on, and kale was one of them. Just because everyone in California thought it was manna from heaven didn’t mean that the rest of the world wanted a thousand kale recipes. “And rose water. Where the hell do you even buy rose water. If you can’t get the ingredients at your local IGA, I don’t make it on my show.”

Damn—her show? She was starting to sound like a diva.

The bitchy comments just kind of came out without her permission. Like being on the phone with someone who knew the real her—and liked her enough to offer Harmony her own show—had totally ruined the years and years she’d spent hiding her thoughts behind a mask.

Holly didn’t seem to mind, though. She was laughing like Harmony was the funniest thing since cat videos. “That’s the kind of comment we want on the show. We love that you don’t take any shit from anyone and do things your way. Also, we love that you run a small-town bakery—it’s one more dichotomy that the audience will just eat up.”

Harmony loved the word dichotomy. More people should use it in conversation.

“In fact, we want to film in San Angelo—partly in your bakery and partly in a studio we set up for you. To your specifications, of course—although we do have some design ideas already. We want it to look as badass as you are, so we’re thinking black and chrome with red accents. Everything will be sleek and sexy—including your appliances and bakeware. If we do this right—and we will—we’ll be able to launch a whole Badass Baker product line. Everything from baking pans to temporary tattoos.”

“Temporary tattoos?” She wasn’t sure why, but of everything Holly had just said, that was what Harmony’s mind latched onto. How could the secretary of the San Angelo garden club get on TV and hock temporary tattoos? Livinia would have apoplexy.

Damn, that was reason enough to do it.

“Absolutely.” Holly was very excited. “We’ll design them to mimic your own tattoos, so women can feel as badass as you are when they put them on. I’m telling you, Harmony, this show is going to be big. Huge, even. Between the money you make from it and what it does to drive traffic to the Wright Way … you’re going to be richer and more famous than you ever dreamed.”

But she’d never dreamed of being rich or famous. All she’d ever wanted was to be herself … and to have her family love her anyway. But she’d never had that option. Lyric had taken up all the zany in the family, just like she’d taken up all the chances to make mistakes.

With her tranquilizers and her Southern Comfort and her miles upon miles of ridiculous rules for women, Momma was already close enough to the edge without both of her daughters going hog wild. Harmony had stepped in sometime in junior high and towed the Livinia Angleton Wright line. It had kept Momma happy, which had kept Daddy happy, which had kept the heat off of Lyric, with her too big brain and her too sensitive soul.

“Harmony? Are you still there?”

“I am. I need to think about this …” Yes, she wanted it, but how was she supposed to be a badass baker in a town that thought of her as the good girl?

“What’s there to think about? We’ll pay you ten thousand dollars an episode, we’ll come to you so your life won’t even be disrupted during the first season, we’ll put your bakery on the map and turn you into a star. Just say yes. You know you want to.” Holly knew she was handing Harmony the brass ring.

Of course she wanted this. Who wouldn’t? She’d never thought about having her own show before, had only gone on Cupcake Cage Match because she’d wanted to blow off some steam and it had looked like a fun way to earn some traveling money. No more Talbots dresses and no more Junior League meetings—that was reason enough to say yes. But how would that work?

“I know that you’re only co-owner of the bakery, so we’ll have to get the other owner—your mother, isn’t it?—to sign the filming waiver.”