Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“You know, not to add fuel to the fire, but heli-skiing in Chile is pretty incredible. I just got back from spending two weeks down there. And I never even got close to a volcano.” Dalton might be a lot of things, but boring wasn’t one of them. He knew he seemed sedate on the outside, but inside he was an adrenaline junky.

“You went heli-skiing?” Heath looked so incredulous that Dalton wondered if he should be insulted. Then again, it wasn’t like he advertised that adrenaline was his only major vice. Usually, he bent over backward to make sure that no one at work knew anything about his personal life. But damn it, he liked Heath, and if he could help him get around that screaming banshee on the phone, he figured he owed it to the guy. Besides, the team always ran better when the coaches were happy.

“Yes, I know it’s hard to picture me as an actual human, but I do have a life outside of the stadium.”

Heath went from incredulous to calculating in two seconds flat. “You should go with Harm. The last time she took Lyric skiing, my wife broke her leg … in two places. Like hell am I letting her jump out of anything, much less a helicopter onto a mountain.” Heath propped his left ankle onto his right knee. “Here’s the thing, Lyric is kind of … uncoordinated. And by kind of, I mean, if there’s even slightly uneven ground, she’s going to fall and probably take someone down with her. And there’s a good chance she’ll end up naked on the way down. Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife more than anything, but the poor thing not only trips over her own two feet on a regular basis, but anything else that might be in the way too. It’s a miracle she’s lived this long but she has, and I’ll be damned if she hurts herself on my watch.”

Dalton knew exactly the kind of clumsy Heath was referring to. His little sister, Cat, had been that way. At five she’d been a whirlwind who never left a room in one piece. At seven, she’d been all elbows and knees and knocking things down. And at ten … at ten, she’d had so much promise. Unfortunately, she hadn’t made it to her eleventh birthday. That was on him. The same old spot under his heart started to ache, but he stopped himself before he could rub it. He liked Heath, but he didn’t show his vulnerabilities to anyone.

Missing Cat cut deep, and he preferred to do his suffering in private.

“I better get home to see Lyric and calm Harmony down.” Heath stood up and headed for the door. “It’s poker night at my place tonight. 8:00 p.m. I won’t take no for an answer.” He waved as he walked out of Dalton’s office.

“Wait, poker night?” Dalton stood. He didn’t fraternize with coworkers.

Heath was already gone.

He started to go after him, then decided what the hell. One night wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. One poker game wasn’t going to kill him or undermine his authority. Besides, he kind of wanted to get a look at Heath’s evil sister-in-law. Anyone who could screech like that had his attention, if not his respect.

With that thought in mind, he leaned over and hit the intercom. “Eleanor, can you get me Heath’s home address?”

“He already had me text it to your phone.” Eleanor was all business. Then again, she was always all business.

“Great, thanks. Also, do me a favor and order a case of those fancy Cuban cigars Jacob Bennet likes and have them delivered to him with my apologies about Heath’s boots.” Maintaining the peace was so much easier when you knew how to control people.

“Of course.”

He glanced out at the new practice field again, thought of the havoc Heath’s boot heels were going to wreak on it. “On second thought, make that two cases.”

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

“Your husband is an asshole.” Harmony had given up assholes as a New Year’s resolution. If it weren’t for her brother-in-law, she might actually be able to keep the resolution.

“My husband loves me,” Lyric countered as she grabbed her suitcase out of Cherry Cherry’s trunk. “He prefers it when I’m in one piece. It makes having sex so much easier, after all.”

Cherry Cherry was a red, 1970s-era, pimped-out Cadillac with a major crush on Neil Diamond.

Harmony rolled her eyes as she picked up Lyric’s briefcase and purse. “Don’t even get me started. I can’t imagine why you’d even want to have sex with him.”

Lyric fanned herself like the thought of rolling around with Heath Montgomery made her burn-in-hell hot. “Have you met my husband? The whole world wants to have sex with him.”

Harmony raised her hand as she followed Lyric into the house. “Not me.”

She set Lyric’s bags down on the nearest counter before throwing herself on one of the huge, oversized sofas that filled up her sister’s family room/kitchen. “He’s just so average.

“The whole world can’t have tattoos and wear skin-tight black leather. No matter how much you want them to.” Lyric set her purse on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not saying they can—or that they should. I’m just saying men are a little more interesting when they do.”

“I don’t know. Nipple piercings scare me a little. Like, what if one of your boyfriends is climbing a chain-link fence and the piercing gets caught and is torn from his nipple?” Lyric was all about the practical, even when it was impractical.

“Ouch.” Harmony covered her own nipple rings with her palms. “That’s terrible.”

“Nipple rings are terrible.” Lyric leaned against the kitchen counter.