Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“Wow. And I thought my dad was an asshole. He was only a drunk.” Heath turned into the gated community where he lived.

“You have no idea.” Dalton turned around to glare at Harmony. “You have no idea just how dangerous those men are.”

“I can take care of myself.” She cocked her head to the left. “We both know I can kick your ass.”

“Yes, Krav is wonderful for taking people down. But you can’t take down twenty angry and armed men at once. It’s reckless. You put your sister’s and Heath’s and my lives in danger. If you want to die, there are easier and faster ways to do it.”

“Nobody asked you to come save me, biker boy. I sure as hell didn’t ask you to manhandle me and throw me around.”

“Manhandle?” Lyric piped up for the first time.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harmony told her with yet another roll of her eyes.

Jesus, it looked like eye rolling was her favorite form of communication. Which might explain why she had the self-preservation sense of a thirteen-year-old girl. Maybe that was why he had the nearly overwhelming urge to spank her again.

He’d never met anyone who needed a spanking more than Harm. “Do you always cause this much trouble?”

“Yes,” Heath and Lyric said in unison.

“All I did was try and help a fellow oppressed female by giving her some valuable vocational and financial advice. How was I supposed to know that her pimp was in earshot?” She truly sounded like she was in the right and was insulted that anyone could think otherwise.

“You’re a five-alarm fire in high heels.”

“Five-Alarm Harm,” Heath said with a laugh. “That’s a good one.”

“Before you call me that again, I suggest you reflect on the fact that I know a dozen ways to kill a man while he’s asleep and two dozen while he’s awake.”

Dalton loved the naked rage on her face and in her voice.

Harmony was definitely a hellcat, he decided, as Heath pulled into his driveway and pressed the button on garage door opener. Too bad he’d sworn off hellcats a long time ago.

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

Soooooo … last night hadn’t gone well. Harmony was woman enough to admit that … to herself, even if the rest of the world could kiss her ass. Heath had spent an hour lecturing her after they got home, a lecture that ended up with him forbidding her to take Lyric anywhere ever again.

As if. Lyric was her twin sister and her best friend. No way was she giving that up just because her husband had a serious stick up his ass.

So did his very attractive friend.

She tried not to think of Dalton Mane as she poured canola oil into the commercial fryer in Lyric and Heath’s kitchen. Right now they were both at work, which was fine with her since things had been a little tense around the coffeepot this morning. It just gave her a chance to make her donuts uninterrupted.

Not that they were a peace offering or anything. It was just that she needed donuts and latte and more donuts. And maybe some cookies too. And a cake. And maybe some more cannoli—

She made a list of the necessary ingredients in her head as she pinched off a piece of dough and started to shape it. She always baked when she was mad. Or sad or glad or bored or horny, and right now she was a little bit of all of those things.

How could she not be when, looking back on last night, she was willing to admit that possibly, in some itty-bitty tiny way, she was to blame for how everything went bad?

Dalton might have had a small point when he’d called her reckless. Maybe. In some teeny-tiny way.

It nearly killed her to admit it. Almost as much as it kill

ed her to admit that Dalton Mane was Hot with a capital H. He might wear an Armani suit like he was born in it, but there was a chained-panther quality about him that really revved her engine. Something that said that once he broke free, whoever was in his path was going to have to deal with a whole lot of raw power and lethal animal. In his tailored designer suit and fancy-dancy loafers he’d looked so civilized, but underneath was an alpha male ready to tie her to the headboard and take what he wanted.

It was an enticing thought, one that had her nipples peaking and a shiver sliding seductively down her spine. At least, until she remembered that two alphas couldn’t coexist in the same relationship. It was the way of the world, and there was no way in hell she was ever riding bitch behind him. She did enough of that when she bent over backward trying to please her mother.