Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“Very funny.” He held the dough hand gingerly by the thumb. “Do I just toss it in or what?”

“You need a little more finesse than that.” She couldn’t help herself. She took the dough and with a practiced hand molded it until the fingers met the thumb in the age-old gesture for jerking someone off. Then she dropped it in the oil. “Wait until it turns golden brown and then take it out.”

She flipped her sunglasses down from the top of her head onto her eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me. The latest Cosmo is waiting for me by the pool.”

“Wait, shouldn’t you stay here and make sure I don’t burn down the house?” He grabbed the spider and tucked his tie over his shoulder.

“Nope, not my house.” She turned and headed back out to the pool.

He whistled his approval of her backside. “Nice.”

Normally, that would piss her off, but it was a free country. He could appreciate her ass just as much as she could appreciate his. There was equality in mutual ogling.

“Not too bad yourself.” She didn’t look back.

It was time to enjoy her one and only vacation this year. When Dalton left, she’d go back in and finish up the donuts. All that caged sex appeal was too much to handle in the confines of her sister’s kitchen.

After setting her plate on the table between two of the six chaises, she folded her chaise flat, laid down on her belly, and propped herself up on her elbows. Then she grabbed her plate and her Cosmo.

“This is really good.” Dalton sat on the chair next to her. “Is that lemon zest in the frosting?”

“It’s a glaze and yes there’s lemon zest.” She flipped through ad after ad.

“You should go on that donut competition baking show,” he said between bites.

“No way. They give the bakers weird ingredients. No one but a paid judge wants to eat a donut made out of ketchup and lemon pepper.” She could go for a chocolate glaze right now. When Dalton finally left, she’d whip up some and dip the donuts in it.

“Mind if I have another one?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lick his fingers.

“Don’t you have a job?” She continued to flip pages. “It’s the preseason. Don’t you need to go micromanage something?”

“Yes, but I’m hungry.” He winked at her. “And I’m the boss, so I can do what I want … within reason.”

“It seems to me that reason figures a lot into your personal life.” She continued flipping.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He reached over and used the towel she was lying on to dry his hands.

“I don’t think this is going to come as a shock to you, but you’re dull.” She flipped the page to find “Kuma Sutra—The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”

“I’m not dull.” His tone suggested that he didn’t believe it either.

“If you say so.” She scanned the article and was a little disappointed—but not surprised—that there was nothing new.

“I happen to live a very full and fulfilling life.” Now he sounded like he was trying to justify his life choices to her. Or, more likely, to himself.

“Of course you do.” She flipped more pages.

He stood. “I’m going to make myself another donut.”

“Good luck with that.” She didn’t bother to look up.

He stood there waiting for something—probably for her to get up and help him. “Don’t you want to make sure I don’t burn myself?”

“Nope, I’m good.” She handed him her empty plate. “Can you put that in the sink for me?”

He glanced down at the plate, and she could tell he was trying to decide how to play this. It was almost cute, the way he thought he had a shot of one-upping her. But she’d been trained by Livinia Angleton Wright on how to put—and keep—men in their place. He was going to have to work a lot harder than this to shake her up.