Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“Words to live by.” Lyric wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Harmony let herself sink into her twin’s hug for just a minute. She’d bounce back with a new plan—she knew that. After all, this wasn’t anywhere near the worst day of her life. It probably wasn’t even in the top ten.

But right now—right this second, as the police sorted out the carnage on the front lawn and Dalton waited with dinner on the other side of the neighborhood’s gates—she really needed a hug.

* * *

Chapter 13

* * *

Two hours later, Dalton finally pulled into Heath’s driveway. The front of the house looked like the morning after a biker rally. Numerous pieces of clothing lay scattered around the torn-up lawn. A few liquor bottles and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn littered the porch. He squinted—was that blood on the driveway?

Part of him was afraid to ask what had happened here, but the other half already knew. Five-Alarm Harm had struck again.

Grabbing the four giant brown paper sacks from the backseat, he headed to the house. Was it safe to eat two-hour-old fajitas and fixin’s? Botulism probably wasn’t the best way to say, “I’m kinda, but not really, sorry.”

Hoping for the best, he knocked and then rang the bell. Not that he was anxious to see Harmony or anything. He just wanted to stave off the botulism as best he could. Or at least that was his story and he was sticking to it … especially since Harmony was sure to be pissed as hell.

The fact that that only made him more anxious to see her probably wasn’t the healthiest thing. Then again, people looking in would probably say there wasn’t much about their relationship that was healthy. But that was because they’d be missing one crucial detail. Being with Harmony made him happy. It also frustrated him, turned him on, and drove him downright crazy at least fifty percent of the time, but that didn’t matter when she made everything inside of him light up like Lasso Stadium during a championship game.

Was it the damage she wrought that captivated him so completely? Or the badassed attitude she wore like some women wore diamonds? Or maybe it was the fact that no matter what, she gave as good as she got. He had no idea. All he knew was that he couldn’t get her out of his head. No matter what he was doing, she was always there wearing a wicked smile, killer high heels, and absolutely nothing else.

But she was trouble … all kinds of trouble. Just the type of girl he’d left behind when he’d turned his life around. Growing up—and even coming of age—as a Bastard from Hell had taught him all he needed to know about women like Harmony. Mainly that the hotter they were, the bigger the mess they made.

When he’d broken with his family, he’d sworn off women like her. Had promised himself that one day he’d find a nice, sweet lady who would never think about running off with the leader of a rival gang—or football team—and leaving her children behind.

And yet here he was, all but chomping at the bit to see Harmony again. To get his hands and lips and numerous other body parts all over her hands and lips and numerous other body parts.

It was only dinner, he reminded himself as he waited impatiently for someone to open the door. It wasn’t like he was signing over his soul—or even his Maserati—to the woman. The fact that he was looking forward to whatever terrible vengeance she had planned f

or him was neither here nor there.

Finally, the front door opened and Heath leaned against the door looking like he’d been through a war. “Sure you want to enter Harmony’s Hell House?”

“Got nowhere else to be.” Dalton found himself grinning wide enough to make his cheeks ache. He’d known Heath for years and had never bothered to get to know him. Which had obviously been his mistake, since the quarterback turned offensive coordinator was turning out to be a hell of a guy. One Dalton wouldn’t mind counting among his very small circle of friends.

“It’s your funeral.” Heath stepped back and let him in.

“I don’t know if the fajitas are still good. They’ve been sitting in my car for well over two hours. The SWAT team was … thorough.”

“Don’t we know it.”

Heath led the way back to the kitchen, and Dalton realized he already felt at home here. Unlike most of the players’ showrooms posing as houses, Heath and Lyric’s place was a cozy mix of clean, modern lines and laid-back, lived-in spaces.

“No worries, Harm’s made a feast. She may be a pain in the ass, but she cooks when she’s plotting to take over the world.” Heath led him to the kitchen.

The tangy scents of garlic, onions, tomatoes, and ground beef made the air smell like heaven.

“Taking over the world seems overly ambitious.” Dalton could picture her taking over the world. It would be both better and fucked up as hell.

“True. Then again, she’s just as likely to burn it all down.” Heath stepped into the dining nook area and grabbed a seat next to his wife. He gestured to the large ice bucket filled with beer sitting at the edge of the table. “Grab a drink.”

“I still vote for sex scandal,” Lyric commented from out of the blue. She didn’t bother to look up from the open laptop in front of her. “That would certainly do the trick.”

Dalton put the sacks down on the kitchen table. Harmony was at the stove stirring a pot and glaring daggers at him. She was dressed in skinny jeans with lots of rips and holes and a plain red T-shirt. Her hair was back in a ponytail and she looked good enough to eat.

“That’s a slippery slope. In order for it not to scare off Food Network, the video would have to be pretty tame. If it’s too tame, it makes you look like a prude.” Heath looked like he was weighing the options in his head. He turned to Dalton. “What do you think?”