Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“Simple, my brain isn’t busy trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe like yours is.” She tapped on her head. “Plenty of room to remember names and faces.”

“I never thought of it that way.” Lyric made it sound like she’d just figured out one of the science mysteries she spent way too much time working on. After a bit more thought, she shoulder-bumped Harmony. “So Dalton spent the night. I want details.”

“Not much to tell. We had a lot of sex, ran out of condoms, and he left.” Harm didn’t like that her heart went all high school crush when she thought about Dalton. “But he did mention something interesting. He said we should take some pictures of you and me standing side by side and post them on social media. That way people will see my tattoos and know I’m not you.”

Lyric shrugged. “Okay.”

Thirty minutes later, Harmony posted several photos online with the #HotGirlNeedsDate tag. Now it was just a waiting game. All she needed was for her mother to disown her. But it was proving harder and harder to do.

Harm’s phone buzzed, so she pulled it ou

t of her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway. “Hello.”

“You gotta come back home, Harmony. We can’t take it anymore.”

“Is this Mr. McDonald? What’s wrong?” She’d known Lucas MacDonald since she and her mother had opened the bakery, and she’d never heard him sound so panicked.

“Your Momma is insane.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m serious. She’s the meanest woman I’ve ever met. And she’s ruining the coffee club.”

“What did she do now?” Harm had been ignoring texts from the morning coffee club for a few days. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help them, it was more like they were a bunch of whiney little girls, so it was hard to tell truth from exaggeration.

“She took our coffeepot away. She says if we’re going to take up real estate in her bakery, we have to drink her coffee.” He ground out a breath. “It tastes like cinnamon.” He made cinnamon sound like toxic waste.

“Just do what I do and ignore her, then do what you want. If you want to drink your own coffee in the bakery, bring it in a thermos.” Harmony picked up a bottle of black gel nail polish, shook it, and unscrewed the cap. Her toenails needed some black polish. The neon pink was getting on her nerves.

“We tried that. She put up a sign that says no outside food or drink can be brought in. She’s vicious. I thought my late wife was mean … Compared to your mother, my wife was a saint.” He was genuinely upset. She could hear it in his voice. “You know, your mother has been a thorn in my side for decades, and it’s not fair that I have to spend what little time I have left on this earth being tormented by that woman.”

Livinia had been Mr. McDonald’s student way back when he was a history teacher. Thirty years later, he’d been Lyric and Harm’s teacher too. Harmony didn’t know what had happened between Livinia and Mr. McDonald, but whatever it was had had him crossing himself every time she or her sister walked into his classroom for the first two months of junior year.

“Now it’s time for payback. Be a thorn in her side.” She loved her little old men’s coffee club. Most of them were widowed and lonely. If they didn’t have the bakery, she didn’t know what they would do with their time, and no way was she going to let her mother ruin it for them.

“She smacked me on the knuckles with a spatula just ’cause I put my elbows on the table. Can you believe that?” He was on his way from upset to full-on mad. “I survived the jungles of Vietnam and being married to the second meanest woman in Texas. If I want to eat with my elbows on the table, I should be able to do it. I’m an old man, and she hit hard enough to leave a bruise.”

Harm brushed black polish on the tips of her toes, like a French manicure gone wild. “I won’t be back for a couple of weeks, so y’all are going to have to sort this out yourselves. I think you should stand your ground. Don’t let her push you around. If she comes near you with the Evil Spatula of Doom, you put your elbows on the table, look her directly in the eye, and tell her that it’s bad manners not to respect her elders. Or better yet …” She finished her left foot and moved on to her right. “Out manners her. Wait for her to slouch or put her elbows on the table and make sure to point it out. Then start critiquing her baking and her clothes. She doles out criticism really well, but she can’t take it at all.”

“Okay, wait a minute, let me get my glasses so’s I can take notes.” There was shuffling on his end, like he was patting down pockets. “Oh no, be quiet for a minute. She’s coming. I’ll give you the okay when the coast is clear.”

Harmony wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or someone else in the room, so she stayed quiet.

A couple of minutes passed.

“Whew, that was a close one.” It was another male voice in the background. “We almost got busted.”

“Who’s with you?” Harmony added a second coat to her toes.

“Stan Laramey and I are hiding out in the storeroom, waiting for her to leave for the day. We’re gonna steal her cinnamon.” Mr. McDonald was all covert ops.

“You do realize that without cinnamon, she can’t make sticky buns, snickerdoodles, cinnamon twists, and several other things?” She loved their enthusiasm, but their plan could have been better.

“Oh.” All of the wind went out of Mr. McDonald’s sails.

“Now, what you can do is mix things up. Momma likes order, so if you want to mess with her head, go the spice rack and move everything around. Then go into the dining room and move the tables around. Last, take all of the pictures and plaques off of the walls and hide them behind the counter. Tomorrow morning, she’ll be too busy baking and fixing things to care about your Folgers coffee or your elbows on the table.” With any luck, Momma would also be so beside herself about how disgraceful her perfect little Harmony was acting that she wouldn’t care about anything else.

“Good idea.” It sounded like he really was taking notes. “What else?”