Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“You have to go,” he repeated blindly.

“I do. I have to—” She didn’t have it in her to make up an excuse. All she knew was that she couldn’t be there. She couldn’t look him in the eye when her heart was breaking wide open and her whole world was collapsing in on itself.

He went to take her hand, made a gesture like he was going to pull her into his arms. But she yanked back as hard as she could, and then she was running out of his office, running down the corridor, running as far from Dalton Mane as she could get.

Not because she didn’t love him, but because she did. No matter what he’d said about loving her for who she was, he deserved so much more than a woman who was going to constantly put him—and his job—right in the middle of one disaster after another.

* * *

Chapter 23

* * *

Harmony’s big TV show day was finally here. And somehow, it didn’t seem to matter to her at all.

It had been two days since she and Heath had had their fight. Two days since he had sent her reeling by saying she didn’t trust him. And two days since she hadn’t been able to tell him she loved him.

She felt like shit. Her head hurt, her body ached, and her heart—her heart felt like it had gone fifteen rounds in Cupcake Cage Match and had lost every single one. And she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

She was about to do a television pilot—one that would make or break her professional dream—and she was so broken up, she could barely remember her own name let alone her famous brownie recipe.

But the show must go on. If she couldn’t have Dalton, then maybe she could have this. It was a poor second place, but her life couldn’t just stop because she had messed up the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Or at least, that was what she told herself as she sat in a makeup chair while Tre oversaw her hair and makeup. She’d chosen classic desserts with a twist, like carrot bread, cheesecake brownies, and coconut cream pie. She knew the recipes inside and out. She was ready for this. She could do this.

Tre leaned over and whispered, “Which of the outfits do you want to wear?”

She glanced at the bed and her heart sank. Nothing he’d chosen would work. She’d taken risks time after time since getting to Fort Worth, and what had it gotten her? Not a damn thing. In fact, it had cost her everything, had even paralyzed her when she needed to be most able to take a risk.

No, this was it. She was done trying to be herself, done trying to be anyone or anything but the woman her mother had raised. She needed to play it safe, take the path of least resistance. Dalton was wrong about that. The times she hadn’t taken the path of least resistance were the only times when she’d screwed up. She was Ann Taylor and Talbots and pearl chokers. Hiding from it didn’t change that fact. Admitting it to herself burned a hole in her soul, but if she’d learned anything in the last couple of days, it was that she couldn’t run from who she was, because it always caught up to her.

“I’d like to go with the black Chanel suit.” It had been her mother’s and it cost her to admit that Livinia was right. Tasteful beat stylish every single day.

“Are you sure?” Tre glanced at the closet. “I thought you only kept that around to remind you of why you hate your mother.”

As if she needed a reminder.

“Yes, I’m going with the suit.” If she weren’t all cried out, she’d weep for the stiff, hollow suit she was about to wear to make the world fall in love with her. That was all she had left. “The recipes I’ve decided on are all classics with a twist. I was hoping to do the same with the suit.”

“Okay.” Tre drew out the last syllable like he really didn’t believe there was any twist that could make that suit anything but awful.

She could make this work. She had to.

Ten minutes later, she was dressed in the suit, her hair

and makeup were flawless, and she couldn’t have felt more empty.

Walking into the kitchen was like walking into a whole new world. Six giant Clegg lights spotlit the stove with its side-by-side double ovens. They also raised the temperature in the room a good five degrees. What seemed like miles and miles of black electrical wiring snaked over the floor. She barely made it into the kitchen on her floral Loubies without tripping. Even those, with their cheery neon flowers, couldn’t cheer her up.

A production assistant named Annie had explained the process. It was much like Cupcake Cage Match. They would set up the shot, give her the five count, and click the clapperboard. After that it was go time. She was prepared to take several shots.

“There’s our star.” Holly picked her way over the wires to Harmony. She eyed the black suit and pearl choker but didn’t say a word. “We’re almost ready to start. You look like you’re ready to take on the world.”

Harmony faked a smile and nodded a little too manically. “I can’t wait.”

If only Dalton was here, but she knew better than to look around for him. It was over. He’d been very clear on that.

“Break a leg.” Holly clapped her on the shoulder and then moved out of the shot.