Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

Harmony wasn’t normal, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t settle down even when she was ninety. But she was steady as a rock. Loyal to a fault. And one hell of a fighter. Why the hell would he want someone normal when he could have her?

Except that was the kicker, wasn’t it? He couldn’t have her. Because underneath that balls-to-the-walls exterior, she was more insecure than he’d ever given her credit for. So insecure that she couldn’t even risk telling him that she loved him.

Or at least, that was his story and he was sticking to it. Because the other alternative, the idea that she really didn’t love him … that was hurl-himself-off-a-cliff territory.

So what if she couldn’t say it? He knew she loved him. He saw it in her eyes when they made love, felt it in the way she always knew exactly what he needed and worked so hard to give it to him.

But that hadn’t kept her from walking away Saturday night. Hadn’t kept her from giving up on them like they were nothing. It had blown his mind as she’d walked away in the middle of the fight. Sure, he’d hit below the belt, but so had she. And Harmony had never quit on anything important in her life. So why the hell had she quit on them?

It blew his mind.

Maybe he should ask her. Maybe he should just drive over to Lyric and Heath’s house and demand to see her. If he begged enough, surely Heath would relent. Plus, the man was his employee. If nothing else, he could threaten to saddle him with locker-room inspections and a mountain of paperwork if he wouldn’t let Dalton see Harmony. She wasn’t the only diabolical one in this relationship.

As he approached his car, he realized right away that he wasn’t going to be driving it anywhere. At least not for a while. Harmony was draped across his hood like a model at a car show. She was lying on her side dressed in nothing but a red lace shirt and a tiny black miniskirt. she had one hand propped on her waist and the other handcuffed to the driver’s side mirror.

Hot fucking damn. She hadn’t given up on them. She was here. Whatever terms she dictated he might even agree to … maybe.

The world became bright and wonderful again.

He all but ran the rest of the way to the car.

How long she’d been out here like this? It was in the nineties. He’d told her it was too hot for leather.

Hopefully she hadn’t been out here long, because he really hated the idea of any of the men he worked with seeing her like this. Not because he was embarrassed by her but because there was no way he wanted sexual fantasies of his woman going on in their heads. Anyone who saw Harmony like this would definitely have a fantasy or two.

She looked like a bondage wet dream come to life. If only she’d been posing on a motorcycle … maybe he could talk her into that later.

He smiled to himself.

She was his, all his. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

He forced himself to slow down as he covered the last few feet between them. Harmony Wright was a badass, and any man who hoped to keep up with her needed to be just as big of a badass. Lucky for her, he’d had a lot of practice growing up.

“I gotta say,” he said as he stepped up to the bumper of his Maserati, “you make one hell of a pretty hood ornament.”

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“That she does, though your John Wayne impression needs some work.”

“Does the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear make up for the fact that I can’t impersonate the Duke?” Her eyes licked up and down his body, and he knew she was imagining him minus the suit.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you spread your legs a little and let me take a look? Then I’ll decide.” He wanted to do so much more than take a look.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not that easy.”

“Really? Because you’re currently handcuffed to the roof of my car. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of easy.” He loved that she didn’t take things lying down—even though she was currently lying down.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m sick of things being hard.” The challenge in her eyes kicked his heart into overdrive.

He closed his eyes and said a prayer of thanksgiving to the universe for bringing this beautiful woman into his life. He hadn’t even known he’d needed her, but now that she was here—now that she was his—he couldn’t imagine his life without her. And he was going to make sure he never had to.

“Are you? Tired of hard things?” He stepped closer to the car—and to her. He still didn’t touch her, though. He knew Harmony well enough to know that he’d lose a hand if he touched her before she was ready. While he would normally have been willing to take that risk, right now he had too much riding on this to risk screwing it up.

“I don’t know.” She gave him a sultry look. “Do you have anything hard to offer me?”

“How about the rest of my life? I’m sure it will have its hard moments.” He’d never wanted anything or anyone this badly.

She inch-wormed her way into a sitting position. He had to give it to her. That leather kept sticking to the paint. If only he’d known she’d be handcuffing herself to his car, he’d have had the damn thing waxed.