Lyric and Lingerie (Fort Worth Wranglers 1)
For a moment it looked like her mother was going to protest, but her daddy just took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I’ll be fine. The surgery’s routine.”
“I’m not worried. I just …” Her voice was crisp, but her mother’s chin trembled just a little before she shored up her defenses. “I won’t be in there to watch over you.”
She meant to micromanage the surgery, just like she tried to micromanage Bowman’s life. No wonder he disappeared into the barn … a lot … for no reason.
“I’m going to be just fine.” He kissed her hand again, then turned his tired eyes to the rest of them. “Harmony, sugar, take care of your mother, please.”
Even drugged, he was still smart enough to know that Lyric wasn’t the person to ask.
“Absolutely.”
Her sister’s tone was so sweet that Lyric worried they’d all get cavities. “I’ll keep her in line.”
His laugh was weaker than usual, but familiar enough that it chased away the chill that had come as soon as Candy had started trying to kick them all out.
“I have no doubt, sugar. No doubt at all.” Then he turned to Lyric. “I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And how much easier it is for me to go into this surgery knowing that you’re here and that you have a man like Heath to take care of you.”
“Huh?” Lyric looked at Heath for a translation.
He grinned and shrugged.
“He’s a good man. A solid man, one who is more than up to taking care of you.” Her father’s words were slurring. It sounded like he’d had several fingers of bourbon. Clearly the anesthesia was kicking in.
“Taking … care of me?” Lyric had never needed a man, besides her daddy.
“Don’t be getting your knickers in a twist.” Now her father was British? Yep, the anesthesia was definitely kicking in. No proper Texas rancher used the word “knickers” unless he was high on IV drugs. “I know you’re an independent woman, but you need a man in your life.”
She needed a man in her life about as much as she needed another hole in her head, but who was she to argue? Drugs mixed with testosterone—a recipe for stupidity.
She glanced at Heath, who was grinning like an idiot and nodding along with everything her daddy had said.
“Heath and I are just …” Well, what were they? Friends, acquaintances, airplane seatmates?
Heath pulled her to his chest. She barely had time to register the warning look in his eyes before he was lowering his head and pressing his mouth to hers.
It wasn’t the most passionate of kisses or the most intimate. But the second his lips hit hers, her system went into overload.
Heath Montgomery could kiss. He’d been dynamite at seventeen, and the years had only made him better. Practice really did make perfect.
Her toes tingled. Her heart raced. Her stomach growled.
It had been a while since she’d eaten. She hoped he didn’t notice.
She let herself sink into the kiss—into Heath—then he pulled away. She looked up, and his eyes had gone from chocolate brown to pure black magic in the space of one short kiss.
Harmony cleared her throat.
Lyric stepped back and noticed that her entire family, along with three nurses, two orderlies, and some woman with dark hair and a pinstripe suit, were all watching her as if she were a penguin in the zoo.
She took a couple of steps back and banged into her father’s IV pole. Her foot got caught on the leg of the chair, and when she threw out a hand for stability, she almost yanked her father’s IV right out of his hand. She overcompensated with her right foot, which hit the rolling tray, sending it crashing into her father’s bed. Heath scooped her up Rhett Butler style and moved her out of the way.
“Really?” Harmony sighed. “You couldn’t just help her up, you had to whisk her into your arms like some stupid Bollywood musical?”
Lyric was willing to admit that it was overkill.
Gently, Heath set her down. “What can I say? I’m an overachiever.”
He made a big show of pulling Lyric into his chest. “I’ve got you, darlin’.” His West Texas drawl was overly pronounced. “I’ve got you.”