Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

“What do I think about what?” He’d walked into one of the strangest conversations ever. Then again, looking at whom he was keeping company with, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“We’re trying to come up with the best way for Harmony to ruin her ‘good girl’ reputation so Livinia, my mother-in-law, will let Harm buy out her half of the bakery they own together.” Heath made it sound so normal.

“Why does she have to ruin her reputation to do that?” He’d forgotten that Harm owned a bakery.

Both Lyric and Heath looked at Harm for explanation.

Harmony slammed down the whisk she’d been using to stir whatever was in the pot on the stove. “Why are you even here?”

“I brought dinner.” He pointed to the bags.

She checked her watch. “The meat’s been out too long. I made meatloaf.”

“I love meatloaf. My favorite.” His mouth was beginning to water.

“Who said you were getting any?” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “I need to ruin my reputation because my mother is a pretentious bitch who only worries about how things look and not how things are.”

“Think wicked witch meets Jackie O.” Heath put his arm around his wife.

“With just a little Margaret Thatcher thrown in,” Lyric added.

Harm nodded. “That is a perfect description of Momma.”

“I can’t even picture what that would look like,” Dalton admitted. “But why exactly do you want to buy out your mother? And why won’t she let you?”

As he talked, he pulled out the bottle of red wine he’d brought to go with the beef fajitas. Then he shrugged out of his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and went to help Harm make dinner. “Where’s the bottle opener?”

“Top drawer on the left.” Heath pointed to the set of drawers next to the double ovens.

“So all of this is because you want to destroy your reputation.” Dalton found the opener and screwed it into the cork. “Why now?”

Harmony just glared at him, but he knew exactly how to handle her. “Really? Not talking to me? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Harm picked up a wooden spoon and fired it off at him like a pitcher during the softball world championship. He ducked. “Come on. You’re better than that.”

If looks really could kill, the one she was giving him right now would have burned him from the inside out.

He pulled her into his arms. To her credit, she didn’t try to scratch his eyes out or punch him, and he easily blocked her knee to the nuts, which just proved she wasn’t trying that hard. “Come on, let’s hug it out.”

Harm went as rigid as a cedar plank and kept her arms firmly at her sides.

“Do I need to be worried that she poisoned my food?” He continued to hold her as he glanced at Heath.

“Is that why she made individual servings of meatloaf?” Heath wondered. “Now it makes sense. Just make sure you don’t mix his up with mine.”

“You’re assuming I didn’t poison two of them.” She smiled broadly. This time when her knee came up, he knew enough to let her go. It was a bit early to push his luck.

Careful not to turn his back on her, he stepped back and started opening cabinets until he found the wineglasses. Since Heath was the only one drinking beer, he poured three glasses and set one in front of Harm. “I feel like you could use this today.”

He brought the third glass to Lyric, then took a long drink from his before facing off with Harm again. “What can I do to help?”

Harm ignored him, but picked up the wine he’d poured her. He counted it as a win. “What about an accidental boob pic on Twitter?” she wondered, returning to the topic they’d been discussing when he arrived.

“I’m not sure I’m okay with that.” He’d spend hours looking at her breasts if she let him, but the idea of anyone else gawking at her didn’t make him happy.

“You don’t get a vote.” Her tone said he was an idiot for thinking he might. But she took a small step closer to him.

Lyric shrugged. “Maybe, but it could be brushed off as accidental.”