“Get your ass up, young lady, we have hair and makeup. Remember Wake Up Fort Worth?” Tre pinched her on the bottom. “It’s not my fault you had a close-to-overnighter with Mr. Tall, Dark, and You Didn’t Let Me Meet Him.”
“Ouch.” She rubbed her bottom. “I’m up.”
She had to be on set for Wake Up Fort Worth by six, and according to Tre, it would take close to thirty minutes to get there. They only had an hour and a half for makeup, hair, and clothes for both her and Lyric. In Harm’s opinion, that was about an hour and twenty-five minutes too much, but what did she know? Tre had stolen her gold-lamé bikini and refused to give it back.
“Don’t make me carry you into that shower, because I will and you won’t like the cold water I turn on for you.” Tre was downright snotty. “Your sister’s already up and in the shower.”
“Good for her.” Slowly, Harmony rolled out of bed. Usually she was up way before now, but considering she’d only gone to bed two hours ago, she was running on fumes. “Lyric’s always been an overachiever.”
“Yep, that’s what I love most about her.” Heath popped his head in and jumped back. “Damn, you look rough.” His face was all shock and horror. He glanced at Tre. “Got your work cut out for you there.”
Harmony grabbed a pillow and fired it off in Heath’s direction.
Heath dodged it. “That’s not very nice. And to think, I made you breakfast.”
He popped a blueberry mini-muffin in his mouth.
“Aren’t those the muffins I made yesterday?” She yawned and stretched.
“Yes, but I warmed this one up,” he said around the muffin in his mouth.
“You also ate it.” She headed to the en suite bathroom.
“All your negativity made me hungry,” he called after her.
“Bite me,” she fired back.
“I love you too, little sister—”
She slammed the bathroom door and turned on the shower so the water could heat up.
Fifteen minutes later, she was showered, shampooed, and wrapped in a yummy-soft terry cloth robe.
Several dresses were laid out on her made bed. She was learning that Tre was a neat freak. She looked around. He’d picked up her clothes from the night before, folded them, and set them on a chair by the bay window.
He hovered, impeccably dressed in gray slacks and a pale-pink dress shirt. Who was impeccably dressed at four in the morning?
“What do you think of the outfits I’ve laid out?” Tre waved his arm like a game show hostess showing off prizes.
They all showed a lot of skin. True, she’d picked everything out with Tre, but before she’d left Dalton’s last night, Dalton had suggested she tone it down for the interview. While normally she wouldn’t pay any attention to what he said, he’d been on TV a lot more than she had. Plus, she didn’t want to embarrass him or Lyric anymore than she already had. She’d been causing damage ever since she got here, and she couldn’t help wondering if maybe it was time for her to cool it, just a little.
It hurt that Dalton didn’t like the way she dressed, but since she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him, she wanted to make him happy. Harmony knew she was falling into the same old trap she was trying to escape with her mother—being who everyone else wanted her to be instead of being herself—but maybe Dalton had a point. Was curbing her fashion sense really that bad? After all, she’d let Tre do the same thing and had never questioned his choices.
“I’m leaning towards the black crop top and matching skater skirt. It’s edgy without being trashy.” He shook his head. “I don’t know about the shoes though.”
“Pick something from the closet,” she told him. “I never go anywhere without a pair for every occasion.”
He whistled when he saw her collection, but it didn’t take long for him to come back with a pair of wicked-looking Louboutins. When he put them next to the outfit he’d chosen, it was all she could do to blink away the tears.
Which was stupid. She wasn’t a crier, and yet twice in the last few days she’d had to struggle to hold back her emotions.
She tried to hide it, but Tre must have seen because he pulled her in for a hug. “Now, come on, Super Girl, there’s no crying before a large-market TV appearance. Think about the Food Network exec who will be watching. We can’t have you with puffy red eyes.”
Tre was the Tim Burton version of a fairy godmother—dark, well-meaning, and a little angry. He had a good heart and impeccable talent.
“I feel like the clothes we bought yesterday are the first ones I’ve ever had that feel like me. Thank you for that.” She didn’t know how to explain the closet filled with Junior League on the right and Roller Derby on the left.
“You’re too young to be drowning in so much Talbots,” he said. “But I’m all for the Loubies.”