Harmony and High Heels Page 11

  “I’m coming, dear.” Elroy hightailed it back to the golf cart, threw his walker into the passenger’s seat, and hit the gas. He pulled into the driveway, rolled over some bushes on the side, and then bounced back into the driveway. It was like watching live-action pinball.

  Gloria pointed to her eyes and then to Harm in the universal “I’m watching you” gesture.

  This just might be the low point of her day. And considering she’d spent an hour handcuffed in a nonsexual manner earlier, that was saying something.

  She added another asterisk to her sign, along with, “Must be under fifty and healthy.”

  Seconds later, a fairly new model black Mustang screeched to a stop in the middle of the road. Which was a problem, considering the red Mazda behind it hadn’t anticipated the stop and ended up plowing into the Mustang’s rear bumper. The whole back of it crumbled, and a hubcap popped off and rolled down the street, barely missing another kid on a bicycle.

  Rush hour had obviously started.

  The driver of the Mustang stepped out of the car, smoothed down his stringy black hair, and headed her way without so much as a glance at the semi-totaled Mazda behind him. Or even his own crumpled bumper.

  “I’m Max and I’m your date.” His black pencil mustache didn’t go with his full hipster hillbilly beard, but she had to admit she admired his confidence.

  “What the hell?” An angry man in a gray business suit jumped out of the Mazda. “You stopped in the middle of the damn street for no reason.”

  He started to stay more, but then he caught sight of Harmony and read her sign. Seconds later, he was straightening his tie and smiling directly at her. If he hadn’t been missing some pretty important front teeth, it might have been a fairly good smile. “I’m Chester and I’m your date.”

  “Man, I was here first.” Max glared at Chester.

  “You wrecked my damn car.” Chester’s eyes turned mean.

  “Accident, bro. You’re the one who crashed into me.” Max pulled out his wallet, retrieved a card, and flicked it in Chester’s direction. “Here’s my contact info. I have full coverage with USAA. Call me later. You can go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Chester reared back a fist and landed a decent right hook to Max’s jaw. Chester pulled his punches, so Max should have seen it coming—God knew she had—but now didn’t seem like the best time to point that out.

  Max shook his head as he recovered, then tackled Chester with a roar. Harmony stepped back to give them a little more room as they rolled around on the lawn.

  This so wasn’t turning out how she’d thought it would.

  Seconds later, a blue Dodge truck pulled up and the passenger’s-side window rolled down. The driver called, “I’m here about the hot girl who needs a date.”

  A white Ford truck pulled in right behind him, followed by a dark-green Chevy. The Chevy’s driver laid on the horn and looked around like he was trying to figure out why all the vehicles were stopped. At least until he caught sight of Harmony and her sign—then his eyes nearly dropped out of his head.

  He was out of the truck and making his way to her before the other guys had even turned off their ignitions.

  Yeah, she really hadn’t thought this one through.

  Thirty minutes later, the front yard looked like a war zone. Bloody men dotted the lawn, some of the bushes had been crushed by flying bodies, and the police were questioning witnesses.

  Harmony, who’d put on a swimsuit cover-up, much to the dismay of the two police officers who’d questioned her, sat on the front steps next to Lyric.

  “I’m willing to admit that this wasn’t my best plan.” She put her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Sorry about the mess.”

  “No problem.” Lyric patted her leg. “Don’t feel bad. This isn’t nearly as bad as the time I posted an ad on Craigslist for a conference I was giving on self-pubbing research papers. Spell-check changed it to self-rubbing … freakin’ spell-check. Every pervert within a two-hundred-mile radius showed up to my conference.”

  “Damn, I bet that was fun. Sorry I missed it.” Heath stepped out the front door with a heaping bowl of popcorn. He sat down on the other side of Lyric. “Eat up, darlin’. Dalton’s going to be late. Apparently SWAT has locked down the neighborhood and won’t let anyone in or out. Some inmate saw Harm on social media, escaped from the county jail, and is headed here. Good news is he was in for a white-collar crime—no history of violence.”

  “Damn social media. I bet it was that kid who snapped all those pictures of me.” She should have confiscated his damn phone.

  Heath held out the bowl of popcorn to her. “Butter makes everything better.”

  “Words to live by.” Lyric wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  Harmony let herself sink into her twin’s hug for just a minute. She’d bounce back with a new plan—she knew that. After all, this wasn’t anywhere near the worst day of her life. It probably wasn’t even in the top ten.

  But right now—right this second, as the police sorted out the carnage on the front lawn and Dalton waited with dinner on the other side of the neighborhood’s gates—she really needed a hug.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  * * *

  Two hours later, Dalton finally pulled into Heath’s driveway. The front of the house looked like the morning after a biker rally. Numerous pieces of clothing lay scattered around the torn-up lawn. A few liquor bottles and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn littered the porch. He squinted—was that blood on the driveway?

  Part of him was afraid to ask what had happened here, but the other half already knew. Five-Alarm Harm had struck again.

  Grabbing the four giant brown paper sacks from the backseat, he headed to the house. Was it safe to eat two-hour-old fajitas and fixin’s? Botulism probably wasn’t the best way to say, “I’m kinda, but not really, sorry.”

  Hoping for the best, he knocked and then rang the bell. Not that he was anxious to see Harmony or anything. He just wanted to stave off the botulism as best he could. Or at least that was his story and he was sticking to it … especially since Harmony was sure to be pissed as hell.

  The fact that that only made him more anxious to see her probably wasn’t the healthiest thing. Then again, people looking in would probably say there wasn’t much about their relationship that was healthy. But that was because they’d be missing one crucial detail. Being with Harmony made him happy. It also frustrated him, turned him on, and drove him downright crazy at least fifty percent of the time, but that didn’t matter when she made everything inside of him light up like Lasso Stadium during a championship game.

  Was it the damage she wrought that captivated him so completely? Or the badassed attitude she wore like some women wore diamonds? Or maybe it was the fact that no matter what, she gave as good as she got. He had no idea. All he knew was that he couldn’t get her out of his head. No matter what he was doing, she was always there wearing a wicked smile, killer high heels, and absolutely nothing else.

  But she was trouble … all kinds of trouble. Just the type of girl he’d left behind when he’d turned his life around. Growing up—and even coming of age—as a Bastard from Hell had taught him all he needed to know about women like Harmony. Mainly that the hotter they were, the bigger the mess they made.

  When he’d broken with his family, he’d sworn off women like her. Had promised himself that one day he’d find a nice, sweet lady who would never think about running off with the leader of a rival gang—or football team—and leaving her children behind.

  And yet here he was, all but chomping at the bit to see Harmony again. To get his hands and lips and numerous other body parts all over her hands and lips and numerous other body parts.

  It was only dinner, he reminded himself as he waited impatiently for someone to open the door. It wasn’t like he was signing over his soul—or even his Maserati—to the woman. The fact that he was looking forward to whatever terrible vengeance she had planned f
or him was neither here nor there.

  Finally, the front door opened and Heath leaned against the door looking like he’d been through a war. “Sure you want to enter Harmony’s Hell House?”

  “Got nowhere else to be.” Dalton found himself grinning wide enough to make his cheeks ache. He’d known Heath for years and had never bothered to get to know him. Which had obviously been his mistake, since the quarterback turned offensive coordinator was turning out to be a hell of a guy. One Dalton wouldn’t mind counting among his very small circle of friends.

  “It’s your funeral.” Heath stepped back and let him in.

  “I don’t know if the fajitas are still good. They’ve been sitting in my car for well over two hours. The SWAT team was … thorough.”

  “Don’t we know it.”

  Heath led the way back to the kitchen, and Dalton realized he already felt at home here. Unlike most of the players’ showrooms posing as houses, Heath and Lyric’s place was a cozy mix of clean, modern lines and laid-back, lived-in spaces.

  “No worries, Harm’s made a feast. She may be a pain in the ass, but she cooks when she’s plotting to take over the world.” Heath led him to the kitchen.

  The tangy scents of garlic, onions, tomatoes, and ground beef made the air smell like heaven.

  “Taking over the world seems overly ambitious.” Dalton could picture her taking over the world. It would be both better and fucked up as hell.

  “True. Then again, she’s just as likely to burn it all down.” Heath stepped into the dining nook area and grabbed a seat next to his wife. He gestured to the large ice bucket filled with beer sitting at the edge of the table. “Grab a drink.”

  “I still vote for sex scandal,” Lyric commented from out of the blue. She didn’t bother to look up from the open laptop in front of her. “That would certainly do the trick.”

  Dalton put the sacks down on the kitchen table. Harmony was at the stove stirring a pot and glaring daggers at him. She was dressed in skinny jeans with lots of rips and holes and a plain red T-shirt. Her hair was back in a ponytail and she looked good enough to eat.

  “That’s a slippery slope. In order for it not to scare off Food Network, the video would have to be pretty tame. If it’s too tame, it makes you look like a prude.” Heath looked like he was weighing the options in his head. He turned to Dalton. “What do you think?”

  “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.”

  Heath pointed at her with his glass. “I’m telling you, your best bet is a sex tape. And not your average run-of-the-mill sex tape either. Something wild. I mean, no farm animals because that’s just wrong, but I say you push the limits of what two consenting adults can get up to. Maybe three, if you really want to push the boundaries.”

  Lyric cocked her head to the side and looked at her husband. “Have you ever pushed those boundaries?”

  Heath shot her a deliberately lascivious look. “Baby, we push those boundaries every day.”

  “I meant the three people boundary.”

  “Oh. Umm—”

  Dalton’s brows rose as Heath squirmed a little. Quarterbacks, man. Quarterbacks.

  “Honestly, darlin’, I can’t remember what I got up to before you came back into my life—”

  Harmony snorted. “Take that as a big fat yes.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Heath’s face was turning red.

  “But you didn’t not say it either.” Harmony grinned. Clearly she loved making her brother-in-law uncomfortable.

  “No need to get so freaked out. I figured you had.” Lyric went back to her computer screen.

  “You figured I had?” Heath’s voice was so high it was squeaky.

  “Of course. Statistics say—”

  “Oh no.” Harmony shook her head. “You are not going to start spouting statistics. We’ll be here all night and I’ll be no closer to ruination. I can’t afford that. I need to shake my good girl reputation once and for all.”


  Dalton nearly choked on his wine. “Good girl reputation? You?”

  The look she gave him was cold enough for him to feel like he had frostbite on his ass. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “Obviously.” He was about to ask about all those things he didn’t know, but Heath rolled right over him.

  “I’m telling you, nothing will get Livinia’s panties in a wad faster than a sex tape. And if you do it with a Democrat or a vegetarian, she’ll drop you even faster.”

  “Okay, that’s it.” Dalton threw up his hands. “What is really going on here?” Because none of this made any sense to him at all, and the only thing he was sure of right now was that Harmony was not doing a sex tape. And she sure as hell wasn’t doing one with someone other than him.

  Heath looked at him like he was an idiot who needed to get with the conversation. “Livinia won’t sign off on Harm’s new TV show being filmed in their bakery in San Angelo. Food Network came knocking and wants Harm to do a show called Badass Baker, but they want the Harmony who won Cupcake Cage Match and not the innocent little baker from San Angelo.” He sounded so nonchalant.

  “Wait a minute, Food Network wants to give you your own cooking show?” He one-arm-hugged Harm, who still didn’t respond. “That’s awesome.”

  “I know, right?” Lyric beamed with pride. “Only now, she has to get our mother to sign off on it, and the only way Harm thinks we can get her to sell her half of the bakery to Harm is if Harm no longer is the good girl the town thinks she is.”

  “Wait, the town thinks Harm is a good girl? And what’s Cupcake Cage Match?” He’d never heard of it. Not that he watched all that much TV, but when he did, he usually at least cruised past Food Network.

  Harm still wasn’t speaking to him. That was starting to get on his nerves.

  “It’s some sort of underground baking competition turned fight club. Sounds weird to me.” Heath’s shrug said, what can you do?

  Dalton could think of a whole hell of a lot to do, most of which included him turning Harmony over his knee and spanking her—and doing other things—until she came. A cupcake fight club? What the hell?