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That didn’t mean she was taking this whole thing lying down. No freaking way. If Dalton didn’t want to have sex with her, she’d find someone who did. And she’d bring him to dinner.
Maybe all Dalton needed was a little healthy competition. Once he realized he wasn’t the only guy she was interested in, he’d step up to the plate. And she’d exact her revenge by hitting him in the balls with a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Now the only problem was figuring out where she could get a date on short notice. She didn’t know anyone in the Fort Worth area except her sister and her new husband and, well, Yoko the Okinawan hooker. Plus Rooster and BA, but she figured sometimes it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. Besides, she’d already been there and done that, and Dalton had come out on top. But how could she have known—how could anyone have known—that Heath’s general manager would be stepbrother to the head of one of the most dangerous biker gangs in Texas? The whole thing was absurd.
Which meant that this time she was going old school. If she was lucky, she could not only land a date that would make Dalton fume, she’d also get herself on the cover of the tabloids—taking Lyric’s place, once and for all, as the evil twin. Once that was complete, her reputation would be in tatters and Momma would—hopefully—wash her hands of the bakery once and for all.
Speaking of which …
“Has Heath come around about our vacation next week?” Harm still hadn’t cancelled their trip to Chile, because she really wanted to go. And because she was certain her powers of persuasion would be able to change Heath’s mind eventually.
“Nope. Heath is convinced I’ll break my legs, and he likes my legs just the way they are.” Lyric bit into the apple.
“That’s right.” Heath walked in with a football in one hand and a phone in the other. “If Lyric breaks her legs, she can’t put her ankles on my shoulders.” His grin practically swallowed his face. “And I really like having her ankles on
my shoulders.”
“Apparently. I heard y’all last night and this morning. You two make a lot of noise.” Harmony looked around the room. “You’d think a house this nice would have soundproofing. It’s not like my room is anywhere close to yours.”
“Oh no, you didn’t hear us. You heard him.” Lyric pointed to Heath. “He’s so loud, I’m not sure soundproofing would do much good.”
“It’s not that I’m loud, darlin’.” Heath put his hand over his heart. “It’s just that I’m enthusiastic. It’s your fault for being so bendy. It gives a guy ideas.”
Lyric’s smile was a little sultry as she eyed her husband. “I like it when you have ideas.”
“Believe me, the feeling is mutual. Especially when you get an idea like you had last night.” He turned back to Harmony. “Lyric was playing the part of very expensive call girl and well … I really got into it.”
“You sure did. I made two grand and had a whole lot of fun doing it.” Lyric grinned. It was obvious that she loved her husband and the life they were making together.
“Speaking of hookers, can Lyric borrow your thigh-high boots from the other night? It’s so cool y’all wear the same size. She would look spectacular in those boots.” His eyes glazed over like he was already imagining his wife in them.
“Cool down, lover boy. Remember, Dalton’s coming to dinner and—”
“We have a couple of hours.” Heath kissed Lyric and then turned to Harm. “Boots.”
“My room in the closet. I’ll be here in the kitchen with my music turned up extra loud. Feel free to defile my sister. At least one of us is getting laid. God knows my lady parts haven’t played with any boy parts in a very long time.”
“Don’t say things like that.” Heath gagged and spit into the trash. “Sorry, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. Don’t you know sisters-in-law aren’t supposed to have lady parts?”
Before she could answer, he scooped Lyric up Rhett Butler style and headed for their room. She could hear Lyric giggling the whole way.
“I would lend you my handcuffs but Dalton stole them,” Harm called after him. She loved making Heath uncomfortable.
“Something else I didn’t want to know about you,” Heath called back, right before a door slammed.
Harm grabbed her smartphone and stuck it on the charging dock/speaker on the expansive gray marble bar top. She scrolled until she found her baking playlist number five—for when she was feeling really mean—and Megadeath blasted out. Then she closed the door to the kitchen and turned up the sound to drown out whatever noise might come from the other side of the house.
As she started on the triple-chocolate-chunk brownies—without arsenic—she started plotting how she could get a date in the next two hours.
She put butter, sugar, and a bit of water in a saucepan and set it to boil. In a small mixing bowl, she combined the flour, baking soda, espresso powder, and just a hint of cayenne pepper. While she waited for the butter and sugar mixture to boil, she made a mental list of any male she knew who lived close enough to play her dinner date.
JJ Meuler had moved to Plano last year, but he’d moved in with his boyfriend.
Eric Peterson lived in Arlington, but his personal hygiene left a lot to be desired.
Terrence Shuck had moved to Dallas, but his wife Arlene probably wouldn’t like him going out on a date with Harmony. She’d always been the jealous sort.
The butter mixture was bubbling, so Harm took it off the heat and added two cups of sixty percent Callebaut chocolate chips, then set the mixture aside to cool.
