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Tre appeared in the doorway with shot glasses in both hands. He thrust them at Harm. “Drink them both. You need them.”
“She’s going to go out there and badass bake something, so get her out of that funeral suit.” Heath nodded at the suit. “We’ll burn it later. Right now, I want to see some tattoos, some clothes that make a statement other than ‘I’m a Livinia clone,’ and I want to see some of that badass attitude that makes Lyric’s and my life so crazy.” His voice was iron-hard. “I’m going to stall the crew and charm them into unpacking everything again—I have a special smile reserved just for occasions like this, and it never fails. You go change. And when you walk into that kitchen again, I want your head in the game. I don’t care if all you do is boil water, you better boil the best damn water of your life. Now move. You have fifteen minutes.”
“Great motivational speech, Coach. No wonder you’re the best offensive coordinator in the NFL.” Lyric’s look as she leaned against the open door said that it didn’t matter that he hadn’t yet coached a winning game. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She winked at him, then turned to Harmony. “Remember your favorite red sweater from tenth grade?”
“The one you donated to the orphanage in Mexico?” Harm didn’t know what that had to do with badass baking.
“Yep, I spilled grape jelly all over it and threw it away.” Lyric grinned. “Wanna know what I did to your favorite UGGs?”
“You little bitch. I knew you were lying about the orphanage. Who mails a single sweater to a mysterious orphanage? Lying about orphans—you’re going to hell for that.” Harmony could feel the adrenaline she thrived on seep into her bloodstream. “You were the one who stole my UGGs out of my locker during the homecoming dance?”
Lyric just grinned.
“What about the bleach on my brand-new black ballet flats in eighth grade?” Harm was starting to feel like herself.
“You stole all of the chocolate out of my Halloween candy.” Lyric crossed her arms. “I really like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.”
Heath stepped in between the two sisters before things got ugly. “It’s the quiet ones you need to worry about.”
Tre grabbed Harm’s arm and pulled her out of the room.
An hour later, Harmony lay on the kitchen island like a chanteuse on a grand piano, her fitted black leather pencil shirt outlining her hips and her clingy red lace crop top showing lots of ink.
She pointed a double-dark-chocolate-filled nine-millimeter cannoli directly at the camera and said, “That’s how you take the gun and eat the cannoli. Until next time on Badass Baker, remember that a bad attitude is a beautiful thing.”
“Cut.” The director, Chaz, just stood there stunned.
The whole crew stared at her.
Harmony climbed down off the counter. They didn’t like it. Disappointment should have had her questioning everything about herself, but she wasn’t. She knew she’d nailed it. It didn’t matter that Food Network wouldn’t be producing Badass Baker. Harmony Wright had finally figured out who she was, and she wasn’t about to change things now. Just like she wasn’t going home to San Angelo with her tail between her legs and she wasn’t moving in here permanently. She was going to open the Badass Bakery in downtown Fort Worth and give the whole world baking with attitude.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Holly started clapping. One by one the entire crew put their hands together.
Chaz hugged her. “I hope you’re ready for fame and fortune, because sweetheart, you’re the best I’ve ever seen.”
Relief swept through her, but as the whole room crowded around to congratulate her, she couldn’t help looking for the one person that was missing. The one person that really mattered.
* * *
Chapter 24
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* * *
Dalton was miserable. Abso-freaking-lutely miserable. He’d been this way since Harmony had walked all over his heart in her silver Louboutins on Saturday night, and he had the sick feeling he was going to be like this for a long, long time.
It was a depressing thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when he’d finally got everything—and nothing—that he’d ever wanted and it had been perfect. And not when it had all been snatched away from him just as quickly.
Why the hell hadn’t he checked on the dress? Why the hell hadn’t he made sure it wasn’t some ridiculous monstrosity that would send Harmony careening over an edge he hadn’t even known she was close to? After their breakup fight—no, their nuclear implosion—the other night, he’d checked with Roberto Modesto to see what they’d delivered to her. The second he’d seen it, he’d known he’d screwed up, big time. Because if ever there was a dress designed to bring out Harmony’s insecurities, that disaster had been it. The fact that it was the only dress in the entire store in the color he’d requested was neither here nor there.
He should have followed through, should have made sure it was okay. Maybe then she wouldn’t have stomped all over his heart when he’d begged her to tell him that she loved him. Maybe then the two of them would still be together.
Shutting his computer off, he grabbed his briefcase and began the lonely trek to his car. Which would lead to the lonely trek home. Which would lead to a lonely night spent staring at the walls of his condo.
Goddammit, he missed Harmony.
She was a hurricane. A five-alarm fire. A disaster waiting to happen. He loved that about her. Sure, he’d promised himself that when he finally found the right woman, she would be normal and steady and ready to settle down. That had been total bullshit.
