by Tracy Wolff
After glancing down at her note cards, she grinned back at the camera. “Today I’m making Caribbean carrot bread, cheesecake brownies, and coconut cream pie.”
She stood there grinning into the camera for what seemed like an eternity.
“Okay, let’s begin.”
Six hours later, her cheeks hurt from smiling, her feet hurt from wearing shoes no one could see, the pearl choker at her neck was choking the life out of her, and she’d only just noticed that she’d grated two fingernails in with the carrots, which explained why no one would touch the carrot bread. Deep in her soul, she knew she’d blown her shot at Food Network stardom.
As she sat at the kitchen table and watched the crew packing up, she couldn’t help but notice the tension and defeat in the air. This wasn’t merely a disaster, it was the death of her dream.
Heath put a hand on her shoulder, leaned down, and whispered, “What the hell was that?”
He’d been at work most of the day and had only caught the last thirty minutes.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Did she have to spell it out for him? She wasn’t Food Network material.
“Yes, you do. I need to see you in my office … now.” The look on his face told her he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Normally, she’d fight him just for the sheer joy of fighting him, but today … today she just got up and followed him.
Like a gentleman, Heath waited for her to enter his office, and then he followed her in and slammed the door. “What in the holy hell just happened out there?”
“I’m done. I suck at this.” She hated being pitiful, but that was exactly what she was.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, go change into something that doesn’t look like Livinia, get your shit together, and go out there and do it again.” He pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.
“I can’t. They’re almost gone.” Harmony had never been this low in her life. If she went back to San Angelo, she’d have to deal with Momma, and she couldn’t stay here forever. Especially now that Dalton had written her off. She didn’t fit in anywhere, and she didn’t have anywhere to go.
Heath took a knee in front of her. “You’ve been fighting your whole life, so what’s changed in the last three days? I don’t get it. You’re Harmony freakin’ Wright. You’re always up for a challenge, and if you get to kick some ass then more’s the better. Dalton dumped you. I get it, it sucks. But trust me, he’s going to pay. No one screws with my family.”
Good to know that Heath was going to make Dalton feel as low as she did now. If she were a better person, she’d tell Heath that Dalton wasn’t at fault for their breakup. But she’d never claimed to be a good girl. That was half her problem.
“Right now, you need to decide who you are and what you want. Are you a quitter who mopes around looking like a beaten puppy? Or are you a badass baker who kicks ass and takes names? You’re a fighter—hell, you fight not only your fights, but everyone else’s too. You may drive me crazy, but the way you always stick up for the people you care about, no matter the odds, is one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Not anymore. I’m done and I’m tired.” What was the point of fighting if it was never going to get her anywhere?
“Since when are you such a pussy?” He stood and threw his arms skyward. “Hell, you just took on an entire biker gang and an Okinawan hooker, and you’re going to let a little cooking show bring you down?”
She opened her mouth to tell him that that had been different, but he had a point. Acting the whipped puppy wasn’t making her any happier than being the total badass had.
Middle ground, Tre had told her. Find the middle ground, and she would be okay. With her clothes and with her life. But could she do that? She’d been one extreme or another her entire life—always trying to be who she thought she had to be on either end of the spectrum.
Was there a way to just stop trying so hard? A way to just be her, to just live her life the way she wanted to live it?
“You only get one life. Don’t waste it pretending that you’re happy. Freakin’ go out there and be happy. Be the best Harmony I know you can be.” Heath opened the door and yelled, “Tre!”
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.
Harmony wasn’t normal, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t settle down even when she was ninety. But she was steady as a rock. Loyal to a fault. And one hell of a fighter. Why the hell would he want someone normal when he could have her?
Except that was the kicker, wasn’t it? He couldn’t have her. Because underneath that balls-to-the-walls exterior, she was more insecure than he’d ever given her credit for. So insecure that she couldn’t even risk telling him that she loved him.
Or at least, that was his story and he was sticking to it. Because the other alternative, the idea that she really didn’t love him … that was hurl-himself-off-a-cliff territory.
So what if she couldn’t say it? He knew she loved him. He saw it in her eyes when they made love, felt it in the way she always knew exactly what he needed and worked so hard to give it to him.
But that hadn’t kept her from walking away Saturday night. Hadn’t kept her from giving up on them like they were nothing. It had blown his mind as she’d walked away in the middle of the fight. Sure, he’d hit below the belt, but so had she. And Harmony had never quit on anything important in her life. So why the hell had she quit on them?
It blew his mind.
Maybe he should ask her. Maybe he should just drive over to Lyric and Heath’s house and demand to see her. If he begged enough, surely Heath would relent. Plus, the man was his employee. If nothing else, he could threaten to saddle him with locker-room inspections and a mountain of paperwork if he wouldn’t let Dalton see Harmony. She wasn’t the only diabolical one in this relationship.
As he approached his car, he realized right away that he wasn’t going to be driving it anywhere. At least not for a while. Harmony was draped across his hood like a model at a car show. She was lying on her side dressed in nothing but a red lace shirt and a tiny black miniskirt. she had one hand propped on her waist and the other handcuffed to the driver’s side mirror.
Hot fucking damn. She hadn’t given up on them. She was here. Whatever terms she dictated he might even agree to … maybe.
The world became bright and wonderful again.
He all but ran the rest of the way to the car.
How long she’d been out here like this? It was in the nineties. He’d told her it was too hot for leather.
Hopefully she hadn’t been out here long, because he really hated the idea of any of the men he worked with seeing her like this. Not because he was embarrassed by her but because there was no way he wanted sexual fantasies of his woman going on in their heads. Anyone who saw Harmony like this would definitely have a fantasy or two.
She looked like a bondage wet dream come to life. If only she’d been posing on a motorcycle … maybe he could talk her into that later.
He smiled to himself.
She was his, all his. Even if she didn’t know it yet.
He forced himself to slow down as he covered the last few feet between them. Harmony Wright was a badass, and any man who hoped to keep up with her needed to be just as big of a badass. Lucky for her, he’d had a lot of practice growing up.
“I gotta say,” he said as he stepped up to the bumper of his Maserati, “you make one hell of a pretty hood ornament.”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
“That she does, though your John Wayne impression needs some work.”
“Does the fact that I’m not wearing any underwear make up for the fact that I can’t impersonate the Duke?” Her eyes licked up and down his body, and he knew she was imagining him minus the suit.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you spread your legs a little and let me take a look? Then I’ll decide.” He wanted to do so much more than take a look.
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not that easy.”
“Really? Because you’re currently handcuffed to the roof of my car. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of easy.” He loved that she didn’t take things lying down—even though she was currently lying down.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m sick of things being hard.” The challenge in her eyes kicked his heart into overdrive.
He closed his eyes and said a prayer of thanksgiving to the universe for bringing this beautiful woman into his life. He hadn’t even known he’d needed her, but now that she was here—now that she was his—he couldn’t imagine his life without her. And he was going to make sure he never had to.
“Are you? Tired of hard things?” He stepped closer to the car—and to her. He still didn’t touch her, though. He knew Harmony well enough to know that he’d lose a hand if he touched her before she was ready. While he would normally have been willing to take that risk, right now he had too much riding on this to risk screwing it up.
“I don’t know.” She gave him a sultry look. “Do you have anything hard to offer me?”
“How about the rest of my life? I’m sure it will have its hard moments.” He’d never wanted anything or anyone this badly.
She inch-wormed her way into a sitting position. He had to give it to her. That leather kept sticking to the paint. If only he’d known she’d be handcuffing herself to his car, he’d have had the damn thing waxed.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you—”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I was an idiot, too afraid—”
They both stuttered to a stop as their words ran over each other.
“You go first,” he said, after pausing to take a shaky breath. He had so much riding on this—they had so much riding on it—that he was terrified of screwing up again.
She stared at him for long seconds, her beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears that broke his heart. He tried to keep his hands to himself, but he couldn’t stand to see her look like that, so he reached out and cupped her cheek. Then stroked his thumb across the stray tear rolling silently down her face.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he told her. “I promise, it’s all going to be okay.”
“I’m an idiot,” she said. “A stupid, insecure idiot, and I let old wounds ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“The baking show?”
“You, Dalton. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to
me in my life—the best thing that will ever happen—and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you. So, so sorry I didn’t trust you or myself enough to tell you the truth.”
He’d never been anyone’s best thing before, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel about ten feet tall. “So what is the truth?”
She looked away.
“Oh no, none of that.” He put two fingers under her chin and pushed until she was once again looking into his eyes. “Don’t hide from me.”
“I won’t. Not now and never again.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you, Dalton. I love the way you don’t let me get away with anything and the way you let me get away with everything. I love the way you think things through and the way you let me convince you to leap without looking. I love the way you love my cooking, and I love that you made the biggest disaster I’ve ever seen when you tried to cook for me. I love the way you hold me and I love the way you make love to me—”
“Don’t you mean the way I fuck you?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head and all that shiny blonde hair of hers went everywhere. “I mean make love. Because that’s what we do. That’s what you taught me to do, and I would do anything to take back hurting you. I love you. I love you so, so—”
He slammed his mouth down onto hers before she could finish, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to hear any more. Because Harmony Wright loved him and he loved her right back. Nothing else mattered.
Her lips parted under his, and she kissed him back like he was the most important thing in the universe. Or maybe that was how he was kissing her, because God knew it was the truth.
He was breathless by the time he finally pulled back.
Harmony moaned a little, tried to follow him with her lips. He let her, for a second, then pulled away again.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Exasperation radiated off of her. “I want to kiss you.”
“I want to do much more than kiss you.”
She grinned. “Do tell.”
