Lyric and Lingerie (The Fort Worth Wranglers Book 1) (27 page)

Because she’d believed in him once, had given herself to him body and soul. And he had called her by her sister’s name.

The next day, Heath did his best to balance the cup of tea and the little china plate holding some sort of fancy triangle-cut sandwiches on his lap. He shifted, and the purple velvet settee groaned and creaked under his weight.

Wedding dress shopping had been his idea, but as he sat on the fragile, little, ass-numbing chair in Wedding Belle’s Bridal Shop, his heart wasn’t in wedding dress shopping.

Knowing that he’d hurt Lyric all those years ago made him physically ill. He put a hand to his churning stomach. Finding out that he was never going to play football again hadn’t made him feel this bad. He’d spent the last few days falling in love with Lyric—or, more to the point, realizing he had always been in love with her—and all she’d been doing was trying to put the bad memories of their last encounter behind her.

How had he ever confused the two sisters? Lyric and Harmony were nothing alike. Lyric was sweet where Harmony was suspicious. She was funny where her sister was dour. She was soft and squishy and kind where Harmony was hard as a fucking rock.

He had to fix it … needed to make it better, but how?

Now he was wedding dress shopping with Harmony. If he weren’t too busy kicking his own ass, he’d take a moment to appreciate the irony.

Lyric was at home working, but she’d be here soon enough. He just hoped he’d be able to look her in the eye when she finally showed up.

He shifted again, trying to get comfortable. This “settee,” as the elderly owner of Wedding Belle’s had called it, had to have been used as a torture device during the Spanish Inquisition. Maybe if they traded in this rickety chair and got a couple of BarcaLoungers and a big-screen TV, more men would wedding dress shop.

Everything in this store was fragile and dainty. This must have been how G.I. Joe felt when he visited the Barbie mansion … everything was too small and breakable.

Carefully, he set the fragile floral teacup on the tiny round table next to the settee. He did his best to fit the sandwich plate next to the cup, but the edge of the plate hung off the table. Talk about feeling like a bull in a china shop … this store didn’t sell china, but he was fairly certain he was going to break something before he left today.

His knee twinged as he eased to his feet, but it supported his weight without a problem, which meant it was getting better. The ankle-to-thigh brace gave him lots of support, but it didn’t help with the pain.

He grinned and bore it as he walked over to where Harmony was flipping through bridesmaid’s dresses while Livinia and Gregor talked animatedly with the salesclerk.

When he’d suggested this little shopping trip, he’d thought it would give him something to do. He hadn’t counted on the soul-sucking boredom or all of this white. This whole place was floor-to-ceiling white. The only color was the rack of bridesmaid’s dresses. He wondered if this was what people in mental hospitals felt like. Because he’d always considered himself fairly sane, but this much prolonged exposure to this much white was making even him twitchy.

Maybe if he downloaded more games on his smartphone … But when he pulled it out, he saw notifications of five new texts from Dalton Mane, the Wranglers’ general manager, and two from his agent. He didn’t look at any of them and instead checked for an Internet signal that didn’t seem to exist in this wedding dress vortex. Damn it. He couldn’t even download the newest version of Candy Crush, and he’d really been looking forward to that game. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He wandered over to the nearest rack of wedding dresses. The first dress had lots of white feathers and reminded him of an albino Big Bird so he moved that one aside and checked out the next one. It was really short in the front, but had a weirdly long back.

Wasn’t that called a train? Which seemed like a stupid name for it since in this dress Lyric’s caboose would be completely lost. That would be a damn shame, considering how much he liked her caboose.

The next dress he picked up was too fluffy, the one after that too lacy, the one after that too rhinestone-y. Didn’t they have any normal-looking wedding dresses? Ones that wouldn’t turn the bride into a cross between Dolly Parton and Nicki Minaj?

“I don’t think any of those will fit you, but knock yourself out.” Harmony checked out albino Big Bird. “Who would wear this?”

“Maybe this is the rack they reserved for the school for the blind.” Heath looked around for a sign stating that, but all he saw was glaringly white walls. “Texture is really important if you can’t see.” He was almost certain that he’d read that somewhere.

“Why are you even here?” Harmony flipped to the next dress.

“Why are any of us even here? Did God create the world in six days, or did we evolve from a tree shrew? What’s the meaning of life?” He was good at being a pain in the ass, and he played to his strengths.

Harmony sighed deep and long. “Just when I start to think of you as somewhat of a nice guy, you open your mouth and I remember why I hate you.”

“Careful, hate is such a strong word.” He mimicked her long sigh. “You might hurt my tender feelings. Besides, we’re about to be family.”

“Oh God.” Harmony flipped to the next dress. “You’re the older brother that I never knew I didn’t want.”

“Thank you.” He bowed to her. “That makes me feel so good.”

Heath flipped to the next dress. It was a darker, creamy-white, strapless gown made of some kind of silky fabric. There were little bits of lace here and there, but other than that, it seemed completely normal. He pulled it out and held it up for Harmony to see. “What do you think about this one?”

The dress was heavier than it looked—it had to weigh twice what his protective gear did.

“It’s a terrible color for you.” One corner of Harmony’s mouth turned up. “And the neckline is a little revealing.”

“Yes, but Lyric’s double Ds will look amazing in this dress.” He held it up to Harmony. “Since you’re the same size, go try it on and see if it fits.”

He could totally see Lyric walking down the aisle wearing this. She’d be so gorgeous that no one would be able to take their eyes off of her. He’d be honored and amazed and humbled to become her husband.

“No, it’s sleeveless,” Harmony stage-whispered as her eyes went to her mother. “Just wait until Lyric gets here so she can try it on.”

He nodded toward the fitting room. “Go put it on really fast.”

“Not a chance.” Harmony was firm on the not trying on.

“I’ll pay you.” He had more money than he could ever spend, and he really wanted to know what Lyric would look like in this dress.

Harmony gave him the
drop dead
stare that he was rapidly beginning to think of as her trademark. “Cuz that’s not creepy at all.”

“Fine, but we’re not naming our firstborn after you.” She wasn’t the only one who could be firm on something.

“What firstborn?” Harmony’s eyes went huge. “Is Lyric pregnant? Is that why she’s marrying you?”

“Are you saying that the only reason you can think of that she’d want to marry me is because I knocked her up? That’s just hurtful.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Harmony’s arms were crossed, and she wasn’t going to leave this one alone. As much as he’d like to string her along a little more, the steam coming out of her ears warned him that wasn’t a good idea.

“No, Lyric isn’t with child. Although, last night she was a demon in the sack, so anything’s possible.” He smiled at Harmony. “I’m hoping for twins—one that’s nice and kind, and then one who’s bitter and hateful like her aunt.”

“Sticks and stones.” Harmony turned her back on him as she inspected an overly sequined wedding dress.

He went over to the settee and carefully laid the simple silk dress on it. He knew this dress was perfect, but he needed to give Lyric some other options. He went back to the wedding dress rack and picked up where he’d left off.

The next gown was too Scarlett O’Hara, and the one after that looked like a bikini made out of cotton balls and lace. Not that he was opposed to seeing Lyric in a bikini, but he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to see her in one. Especially considering his teammates would be at the wedding.

The next dress he guessed was some kind of modern art experiment gone bad—it looked like two bedsheets held together by a clothesline. The one after that looked like a ballerina had been attacked by wolves—lots of gauzy fabric with some pretty important chunks missing.

Who the hell would be caught dead in any of these? Outside of a zombie movie.

“Some of these are really bad.” Harmony pulled out something that was half pantsuit and half dress. “I guess this one’s for the noncommittal bride. She can’t decide if she wants pants or a dress so she gets both. Or neither, depending on how you look at it.”

“This is for the twenty-one-year-old cocktail waitress who’s marrying an eighty-year-old billionaire.” He pulled out a dress made entirely of ropes of seed pearls. “She’s hoping for a short marriage and a long financial payout.”

“How do you figure that?” Harmony studied the dress. “Let me guess, she plans on murder by complicated dress. On their wedding night, she’s going to give him a stroke because he can’t figure out how to get the damn thing off of her.”

“Or she plans on strangling him with one of the strands. It gives a whole new meaning to the term pearl necklace.” Gingerly, he put the dress back.

The next one had promise. It was strapless and fitted. Lace covered the silk slip dress that had a slit up the side. Lyric’s legs would look amazing in this dress. “What do you think about this?” He held it up for Harmony. “I think it suits Lyric.”

Harmony tilted her head to the left and studied the gown. “Not bad, Montgomery. Put it in the try-on pile you created on the settee.”

“Wait … what was that? I must not have heard you correctly.” He put his hand to his ear. “That sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t get cocky. I’m sure you’ll do something to piss me off real soon.” Harmony pulled out a dress. “What do you think of this one?”

It was plain white silk with a relatively high neckline. The top was fitted, but miles and miles of lace spilled out from the waist.

“Too conservative.” He wanted lots of boobs and leg.

“Not in the back.” Harmony turned it around. The whole back of the dress was cut out except for a thin line of fabric at the neck.

“It’s like a mullet … business in the front and party in the back.” During the wedding he could spend a lot of time mulling over what Lyric wasn’t wearing under that dress. “Could be fun. Add it to the pile.”

“Whoa … that’s a lot of white,” Lyric said from behind Heath.

His whole body tensed as he turned around and gave her the grin most likely to get him out of trouble with the female populace. He just hoped it worked, because he’d missed her after being away from her for only a few hours. No way was he ever going to be able to let her go. “Harmony wants you to wear that weird feathery one up front, but I talked her out of it. You can thank me now.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips.

“Thank you.” She leaned in so only he could hear her. “Why are we here?” She studied his pupils like she was looking for some sort of brain injury. “We’re not getting married, remember?”

That hurt more than it should.

“Just keeping up appearances.” He rubbed his thigh. The brace was doing its job, but he wanted her to think that the disappointment he couldn’t hide was just leg pain.

“Why don’t you sit down? Harmony and I can look at dresses.” She led him back to the damn purple settee. She picked up the dresses and looked around for a place to put them.

“Why don’t you try those on? Harm and I picked them out for you.” He sat down as gently as he could, but the chair creaked and listed to the left. He was afraid this settee was on its last legs, helped along there by his two hundred sixty pounds of pure muscle. He only hoped he didn’t end up with one of its ornately carved legs up his ass when the thing finally gave up the ghost.

“Okay.” Lyric made that sound like the worst idea ever. “Harm, can you come help me? I don’t think I can figure out how to put them on.”

Harmony followed Lyric to the door marked dressing room, and Heath tried to ignore how fast his heart was suddenly beating. He couldn’t wait to see Lyric in her wedding dress, couldn’t wait to see how perfect she looked.

But he was old-fashioned too. Should he see her in it before the wedding? Wasn’t that bad luck or something? No way did he want to start off their life together with a bunch of bad luck hanging over their heads.

He shifted and the settee groaned again. That was it. He couldn’t take this uncomfortable chair one more minute. He stood and went looking for somewhere else to sit. Preferably someplace that wasn’t in imminent danger of giving him splinters in unmentionable places.

He scanned the store. It was a chair-less den of uncomfortability. He pushed open a door with “Office” spelled out in pearls. There was a desk and one lone black-pleather rolling desk chair. Several patches of duct tape covered holes. He didn’t care. He rolled it out onto the sales floor. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Clearly the wedding dress business didn’t pay well. Maybe he’d send over a couple of comfy chairs from the furniture store down the street. Truly, he would be doing the world a favor.

He rolled the chair up next to the settee, sat, and pulled out his smartphone. As long as he had time, he figured he could thin out his pictures and videos.

Harmony walked out of the dressing room. “Are you ready?”

“No, wait.” Heath held up a hand and then pulled a red bandana out of his front pocket. “Livinia and Griffin … oh, um … Grayson … Greg, Lyric’s trying on some wedding dresses.”

Everyone needed to be in on the decision.

“My names is Gregor. You knows everyone else’s names.” Gregor sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Why is mine so difficult for you?”

Because Gregor had insulted Lyric, and that behavior would not go unpunished.