Lyric and Lingerie (The Fort Worth Wranglers Book 1) (23 page)

If he picked up the phone, it was all over. He’d be out of a job … out of the public eye … out of the only life he’d ever known. And he wasn’t ready for that yet, wouldn’t be ready for it until his new life was on the way to becoming a reality.

He shoved the phone back in his pocket just as he pushed open the door to Bowman’s room. “I sent Lyric out for Starbucks. Now, where were we on those wedding cakes?”

This felt right … it had to be right. Lyric was all he had.

She would come around.

His palms wouldn’t stop sweating. If she didn’t, he’d end up standing at the end of the aisle embarrassed and alone. It was a chance he was willing to take.

“Is everything all right between the two of you?” Livinia looked nervous.

He smiled and waved off her concern. “Lyric just wanted to point out that putting people on the groom’s cake was a bad idea. Especially when you cut into it, since it’s red velvet and all.” He grinned at his hopefully future mother-in-law. “That’s my Lyric, literal and practical to the end.”

“You know her so well.” Livinia Wright matched his grin. “I’m so glad she dumped Rob for you. I would never tell her this, but we didn’t like him. He was very …” Her face screwed up like she’d just sniffed the world’s stinkiest cheese, and she looked at her husband.

Bowman took over for his wife. “He was an ass. Arrogant as the day is long and belittling to my baby girl. Vinny,” he covered his wife’s hand with his, “had to keep me from punching him more than once. And I only met the bastard twice.”

Looked like great minds really did think alike. He’d wanted to punch Rob more than once, and he’d never even met the man.

“I’d like to take this time without Lyric to bring up something rather sensitive.” He worked his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out his black American Express Centurion Card, and handed it to Livinia. “I’d like to pay for everything.”

He held a hand up to halt any protest. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. I want no expense spared for my Lyric, and I’d like to help plan everything. The woman I love deserves the best, and I aim to give it to her.”

“That really doesn’t work for me.” Bowman used the remote on the bed to sit up straight.

“Well it’s going to have to, because I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to concentrate on getting better so you can walk her down the aisle. Besides, I have more money than I’ll ever spend in two lifetimes, so the matter is settled.” On the off chance that Lyric wouldn’t go through with the wedding, Heath didn’t want her family to be out even a single dollar.

Reluctantly, Bowman nodded.

Heath turned to Gregor. “Now, let me see those wedding cakes again.”

Gregor glared at him as he handed him the binder. Which only pissed Heath off more. How dare this pompous asshole look down his nose at Lyric? Heath was going to make him suffer.

Heath flipped through them and shook his head. “Gareth, nothing here seems like Lyric.”

“It’s Gregor.” Gregor crossed his arms and sulked.

Heath half expected him to pull some fake flowers out of his sleeve, just like a magician. Besides a superhero, who actually wore a cape?

Still, he shook it off. Gregor was just a means to an end. As long as he could take orders and stay out of the way, the two of them were going to get along just fine. And by fine, he meant that Gregor got to continue breathing.

He knew what he wanted for Lyric … something that was part classic and part off the wall. And all Lyric.

“What about eight or nine layers, with each one being a different constellation? You can make them smooth and clean, like that one.” Heath pointed to a picture of a sleek white wedding cake that looked clean and modern because it was missing all of the flowers and fuss of the others. “But each layer will be a different shape and flavor.”

“I suppose it cans be done.” Gregor sounded like he’d rather not go off book, but he took notes on his iPad anyway. “But it will cost you extra. I’ll get with my baker and have her put together a mock-up for your approval, and we can go from there.”

Was it just Heath, or had the wedding planner’s accent slipped a little? “Grady, where are you from? I can’t place the accent.”

Gregor pulled himself up to his full five-foot-two-inch height. “I’m Swedish by the way of Düsseldorf and Madrid. I am one hundred and seventeenth in line for the Swedish crown.”

What the hell did that even mean? He was probably from Dallas.

Livinia’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. “You’re royalty?” She bowed.

Heath didn’t have the heart to tell her that she should have curtsied.

Clearly, being one hundred and seventeenth in line for the Swedish throne didn’t pay very well, or pretentious Gregor wouldn’t be event planning.

“I am used to workings with the brides, not the grooms.” Gregor clearly didn’t like his name not being remembered or his lineage and his accent being questioned.

Heath put his arm around Gregor. “Grainger … Grahman … Gandalf … whatever your name is, let me explain something about myself. I’m a quarterback—that’s an American football term for man in charge. I like to call the plays, and most of the time I like to run the ball myself, which means I’m a real hands-on kinda guy. Sorry, buddy, but Lyric’s really not into this whole wedding business. You get me?” He clapped him on the back a couple of times and then dropped his arm.

Gregor grabbed his lower back like Heath had broken a couple of vertebrae. “Well, this one time I am guessing it is okay.”

“One more thing … I insist on strict confidentiality. Every vendor, including you, will have to sign a confidentiality agreement. My wedding won’t become a field day for the press. Are we clear?”

Like hell was the most important day of his life going to be a three-ring media circus. Lyric wasn’t built for public life. He didn’t want that for her or for himself or for the life they’d build together. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn’t the Wranglers’ quarterback anymore, he was just plain old Heath Montgomery … average citizen and soon-to-be husband of the world-famous astrophysicist Lyric Wright-Montgomery. His fiancée was liberated. A hyphen situation was fine with him, but his name better be in the mix somewhere. People needed to know that she was a Montgomery. He wasn’t going to all of this trouble so Lyric could stay a Wright.

“I am understanding. No press. I will makes sure they stay away.” Gregor looked a little disappointed. No doubt he’d been bragging to his fellow cape-wearing party planners about the Deuce tying the knot.

“Is there some sort of list we need to check off for all of this wedding stuff?” Heath gestured toward the wedding binder. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Wedding stuffs? What is this stuffs you are talking of? This is very important business.” Gregor’s face was turning a very unbecoming red. It was probably the fake accent. They were hard to keep up for a long time.

“Okie dokie. I get it. Very important business.” Heath had to fight the urge to mimic Gregor. “But is there a list or something we need to follow?”

“Sir Gregor? Or is it Your Highness?” Livinia smiled brightly at Gregor. “I’m sure Heath doesn’t mean any offense, he’s just new to the whole wedding planning world.”

Gregor’s smile was so hollow, Heath almost thumped it like a watermelon to see if it was ripe. “It is just Gregor. In America, I no longers use my title.”

“Go easy on my new son.” Bowman pointed to Heath’s leg brace. “The boy’s been through a lot.”

Son? He’d love nothing more than to be Bowman’s son, but he wasn’t there yet. He had no idea how Lyric felt about him, and he wasn’t sure he could stand Gregor long enough to plan the wedding.

“What about the date?” Livinia’s voice was hopeful that everyone would get along. A real peacemaker she’d turned out to be. “We really can’t plan very much without setting a date.”

Tomorrow was probably too soon. “Like I said, I’m not much of a waiting man. How about a month from tomorrow, since that’s the ninth.”

Livinia looked like she was about to keel over with joy, and Bowman’s whole body smiled. Damn, if Lyric didn’t marry him, he hated to think of the consequences. Thank God he was a glass-is-always-full kinda guy.

“Excuse me? Did you say a months from tomorrow?” Gregor looked from Livinia to Heath and back again, like he was waiting for the punch line.

“That’s right. One month from tomorrow.” It was good to know that Heath didn’t have to kill Gregor for being annoying, because the man was going to collapse in a puddle of shocked fake royalty right here.

Sometimes it really was grand being him.

Gregor held a finger up like he needed a moment. He closed his eyes, did some deep breathing in a pattern that sounded a little like a chain-smoking asthmatic, and then opened them again. “It cans be done.” It was said with all of the gravity and put-upon-ness that Jesus must have felt when he said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” right before he died on the cross.

Had Livinia gotten this guy off of Groupon? Surely there was another wedding planner who was less annoying and didn’t have a fake accent. Then again, this was San Angelo, and the wedding was a month away.

“Don’t worry.” He nudged Gregor with his elbow. “I’m calling in reinforcements. It’s the off-season, and the whole offensive line’s got nothing better to do than come down here and plan this wedding.”

“Are they all likes you?” Gregor liked to throw in random
s
’s to remind everyone he had a fake accent.

“Well now, they aren’t as pretty as I am or as decisive, but they can lift really heavy things, and they all have cute hair.” Who didn’t love a man with big muscles and good hair? His PR team said he polled high in both areas, thank God. After all, a winning smile wasn’t the only thing that mattered.

Gregor looked like he was trying to figure out how either of those qualities were useful in planning a wedding.

On second thought, he was keeping Gregor. Messing with him was going to make all of the wedding tasks so much more fun.

“Okay, good. It’s settled.” Livinia fished around in her purse and pulled out her smartphone. She tapped the screen and then her face fell. “That would be June 9, and it falls on a Tuesday. I think we should pick a different day.”

“A different day for what?” Lyric walked into the room carrying a Starbucks cardboard cupholder in one hand and several brown Starbucks bags in the other. She shook the bags. “I brought chocolate muffins.”

“A different day for your wedding. Heath wants it on Tuesday, June 9. I say the weekend is better.” Her mother took the cupholder and set the drinks on the rolling tray next to her father’s bed.

“I don’t know. A good, solid Tuesday sounds about right for our wedding.” Lyric handed the bags around. “I got everyone caramel macchiatos. I didn’t know what y’all like to drink.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want.” Livinia’s tone suggested that she’d rather roll around in garbage or pole dance at the local VFW, but she’d do whatever her daughter wanted. She grabbed the muffin Lyric was about to eat right out of her hand. “You need to get into your wedding dress.”

Lyric rolled her eyes, grabbed Heath’s muffin out of his hand, and took a huge bite. She winked at Heath as she handed it back to him. She said around the food in her mouth, “I have a year and a month to get into my wedding dress.”

“Dear, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Her mother turned to Heath and handed him the extra muffin.

“That’s not fair. He gets two muffins. He’s in the wedding too. Why does he get two muffins?” Lyric continued to talk with her mouth full. Rebellion looked good on her.

“He’s too skinny.” Livinia looked down her nose at Lyric, who immediately closed her mouth and chewed. “Besides, the wedding isn’t a year away, it’s a month away.”

Lyric’s jaw fell open, and Heath was afraid some muffin might fall out, so he reached over and gently closed it for her.

“Our love is real … why wait?” He pulled her into a hug.

Lyric plastered on her bright fake smile and managed to whisper, “I’m going to kill you,” without moving her lips. If the whole astrophysicist thing fell through, it was good to know she had a future in ventriloquism.

“We need to go dress shopping and pick out flowers and caterers … what about the menu? And the venue? So much to do.” Livinia looked at Gregor. “Where should we begin?”

Lyric raised her hand. “I um … have a special project at work I need to get done. I don’t know how I’ll be able to plan things and finish it.” She was pleased with herself for coming up with something she thought would delay the wedding.

“Nonsense darlin’. I ‘ve got this whole wedding thing down. You go do your special project. I got this.” He almost felt bad. She looked so hopeful.

“I … well … okay.” She stabbed him with a glare that was sharp enough to hack off an arm or at least put an eye out. “If you insist.”

“My Lyric has a PhD. She’s an astrophysicist. She has a very popular podcast with quite a following.” Heath used his my-fiancée’s-way-more-important-than-you-are tone. There was only room for one pompous windbag in this town, and it damn sure was Heath.

“I am seeing.” Now Gregor sounded Russian.

“My little love-muffin,” Heath dropped a quick kiss on her nose, “has new planets to discover and black holes to study. Her time is better spent learning about the universe.”

Lyric looked up at him like she couldn’t figure out what game he was playing.

“Then it’s settled.” Bowman laced his fingers through his wife’s. “Heath and Vinny will plan the wedding.” He inched over to the side of the bed. “I’ve got to get up and around so I can walk my baby girl down that aisle.”

“Yes, let me help you.” Heath offered his future father-in-law a hand.

Lyric looked absolutely stunned. Heath had never really given much thought to getting married, but he was sure that he’d never imagined a fiancée who wanted to kill him
before
she married him.

Two hours later Heath pulled in front of Harmony’s bakery, The Wright Way, and parked Cherry Cherry in the space closest to the door. It was probably a fool’s errand for him to come here. Her parents were all for his marrying Lyric, but Harmony hated him more than any other person on the face of the earth, including Rod Marinelli, the Cowboys’ defensive coordinator who’d instructed his players to kill Heath in the last few seconds of last season’s game after he found out that Heath had hit on his granddaughter.