Serenity's Deception (Texas Sorority Sisters Book 1)

by Janice Olson

  Jason emitted a chuckle with a sparkle in his eyes, causing a quiver all the way to her pink polished toenails. She did her best to calm the excitement of her heart and then wondered if she could survive Jason, even with distance.

  “Jason, I … we both need time to give thought to our situations. Moving back to Serenity for me, well—” She glanced down at her woven fingers, her thumbs nail to nail. This would be difficult, if not impossible. All the old hurts would rise up to make her life miserable. Even now her old insecurities were surfacing.

  “Oh, sure, the money isn’t something to sneeze at, and it would certainly make my life easier. And I don’t want to see Heritage House shut down and the children dealt out like a deck of cards all over the country. But, same as you, I also have responsibilities, people who depend on me.” When she saw his stormy brow she hastened to add, “Why don’t we take a week to decide? I’ll let Mr. Hampton know my decision. And you do the same. How does that sound?”

  Chapter 9

  BJ didn’t wait around for idle chit-chat. When Horace T. handed her the thick manila envelope, she grabbed the package, told him he’d have his answer in a week. Without a backward glance, she walked out the door and as soon as it closed, nearly ran down the stairs as if the hounds of Satan’s were nippin’ at her heels.

  A truck load of thoughts charged through her—Jason, Heritage House, her gallery, the town’s folk of Serenity utmost in her mind. To be uprooted from a place she loved, leave her business in the hands of others, and stay in a town she didn’t hold in warm regard, wasn’t high on her priorities. But the children—a constant in the back of her mind—made her aware she had no other choice than to live in Serenity, at least for a year.

  She dealt with abject kids each week in her after school program in Galveston. However, it wasn’t the same as being responsible for running a home for needy, unwanted children twenty-four hours a day. Yet running an orphanage wasn’t quite the same. A stop by the home before leaving town was a must.

  Outside, the warm, late spring air blew her hair about and into her face as she descended the four concrete steps from the sidewalk down to the street. She lifted her hand to brush back the errant strands and came to an abrupt stop.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sakes.” Her free hand pounced on her hip as her face turned skyward. “What more?”

  The Jeep listed to the driver’s side. Both the front and rear tires were flatter than a fritter. She could change one flat, but two? No way. Only one spare.

  She rummaged around in her handbag as her cell phone played hide-and-seek evading her fingers. With an aggravated huff, she unlocked her car door and a burst of hot air rushed out from the inside of the car. She shoved the keys in her pocket and unceremoniously dumped the contents out onto the front seat. The last item to drop out onto the pile of miscellaneous junk … her Blackberry.

  “Looks like you’ve got a little problem here.”

  The familiar deep, husky voice tinged with laughter caused her to nearly jump out of her skin while goose bumps proceeded to fill every inch of skin. A delicious chill went straight through her bones. Her quick turn caused the phone to pop out of her hands. She began a juggling act trying to catch the thing before it hit the pavement and smashed to smithereens. Just when she thought her cell was a goner, a large, tan hand caught the little rascal.

  Jason stood there, a silly grin on his lips, twinkling eyes mocking her, his cowboy hat perched attractively on his head. “I do believe this little pink thingy is yours?”

  He held up her BlackBerry between his index finger and thumb as though it might be contaminated or the pink might permanently dye his skin.

  “I’m afraid so.” Her cheeks did a slow burn. She hoped he’d think it was the warm air.

  He passed the phone to her, his fingers grazing the inside of her palm. His touch caused a quake that could have rocked the needle right off the Richter scale. She gripped the phone tightly in her palm for fear she would drop it again and cause more embarrassment to her already injured pride.

  “Thanks. You’ve saved my bacon. All my contacts are in this little pink thingy.”

  Jason’s rumble of laughter made her brain turn to mush and her insides; well there was no describing what was happening there.

  “Where’s your jack, in the back?”

  “What?” She blinked several times before she realized what he asked.

  “Honestly, you ought’a have your hearing checked? I’ve had to repeat myself a lot this afternoon.” He shook his head, a crooked smile in place.

  “Sorry.” Lame. “I’ve had a horrendous day, and by the looks of things—” She gestured at the tires. “—it just got worse.”

  For a man who didn’t seem to like her much, she was definitely drawn to him. Must be a flaw in her DNA. One thing for sure, he could do unmentionable things to her mind and body. Things she was too mortified to even think about. And to make matters worse, he was capable of turning her into a simpleton.

  She cringed. In danger of falling under his spell wasn’t good. She lowered her lashes to conceal her thoughts.

  Think acquaintance, BJ. Appealing, heart-shattering, bones-turned-to-jelly, hunk of an acquaintance, but an acquaintance none the less.

  “Wouldn’t it be better if I called a tow truck?” She witnessed a look of humorous disbelief.

  “You don’t think I’m capable of—”

  “Heavens no! You’re more than capable.” Again the heat rushed to her skin flustering her all the more. “What I meant … with two flats well … I only have one spare. I need someone who’ll fix both and quickly if I’m to have any hopes of getting home before midnight.”

  “Boy. You sure have been gone a long time.” He shook his head and uttered a ffueww. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Serenity’s only tow truck is Pop Weaver’s dually. And he’s gone fishing. So, it’s either me, or—” He shrugged with a glint in his eyes turning BJ insides out. “—you can wait until Pop returns.”

  “Which will be?” She hoped in an hour or two.

  He pushed his sleeve back, turned his wrist to view his watch, a beguiling smile tugging at his lips. “A week from today.”

  “Oh.” She squinted up at him and sputtered, “That soon, huh?”

  “’Fraid so.”

  Jason’s cocky grin had BJ admitting defeat. “I’ll get my jack.” She hated like everything being forced into this predicament. But since there would be no help coming other than from this infuriatingly handsome man, she’d let him do his thing.

  She walked to the back of her car, unlocked the tire rack working the lock free. Her hands wrapped around the warm metal as she released the pieces. Before she could lift the contraption, two tanned arms, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, reached around her, grabbing the devise from her hands.

  Why does the mere touch of his arm cause a deep well of wanting and an ocean full of regrets?

  She stepped back to give him space, or was she the one who needed space? “This isn’t my first flat, you know. I have changed quite a few due to my off-road shoots.” Two tires? Never. But she wasn’t about to mention that little fact to him.

  “Well, I don’t know about Galveston, but men in these parts don’t leave a woman to change her own tires.” He looked down. “Whatever you ran over must have been a doozy.”

  Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I don’t remember hitting anything.”

  “Could have been nails or screws. There’s quite a bit of construction going on around town right now. Might as well have a seat.” Jason motioned to the concrete steps she’d walked down earlier. “By the way, I like your choice of vehicle. Have one just like it, only a year older.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, placed his hat on the hood, then began working.

  She decided to take his suggestion and moved to the steps under the shade. Odd they should both have Jeeps, but then Jeeps are popular especially with guys. She liked hers because it handled well off road where she did most o
f her photography.

  Her eyes followed his movements, the ripple of his muscles as he labored—get a hold of yourself. She averted her eyes, but they kept straying back to Jason.

  He made short work of getting the Wrangler up, lug nuts off, and spare in place. The man wasn’t afraid of work, she’d give him that much. And he knew economy of motion. BJ appreciated both in a person. And to watch him, bulging muscles, tight thighs, cute rear … pure delight and torture. With his back to her, she could drink up the delectable sight until she was full, if that were possible.

  Get a grip!

  Jason’s long drawn out whistle drew her off the steps and heading in his direction.

  “What?”

  With the tire on the ground, his fingers pushed down then slid across the black rubber then back again. “This doesn’t look good.”

  BJ moved closer, squatting next to him, feeling the warm heat radiating from him, causing her to become more fully aware of Jason’s appeal.

  On the side of the tire a gash ran lengthwise about eight inches. Jason used his hand to push down the tire giving her a better look at the damage. He stood abruptly, walked to the front flat, and began to run his fingers along the surface of the tire there. Another whistle was emitted through his teeth then he stood. With a disgruntled look, he glanced up and down the street.

  “What’s wrong?” Her words drew his gaze.

  “Your tires have been slashed.”

  Chapter 10

  Slashed? You mean—”

  “Yes. Slashed. As in knife inserted into your tires.” He glanced about. “Wait here.”

  He walked around the vehicle next to hers then did the same to the cars on the other side of the steps. He came back and stood in front of her. Lines of concern etched in his face.

  “Seems like your Wrangler is the vehicle of choice today. Who’d you tick off?”

  His smile let her know he was joking, but she wasn’t in the mood. “I’m not in the habit of ticking off people.”

  His eyebrows inched up sarcastically.

  She could strangle the man. He could provoke a monk into forgetting his vow of silence and cursing a blue streak. “I don’t—”

  “Okay.” He held up his dirty palms, feigning fear of attack, a glint in his eye. “Since we’ve established that you haven’t ticked someone off—”

  “Funny.” She shot him a I’m in no humor look which by his laugh he didn’t seem to comprehend. “Why would someone single out my Jeep?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they don’t like Jeeps, or the color black, or the fact you came back to town.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. But none of the other cars have been vandalized. Just yours. You figure it out.”

  She would’ve liked nothing better than to catch the culprit and wring his neck. “Is there a place in town where I can buy a couple of tires?” She worked hard to keep her tone civil. After all he was helping her. “Or do I need to call a tire company in Round Rock. Surely that town would have someone that could bring me two tires?”

  “You won’t have to call anyone. Let me finish putting on the spare and take off the front tire. Crawford’s Home and Auto should have what you need. I’ll take you there.”

  “Really, I’d rather you didn’t. I can handle this.” Her words fell on deaf ears. He ignored her completely. In short order both tires were sitting on the ground, one on top of the other, the front of her Jeep much like a drunken sailor—jacked high and listing to one side.

  “Now, let’s get these over to Crawford’s.” Jason inspected his black-filmed hands.

  “Just a minute. I’ve got wipes in the back.”

  BJ rummaged around in a plastic storage container where she kept supplies for emergencies when off-road. She handed him the moist sheets and then held out her hand waiting for the dirty ones. Reluctant, he placed them in her outstretched palm.

  “Get your stuff, lock the doors. I’ll bring my truck around and load the tires.”

  “I don’t want to put you to all this trouble. You’ve got a ranch to run. Surely I could walk to Crawford’s. It’s only a few blocks. Someone there can help me.”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Only one person runs the shop during the week. Not likely old man Crawford would close the place down to change a tire, even for honey-colored eyes and a sweet smile. He’s near blind and wouldn’t fully appreciate your efforts.” He grabbed his hat, shoved it on his head as he sauntered off.

  “W-ell, of all things!” She wanted to pick up a rock and throw it at his retreating back. Instead, she kicked the tire then regretted the childish action. Her open-toed sandal proved no protection for her big toe.

  A more appealing man, she couldn’t remember. A more aggravating man, she’d never met. And he was destined to goad her with his comments and little jabs to keep her feelings on tenterhooks.

  Moving into Rose Mansion just might prove to be the death of her yet, regardless the distance that separated them.

  Chapter 11

  BJ’s gaze followed the insufferable man until he rounded the corner. Her tightly balled fists crammed the soiled wipes into the trash bag. After locking the tire rack, she laughed at her foolish gesture. No spare to steal.

  She turned and collected the contents of her purse, not wanting the aggravating man to drive up and find she wasn’t ready to leave. Leaning over her purse, she snatched up a white, folded slip of paper on the floorboard. Without looking at it, forcefully threw it along with everything from the seat into her bag. She winched at the loud clank, hoping it wasn’t her BlackBerry.

  All right, BJ, take a deep breath. In … out. In … out. In …

  After rolling up the windows, she slammed the door to the Jeep, dropping her keys in the process, causing her to fume more as she snatched them from the blacktop. The controlled breathing hadn’t helped one bit.

  Embarrassing. No, downright maddening. To imply she would think about flaunting herself in front of old man Crawford—insane. To be in this predicament and have to rely on a man who, as plain as day, didn’t even want to be in her company, beyond exasperating. Who asked for Jason’s help in the first place? She sure didn’t.

  BJ threw her keys into her purse and waited by the two damaged tires.

  Men—Impossible!

  The smell of diesel fumes and the sound of a chugging engine alerted BJ her chariot had arrived.

  Does man in these parts drive a dually?

  Jason stopped his silver-blue Chevy in the street. One at a time he hefted the tires into the truck-bed. When he was finished, BJ offered him some more wipes for his hands. He nodded toward the truck, apparently indicating she needed to get in.

  With oversized tires and lack of running board, the climb up into the dually was an obstacle course. She barely got inside the cab and shut the door before Jason stepped on the accelerator, thrusting her back into the soft leather seat.

  “Buckle up. I don’t have time for Greene to give you a ticket.”

  His words managed to ruin the small measure of calm she’d manage to acquire. He couldn’t have made it any clearer she was encroaching upon his precious time and an inconvenience. BJ set her jaw, then witnessed his clenched, face tired and regretted her thoughts. After all, he was doing her a huge favor taking time to help her.

  “Greene? Any relationship to Robby Greene? The same one who hung pink panties on Seth’s bronze fingers?” BJ grinned at the mental picture fresh in her mind. The bronze statue of Seth Loveless sitting on his horse Lightning, hand uplifted, and from his pinkie finger dangled a pair of lacy panties blowing in the wind.

  Jason’s severe features relaxed into a smile. “One and the same. But if you see him, that subject’s best left forgotten. He just might feel obliged to thrown you in jail on principle. He’s a town cop.”

  She laughed, snapping the belt in place feeling much better hearing his jovial tone. “I’ll try to heed your advice if I run across him. Is he married?”

  “No. He’s single.” His words cl
ipped.

  “Hmm.” She nodded her head wondering why the change in attitude?

  “Did you ever marry?” She regretted the words the moment they popped out of her mouth, wishing she could gather them back. In the meeting, she’d taken note he wasn’t wearing a wedding band but knew it didn’t mean a thing. Most farmers or ranchers in these parts didn’t wear one for fear of losing a finger in the heavy equipment they dealt with on a daily basis. Maybe this was his case. Hoping his answer would be no, she figured with his rugged good looks, the chance was slim.

  “Yes.”

  A simple word—yes. Yet, it sounded harsh, cold, and jabbed and mocked her, slicing like a blade through her heart.

  Why did it matter so? He’s meant nothing to me for years.

  Liar.

  She turned her face, watching the alleyway they’d entered. The backside of buildings passed in front of her eyes unnoted. Why should Jace’s marital status matter? She really hadn’t expected anything less after all these years.

  Good grief! Horrified for practically salivating over a married man, BJ scolded herself for foolish thoughts. Never in her life had she given one thought or a second glance to another woman’s husband and she wasn’t about to start now.

  “Do you have any children?” Why didn’t she stop with the yes? She glanced over at Jason knowing he’d make a fine father. Protective, but strict to a point, fun, loving and playful. In her mind she could almost see him romping with his children. Something broke on the inside leaving an open wound for her to contend with.

  “No.” This time, gritting the word through his teeth.

  Apparently touchy on the subject of kids. Maybe they couldn’t have any.

  Surely his wife would be moving into the mansion with him. She thought she’d better quit with the questions before he stopped the Silverado and bodily threw her out into the alley.