by Calista Fox
Adonis in Texas
Calista Fox
Book 2 in the Rugged and Risque series.
Ginger owns a sensuous lingerie boutique in Wilder, Texas, and though her steady customers are thrilled her doors are still open, the reverend’s wife would prefer otherwise. Although Ginger isn’t about to kowtow to the pressure, she invites a different kind of trouble into her life when an unexpected man from the past returns to Wilder.
Ryan’s homecoming is marred by having to explain to his aunt and uncle that he’s applying for a position as a deputy with the sheriff’s office, rather than working at the church. Complicating family matters is his instant and passionate attraction to Ginger that immediately burns the rumor mill to the ground.
The preacher’s nephew and the lingerie princess need to withstand all the talk in town—and Ryan’s dangerous job to turn their scorching-hot lust into everlasting love.
Adonis in Texas
Calista Fox
Chapter One
“Lord have mercy,” Ginger Monroe groaned. “It’s the second coming of the GCB.” She caught a glimpse of the Reverend Bain’s wife, Lydia, and her disciples as they stalked down the sidewalk with purpose and a misguided air of authority. The “Good Christian Bitches” hadn’t lasted long on TV, but these less glamorous ones were still going strong in Wilder, Texas.
Ginger reached for the clothes rack standing in front of her store, about to pull the display back into her lingerie shop, located on a corner of Main Street. But her friend, Liza Brooks, halted her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “You are not kowtowing to those women.”
With a sigh, Ginger asked, “Are you forgetting Lydia Bain set my last shop on fire and destroyed my entire inventory?”
“How could I forget?” Liza replied in a dry tone. “She nearly killed us both because we were trapped in the attic.”
“It was an accident,” Jess Mills reminded them. She’d had lunch with Liza before they’d stopped by to see Ginger this afternoon. Jess was always the voice of reason, though she was no more a fan of the reverend’s high-and-mighty wife than the other two were.
“Regardless,” Ginger said, “she’s still publicly denouncing my wares.”
“Not many people are listening these days,” Liza commented. “We’ve talked about this. Your sales are up in the store and they’re off the charts online. The two of us confronting Lydia after the fire and not backing down thereafter made a remarkable impact on your bottom line. Stick to your guns, girlfriend.”
“You have a point.” But the mere sight of Lydia Bain made Ginger’s shoulders bunch as tension skittered through her.
The reverend’s Plain Jane wife, who wore no makeup or jewelry other than her simple gold wedding band, was dressed in her usual drab-gray attire. Her most notable feature was her shiny brown hair, styled in a chic bob. Despite being a genius hairdresser—owning the only salon in town—she was as humdrum as they came.
With a smug look on her face, she and her three equally plain and conservatively dressed female companions approached Ginger and her friends.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Liza said in her chipper voice, which still held a slight New York accent, despite her full immersion in Texas culture over the past year. Upon her spectacular, whirlwind arrival, she’d instantly become Ginger’s best friend and business advisor—not to mention her most frequent customer. Liza had been the one to suggest an online store when Ginger was about to lose the lease on her boutique due to dismal sales that had been a direct result of Lydia’s crusade to keep lingerie out of Wilder bedrooms. And certainly off its sidewalks.
“Good afternoon to you too,” Lydia said in her haughty tone as her gaze indiscreetly swept over Liza, taking in her flashy emerald-colored dress and fancy designer shoes. The flicker of disapproval in her gaze was unmistakable. To Ginger, she added, “I’m pleased to see you’ve reopened your shop.”
Ginger resisted the urge to take a step away from the reverend’s wife, lest God strike her down right there on the spot for that whopper of a lie. Must be Lydia felt being polite exonerated her from such a blatant mistruth.
“That’s kind of you,” Ginger told her, forcing her teeth not to grind together. Lydia Bain was the equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard. Her existence made Ginger cringe.
“I wonder if you might want to keep your displays inside your boutique,” Lydia suggested in her clipped voice. “A little discretion goes a long way here in Wilder.”
“Not this again,” Liza grumbled beside her. “Really, Lydia, everyone else is allowed to have displays on the walkway. It’s not illegal for Ginger to do so as well, nor is it a sin. These nighties are quite tasteful. Nothing kinky or overly revealing here.”
Lydia bristled visibly. Ignoring Liza’s observation, she said, “I was hoping to appeal to your good Christian nature, Ginger.”
“Christian women need panties too, Lydia.”
The reverend’s wife gasped in apparent shock over Ginger’s sudden nerve, and possibly over the way she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a notch, staring Lydia down as she followed Liza’s advice about not kowtowing to the Prude Brigade.
“Come along, Lydia.” Martha Hinton, Sunday school teacher and wife of the town’s ophthalmologist, ushered her friend away, a look of disgust on her face as she eyed the satin-and-lace garments hanging on Ginger’s display rack. “Off to church we go. We’ll pray for these girls.”
Liza let out a low snort as the four women rushed off.
Jess grinned. “Now that’s how to take a stand, my friend. You keep at it, Ginger.”
Admittedly, it felt good not to let Lydia bully her. But while she’d won today’s battle, she doubted she’d win the war. One might think a reverend’s wife would be gracious and lovely to everyone in her husband’s congregation, but the woman had her own agenda and her own ideas of how people should live in Wilder.
With a sigh, Ginger said, “I’m sure Lydia will tell her husband there needs to be a new policy regarding sidewalk displays downtown, and Jonathan will put it before the City Council.”
“Let him,” Liza retorted in a confident tone. “Jack’s got a seat on the Council now and he’s a strong voice for equality, with a lot of staunch supporters, I might add.”
“Praise the Lord for that,” Jess quipped. “I’m so glad he ran, and that you led his campaign. I shudder to think of the distressed state Wilder would be in if he hadn’t stepped in to help turn things around. Businesses were closing much too quickly because of the reverend’s morality movement.”
Case in point, Liza’s fiancé, Jack Wade, had become the sole saloon owner in town after Reverend Bain and his constituents had limited how late alcohol could be served on Friday and Saturday nights, and had banned sales altogether on Sundays. Those laws, and a few others, had put a stranglehold on the town and had wreaked havoc on its economy.
While Jonathan Bain had toned down his saints-vs.-the-sinners platform, his wife had not. Despite a few months’ reprieve from her holier-than-thou attitude following the fire in Ginger’s shop, which had occurred when Lydia accidentally knocked over some candles in her shocked and appalled state after getting a gander at Ginger’s window display, Lydia had bounced back. And was as self-righteous as ever.
“We all have to stand our ground,” Jess continued. “But it’s well worth it. Since things have picked up for everyone financially, my flower shop is thriving and George’s business is booming.”
Jess’ husband wasn’t the only dentist in Wilder, and he’d suffered recently when families had tightened their purse strings. Liza worked for Jess and Ginger knew it was a huge relief she could stay on Jess’ payroll. Liza sweeping in from Manhattan and shaking things up had been the ca
talyst for people opening their eyes and making changes in town, and neither Ginger nor Jess wanted her efforts to be for naught.
Ginger had struggled herself and she was eternally grateful for her friends’ unwavering support and patronage.
“Looks like you have customers,” Liza said with a smile. Two women strolled over to admire Ginger’s sensuous window displays and Liza added, “We’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget, we have reservations for five people tonight at Pietro’s. Unless you want to make it six…”
As Liza wagged her eyebrows suggestively, Ginger scoffed at her. “Please. Between Lydia’s rants about me and the limited selection of eligible bachelors in this town, I haven’t dated in years and have absolutely no prospects to make tonight’s dinner a triple date.”
Sadly. But Ginger had resigned herself to her dismal dating situation long ago. She focused solely on her business and her friendships.
“Maybe we should all take a weekend trip to San Antonio or Austin,” Jess mused. “See what the single scene looks like for you there.”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “No fixing me up.” She was adamant about that. If she eventually met the right man, it’d be because they’d spotted each other across a crowded room and had formed an instant connection. Not because one of her friends had thrown them together.
But lust at first sight wasn’t a theory she subscribed to, so she brushed off that little fantasy.
Her gaze shifted to the women who’d wandered into her shop. “I have a sale to make,” she said in an optimistic tone. “See you tonight.”
She left her display rack right where it was and entered the boutique. As it turned out, the two women purchased several items and Ginger had more customers throughout the day.
As the sun began to set, she tidied up the array of panties and bras on the large, round wooden tables in the center of the store. She’d had to replace the ones that had quickly gone up in flames during the fire and had chosen to venture away from the antiques she’d previously used for displays—having a fear of how overly flammable old, delicate wood could be. Finding heavier, sturdier pieces with a rich cherry wood finish had added a touch of sophistication to her enterprise.
Though she no longer lit candles in her shop, she did use the waxless, battery-operated variety to keep the mood sensual and inviting. Tall dressers, also in cherry wood, were filled with sexy lingerie, samples dangling out of the opened drawers to entice customers to rummage through them.
The space she had now was twice the size of her old shop and less rent, given that Cooper Denton, the owner of the entire block, had taken pity on her after the fire and had offered her a killer deal. That was the nice thing about small towns. Despite the push-and-pull created by the Bains and their followers, most of the people in Wilder enjoyed a close-knit community and would do anything they could to help a neighbor in need.
Ginger had never imagined leaving—she’d suffer through the hassle Lydia Bain created in order to stay. Unfortunately, she spent her nights alone because there really weren’t many bachelors from which to choose and she’d refused to settle. She had her dream, though. She’d wanted the lingerie shop for years.
Stepping outside, she found the globes of the old-fashioned streetlamps glowing softly as twilight descended upon Wilder. She gripped the metal frame of her sidewalk display and wheeled it toward the front door. A low whistle caught her attention and she glanced up to find two men striding toward her, both a bit unsteady on their feet.
Ah, the rodeo was in was town and that always meant a few rowdies loitered about in between competitions and events.
The tall, dark-haired man on the left had his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. The burly redheaded one held a small paper bag with an aluminum can inside, the rim peeking out of the sack. Likely a beer.
“Damn, you are a pretty little thing,” the dark-haired guy said as he sidled up next to her.
Tugging on her rack, Ginger rushed inside, only to be followed by both men before she could lock the door behind her.
A prickle of anxiety crept in on her. She actually was a “little thing” at five-foot-two out of heels and a size two when she didn’t skip any meals.
“Sorry, I’m closing for the night,” she told them.
“Even better,” the tall one said, sizing her up.
Meanwhile, the redhead set aside his can and inspected her merchandise. He gave her a lascivious look as he said, “I bet you’d look hot in these.” A black-lace thong dangled from the end of one beefy finger. “How about you model for us?”
Both men slurred their words when they spoke, making Ginger even more nervous.
“There’s a dance tonight at the fairgrounds,” she told them, “part of the rodeo. You should head over there. The band ought to be starting any minute now.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” the tall one suggested, his gaze a challenging one, but there was also a hint of something dark and foreboding in his beady brown eyes.
“Sorry, I have plans.” She backed away, hoping to reach the large desk where she wrapped purchases in tissue and completed sales. A phone sat on the corner of the desk, and she had a niggling suspicion it’d be a good idea to call 911.
But both men seemed to know the direction in which her thoughts ran. They split up and stalked toward her from both sides, their expressions suddenly tense and determined.
She lifted a hand in an attempt to warn them off and said, “Seriously. Store’s closed. Please leave.”
The dark-haired man shook his head. “I don’t think so, honey.” His gaze shifted to the cash sitting on the desk behind her. She’d tallied the day’s receipts before retrieving her sidewalk display and the money was set to go into a bank deposit bag.
The redhead said to his cohort, “You lost bad at the races going on this morning.”
Swallowing down the hard lump of fear that swelled in her throat, Ginger squared her shoulders, the way she had with Lydia Bain earlier. It was false bravado this time around, but worth a shot. “You really need to leave. My husband will be here to pick me up at any moment and he’s a mammoth of a man. You don’t want to tangle with him.”
Her lie gave them both pause. But only for a second. The tall one inched closer to her as he continued to eye the cash.
Finally, she said, “If you want the money, fine. Take it and go.”
“Maybe we’ll take you with us too,” he said.
Suddenly terrified, Ginger turned and lunged toward the desk, snatching the receiver of the phone. But the burly redhead moved quicker than anticipated and he tackled her, sending her flying backward until they landed on the settee in the corner, rocking the dainty furniture. She let out a shrill cry for help, but he clamped a large hand over her mouth to silence her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man shove fistfuls of bills into his pockets. Her hard-earned money.
Ginger could barely breathe, what with the hand on her mouth and the enormous body covering her much smaller one. Not to mention the fear and anger seizing her soul.
“Your curvy little body feels good beneath me,” the redhead said, his breath laden with alcohol. “You’re making me hard.”
Her eyes widened in terror.
“Bet you’ve got a tight, wet pussy,” he murmured in her ear.
Ginger’s alarm escalated. At the same moment, the door of the boutique flew open. She heard the whoosh it made and the crazed jingle of the bell above. Unable to actually turn her head to see who’d barged in, she hoped like hell it wasn’t a friend of the two men accosting her.
The stranger said, “Well, this is a bad situation to find yourself in, darlin’.”
His words made her stomach plummet. She struggled against the man holding her captive, uncertain as to whether or not the one who’d joined them planned to free her or add to the nightmare she suddenly starred in.
But the dark-haired robber was quick to say, “This is a private party, pal.”
Ginger instantly perked
up. They didn’t know this guy! He must have seen the two rowdies follow her into the shop and when they hadn’t come out, he’d decided to intervene.
And by the hesitation in the thief’s voice, she suspected he thought the intruder was the “husband” Ginger had mentioned. That ought to make both men wary.
The surge of nerve that had spurred her to stand up to Lydia on the street sparked the guts it took to jerk her knee between the redhead’s legs. She nailed him squarely in the balls. He instantly released her and fell off the settee.
“What the fuck?” his friend roared. But he didn’t have a chance to do more than that as the third man rushed him and they slammed to the hardwood floor. Ginger sat bolt upright and then leapt to her feet.
She was about to run out of the shop, but was oddly rooted in place as the blond stranger, with the build of a professional wrestler, swiftly flipped the dark-haired man onto his stomach and twisted his arm behind his back, shoving it upward so his fingers grazed his shoulder blade. The man let out an agonized grunt and his friend scrambled to his feet and hobbled out the door as Ginger stared at the broad back of her savior in astonishment.
He effortlessly hoisted the guy up. Ginger backed away to clear a path for them and inadvertently ran into an end table. The Tiffany-style lamp perched on it toppled over, the stained glass shade shattering as it hit the floor. Losing her footing from the impact with the table, Ginger fell, landing flat on her back. A sharp cry slipped from her lips as pain lanced through her body. The blond instantly released his detainee and lunged toward her to help her stand. Blood oozed from her elbow where she’d cut it on a shard from the lampshade. The robber made a mad dash for the door as she sank onto the plump cushion of the settee.
Ginger stared up at her hunky rescuer, her heart suddenly jumping into her throat. “Oh my,” she whispered in awe, instantly recognizing him. His brilliant blue eyes were impossible to forget. “I know you.” Though she’d not seen him in many years.
He grinned. An easy, sexy lifting of the corners of his mouth that stole her breath.