by Calista Fox
“I take it service attendance was waning.”
“Something like that,” Jack muttered. He turned the truck toward the entrance to the parking lot and was just pulling out when he yelled, “Hold on!” and suddenly slammed on the brakes. His powerful arm shot out and pinned Liza to the seat as another car rammed them on the driver’s side.
Her hand clutched the bar above the window at Jack’s warning. That and his quick reflexes kept her fully intact, but she still felt jolted to the core of her being.
“Holy shit,” she said, her heart leaping into her throat.
“You okay?” he asked, shooting her a quick look.
“Yeah,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Fine.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. After unhooking his belt, he pushed open the door and got out of the truck. Liza followed suit.
As she was rounding the vehicle, Jack was approaching the driver’s side of the sedan that had pulled out of a parallel parking space along the street. The driver obviously had not looked for oncoming traffic and hit them. The car had dented the front corner of Jack’s truck and broken the headlight. Other than that, the major damage was not related to Jack’s vehicle.
“Jesus, Lydia,” he said as he opened the door of the car, which was an older model without airbags. “Are you all right?”
“I didn’t see you,” Liza heard the woman say. “I was looking at that dress rack across the street. Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking!”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said, his tone dropping a notch, becoming more soothing, more sympathetic. “Are you all right?”
Liza stood back a few feet, watching the interaction. The woman in the car—Lydia—was roughly their age. She was a simple-looking woman, dressed in soft pink, her brown hair pulled back in a short, tidy ponytail. She wore no makeup, save for clear lip gloss, and no jewelry other than a thin gold band on her left ring finger. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel.
“Yes,” she finally said with a nod of her head. “I’m fine. I just… Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he told her.
“No, it’s not!” Her voice rose. “Look what I’ve done to your truck!”
“It’ll survive,” he said, still the epitome of calm. “Let me help you out.”
She shook her head, yet conceded at the same time. She let go of her death grip on the steering wheel and allowed Jack to help her out of the car. Her entire body shook, Liza noticed. She felt bad for her. Lydia had been distracted when she’d hit them and was clearly shaken by the accident.
“We’ll pay for the damages,” she said to Jack. “I’ll tell Tom at the body shop to put them on Jonathan’s account.”
Jack’s jaw tightened—a telltale sign Liza read so easily now. No powers of deduction needed to determine to which “Jonathan” Lydia referred. She was the Reverend Bain’s wife. And Jack’s aunt by his mother’s second marriage.
Liza looked at the woman with different eyes. Before she’d known her identity, Lydia seemed like a fragile, disoriented woman. But now… Her gaze shifted and landed on the dress rack across the street that Lydia had said had grabbed her attention and caused her to hit Jack’s truck.
Liza’s jaw fell slack. One would never guess from the demure signage and window display that there was a lingerie shop in the neighborhood. But the rack—or rather, the lacy nighties hanging on it—was a dead giveaway.
The reverend’s wife hadn’t been distracted by a pretty dress. She’d been stunned into paralysis by the “risqué” display—and Liza did have to use that term loosely, because she personally couldn’t find anything wrong with the clothes. Lydia Bain had slammed right into Jack’s truck as, Liza presumed, she’d gawked at the sexy lingerie.
Good grief. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
It hadn’t occurred to Liza before, but Hill Country was part of the Bible Belt. And she was now fully immersed in its culture. Her brows knitted together as she watched Jack take such good care of his aunt. Other people gathered round to make sure she was okay, and a few seconds later, Liza heard the familiar sound of a police siren.
She found it interesting that Jack did not express the same disdain for the reverend’s wife as he did toward the reverend himself. Liza was already seeing evidence that she shared her husband’s views, so why was Jack so tolerant of her and not Bain?
She shook her head. Liza was racking up more questions about the Devil than she’d ever anticipated. And found it incredibly ironic that she’d pinned the nickname on someone so representative—especially in a town such as this—of the moniker. Sinner that he was.
“Really,” Lydia was saying with disapproval in her voice, which pulled Liza from her thoughts. “What is Ginger thinking?”
Once again, Lydia’s eyes were on the clothes rack across the street. Liza’s gaze didn’t leave the reverend’s wife. She was clearly unnerved. No, it was more than that. She was shocked at the audacity of the shop owner who’d put her sexy wares on public display.
What was the big deal anyway? The nightgowns were short and lacy, sure. But Liza had seen more risqué outfits in a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Then again, considering everything Jack had divulged thus far, her guess was the reverend preferred his wife in plain white cotton rather than sexy red lace.
Jack’s earlier words came back to Liza in a flash.
I don’t like him shoving his personal beliefs down everyone’s throat.
Interesting. Did it rub Jack raw that Lydia Bain was subject to her husband’s crusade to save the morality of the townsfolk? Did he know something about her that made her prudishness disturbing to him?
As though Liza had spoken all of this aloud, Mrs. Bain’s gaze snapped to her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Liza asked, having no other comment to make because she was still trying to sort out this whole Twilight-Zone experience she was suddenly living.
“You must be Miss Brooks,” Lydia said. Her spine stiffened notably when she spoke.
“Guilty as charged,” Liza replied.
Jack shot her a “Did you really have to say that?” look and Liza stifled a grin. She didn’t mind ruffling stiff feathers.
“I’m Lydia Bain,” the reverend’s wife said in a suddenly haughty tone. She eyed Liza from head to toe and added in a clipped tone, “Welcome to Wilder.”
Then she turned away, dismissing Liza completely. Her chin even lifted a notch.
Liza bristled at the obvious slight. Who was this woman to judge—and dismiss—her? Who was she to judge the lingerie boutique owner or anyone else for that matter?
Fuming, Liza took a step forward, but Jack was on the move.
The local Barney Fife had arrived on the scene and Jack walked away from Lydia, letting her give the details of the accident. Liza couldn’t see any visual signs of injury on her person and she assumed Jack felt she was fine too. At least physically.
He stalked toward Liza in that purposeful way of his and hooked his arm around her waist. She turned with him as he continued to walk, bringing her around to the passenger’s side of the truck once more, out of eye- and earshot of everyone else.
The tension was suddenly visible on his face and in his tight muscles, so Liza asked, “What gives? You were the one spouting the ‘I don’t let anyone tell me what to do’ thing, but Jesus. You don’t seem the least bit disturbed by her obviously narrow-minded views.”
“Little more to it than the obvious, darlin’.” He opened the truck door. “Why don’t you get in? The Bains and I have the same insurance agent, so it’s not like we need to exchange information.”
Liza didn’t budge. “Aren’t you going to give your side of the story to the police? Make sure they get it right?”
He shot her a very challenging look, as though telling her to back off. Liza ground her teeth. What was the deal with Lydia Bain, anyway? And why was Jack so tolerant of his aunt when he so vehemently deplored his uncle?
As she stewed over all of this, she realized he’d all but whisked her away from Lydia. Yet he’d been perfectly happy to let the reverend draw the conclusion earlier that they’d just indulged all their guilty pleasures when he’d stopped by the cottage. In fact, Jack seemed quite content to flaunt their attraction to each other to everyone else—he’d all but marked his territory last night at the saloon and then had enjoyed them being on public display in town.
Yet when it came to his aunt… He couldn’t keep Liza far enough away from her. Why?
Frustrated, she turned away from the Devil and pulled the rung below the door, climbing into the truck without his assistance. Jack shook his head as he closed the door. Her guess was her independence didn’t sit quite as well with him as he wished it did.
Well, get over it, cowboy.
Liza was no longer allowing anyone to have a say in who she was and how she acted.
After fastening her seatbelt, she crossed her arms over her chest and stewed some more, knowing Lydia Bain was going to be the bane of her existence in Wilder.
All of which made the drive back to the cottage a quiet one. Jack didn’t say a word. Liza didn’t either, because she really couldn’t settle on anything civil to say.
Their first fight? Or was there a huge cultural divide here that she’d ignored all this time? Had her raging hormones and her own personal baggage precluded her from seeing a bigger picture with Jack?
She slid a glance his way, taking in his strong profile. The set jaw she was now accustomed to. The flexed muscles of his arms and shoulders that belied his tension.
There was something so contradictory about him. The whole “I do whatever I want, whenever I want” attitude didn’t exactly mesh with the way he’d interacted with the reverend’s wife. Was there something between them?
She gasped at the wayward thought. It explained so much! And hey, they were just step-relatives…not related by blood…
Yet as Liza turned in her seat without even fully realizing it and stared outright at Jack, she shook her head.
No. She couldn’t envision passionate and possessive Jack with the prudish, Plain-Jane Lydia. Especially knowing how wicked he could be in bed. Then again, he’d said he couldn’t see Liza with a guy named Peter, and lo and behold! She’d tried to make that obvious mismatch work. For six years, no less.
“What?” he finally asked, without even taking his eyes off the road. Clearly, he’d felt her gaze on him.
“Just trying to figure out the day, I guess.”
For all intents and purposes, Wilder was one quirky little place. As crazy as its namesake.
Jack shook his head. “Don’t read too much into anything, darlin’.”
She wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “You and your…uncle—” it seemed like such an absurd notion they were related, even if only by paper—”aren’t simpatico, obviously. But you don’t mind the Mrs. Reverend Bain’s closed-minded views?”
He actually laughed. “You just met her.”
“Yes, and she ran into us because she was so shocked and appalled by a shop owner trying to sell her goods.”
“I see where you’re coming from,” he said, catching on quick. His gaze shifted from the road and landed on her. “Lydia’s more than my aunt.”
Aha!
“She’s a friend of mine.”
“Yet the reverend isn’t?” Liza countered.
His eyes returned to the road. “Some people like ketchup, but not the tomatoes it comes from, darlin’.”
She frowned. “Meaning you can like the reverend’s wife even if you don’t like the man she married. Okay, so…why are you so tolerant of her, but not him?” Liza just didn’t get that part.
“It’s complicated.”
Of course it is.
“I’m beginning to think everything in Wilder is complicated.”
He flashed her an unexpected grin. “Not us.”
She laughed, despite the serious conversation. The man could melt butter with his scorching-hot gaze. But she was still confused. “Are you sure about that?”
That heated gaze slid over her in a slow, suggestive way, making her think he was visually undressing her. Imagining pressing her into the mattress again as his thick cock sank into her. “Oh yeah,” he said, quite simply.
Liza flushed from head to toe. As usual. But she continued on, breathless though she was. “Okay, clearly the sex isn’t complicated. But what about the rest of it?”
As he turned into the drive and the tall, bushy trees whizzed by them, he said, “Is there anything between us that’s convoluted?”
She gave his question the consideration it was due. And came up empty-handed. In truth, whatever his beef with Bain was had nothing to do with them. As long as he wasn’t banging the reverend’s wife, his relationship with Lydia had nothing to do with them, either.
Damn. He was always one step ahead of her. But she did have to clear up the thing with his aunt, for her own peace of mind.
“You said you’ve never dated anyone in Wilder.”
“I’m true to my word. Ask anyone.”
“‘Dating’ is a subjective term,” she pointed out.
The corners of his mouth lifted and Liza fought back the sigh that tickled her throat as the dimple teased her. Not fully revealing itself, but hinting that it just might grace her with its presence if she amused Jack a little more.
“I’ve only made love to one person in Wilder.”
Her breath caught. “Who?” she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.
His gaze landed on her again and he said, “You, of course.”
Oh.
Her heart hammered a little heavier in her chest, because she was thinking of exactly how he’d made love to her this morning.
Yet she still had business to clear up. “Not even back in—”
“Nope.”
She stared at his profile, incredulous. “You don’t even know what I was about to ask!”
“Doesn’t matter. Answer’s still no. Just you.”
She considered this a moment. She had absolutely no reason to doubt the man. He’d been forthcoming about everything she’d quizzed him on thus far. So she had to let this one go.
And really, she didn’t want to argue. If he was implying that he’d never slept with Lydia Bain, then she wasn’t going to push and prod until she drove him nuts. Besides, now that they had some distance from the incident, she had to admit she really couldn’t imagine Jack with Lydia. He hadn’t acted sexually interested in her. Just concerned about her well-being.
What the hell was wrong with that? She was his aunt, for Christ’s sake! A step-aunt, but still. No need to quibble over semantics. Maybe all of the mixed signals and Liza’s slow acclimation to small-town life had impaired her judgment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as she settled back in the seat.
“For what?”
“Everything. I’m completely misreading…everything.”
Jack chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that.”
She glanced his way and his eyes were on her again, burning bright with desire. She couldn’t help but smile. And blush. “Well, I don’t want to make any assumptions about that…”
“Assume away, darlin’.”
He pulled alongside her Mercedes as he’d done last night. She remembered her reaction when he’d commented on her “fancy wheels”. The car had been a gift from Peter the first Christmas they’d celebrated together. At first, she’d been too blown away to see the present for what it truly was. Not a generous gift to someone he loved. Rather, Peter had loathed hearing her say she drove a Honda whenever someone inquired at a party. What one drove was as important as one’s address, he’d told her.
The truth was, Peter had been ashamed of her inability to flaunt her family money. She’d never dipped into her trust fund. Whatever she owned was a result of her hard work. She even paid market-value rent on her apartment, despite the fact that her mother owned the building.
But Liza didn’t want to think about New York. She loved the convertible, but maybe she’d sell it since it stuck out like a sore thumb in Wilder. And speaking of… She really needed to get her head on straight where this little town and the sexy cowboy were concerned.
Pushing from her mind all thoughts of Lydia Bain and the accident and her subsequent argument with Jack, she focused instead on the afternoon ahead. “Well,” she said. “You have to work tonight and I should probably unpack the rest of my stuff and maybe find a newspaper. I need a job.” Something to fill her time so she wasn’t obsessing over Jack and all the peculiarities of Wilder.
“Do what you have to do, darlin’.”
As she got out of Jack’s truck, she thought about what she was doing here in Wilder. She’d wanted a simpler existence. She’d wanted something less pretentious and fake than what she’d had in New York. Something real and substantial.
Her biggest fear at this point was that she was too programmed to make a change. Then again, maybe it was just a matter of time for her. Maybe she needed to take things in stride. See situations and people for who they were and what they had to offer.
By the time Jack made it around to her side of the truck, she felt remorseful about the way she’d jumped so easily to convenient conclusions.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to spoil our afternoon.”
“You didn’t spoil anything,” he said and his deep tone was filled with enough conviction to give her hope that he was telling the truth.
“Maybe I’m just road-lagged from the drive from New York. Long trip, especially with all the stops I made along the way.”
He whisked away strands of hair from her face with his fingers. “You’ve got a few things to figure out, darlin’.”
She frowned. He was holding her at arm’s length, emotionally. She could see that quite clearly. But there was more to it than that. Jack was urging her to face her own demons, yet he was only allowing her to see in his life what he wanted her to see. Leaving Liza way out in left field.