Devil in Texas

by Calista Fox

  “I’ve got to clean up and head over to the saloon,” he said.

  She nodded her head. “See ya.”

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then went back to his side of the vehicle. He drove up the hill and parked his truck in front of the detached, three-car garage. Liza dragged her eyes from Jack climbing out of his truck and her gaze swept over the grounds, landing on the large farmhouse with the wrap-around deck. All painted crisp white against the green of the leaves on the trees and the lush carpet of grass that surrounded the house and the outbuildings.

  She wondered about Jack’s choice to live out here, away from town. The manicured grounds were striking, no doubt about it. And the lake, sprawled at the feet of the property, was placid and soothing in the afternoon. Later tonight, the fog would roll in and ribbon through the mountains across the way and hover above the water. It’d stay that way ‘til early morning when it burned off, as she’d learned from her brief stay in Wilder.

  When she turned back to face her cottage, Liza felt a little confused over the misjudgment she’d had this morning in thinking that Jack had fixed the place up for someone special. Though, really, there was no confirmation that hadn’t been the case. He could have been seeing someone from Austin or San Antonio and had thought she’d settle down with him here.

  Though she didn’t get that vibe from him. He seemed happy to be the carefree bachelor. Despite how intense he was with her.

  But that was just sex, right?

  Chapter Nine

  As she walked along the path that wound to the front of her adorable new pad, Liza dug her key ring out of her clutch. She unlocked the door and stepped inside the cottage, only to turn right around. There wasn’t much to do here but stew over the odd predicament she’d found herself in. She had things to do in town, like find a hairdresser ASAP. The faded highlights were grating on her nerves.

  She drove her Mercedes into town, the sporty red car garnering more than its fair share of attention. When she pulled into a parallel parking spot on Wilder’s main drag, she felt a twinge of self-consciousness creep up on her again at the stares that flashed in her direction. She headed down the sidewalk, thinking these people needed to find something more interesting than her to stare at, but knowing that wouldn’t happen for some time. Not until they all got used to seeing her in her New York garb and racy little car.

  She found herself heading toward the parking lot where Jack had left the truck while they’d dined at Ruby and Mike’s place. Returning to the scene of the crime didn’t help her to let go of the afternoon’s bizarre events, but there was obviously something weighing on her subconscious mind. Across the street from where she stood was the lingerie boutique that had been the source of Lydia Bain’s contention when she’d slammed into Liza and Jack. Evidence of the wreck still remained in the street, as glass from the broken headlights was still scattered about.

  A devious smile played on Liza’s lips as she crossed the street and walked into the boutique. She noticed the clothes rack with the nighties had been moved inside. No doubt Mrs. Bain had something to do with that.

  As she entered the cozy shop, Liza was greeted by a petite blonde who looked all of twenty-two. “Hi,” she said with a shy smile. “I’m Ginger. Anything I can help you with?”

  “Hi, Ginger. I’m Liza. New to town and in desperate need of a few things.”

  A blind man wouldn’t have missed the smile on Ginger’s face. She lit up like a light bulb as excitement oozed from her every pore. “Oh that’s great! What are you looking for?”

  Trying to keep the conversation light, Liza said, “I noticed your rack of nightgowns earlier. I spotted one I really liked.” She moved toward the lingerie Ginger had brought inside and quickly selected one. A red lace-and-satin number. “Here it is.” Lifting the hanger off the metal rod, Liza inspected it for all of two seconds and added, “Mm- hmm. This is it. Does it come in any other colors?”

  “Hot pink, champagne, midnight blue and, of course, black.”

  “Lucky me. I’ll take all of them in a medium.”

  Ginger’s jaw fell slack. “You want five nighties?” Her thick southern accent put a heavy emphasis on the word “five.”

  “And I’ll need panties to match,” Liza said without missing a beat.

  The pretty shop owner simply stared at her, jaw still hanging open. Clearly that was bound to be everyone’s response to Liza. Luckily, she was rapidly growing a thick skin. Besides, it felt good to help Ginger. Didn’t take a Wall Street stockbroker to see this woman’s net shares were in the toilet. The racks were overflowing with sexy lingerie. The round tables in the center of the room were piled high with panties and stockings. In fact, Liza might be her only customer all day.

  She bustled about the place, checking out the various accessories Ginger had on display, such as the thigh-highs with lacy tops and decorative ribbing to keep them in place, matching garter belts, four-inch-heeled slippers and feather boas. When she reached the glass shelves with the massage oils, edible body paints and sexy games, wild horses couldn’t drag Liza away from her new mission.

  By the time she’d made her selections, she had an armful of goodies that she dumped on Ginger’s counter. She wanted to help Ginger, but she also thought Jack Wade could help her make excellent use of all of these naughty products. Something she’d never tried with Peter.

  “Oh!” The petite blonde stared at her in obvious shock. “You really want all of these?”

  “You bet. Beats waiting for mail order.”

  Ginger frowned and Liza heard a little click in her own brain. Something was amiss here.

  Probing as nonchalantly as possible, she asked, “How long have you been open, Ginger?”

  “Just over a year,” she said as she started to ring up the purchases.

  “And how are sales?”

  Her smile faltered. “Oh well, you know. With the economy and all…” She shook her head, went back to keying in SKU numbers.

  Liza asked, “Were sales good when you first opened shop?”

  “Yes!” She beamed, despite herself. “I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I’d dreamt of opening a place like this since I was maybe sixteen or seventeen. Saved every penny I had from the time I started stocking shelves at the grocery store when I was just thirteen, knowing I’d build a niche somehow. I didn’t go to college, just kept working until I could afford the rent here and the merchandise. When I finally hung that ‘Open’ sign on the door…” Another sharp shake of her head as tears suddenly pooled in her big green eyes.

  Tugging on Liza’s heartstrings, the girl almost made her cry. There was no mistaking Ginger’s pride in her accomplishment. Her desire to succeed at all costs. This woman had worked hard to make her dream come true, tainted though it was now. Liza’s heart went out to the girl because she could tell by the overstocked racks that sales were less than stellar.

  “I’m sorry,” Ginger said as she fanned her face with one hand. Her efforts to contain her emotions were futile. A thin stream of tears slid down her lovely face and it was all Liza could do not to reach for her and hug her as she cried. “I just… I wanted this to be the kind of place women felt at home visiting, you know? To shop here for themselves, buying pretty, silky things that’d make them feel sexy and desirable. And yet…” Her head ducked toward the cash register so that her blonde curls fell across the side of her face, effectively hiding her distress.

  Liza’s heart constricted. Ginger was the sweetest little thing and here she was, torn down by narrow-minded people like…Lydia Bain.

  Liza never claimed to have a mild temper. It flared now and her fists balled at her sides. “So how are you staying afloat?” she asked between clenched teeth.

  “I’m not. Not really. The bank’s given me another month to make up a couple of back payments. But I’ll inevitably close the shop.”

  “How much do you owe?” Liza asked, not at all sure where that question came from or why she’d posed such a personal query.
>
  Ginger’s pale cheeks flushed bright red as she admitted, “Few thousand.”

  “Hmm.” Liza did some quick calculations in her head, mentally brainstorming the situation as Ginger carefully wrapped the nighties in floral-scented, pink-colored tissue and sealed them with sparkly red stickers in the shape of lips.

  As she loaded everything into a large shopper’s bag, Liza said, “I’m from New York, if you haven’t guessed. Just moved here. I don’t know that much about Wilder yet, but if sales were good when you first opened and now they’ve tapered off, I’m not wholly convinced it’s the economy. Women still need panties, even in tough times.”

  The prices were reasonable here. So much more so than the department stores Liza was accustomed to or even mail-order catalogs.

  “If discretion has become a problem,” she continued on, “There are ways around that.”

  Ginger’s face lit up again, chasing away some of the embarrassment and dismay. “Like how?”

  “Well, a website for one thing.”

  She instantly frowned. “Oh well. I don’t know anything about that. And wouldn’t that just be one more expense I couldn’t manage?”

  “Not necessarily. There are plenty of ways to run a virtual store. Economical ways. And the best part is that your customers can submit their orders online and you can ship them directly to their home in discreet packaging. No one would know the purchase had come from your store. Plus,” Liza added, her brain kicking into high gear. “You could charge a small handling rate—add it to the shipping cost—that would help to offset the costs of maintaining the website. Charge a service fee for delivering the goods personally at the customers’ preferred time and place, if they’re inclined. A personal touch they might appreciate.”

  Liza’s mind churned with all sorts of possibilities to salvage Ginger’s business and the shop owner clearly wanted to hear every idea, if her eager gaze were any indication.

  “If push comes to shove and you absolutely have to forfeit the building,” Liza continued, “you could still operate your business, just as a virtual store rather than a bricks and mortar one. Sans inflated rent and busybodies who don’t want to see your product on public display.”

  Ginger got the point. “I do hate arguing with Mrs. Bain. Every Saturday and Sunday,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

  Liza couldn’t help but laugh. “I assure you. Lydia Bain would have no power over your online sales.”

  She smiled, her green eyes glowing bright. “I wouldn’t lose everything if I did that.”

  “You’re forgetting the most important part,” Liza said. “The Internet is global. Your store here caters to the residents of Wilder and whatever tourists you get. An online store reaches every country on every continent. Everyone looking for beautiful, sexy lingerie at a price that makes them want to buy five of everything.”

  She clasped her hands together, excited by the prospect. “I never thought of that at all. Oh my gosh. I could have women in….Georgia…ordering from me.”

  “Georgia, Asia,” Liza pointed out.

  “Oh!” The saucers that were her eyes said she saw the big picture Liza had painted. “That’s a whole new world of opportunity!”

  “Indeed.” Liza grinned as she handed over a credit card.

  “Well, I just feel so bad about taking your money now. After all the help you’ve given me.”

  “You still have rent to pay this month.”

  “Yes, there is that.” She took the platinum card, albeit reluctantly. “Can I at least buy you lunch sometime?”

  The invitation was unexpected, yet so sweet and genuine, Liza felt the tears well up in her own eyes. Surprisingly. “That’s not necessary, really.”

  “Oh I insist. Besides, I want to hear all about you. All we’ve done is talk about me.”

  Liza was overwhelmed by her sincerity, to say the least. “I’d love to have lunch with you, Ginger.” She jotted down her cell number on a pad of Post-It notes Ginger kept next to the register. “Call me anytime.”

  “How about Monday afternoon?” she said, her enthusiasm evident.

  Liza smiled. “Works for me.”

  “Great. You being from New York and all, I know this perfect little Italian place. Very authentic. Pietro’s.”

  “Sounds right up my alley.”

  “Thanks so much, Liza. I guess I never really thought that I had alternatives. And I just couldn’t imagine what I was going to do with all this inventory when I was forced out of the building.”

  “Well, you’re not out yet. You might want to consider a buy-one-get-a-second-half-off sale to bring in the customers. And some sexier window displays than what you’ve got. Why not advertise a little more? Entice passersby with some paired pieces so they can see an entire ensemble and walk right in and ask for it in their size.”

  “I do need to get more creative, don’t I?”

  And a bit bolder. Show Lydia Bain she doesn’t own the street.

  “Everybody has alternatives,” Liza assured Ginger as she collected her credit card and bag and turned to go.

  “Monday, then?”

  “You bet.” Liza was even looking forward to it.

  As she left Ginger’s boutique and walked down the street toward the general direction of her car, she passed a quaint, burgundy awning-topped shop screaming the logo she’d been desperate to see the past few days. Cut-N-Color.

  Hallelujah!

  Grinning, Liza pushed open the glass door encased in white-washed wood and stepped into the large foyer that boasted full shelves of hair products. Her own personal heaven! She scanned the glass shelves for her favorite brand while voices from the back room drifted her way. She was ensconced in a small hallway as her eyes skimmed the labels. But she wasn’t so far removed that she couldn’t hear the conversation coming from the salon.

  “I just ran right into Jack’s truck,” she heard a familiar voice say, and her ears instantly perked up.

  Lydia Bain.

  “I was so mortified,” she continued on. “Things just don’t distract me so that I can’t drive.”

  “Ginger should know better than to put that kind of trash out on the sidewalk.” A different voice said. “What was that girl thinking?”

  Liza’s temper flared again, but she tried to think strategically, rather than act impulsively.

  The contingent agreed with Lydia and her friend. Liza lingered inside the foyer, her eyes on the shampoo bottles that were neatly arranged on the display as she debated her course of action.

  “And she was with him,” Lydia continued on.

  Liza’s brows jerked upward.

  “The one Teddy said he saw at Jack’s saloon last night?” Another woman inquired in a high-pitched voice.

  “The very one,” Lydia confirmed.

  “Do you know Teddy said she was wearing green snakeskin high heels? Who owns shoes like that, I ask you?”

  “Oh well,” Lydia said before making a disapproving tsking noise. “You should have seen her today when she got out of Jack’s truck.”

  “Out of his truck!” one of the women exclaimed.

  Lydia continued on. “She was wearing some skimpy, drapey, blue thing…so very inappropriate on a Saturday afternoon.” She paused dramatically, then added, “I’m telling you, that girl is like a disco ball at a wake.”

  Liza’s jaw dropped and her temper finally did get the best of her. Grabbing a bottle of volumizing shampoo, she stalked into the room. She forced a calm, polite tone as she announced her presence.

  “Excuse me, but there’s no price tag on this bottle. Can you please tell me how much it is?”

  All eyes flicked to her. The expressions that greeted her were enough to make Liza snicker. They were so busted. And they all knew it.

  Lydia was the first one to recover. She set aside the pick she was using on an older woman’s hair and said, “Ten-ninety-five.” Then she cleared her throat, as though she were composing herself, and said, “We didn’t hear you come in.�
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  “Obviously,” Liza replied. “You might want to consider one of those little bells over the door. Just so you know when someone might be listening to your conversations.”

  “I… We…. Well,” she huffed.

  One woman in the far corner, who’d been reading a magazine when Liza had stalked in, set aside the rag and stood up. She was a thin, wispy thing with her head wrapped in tin foil. She practically glided toward Liza while extending her hand.

  Smiling politely, she said, “I’m Jessica Mills.” Liza didn’t recognize her voice and she was sure this woman wasn’t one of the many who’d been gossiping about her. “I own the flower shop down the way. You can call me Jess.”

  Liza eyed her with speculation, trying to gauge her intentions. There wasn’t a flicker of deceit in her hazel eyes and her smile seemed genuine. So Liza gave her the benefit of the doubt.

  “Liza Brooks,” she said as they shook hands. “You can call me Disco Ball.”

  The other women laughed, taking themselves by surprise, it sounded like.

  Jess’ grin widened. “You’re funny.” She released Liza’s hand and shot Lydia a “Behave!” look.

  To which the reverend’s wife said, “I’m sorry you heard that. I didn’t mean anything by it, except… We’re not exactly used to that kind of dress here in Wilder.”

  Oh the way she talked! Again in that haughty tone she’d used on Liza earlier. Liza got the distinct impression she considered herself the First Lady of Wilder.

  But how loyal were her subjects?

  Liza decided a little test was in order, just so she could gauge which lines had been drawn in the sand upon her arrival in town.

  “Well, ladies,” she said in a more congenial tone as her gaze swept over all of them. “I’m not one to interrupt a much-deserved day of beauty, so I’ll just be on my way.” They seemed genuinely surprised by her non-confrontational retreat. All eyes were on her—including Lydia’s—as she added, “You all are going to look so lovely at church tomorrow.”

  Lydia’s spine stiffened. “Will you be joining us?”