Devil in Texas

by Calista Fox

  As the stools at the bar started to fill up, he scribbled the word “reserved” on a cocktail napkin and placed it in front of the empty stool on the end. Just in case Liza got a grip on all the things she had to reconcile and decided to stop in tonight.

  * * * * *

  She felt his electrifying gaze on her the minute she walked through the door. Containing the smile that tickled her lips wasn’t easy. Nor was regulating her breathing. It escalated at the mere thought of Jack and excitement zinged through her because she knew he was watching her.

  She scanned the area, trying to decide where to sit, knowing she should meet more people. This was a comfortable, friendly environment, after all. Not the “dropped in Oz” experience she’d had in town. She wondered if her hypothetical house had flattened Lydia when she was in her shop. She decided she didn’t mind the idea of having put her Royal Witchiness in her place—and hoped she stayed there.

  Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she went back to assessing the room, looking for a strategic place to plop down. But when her eyes landed on Jack, stationed behind the bar, dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his rock-hard biceps, she knew there was only one person she wanted to spend the evening with. She had plenty of time to make friends later. Being away from the Devil for just a few hours had her jonesing like an addict.

  She stepped up to the bar and said in a teasing tone, “You really need more bars in this town.”

  “Mine not good enough for ya, darlin’?”

  “It’s not that,” she said as she set her purse on the bar and slid onto the only empty stool as he whisked away a napkin in front of it. “I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you. I’m just thirsty.”

  He chuckled, making every one of her nerve-endings tingle. “I’ll try to keep my ego in check, given that you’ve stopped by two nights in a row.”

  “Yes, do try.”

  His expression changed, however, in the next second. Hardening with a scowl. He said, “You do realize this is the only bar left in town?”

  “Why’s that?” Liza asked as she settled more comfortably onto her stool.

  “Ask your friend Reverend Bain the next time he stops by your cottage.”

  Ah, him again.

  “You know, he mentioned something odd this afternoon when I ran into him.”

  “He came back to the cottage?” Jack asked, looking sufficiently outraged.

  Quick to quell his anger, Liza said, “No, no. I went back into town to check out the hair salon. Big mistake, as you can imagine. And so unfortunate for me. But I digress.” She reached for the glass of water Jack poured for her and took a sip. Then she said, “I nearly ran the reverend down when I was coming out of the drugstore. He invited me to Bingo tonight. Said the ladies play ‘til eleven.”

  “Yes, they do,” Jack said, his jaw tightening as though he knew exactly what she was about to say.

  “Why is that? If the saloon has to close at ten because of the Saturday night curfew, why is the church still open for business? For gambling, no less?”

  “It’s not sinning when you’re under God’s roof, darlin’.”

  She frowned. “That’s a little too convenient.” But she was already beginning to see there were two sets of rules in this town. One for the sinners and one for the saints.

  “White or red?” Jack asked, changing the subject as he tossed a fresh napkin onto the scuffed wood and reached for a wineglass.

  “Red, of course.”

  “Should’ve known.” He set the glass in front of her, then ducked beneath the bar, only to pop up a few seconds later with two wine bottles in each hand. “Pick your poison.”

  “Impressive selection. I’ll take the Cabernet Franc.”

  “About time someone drank it. I special ordered these fancy wines for a wedding reception a few months back. No one was interested.”

  He pulled the cork and splashed a healthy amount into her glass, then pushed it toward her. After taking a sip, she said, “This will do nicely.”

  He grinned. “And here I thought you’d be tough to please.”

  Liza couldn’t stop the blush that flushed her cheeks. “I’m really not so difficult to figure out. You already know what pleases me.”

  The dimple made her insides twist tight. “Told you I was just warming up,” he reminded her with a wink, all traces of annoyance over Wilder peculiarities disappearing.

  “Yeah,” she said with a grin. “You did mention that.”

  She took another sip of her wine as her insides sizzled. She glanced around the saloon as her cheeks continued to burn. If memory served her correctly, it was pretty much the same crowd she’d encountered last night. The non-Bingo-playing types. She couldn’t help but smile.

  Jack said, “What’s so funny, darlin’?”

  The way his intense gaze captured hers made Liza’s breath catch. He stared at her as though no one else garnered his attention when she was around. She liked that about him. This was so different from her previous existence, when she’d fought tooth and nail to be taken seriously in a male-dominated profession. And with her own mother. Most especially with Peter. She hadn’t felt the least bit significant in her past life. But when Jake Wade looked at her, she didn’t feel the least bit inconsequential.

  As she back-peddled in her mind to what she’d found amusing in order to answer his question, a familiar voice called out to her.

  “Liza!”

  Her head snapped in the direction of the woman’s voice. Bad memories clouded her mind, making her think of that dreadful beauty salon she’d visited. But when her gaze landed on Jess Mills, one of the few friendly women in Lydia Bain’s shop, she relaxed a little.

  “Hi, Jess,” she said, grateful her new acquaintance hadn’t called her earlier bluff and used the Disco Ball nickname in front of Jack and the other patrons.

  “Nice to see you again,” Jess said. She wore a prim-looking baby blue sweater with pearl buttons and dark jeans. Her reddish-blonde hair was perfectly coiffed—a lustrous color paired with a complementary cut that gave her smart bob volume and sophistication.

  Liza resisted the urge to swear under her breath. Damn that Lydia Bain.

  Clearly the woman had talent. Liza had counted seven heads of hair to be dealt with in that shop and Lydia had been the only hairdresser working the floor. No easy feat to turn them all into beauty queens at the same time and yet Jess had hair that was runway worthy.

  “You look fabulous,” Liza told her.

  She beamed. “Oh thanks. I swear someday I’ll try something new with my hair, but Lydia is convinced this is the style for me.”

  Double damn her!

  “She’s right.” Liza had to admit, hating that she couldn’t contradict the reverend’s wife. “Both the style and the color are perfect for you.”

  “You really think so?” she asked in a serious tone. “I mean, you being from New York and all… You’d know what’s trendy and what’s tired.”

  It really was surreal to have everyone know who she was and where she’d come from. But Liza guessed it was to be expected in a town this size.

  Smiling, she said to Jess, “Fashion is subjective. The only person who has to like your style is you.” Her lesson to the small-town folks who didn’t like the way she dressed. “Although, personally, I think you look fantastic.”

  “Hopefully George feels the same way,” she said with a conspiratorial wink. “Come on.” She grabbed Liza’s hand and pulled her off the barstool. “Meet my husband.”

  Liza followed Jess to a table not more than a few feet away from the bar. Sitting in one of the chairs was a distinguished-looking man, who smiled warmly as he got to his feet and extended his hand to her.

  “You must be Liza. Jess mentioned you earlier on the phone when she left the salon.”

  Liza shot a look toward Jess who merely shrugged, not the least bit contrite. “Sorry. I’ve just never heard anyone put Lydia in her place the way you did t
oday and I have to say, she deserved it.” Jess’ lightly made-up face twisted in a contradictory fashion that said she both loved and loathed calling Lydia out. “I mean, sometimes she just goes too far.”

  Liza had no basis of comparison, so she said, “I don’t like being talked about behind my back. If you have something to say to me, be woman enough to say it to my face.”

  “Amen, sister,” Jess said with a nod. “But don’t hold your breath for that to happen in this town.”

  Liza sighed. “Yeah, I’m already seeing signs of that.”

  Jess sank into the chair next to George. Liza was about to slip away when Jack appeared at her side. He set her glass of wine at the empty place at the table, then addressed George and Jess. “Another round?”

  “Of course,” George said.

  As Jack turned on his booted heels to retrieve their drinks, he shot Liza a sexy look that had her forgetting all about Lydia Bain.

  Until Jess said, “You really shouldn’t take her personally. She tries to do the right thing, but sometimes she gets a little caught up in the reverend’s agenda.”

  “He’s been nothing but civil to me,” Liza pointed out as she took the seat George pulled out for her. “Whereas she’s been nothing but hostile. So it’s rather difficult to sympathize with her.”

  Jess frowned. “I’m sure the circumstances are such that—”

  “I’m sorry,” Liza interrupted. “To which circumstances are you referring?”

  Jess’ gaze shot to George and it felt as though an elephant had just walked into the room.

  “Well,” George said in a tentative voice, giving Liza the impression she was about to get the runaround. But he lifted his hands in the air, as though in surrender, and said, “The Bains are very concerned about everyone’s well-being. Sometimes, though, their good intentions are…misguided.”

  Liza gave this tidbit a moment of thought, then said, “So, for example, you’re both Sunday worshipers but you don’t necessarily agree with the reverend’s Saturday night curfew. That doesn’t make you his lost causes?”

  George actually scowled. “I don’t particularly like someone telling me when I can or can’t drink.” Clearly Liza had hit the right button. “Or how late I can stay out with my wife on a Saturday night. The reverend knows this and, no, he’s not going to challenge my choices.”

  “But he’ll lay a healthy amount of guilt on you for them?”

  “He means well,” Jess was quick to add. “But George and I are of the ‘to each his own’ mind.”

  “Well hear, hear.” Liza lifted her glass and touched the rim to theirs.

  She slid a glance toward the bar and found the Devil serving up drinks to two men she had yet to meet. Jack had expressed thoughts similar to George and Jess’, and yet the reverend’s morality sanction stood. The saloon was filled to capacity with Saturday night revelers. And yet the reverend’s sanction stood.

  Why?

  “Seems there ought to be enough opposition in town to work out a better compromise than this one.”

  “Wilder politics,” George said with a hint of disgust. “Some of the town ordinances are questionable in how they came about, but not challenged. However, with Jack on the City Council, we just might be able to turn things around.”

  He and Jess exchanged looks as if to say, “If it’s not too late.”

  But then Jess lifted her glass and repeated Liza’s toast as they all clinked glasses.

  She said, “At any rate, I’m just glad you and Jack are okay. I mean, the way Lydia described smashing into Jack’s truck today. Good Lord, it’s a wonder you two didn’t end up in the Emergency Room.” She patted a hand over her apparently fluttering heart as though they’d had a near-death experience.

  Good grief. What picture had Lydia painted of the accident? So she’d hit the corner of Jack’s truck. It wasn’t as if she’d totaled either vehicle. Their three lives hadn’t been in mortal jeopardy and yet, from everything Liza had heard of it, one would think they’d all been capsized in the Poseidon Adventure.

  Her gaze slipped to Jack again as he delivered the Mills’ drinks and she wondered why Lydia—and everyone else—was making such a big deal out of this fender-bender.

  Add it to the list of unresolved mysteries.

  “So,” Jess said, drawing Liza’s attention back to her. She took a sip of her wine as Jack went back to the bar, then said, “We won’t be seeing you at service tomorrow, you’ve made that clear. But how about lunch afterward? We know this great little Italian place you’d like, being from New York and all.”

  Liza laughed. The misconception that New Yorkers only ate Italian food had hit Wilder. Although Jack had certainly served up some local flavor this morning. In more ways than one. And Liza was looking forward to experiencing whatever else he cooked up. This morning’s “warm-up act” had whetted her appetite, but now she was ready for another steamy night with the sinfully delicious cowboy.

  Willing her pulse to slow a bit, because it raced at the mere thought of Jack’s hands on her body and his hard cock sliding in out of her pussy, she said, “I’d love to have lunch with you tomorrow.” In fact, she was pleased her dance card was finally filling up. Maybe she’d make some friends here after all.

  “Jess, you’re forgetting that tomorrow is the third Sunday of the month,” George reminded her.

  “Oh darn it!” she exclaimed as she lightly tapped her hand on the table. “You’re right.” To Liza, she said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. The Junior League will be meeting following church. I’ll be delivering flowers to the Elks Lodge for their business luncheon. That usually takes quite a bit of time, because it’s just me delivering and setting up. And then I really should put together a couple of centerpieces for Aunt Murdy’s seventieth birthday party in the afternoon.” Jess frowned.

  “Maybe I can help,” George offered.

  She smiled adoringly at her husband. “No offense, George, but you’re a bull in a china shop. I need the arrangements delivered in an upright position with nothing bent or broken.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Thanks for the offer, though. I really could use another pair of hands.”

  “How about these?” Liza asked as she lifted her palms in the air.

  Jess looked taken aback. “Oh well… I—”

  “I’m no Michelangelo with floral arrangements, but I can deliver and set-up whatever you need.”

  Jess perked up. “Really?”

  “Sure. I don’t have any plans for tomorrow, so I’d be happy to help out.”

  “That’s fantastic,” George said, smacking his hands together.

  Jess grinned wide, as though Liza were a life saver. “You certainly would make my day easier. And I’d insist on paying you. I’ve been considering hiring someone part-time to help out. Say,” she said as a thought seemed to occur to her. “You wouldn’t be interested in a job, would you?”

  Naturally, Liza couldn’t help but wonder what Lydia would think of that, and decided she liked the prospect of sticking in her craw, as her father would say.

  “As a matter of fact,” she told Jess, “I was going to pick up a paper this weekend and see what was available. You’d save me a lot of time and interview-agony if you’re interested in hiring me.”

  “You can start tomorrow. I’ll let you into the shop before the first service and you can prep the centerpieces for delivery while I’m at church. If you don’t mind.”

  “Whatever you need me to do,” Liza said, thrilled to be employed. And by someone she genuinely liked.

  “Well, this is just great,” Jess said as she lifted her glass for yet another toast. “To us.”

  “New beginnings,” Liza said, liking the way the evening had panned out.

  “What’s all the celebrating about?” Jack asked as he sidled up next to her again.

  “I have a job,” Liza beamed. “Jess just hired me on a part-time basis.”

  “And not a day too soon,” she added.
r />   Jack grinned. “That’s great. The two of you will get along well.”

  “We should commemorate the occasion tomorrow night,” George said. “How about the four of us go out to dinner after you two close shop?”

  Liza faltered for a moment. First, it was a bit of a surprise that George already considered she and Jack a couple, given their minimal interaction this evening. But then she remembered that he’d said Jess had talked about her before she’d arrived and Liza deduced that she’d shared Lydia’s little nugget. That Liza had been in the truck with Jack when she’d hit them.

  Her second thought was, “Won’t you have to work tomorrow night?” She posed the question to Jack.

  He gave a slight shake of his head and his jaw set. A telling sign of instant tension, she’d learned. “No one serves liquor on Sundays in Wilder, darlin’. Means I close shop for the day.”

  Liza didn’t have to ask who’d advocated for that law. But she started to see why the reverend’s morality sanction rubbed Jack raw. It wasn’t just about shoving his views down people’s throats or restricting them or directing them to suit his own needs and purposes. He was actually affecting the economy and people’s livelihoods. By forcing Jack to close early or not open at all, he was cutting into Jack’s profits.

  Just as she was sure Lydia was doing to Ginger. A woman who had a dream. One Liza could empathize with. Liza hadn’t been unemployed since she was a teenager. Working had helped her to define who she was as a person. Having left her job really had undermined her confidence and her self-worth. But she felt as though she was back to being productive. Useful. Needed.

  In fact, if she was only working part-time for Jess, perhaps she could put in a few volunteer hours with Ginger, helping her with the window displays and advertising. Not to mention her online store.

  There was nothing Liza could do about the City Council’s imposed curfew, but there were other workarounds to consider…one that just might help someone. Like Ginger.

  “So,” George said, “Are we on for tomorrow night? A double date?”

  George appeared genuinely excited about the idea. Eyeing Jack again, Liza found that he seemed just fine with the invitation to have dinner with the Mills.