That Wild Texas Swing

by MJ Fredrick

  “I’d just rather not disappoint you.”

  She placed a manicured hand on his arm. He looked at the polished nails and knew she’d had them done at Liz’s place. The idea sent a little thrill through him.

  “We would have so much fun. I haven’t danced with you since the Bluebonnet Festival.”

  And before that, before he’d lost the weight, she hadn’t looked at him, he wanted to say, but he didn’t. She wasn’t the only woman who’d ignored him until he’d gotten fit. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, wishing he wasn’t worried about hurting her feelings, wishing he could say no, flat out.

  She sat back in her chair, her exaggerated frown telling him he was too late. She slid her hand free of his arm. “I suppose I’ll see you at the merchant association meeting, then?” she asked stiffly.

  “Ah.”

  Allison wasn’t a merchant, though she was a volunteer extraordinaire, on just about every committee Evansville boasted. He wasn’t sure what purpose she’d have for being at the meeting. Except she was also Sage’s friend, so maybe Sage was putting her up to something. Swear to God, if he could get a couple of steps in front of Sage McKenna, for once, his life would be so much easier.

  “Sure, I guess I’ll see you then.”

  Her smile as she pushed her chair back didn’t reach her eyes, and guilt twinged deep in his gut as she walked away.

  Sheriff David Treviño entered the restaurant then, his sharp eyes following Allison’s retreat. Killian sat back with a sigh and greeted his friend.

  “What’s new, Sheriff?” he asked when the older man hung his cowboy hat on the hook by the door and took a seat, folding his hands over his lean stomach.

  “Looks like you’re getting yourself in some kind of trouble.”

  Killian blew out a breath and sat forward to set the salt and pepper shakers side by side. “Trying to avoid it.”

  “I think you missed that boat.”

  Killian glanced at Allison’s table, read her pain in her stiff back and the way she studiously examined the short menu. “Yeah, I think you’re right. I’m thirty-two years old and haven’t figured out women.”

  David clapped him on the shoulder. “Join the club. I’m nearly twice your age, married three times, and damned if I’m one step closer to figuring them out.”

  Killian blew out a chuckle. “So long as I’m not alone. So what’s new?”

  “We got another one of those gaming rooms opened up at the edge of the county. Doing a pretty good business, too, what I could see. Those oil guys just don’t like to hang onto their money.”

  Evansville was counting on that, and had several improvements in the works to take advantage. The gaming halls were not, however, part of the plan. “Yeah, well, it’s hard work. Maybe they’re hoping to play the right game and never have to work again.”

  Sheriff Treviño snorted. “You ever hear of that happening?”

  Killian shrugged. “A man can dream.”

  “And spend his money on illegal gambling. I might need to get the Rangers in on this.”

  Killian nodded. The gaming rooms seemed a nuisance on the outside, but they were just an invitation for organized crime to descend on Evansville. “You do what you need to do to get it cleaned up. How are we on security for Sage’s grand opening? You got that extra deputy we talked about hiring?”

  The sheriff snorted. “Yeah, Wyatt Jordan. About all he’s good for is a bouncer.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do fine with traffic control. We have two weeks to work him up to it.”

  Sheriff Treviño rolled his eyes as Cassidy brought him a tall glass of sweet tea.

  Sage McKenna strode through the door, long ponytail swinging. She crossed immediately to his table.

  Ever since she had taken it upon herself to use her trust fund to buy up the stores on the square in an effort to revitalize the town, she’d been at once a thorn in his side and a blessing, but more often the thorn. He tried to exercise patience, her being his best friend’s little sister and all, but sometimes she tested his resources.

  “I’m sorry I had to reschedule our meeting this afternoon,” she said without preamble, pulling out the chair Allison had abandoned and dropping into it. “I have a meeting with the TABC this afternoon, and it couldn’t be moved.”

  “You going to be ready to go next week?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you think? The only thing I wish is that we had better accommodations to offer the artists when they show up.” She shook her head. “I’ve got Jackson already working on the old hospital, but there’s just too much work.”

  After she’d revitalized the movie theater, turning it into a bar with hardwood, brass and limestone, she’d purchased the old hospital on the block off of the square and was working to turn it into a bed and breakfast.

  “There’s the new hotel on the highway,” Killian reminded her.

  She made a face. “Full of oilfield workers.”

  “You think your musicians are going to be all that picky?”

  She shrugged. “I’d like to offer them better options. Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about messing up your schedule. I’ll see you at the merchant’s association meeting tomorrow night.”

  “Now that one, she might be worth having her take over your life,” David said as Sage left as abruptly as she’d come, now at the counter giving Cassidy a hard time.

  “Oh, hell, no. I’d live in fear every night.”

  “What, that she’d kill you?”

  “That she’d work me to death.” One thing he had to admire about Sage, in addition to her ambition. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. In fact, until she’d hired Jackson Fletcher, who all the women dubbed “Hollywood,” she’d done most of the work on the bar herself.

  His sister Maggie walked in then, waved at him before she sat at the counter next to Sage. Cassidy approached, and he watched the three women interact for a moment, their body language telling their story—two best friends and the woman who used to terrorize them, whom they didn’t quite get along with but were trying, for Cassidy’s sake, since she was engaged to Sage’s middle brother Grady.

  Small town life. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  *****

  The ringing bell over the salon door was just white noise to Liz these days. When she’d first opened the salon, she’d jumped every time it rang, and mentally calculated how many times it had to ring a day for her to make a profit. Being on the town square wasn’t cheap, and the renovations she’d made to the space had her in more debt than she’d ever had, but it was worth it. Every time the bell rang, the women of Evansville brought in more of their friends.

  But this time she looked up and saw Killian’s sister Maggie hurry in.

  “Hey, are you ready for me?”

  Damn, she’d forgotten Maggie had a highlighting appointment today. Liz never would have gone home with Killian last night if she thought she’d see Maggie today. She and Maggie weren’t as close as they’d been in high school—they’d drifted apart when Maggie went to Kingsville for college—but Liz didn’t know if she could keep a poker face with her friend. So far today, no one seemed to know she’d spent part of the night at Killian’s. Liz hoped she could keep it that way.

  Since she didn’t have a receptionist yet, she motioned Maggie back, avoiding Bev’s gaze. Bev was the only person who knew Liz had been with Killian last night, and Liz intended to keep it that way.

  “Sorry I had to make the appointment so late, but I couldn’t get off any earlier,” Maggie said, flopping into the chair in front of Liz. “I know this makes a long day for you.”

  “I’m good. Let’s get it washed, first.”

  Maggie obediently led the way to the back of the salon, where the sinks were set up. Liz felt another twinge of regret. Maggie had been Liz’s first customer when she was cutting hair at her mother’s kitchen table, and had spread the word of Liz’s salon like Maggie’s own success depended on it. Of course, since
Maggie worked at the bank, she knew what risks Liz had taken.

  She washed her friend’s dark bobbed hair—at least it was short, so the highlights wouldn’t take as long, though the cut was layered, and Maggie’s eyes drifted shut as she hummed in pleasure.

  “Can I just stay right here for an hour or two? Honestly, does anything feel better than someone else washing your hair?”

  Liz didn’t answer, but took a little longer than usual washing Maggie’s hair. When she shut off the water, Maggie blinked up at her dreamily.

  “You’re a good friend.”

  Liz swallowed the guilt—and battled the image of Killian, naked beneath her—as she wrapped Maggie’s head in a towel and gently shoved her back toward the salon chair.

  “So, highlights,” she said as she lifted the strands of Maggie’s hair, estimating how many foils she’d need.

  “I thought maybe a caramel color, you know, and maybe just a few lighter. And I don’t want them to look so perfectly spaced or whatever. I want them to follow the wave of my hair.”

  Liz nodded, already seeing it.

  “I wish I could do blue, like yours. That looks so cool. But working in a bank, especially here? Some of the ranchers would flip.”

  “Purple would look better in your hair, anyway.”

  Maggie’s eyes brightened at that. “Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? Maybe for Halloween.”

  “So you were just in a couple of weeks ago. What made you decide on highlights?”

  “Oh, well, you know, summer. And, well.” Maggie’s olive-toned skin darkened. “You’ve seen Jackson Fletcher, right?”

  “Hollywood?” She exchanged a glance with Bev, who was rearranging her bottles of nail polish. Jackson Fletcher was Sage McKenna’s contractor, and the object of lust for every woman in Evansville, with his perfect dark brown hair, strong jaw and bright blue eyes. “Sure, I’ve seen him.”

  “Well, I’m determined to get him to notice me.” Maggie plucked at her blouse beneath the cape Liz had wrapped around her. “Hard to do in my boring bank clothes, so I’m going to change my hair.”

  “Purple would definitely do it,” Bev offered.

  “Yeah, but I like my job.” She sighed and sat back. “Work your magic, Liz.”

  “I thought Hollywood was seeing Sage,” Liz remarked as she started sectioning Maggie’s hair.

  “I think that’s what everyone thinks, but she says no. I wouldn’t poach.”

  “Oh, I know. I just thought that if she’s his type, well, you’re nothing like her.”

  Maggie wrinkled her nose a bit. “Who knows? But I intend to find out if I’m his type. You go out a lot. Do you see him socializing?”

  “No, I never have.” Liz looked over at Bev. “You?”

  “I would have noticed,” Bev promised. “He’s a cutie.”

  “So what about you?” Maggie met Liz’s eyes in the mirror. “Seeing anyone new? Fun? Exciting?”

  Liz hadn’t blushed in so long, she’d thought she’d forgotten how. She was not going to have this conversation with Maggie. After all, there was nothing between her and Killian, right? Just a one-night stand, a curiosity. A fun, enlightening curiosity.

  Liz’s stomach fluttered as she approached the courthouse for the Merchant’s Association with the mayor. A few years ago, city hall had burned down, and the mayor’s office had been moved to the top floor of the courthouse. No one seemed eager to rebuild the city hall, so here the office remained. She hadn’t seen Killian since she’d slipped out of his bed two nights ago, leaving without saying good-bye.

  She usually didn’t have any guilt about that, but then, she didn’t often have meetings with the men she’d slept with. Okay, she’d never had meetings with the men she’d slept with. Once again, she doubted the wisdom of going home with Killian.

  Of course, there hadn’t been much wisdom involved. She’d seen, she’d wanted, she’d acted. Just like she always did.

  She flexed her fingers, grateful at least that no one else who’d be at the meeting would know what went on between her and Killian.

  Killian sat at the table in the front of the meeting room, as he usual. But she’d never before noticed how sexy he looked as he made notes on the legal pad in front of him, his head angled, his jaw strong, and dusted with just a little stubble, which she could magically feel against her skin from across the room. He wore his suit jacket, but his tie was askew, and again, she could feel the fabric beneath her fingers as she unknotted it and tossed it aside. A nice little hum of arousal surprised her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time—anticipation.

  Sage McKenna was already there, sitting beside him, her pal Allison Bonner across from her. Allison wasn’t a merchant—in fact, Liz didn’t know exactly what she did, but she always had her fingers in something. Right now she looked like she wanted to have her fingers on Killian.

  Jealousy sizzled through her, the alien emotion stunning her. She jerked her gaze away as Vonda from the Coyote walked in, followed by Mr. Pearson from the hardware store, Nia Velasquez from the antique store, and Trina De la Cruz from the taqueria. A few people were still missing. Still, she’d hoped to have fewer witnesses when she next encountered him for the first time.

  He looked up and met her gaze immediately, as if he’d known all along she was standing there. The smile he sent her shot straight down her spine, sparked along her nerve endings. How had she never seen that before?

  And did everyone else see it now? She tossed her head and smiled as casually as she could manage back at him, then took a seat at the far end of the table, so she’d have to lean forward to look at him.

  A few minutes later, Killian called the meeting to order. The first item on the agenda was big news—the new grocery store that would be built just off the highway, not a big one, but one that would be in the Evansville city limits, so they no longer had to drive to the nearby town of Alice to do their shopping.

  “You couldn’t get them to move closer to town?” Sage asked.

  “There wasn’t enough land for the store, parking, and all that. Plus, we already have a traffic problem with the trucks coming through from the oilfields. I didn’t want to add to the traffic and the noise with the supply trucks coming through town.”

  Sage pressed her lips together. “Still, my goal is to have a convenient town, where people can walk from one place to another.”

  “People don’t want to walk to get their groceries,” Trina pointed out. “Who wants to carry all that home? They drive to get their groceries. And they aren’t going to go to the grocery store and then go shopping for antiques or go to get their hair done. Maybe the other way around, so it wouldn’t be any more convenient for them.”

  Sage lifted a conciliatory hand, then her gaze riveted on Nia Velasquez. Nia had recently inherited the antique store in the middle of the block where Liz’s salon was. Nia wandered into the salon several times a day, when she got bored because business was dead.

  “So, Nia, how is the transition going?”

  “Um, well, not exactly as we talked about,” Nia replied, rubbing her fingers over the polished oak table in front of her.

  “You mean you can’t get rid of the people who just want to sell their junk.” Sage waved an exasperated hand. “We are never going to attract people who like to shop for antiques when our only offering is a junk shop.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s hard to tell these people their stuff is junk.”

  “So raise your prices,” Allison suggested. “You charge them for the booth, right? Raise the prices. They won’t be able to cover it, and they’ll move.”

  Nia frowned. “That seems mean. They’ve been renting with my grandmother for a while.”

  “And probably not selling much. It’s not mean. It’s business.”

  “What will happen when all my tenants withdraw so that I can’t make ends meet? I just close up shop?”

  Sage leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “I have the names of some vendors who are looking to expand,
but they won’t come into that shop as it is now.”

  “If you want, I can come help you rearrange some of the booths, make them more attractive, weed out what they already have,” Allison said. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of putting things in a pleasing arrangement, you know? The prices are good, and that’s going to attract people. And some people like junk.”

  “Maybe we can have a big sale in conjunction with the Fourth of July,” Mr. Pearson said. “You can get rid of a lot of the excess there, I can have a sale, maybe Vonda can run some specials.”

  “We’re already going to have a lot of people in town for the festivities,” Sage said. “We might want to spread it out. We can pick another weekend, but that’s a great idea, Mr. Pearson.” She beamed at the older man, who blushed.

  “Liz, how are things going at the salon?” Killian asked.

  She cursed herself for jumping, for letting the sound of his voice skitter over her nerves. “Good. Good. We’re booked pretty solid next week in anticipation of the grand opening of the Sagebrush Saloon.” She nodded in Sage’s direction. “I’m looking at hiring another stylist.”

  “Mrs. Wachowski out on 42 works out of her house,” Vonda said. “She might love to come work in town.”

  Liz tensed. “I’d considered that, but I thought we might want someone younger. I don’t do a lot of perms and sets. I only have the one hair dryer for foils.”

  “Maybe you should look into that, get the older ladies in town into your salon,” Allison said. “I’m sure they’d enjoy the atmosphere, and they might start coming in for manicures and such.”

  Liz had considered that, when she thought about growing her business, but the unsmiling Mrs. Wachowski was just not someone she wanted to work with, no matter what business she brought with her.

  “That’s something to think about, but again, an investment in hair dryers and the like, which I don’t have. And I’m renting chairs at this point, not paying a salary. So she’d have to make enough money for that to be worth her while.” Liz turned back to Sage. “My concern for hiring someone new is that she won’t have anywhere to live. You’ve been talking about making the spaces above the stores into apartments, so where do you stand on that? How far down the road are we looking?”