by MJ Fredrick
Sage bounced her pen on her notebook. “It’s on the back burner for me. My money and energy is going into the old hospital right now.”
The old limestone building just off the square had been abandoned for as long as Liz could remember. The property was fenced off, and weeds grew tall through cracks in the pavement. As soon as Sage got the Sagebrush open—the weekend after next—she was going to take her hunky contractor and turn that building into a boutique hotel. It would be gorgeous, but didn’t address the immediate need for housing.
“We aren’t going to be able to attract new people to work here if we don’t have anyplace for them to live. They don’t want to stay in the hotels with the oilfield guys, plus that gets expensive.”
“Maybe we can talk to some people in town about renting out rooms, at least until we can work out something,” Sage said, and turned back to Killian, effectively dismissing Liz.
Liz sat back in her chair and kept her mouth shut, but wondered who in the hell was going to wait on all these people that Sage hoped to draw into town?
There was more discussion, but Liz was too pissed to listen.
The meeting ended and most of the committee headed for the door, Liz among them. Killian pushed to his feet and followed, though Allison remained at the table. She called his name in protest, but he didn't look back, taking Liz’s arm.
“Hey, you want to go get something to eat?”
She glanced past him to see Allison drilling her with her gaze, and Sage narrowing her eyes.
She turned back to him. “I think I’ll just go home. I’m sure my sisters have made something.”
He cocked his hip and smiled. “But that won’t help me. Come to the Coyote with me.”
Now she was aware that Trina and Nia had paused on the stairs and were straining to listen. “Killian, what are you doing?” she asked through her teeth.
“Asking you to dinner.” His smile remained in place, his gaze steady.
Lord. Did he think they were in a romance just because she’d gone home with him? Dinner at the Coyote was very public. The whole town would think they were together, and she knew he didn’t want that. She was not mayor girlfriend material. Hell, she wasn’t girlfriend material. She needed to set him straight, but not here in front of everyone.
“Look, I’m a politician. Taking no for an answer isn’t in the job description.”
That surprised a laugh out of her. She could feel her resistance melting the longer she looked into those twinkling blue eyes, her body still humming from watching him during the meeting. “I can believe that.”
“Sweetheart, it’s how I was raised.” He winked and held out his elbow so she could slip her hand in it.
And, surprising herself, she did.
*****
“Is that really how you see yourself? As a politician?”
At least Liz could be grateful that the Coyote wasn’t busy this late, so only a few people were casting curious glances their way. Even Darlene, their waitress, was too tired to pry. Liz watched him interact with Darlene, comparing the awkward boy she’d known growing up to the confident man before her. Had losing the weight done that? Taking on the awesome responsibility as mayor? Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell, and she felt all her bad girl tendencies rise.
“No, not usually. In my head, I’m just kind of the caretaker of this town, but I’m not above using politics to get what I want, if I really think it’s best.”
“See, now you and Sage have that in common. I thought that common interest might draw you together.”
Killian put his tea back in front of him with a grimace. “Sage? Hell, no. She’s a ball-buster. Sorry. Nope, can’t see myself going there. Besides, she’s dating Jackson, isn’t she?”
“Oh no, she’s not.”
Now both sides quirked. “Sure she is. They’re always together.”
“That would break your sister’s heart. She’s crazy about Jackson.”
“My sister? Has a thing for Hollywood?”
“I’m surprised you don’t know this. I thought the whole town knew, including Hollywood.”
“I guess I try not to keep up with my sister’s love life.”
“Probably not a bad decision.”
“Besides.” He winked. “I’m ready to start looking at my own.”
She drew in a deep breath, but he held a hand up.
“As much as I love to hear you say my name, even when you’re exasperated, don’t say it now. I find you beautiful and fascinating. I always have. You’ve always been so fearless.”
“Me?” She nearly choked on her tea.
“Sure. You never cared about what anyone thought, you did what you wanted. That was so not the way Maggie and I were raised.”
“Well, sure, you were the mayor’s kids. Everyone was looking at you. Everyone knew who you were. My mom works at the taqueria. Nobody’d know who I was if I didn’t make some noise.” She laughed and flipped her hair.
He leaned forward and captured her hand, rubbing his thumb across the web between her thumb and index finger. “They know who you are now. You have the most popular salon in town.”
The other salon being Mrs. Wachowski’s back room. She pulled her hand away “They choose to overlook my reputation because they like the services I provide. I’m good enough for that, but certainly not good enough to go out with the mayor.”
He gave her that damned grin. “It’s my prerogative to date whom I choose.”
The hum started again, spreading quickly through her body and settling low. “And it’s their prerogative to vote you out. And then what would you do?”
He lifted a shoulder. “That’s for me to worry about. But I have a feeling it would be totally worth it.”
*****
Liz was butt-dragging tired but still tingling when she opened the front door of the house. She hadn’t expected to go upstairs with Killian after they left the Coyote. Honestly, she hadn’t. But the way he’d touched her during dinner, just casual little ways that lit fires along her skin. And the way he’d looked at her…damn, she couldn’t remember a man looking at her like that, like he saw all of her. It was a huge turn-on.
So when they’d walked out of the Coyote and he’d given her hand a little tug, she’d gone.
And was glad she did.
Sex with Killian was fun. She never thought she’d say it, but she wanted to see him again. Soon.
“You could at least call and say you weren’t coming home for dinner.”
Her younger sister’s voice jolted her out of her post-sex haze. Brianna came into the kitchen from the living room, where Liz could hear the television. Her mother was probably asleep on the couch. No telling where Gracie, her middle sister was. Brianna should already be in bed, herself, since she had to be at school early tomorrow. But clearly she was waiting up to feed Liz her daily guilt.
Liz draped her purse over a hook by the door. “I told you I had the meeting after work.”
“Right, so I saved some dinner for you.” Brianna pointed to the refrigerator.
“Ah. I went to the Coyote afterwards. It wasn’t planned. I’m sorry.” She peeked into the refrigerator and tried not to grimace. The three sisters took turns cooking, and all of them had their staples. King Ranch chicken was one, and Liz was deathly sick of it. She was glad she’d accepted Killian’s invitation. She let the refrigerator close and straightened.
“Have you given any more thought to my quinceañera?”
Liz resisted the urge to rub her forehead. She’d gone around and around on this. They were moving Gracie into a dorm, she was building a business, barely drawing a salary because she put everything back into the salon. She didn’t have money for a quinceañera, not when Brianna was already in cheerleading, and needed uniforms and school trips and other expenses.
Brianna’s insistence on the Hispanic tradition to celebrate her fifteenth birthday surprised Liz. Gracie had had a quinceañera, but she was always more aware of her heritage than either Liz or
Brianna had been. Liz had neither wanted or deserved one, to be honest. Perhaps Brianna wanted one only because Gracie had had one. Of course she’d never admit that.
“Have you worked out a budget?” Maybe once she saw the prohibitive cost of everything, she would back off. Brianna was a smart girl, but no one ever accused a teenager of being reasonable.
“I will work for it. I will sweep your salon for free every day.”
“In all your spare time?” Liz countered.
“It’s almost summer. I can work for you, work off the cost.”
Liz cringed at the thought of her sister overhearing any of the conversations that regularly took place in the salon. Even the most proper of women brought up the most surprising of topics. “I’ll think about it.”
“So if I come up with a budget, will you look at it with me?”
“I’ll look at it,” Liz agreed wearily, vowing to bring home her own budget. If Brianna thought they had money to burn because Liz owned her own shop, she had another think coming.
*****
Liz grumbled as she hit the alarm. Four women with two cars, one of which was currently traveling back and forth over two hours each day as Gracie went to her work-study at college, inspired some creative scheduling. Once Gracie was in the dorm, she wouldn’t need a car anymore, so Liz and her mother would each have their own. But as it was, Liz had to take her mother to the taqueria every morning, then take Brianna to school before heading to the salon.
Not too long ago, everyone could walk—Evansville was small enough—but with the truck traffic traveling to and from the oilfields, Liz felt safer—at least more visible—inside a vehicle.
So she dragged her weary body out of bed and wished for summer vacation already. Not that it made a difference to her—she’d never get a vacation again, not until the salon started making good money. She was lucky to have two days off, though she still went into the salon for paperwork. But she wouldn’t have to drag Brianna out of bed every morning.
She opened the door to the room next door, stomping across it so the wooden floors vibrated, then shoved the curtains apart. The effect wasn’t as dramatic as usual, since early morning clouds obscured the sunrise. With a sigh, Liz grabbed the end of Brianna’s comforter and yanked it off the bed.
She used to be nicer about waking her sister, but with a week of school left, her patience had thinned.
She stomped out, and into the bathroom, because God knew if she waited for Brianna to be done in there, they’d never get out the door.
Once she was presentable—at least as presentable as one could be at six thirty in the morning, she pushed past her sister, who had probably been up all night texting or whatever, and headed into the kitchen.
Her mother sat at the table, coffee cup between her hands. Liz bent to kiss her cheek, then opened the cabinet to inspect the contents. When pouring a bowl of cereal seemed like too much work, she knew she was tired.
“I’ll just get something when we drop you off,” she told her mother.
“You eat there every day now.” Her mother swatted her butt. “You’re going to get a fat ass like me.”
“You’re not fat,” Liz said automatically, though working at the taqueria hadn’t done her mother’s figure any favors. “And I probably won’t eat lunch.”
“That’s not good for you, either. We need to find an easy lunch for you to take.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have appointments nearly all day. No time for a break.”
“You need to hire someone else.”
“I’m looking into it, if I can find housing for another stylist.”
Her mother shook her head. “You’re too young to be working yourself to death.”
“I have to make money while I can. If the boom continues the way Sage thinks it will, we’ll all be better off. Gracie and Brianna won’t have to worry about paying for school, you won’t have to work at the taqueria—“
Her mother shook her head. “Big dreams, just like your father. You know our family doesn’t have that kind of luck.”
Liz stiffened. She knew that wasn’t the only comparison her mother made between her and her father. She knew her wildness was his genes making themselves known in her. At least she stuck, when he bolted. “It’s not luck, Mama. It’s hard work.”
Brianna stumbled through the door, dressed but with her hair a mess and no make-up. By the time Liz dropped her at school, she knew her little sister would be brushed and polished. But right now she stared at the empty kitchen table, pouting.
“Are we eating at the taqueria again?”
“We might be having a four-course meal, if you’d get your butt out of bed,” Liz said.
Grumbling, Brianna hefted her backpack—seriously, what could she have in there that was so heavy?—and followed her mother and sister to the car.
Fattening or not, nothing cured a bad mood like a taco and a coffee. Liz was feeling much better when she pulled into the high school parking lot by the track. In the lightening morning, she caught sight of a broad-shouldered figure running around the track. From where she was sitting, she could see his thin T-shirt plastered to his body in the humid morning air, but his long-legged strides didn’t slow, and the hum he’d so handily silenced last night started anew.
Brianna smacked her shoulder with the back of her hand. “Do you really think you should be looking at our mayor like that?”
If her sister only knew…
“Hey, Liz, Brianna,” he said, his breathing not even labored as he slowed, stopping beside the car.
Brianna leaned forward to look out the driver’s side window at him, then she popped open the passenger side and hopped out.
He leaned over, bracing his hands on the car door and grinned at Liz. “Want to go get some breakfast?”
“I—no, I have to get—“ She’d already eaten, so refusing should be easy. And Lord knew she had excuses, work to do. All she had to do was open her mouth and say no. But instead her gaze flicked to his damp shirt, clinging to the chest she’d kissed her way across just a few hours ago. She lifted her gaze to his laughing eyes. “Sure. Where?”
He grimaced. “Not a lot of choices. You pick.”
“The taqueria, I guess.” Though her mother would have questions. Hell, she had questions.
“Meet me there in fifteen. I’ve got to run home and shower.”
“All you need is fifteen minutes?”
Seventeen minutes later, they were at the counter of the taqueria, in line behind oilfield workers either heading to work or coming off the job. The place was packed, and smelled of petroleum, sweat and onions. Through the window, Liz could see her mother hustling over the grill, too busy to look up to see her daughter in line with the mayor.
Most of the people in the place didn’t know him. The oilfield workers didn’t care who the mayor of Evansville was, and the locals were probably using the drive-thru.
They were next in line and Killian stepped up to the counter. After Liz ordered her second bean and cheese taco of the day, he ordered a cup of scrambled eggs with pico de gallo.
“Do you watch what you eat all the time now?” she asked as they moved out of line, ticket in hand, and collected their cups of coffee.
“All the time.”
“Since your dad?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Yeah, exactly. He was a tough old guy, but not tough enough, you know? If he’d taken better care of himself, he’d still be around.”
Liz remembered him as a rough and slightly racist good ol’ boy, but was glad Killian remembered the man fondly. Maggie was less admiring of her dad—they’d gone head-to-head several times in front of Liz—but, well, she hadn’t been the golden child.
“You want to go eat this out on the lawn?” The square had a green space that was too small for a park, though it boasted a couple of picnic tables.
“Sure, that’d be nice. Then I should get in to work. I didn’t do my paperwork last night, like I usually do.”
�
�Can’t keep you from that.” He smiled and lifted a finger to stroke a lock of her hair. “Got a busy day today?”
“I’m booked nearly solid until the grand opening.”
“Then why don’t you come with me? It would be good for you to go and see your handiwork.”
She stilled, her coffee halfway to her lips. “I can’t go to that. Sage’s head will explode.” Even thought they were both on the merchant committee, Sage hadn’t bothered to invite her to the special evening she had planned, a “sneak preview” of sorts. That made it perfectly clear, in Liz’s mind, that Sage didn’t want her there. And with the mayor? She shook her head. Sage wouldn’t be the only one whose head exploded.
“Sure you can.”
“Killian. We really can’t keep having this conversation. Being seen with me is not good for your image.”
“I know why you don’t want to go. But I’m saying, you’ve never cared what people thought before. Why now?”
She set her coffee on the counter beside them and twisted to look at him. “Is that what you think? That I don’t care what people think?”
He angled his head. “Do you? You don’t act like it.”
What was she going to tell him, that she had gotten used to people talking behind their hands about her. They talked about her father’s behavior, about his abandonment of their family, so she’d decided to take charge, giving them something to talk about. At least if they were talking about her reputation, they weren’t pitying her, or her mother.
Okay, so it had been awhile since her father left, and now her behavior was second nature, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care what people thought. And she was always cautious about who she brought into the orbit of her carelessness.
“You don't deserve to be included in what people say about me.”
