Devil in Texas

by Calista Fox

  He grinned. “Haven’t heard any complaints so far.”

  “Doubt you will,” she said with a suggestive wink.

  Keeping his mind off sex with Manhattan was going to be right up there with running for City Council. One hell of a battle.

  As they fell into step together on the sidewalk, he took her hand in his.

  She faltered a bit, either from his intimate gesture or her shoes, he wasn’t sure. Once again she wore shoes that made him question their comfort and overall practicality.

  “You don’t mind people thinking we’re an item?” she asked.

  Jack didn’t give a rat’s ass what people thought. They tended to make up their own minds no matter what you did, so what was the point in trying to appease them?

  Bending his head close so that only Liza could hear him, he said, “After the way we just fucked, aren’t we an item?”

  It was an aggressive, possessive move. Right up there with the way he’d marked his territory last night at the bar or carried her up to the cottage when her spiked heels had stuck in the ground. He hadn’t thought he was the Tarzan type, but clearly he’d dispelled that personal myth. Not a big surprise, really. Jack would never be accused of not going after what he wanted with gusto and determination. His father had taught him that. Sam Wade had butted plenty of heads in this town when he’d had a point to get across. Unfortunately, the forces working against him had gotten the best of him. Including Jack’s mother.

  He’d almost let her get the best of him too, years ago. But Jack had taken a stand against his own family in order to break the cycle and restore a little bit of order to the town. Getting elected to the City Council would help him to hold the ground he’d gained.

  He knew the reverend would try to sabotage his chances. Jack’s uncle wasn’t the live and let live type. He wanted what he considered to be “his town” to conform to his ideal of small-town life. That meant church and picnics and family-type activities…and no public drinking. What the reverend called carousing even when it was just a couple beers with friends at the end of the work week.

  Sanctimonious bastard, Jack thought. He’d been Sam Wade’s biggest opponent and never-ending nemesis. And he’d transferred his animosity to Jack after Sam had left town.

  Jack pushed the past from his mind, even though it was still a part of his present. Looking down at Liza, he found her staring up at him with a breathtaking smile, her green eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, apparently pleased with what he’d said about them being an item.

  “Well, if you’re okay with it.” She gave a quick shrug of a shoulder, as though attempting indifference. But that smile was a dead giveaway. She looked thrilled that he’d hooked them up both in and out of the bedroom. Salving the sting of the one-night stand stigma, he suspected.

  Jack didn’t mind, either. There was no need to say out loud it was a temporary arrangement. The writing was there on the wall, what with his reputation—which he didn’t intend to hide from her—and her uncertainty of whether she was staying or going. Admittedly, it’d been a long while since he’d wanted to be a couple. Longer still since he’d met a woman he’d pursued with this much enthusiasm. The pretty New Yorker made him a little less cynical about life in Wilder and did some seriously amazing things to his libido.

  So he wasn’t looking to unhitch the wagon just yet.

  With their fingers twined—and yes, each passerby did eye them curiously—they walked a ways down the street. Jack noticed the head-to-toe assessments Liza received from the good citizens of Wilder. Her apparel seemed to be as shocking as she and Jack holding hands in broad daylight. Jack didn’t care. Just wished people would mind their own business.

  “Everyone’s staring at me,” she said, obviously feeling self-conscious.

  She wore a turquoise summer dress that looked better suited for the runways of Milan than the sidewalks of small-town America. The heavily beaded neckline rounded her neck and clasped in the back, leaving her shoulders and back bare. The top was billowy, gathering tighter at her slim hips and then transitioning into a curve-hugging skirt that ended mid-thigh. She’d paired the dress with white sandals comprised of flimsy-looking straps and turquoise stones. She carried a matching handbag.

  Personally, Jack thought she looked sexy as hell. He’d never seen a woman dress like this one and he found that he liked the classy, yet provocative look. He wouldn’t change a thing about her.

  Seemed she wasn’t feeling quite so confident about her selection, though, as she said, “I’ve owned this dress for two seasons, but…some people consider it too flashy for their conservative taste.”

  He suspected she was speaking of someone in particular. But he didn’t pry. Whatever or whomever she was running from, Jack figured she’d spill the beans to him eventually. When she was ready.

  “Guess this is what you’d call a subconscious, double-fingered kiss-off,” she mumbled beside him.

  Jack grinned. She was working her way through whatever plagued her. That was a good sign.

  To calm her obviously jangled nerves, Jack said, “No one’s staring at you, darlin’. You’re okay. They’re just noting what a fine-looking couple we make.”

  She laughed. “Sure, I can see that.”

  Admittedly, there was some serious gawking going on. But Jack didn’t want her to feel awkward. He hated narrow-mindedness and didn’t want anyone making Liza question herself because the people of Wilder weren’t accustomed to big city clothes and attitude.

  “I’ll try to tone it down in the future,” she said in a low voice.

  Jack shook his head. “Not on my account. I like how you dress.”

  “Yes, but people are definitely staring,” she insisted.

  Jack didn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body. There might be a thing or two on his mind today, what with his uncle’s unexpected and unwelcome visit. Not to mention the fact that he’d already heard about Jack’s intended bid for a Council seat. But in the grand scheme of things, he was grounded enough to not worry about the Wilder grapevine. He’d been the star of it on a regular basis as a rebellious teen and as a wild twenty-something. He was more settled now, but still managed to send a ripple through the universe with his actions from time to time.

  He didn’t let the rumor mill get the best of him, but others weren’t always as thick-skinned. He’d learned that lesson several times over. The hard way—with his family. He hoped Liza was strong enough to withstand whatever ridicule might be coming her way as a result of her clothes or her association with him.

  “You know,” the beauty beside him said, drawing his thoughts away from the past and returning him to the very enjoyable present. “You warned me earlier that people around here talk. So what was that all about if you don’t care what they’re talking about?”

  “Just wanted you to be cognizant of it, sweetheart. And take whatever they have to say with a grain of salt.”

  “Huh,” she mused, as though trying to figure out small-town life. Then she added, “So I should expect some flack for being an outsider? The ‘which one is different from the others?’ mentality?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well,” she said as she lifted her chin a notch. “I suppose I don’t blame people for staring. Hell, how could anyone not notice me when I’m holding hands with you?”

  Jack chuckled. “Darlin’, I’ve lived here my whole life. Trust me, people are going to draw whatever conclusions come easiest to them. And you either get mired down in it or you rise above it.”

  “I can take it if you can. Grain of salt,” she added.

  “Atta girl.” He winked at her.

  Then he ducked into an alley, pulling her with him. He pushed open a glass-and-wood door that creaked on its hinges. The faded green lettering that arched like a monochromatic rainbow on the glass read, “Pietro’s Fine Dining.”

  When they entered the establishment, Manhattan laughed softly, getting the joke. Pietro’s was cozy and quaint, with red-and-w
hite checkered, vinyl tablecloths, brown cafeteria-style plastic cups and flatware rolled in paper napkins. The ambience screamed roadside diner.

  “Fine dining?” she whispered mockingly.

  “Take a good whiff,” he whispered back.

  She lifted her nose in the air and sniffed at the decadent smell coming from the kitchen.

  “Oh my God.” Her stomach growled again. “Holy shit,” she said, a little louder. “Someone’s got the spicy sausage, peppers and roasted garlic down pat.”

  “Good nose,” he said with a grin. “Now keep your wits about you, sweetheart. Things are about to get interesting.”

  * * * * *

  “Well, there you are, sport.”

  Liza tore her eyes from Jack as a rather robust woman in her late forties descended upon them, her faded red hair pulled back in a tight bun. The white apron wrapped around her large frame was stained with tomato sauce, and scrawled across her sagging breasts were the words, “Keep the Tips Up.”

  The strategic position of the two red arrows on her chest, pointing upward, made Liza smile at the double entendre.

  “Been waiting all day for you,” she said to Jack. “You getting lazy on me and sleepin’ in?” She didn’t give him the chance to answer. “Well, better late than never. I still have your table.”

  Liza found this amusing, considering there were only a handful of people having lunch this late in the afternoon.

  The woman’s warm, dark brown eyes shifted to Liza and she added, “For once the town chatterboxes got it right. Damn, you are a pretty little thing. Interesting dress.” And then she turned, rather cumbersomely given her large frame, and grabbed a menu from the podium. “Follow me,” she said as she wound her way through the narrow aisles, leading them to the back of the restaurant. Her hips brushed every chair she walked past. An airline flight attendant she’d never make, for all the obvious reasons, but Liza instantly liked her.

  “I’m Ruby, by the way,” she said as she gestured to an intimate booth, tucked away in a quiet corner.

  “Liza Brooks.”

  Ruby handed her a menu as Liza slid into the forest green, vinyl-covered booth.

  “Pick your poison, sweetheart,” Ruby said.

  Liza stared at the front of the menu. “Well, let’s see…” Her options were—

  Breakfast $3.95

  Lunch $5.95

  Dinner $7.95

  “Lunch?” she ventured.

  Ruby laughed. “Oh damn, Jack, she really is cute. Tell her about the food. I’ll be back.” She turned to go, but then shifted her wide body and added as an apparent afterthought, “Anyone ever tell you, you’ve got eyes that could stop a truck dead in its tracks?”

  Liza stared up at her, dumbfounded. “I might’ve heard something along those lines.” Her gaze shifted to Jack. “Once.”

  He snickered. Ruby waddled off.

  Liza glared at him as he slid onto the seat next to her. He draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in close to her. That he’d opted to sit on her side of the booth instead of across from her made her wonder how much more gossip they’d add to the obviously overactive Wilder rumor mill. But with his thigh pressed against hers, his heated gaze burning a hole in her chest and his fingers absently teasing the skin on her bare arm, she found that she didn’t really care.

  “Sorry about that,” he said in his low, sexy voice. “I told her once that I wanted to meet a woman I could honestly say that to and here you are.”

  Liza melted like a cube of sugar in the rain. “In that case, you’re forgiven.”

  He grinned at her. His free hand rested on her bare thigh, making her this close to spontaneously combusting.

  “Jack,” she whispered. “People are watching us.”

  His gaze didn’t waver. “They can’t see a thing in this corner. And even if they could, it’s none of their business.” That he was so adamant about that—and comfortable with public displays of affection—made her relax a little. Except that her body was vibrating all over again.

  While she muddled through the passion-induced haze that filled her brain, searching for something sexy to say, Ruby’s deadpan tone interrupted their romantic interlude.

  “So, what’d you decide?” she asked.

  Jack sighed. He reached for the menu and flipped it open. “There actually are choices,” he said. “What looks good to you?”

  While Liza skimmed the vast selection, he continued on, speaking to Ruby. “I’ll have the special.”

  “You don’t even know what the special is,” she countered in her thick southern drawl.

  “Do I ever?”

  “Humph,” she grumbled. “Fine. One special. By the way, your timing is impeccable today. Your aunt and uncle were in earlier.”

  Liza’s ears perked up and she glanced over at Jack. Only to find him frowning as though Ruby had just set a brown-paper-wrapped package on the table with a ticking time-bomb inside it.

  “He stopped by the cottage,” Jack said in a tight voice. “Always the first to stick his nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  Liza thought she might get more to the story—finding it extremely intriguing that the self-proclaimed sinner was related to the town crier spreading the Lord’s gospel. But Ruby cut the dialogue short, as though she knew Jack would discuss it no further.

  “Running for City Council, I hear. Good for you.” Her attention shifted to Liza. “How about you, sweetheart? What’ll you have?”

  She sighed. Damn it! Foiled by those in the know who know when to not push the envelope. Here she’d hoped to get a deeper look at Jack’s family tree. Clearly he wasn’t interested in talking about his relatives. An alternative source would have been helpful. But it was obvious Ruby was a staunch supporter of Jack. She wasn’t about to commit treason.

  “Hmm,” Liza said, back to contemplating her lunch order. “Who am I to argue with a man who has his own table in the back? I’ll have the special too.”

  Ruby grinned at her in a curious way. As though it surprised the older woman that she liked Liza. “Well, damn,” she muttered as she collected the menu. “They say there’s someone for everyone and good Lord, it just might be true. Surprising in Jack’s case, but God does work in mysterious ways.”

  As she moved away from the table, the Devil next to Liza groaned.

  “That was the equivalent of meeting your parents and having them show me your most humiliating baby pictures, wasn’t it?”

  He didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “There is no equivalent to meeting my parents.”

  Liza felt the tension in his body, heard it in his voice. She thought about the stuffy Reverend Bain being his uncle—didn’t really see how the two could possibly share the same DNA, if that were the case. “Not a close family unit?”

  “Not a topic of conversation.”

  “I told you about my dad,” she reminded him.

  He seemed to consider this, then countered, “But you haven’t mentioned your mother.”

  “Ah well.” She reached for the rolled-up flatware and toyed with the white band taped around the napkin. “Wicked Witch of the Upper Eastside. Very self-absorbed. In fact, she still thinks I’m in New York, because it’s more convenient for her to believe that. She’s left a dozen voicemail messages over the past week, wondering why I missed so-and-so’s party or why I haven’t stopped by for cocktails. ‘What is wrong with you, Elizabeth Lavinia Brooks? Have you no manners at all’?” she sighed. “It’s all about her. Always.”

  He nodded. “I get the picture. Your mother and my mother should do lunch.”

  Liza whistled under her breath. “Sounds like a waiter’s worst nightmare.”

  “Better him than us.”

  She laughed. “Good point.”

  Jack drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly. As though cleansing his soul of the unpleasant thoughts of his mother. A practice she was quite familiar with herself.

  And yet… She wasn’t inclined to let him off the hook so easily. “So
how is it that a sinner is the nephew of a preacher?” she asked.

  Jack’s teeth gritted together. He didn’t look at her as he shook his head, as though to dismiss her question.

  “Oh come on,” she chided in a light tone. “Inquiring minds wanna know.”

  Jack’s tone was dark when he said, “My mother had an affair with the reverend’s brother. She divorced my father and married Bill after the scandal broke. Little towns like this…” He shook his head again as he seemed to war with his emotions. “They’re not so forgiving of the sins of the flesh. They cite weak constitutions, but aren’t willing to overlook the trespass. And believe the bad apples don’t fall far from the trees.”

  “Must make things difficult for you.”

  His shoulders squared. He didn’t say another word on the matter.

  A little tickle of frustration at how closed off he was emotionally made Liza prod him. “I’m sure the reverend frowned upon the affair. And likely the second marriage. Is that why you don’t get along with him?”

  “Part of it.”

  Seriously, this was worse than pulling teeth. “So what’s the crux of the problem?”

  Jack waved a hand in the air and, just like that, his mood changed. Lightening up dramatically. That hand returned to Liza’s leg and his fingers started to caress the inside of her thigh as he said, “None of this matters, darlin’. We are who we are because or regardless of our parents and their actions. Yet we still have our own lives to live. What we do is up to us, not them.”

  “Nice sentiment. And true.” Sadly, she had to admit that she’d given into her mother’s bidding the whole of her life. She’d done the same with Peter, regrettably.

  But the man sitting next to her had, thus far, asked Liza to be nothing more than herself. He didn’t expect her to change from big city socialite to small town girl because she’d “settled in” to town, as he’d put it last night. He still expected her to be herself.

  “You’re very astute,” she told him. “Despite the hokey pick-up line you used on me last night.”

  He laughed. “I told you that was real. Ask Ruby if you don’t believe me.”