Devil in Texas

by Calista Fox

  There were three candles on the coffee table for decorative purposes, but they’d work for romantic purposes as well. She nabbed them from the table and headed back into the bathroom, spacing all three along the ledge above the tub that also served as a barrier between it and the glass-enclosed shower stall. She found matches in the drawer beside the stove and lit the candles as Jack eased into the tub.

  “Nice,” he murmured.

  His eyes were on her, so she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the water or her nudity. She suspected the latter, given his intense gaze.

  In a flirtatious voice, she asked, “Not too hot?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said on a low growl. “Way hot.”

  Smiling she said, “I meant the water.”

  “Haven’t even noticed it yet. Why don’t you get in and let me know how it feels.”

  She turned the lights off so the flickering flames from the candles cast a soft golden glow in the room. Her gaze returned to the tub. It was a good size, yet somehow seemed intimate and cozy with a man Jack’s size filling it.

  Stepping up to the tall side, she lifted a foot over the marble-encased edge. Jack guided it between his legs and then reached for her hand. He helped her into the tub and she turned her back to him and settled between his parted thighs. She leaned back against him as he cupped his hands and scooped up warm water, pouring it over her shoulders.

  The streams flowed down her back and over her breasts. “Perfect,” she said on a long sigh.

  Jack’s lips brushed her temple as he spoke, “Still sore?”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  His hard cock pressed against her backside, tempting her. He bent his legs alongside her and she rested her forearms on his knees. The heat from Jack and the water worked wonders on her body and her psyche.

  She pulled in a few full breaths, feeling the effects of the soothing ambience almost immediately. Jack wrapped his arms around her waist and locked his fingers at her stomach. His lips grazed her neck. She felt his tongue press against her skin, then flick over it before his teeth gently nipped at her.

  Liza moaned. “I think this is better than a massage.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “Because I get to feel all of you against me and around me. Not just your hands on me.”

  “Whatever makes you happy,” he whispered into her ear.

  She smiled, recalling her mission for the evening. “I think hearing about you would make me happy.”

  He groaned. And not in the sexy way she liked. “I assure you, there’s little to talk about.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Okay,” he said, conceding a bit too quickly, she noted. “Born and raised in Wilder. Nothing too exciting about that.”

  “What made you become a saloon owner?” she shot back, a barrelful of questions at the ready.

  “The first curfew, on Friday nights, of course.”

  “That happened before you opened Wade’s?”

  “Yes. The building I own now used to be the religious gathering hall after the church burned down. Took about a year and a half to clear the remains, rebuild and move the congregation back to their original stomping grounds. Once they vacated, I bought their temporary home and made it a saloon.”

  A deaf man wouldn’t have missed the hint of pride in his tone. Mixed with the distinguishable, double-fingered F-you she’d just recently become familiar with because of Peter. Only Jack’s bold gesture was clearly pointed toward Reverend Bain and his political and religious followers.

  “So your rift with your uncle goes way back.”

  He shrugged, causing ripples in the water that lapped against the top of the tub, some of it spilling over the ledge.

  Silence ensued. Obviously she had to dig a little deeper. “How’d you and Lydia become such close friends, then?”

  “She grew up down the road from here. That big red barn we pass on the way home is part of the farm two miles down that her family used to own. They’ve long since passed on.”

  Latching onto the terminology, she said, “Passed on. As in…?”

  “Moved away.”

  “Hmm.”

  This wasn’t really getting her where she needed to be.

  As Jack’s hands moved to her shoulders and rubbed them gently, she relaxed back against him and asked, “So how’d she end up with Reverend Bain?”

  Jack sighed, apparently resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to ease up on the questions. “She’s a reformed sinner.”

  Liza let out a laugh. “Lydia Bain? Are you kidding me?”

  “I shit you not.” He was quiet a moment before adding, “She had a rebellious streak to match mine, but she was much smarter about it. Much more discreet. Except for one time.”

  Liza was genuinely curious. “What happened?”

  “She met a boy her senior year in high school. In town for band camp or bible study. I forget which. Anyway, she took a liking to him and it was mutual. He was here for about two weeks. A month later, she found out she was pregnant.”

  Liza shifted in the tub, twisting at the torso so she could face him. Jack didn’t look happy about what he’d just divulged.

  “It’s not exactly a town secret,” he said. “But not something folks talk about, either. Certainly not me.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to back you into a corner,” she said. “I just don’t understand what the deal is with her. Clearly the two of you are close. That surprises me, because she’s such a bi—”

  “Not always. And not with everyone.” He shook his head. “In fact, I’ve never seen her take such an instant disliking to someone.”

  “She called me a disco ball at a wake, Jack. In front of her clients in the salon.”

  He chuckled. “Well, darlin’. You sort of are.”

  Her jaw dropped. Promptly snapping it closed, Liza said, “Of course you’d take her side.” Why not? He and Lydia went “way back”. Whereas Liza was the new kid in town. A passing fancy, so why would he side with her?

  She braced a hand on the edge of the tub and started to get out. Jack grabbed her around the waist, though, and forced her back between his legs.

  “Now, darlin’,” he said with a grin. “Don’t get all riled on me. I meant it as a compliment.”

  “Lydia didn’t,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “You’re just not something she’s used to having around. And since she’s become a creature of habit, you challenge her boundaries. Hell, she probably secretly liked that dress you wore yesterday, just like Ruby did. But she can’t admit that out loud, now can she?”

  “She can’t even abide nightgowns on the street.”

  Jack groaned. “Yeah, I know.”

  “So what happened with the baby?” Liza asked.

  Jack frowned. “The kid who got her pregnant didn’t want to take responsibility. Lydia didn’t want to give up the baby. Her parents kicked her out of the house, having some pretty nasty things to say about her.” He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair, dampening it. “Never was a friendly place, that house. Always lots of yelling going on. Some slapping too, I suspect.”

  “Oh.” Well, didn’t that just make Liza feel two inches tall? Apparently, Lydia had seen her fair share of tough times. Liza’s own recent hardships made her more empathetic, of course. Having the father of your child turn his back on you was right up there with finding your boyfriend of six years in bed with another man.

  As that mental picture formed in her mind, despite every effort to keep the memory at bay, Liza went cold. She climbed out of the tub and this time Jack let her go. Wrapping a towel around her body as he eyed her curiously, she had to admit she could feel some of Lydia’s pain. Though her parents had never resorted to physical abuse, her mother’s verbal litanies were enough to scar her for life.

  Seemed she and Lydia had a bit in common. Including a claim on Jack, in one form or another. Which made a new thought click into place.

  Her
gaze lifted to meet his. “You fixed this place up for her, didn’t you? She’s the one you decorated it for.”

  He nodded. Hauling his hunky body out of the tub, he accepted the clean towel she offered and wrapped it around his waist. “My parents were splitting up at that point. I was nineteen, a year older than Lydia. My dad had just discovered my mother’s affair with Bill Bain, Jonathan’s brother.” Jack let out a hollow laugh as he seemed to recall that time in his life. “My dad owned the newspaper in town. He had a weekly column, but was also the staff photographer and covered all of the front-page news. He was brilliant. Loved investigative reporting. Could sniff out a juicy story at ten paces and wasn’t afraid to call people out when they stepped over a line they shouldn’t.”

  Jack leaned against the vanity, crossed his strong arms over his wide chest and continued. “When he found out about Mom and Bill, he followed them to a motel outside of town where they’d meet. Snapped a few incriminating photos and ran them on the front page with an article about the entire illicit affair.”

  “Wow!” Liza gasped. That one totally blew her away. “That’s just…crazy!”

  “Yeah,” Jack said. “That’s what everyone thought. That he’d finally snapped. But that was just how he was. He didn’t let folks get away with things they shouldn’t be doing. Which, overall, created a lot of friction in this town.”

  “Is that why he left?”

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck, and he seemed to consider his next words. Finally, he said, “My mother divorced him, which—in the grand scheme of things—was for the best. She never was a happy, or nice, woman. But the scandal was more than either she or Bill could take, even after the divorce was final and they’d gotten married. She eventually left town. As for my father…”

  Jack’s shoulders bunched. He clearly didn’t like the subject matter, but Liza didn’t cut him off. “He’d spent a hell of a lot of time helping the community and building his reputation. People liked him and he liked living here. But after the affair, he sort of lost his zest for life. His articles went downhill. He started to offend some people—more so than before, because it was for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t long before the townsfolk were boycotting the paper and it folded. He left town. Left me the house and the cottage and moved to California. He writes books now. Horror novels. Sort of fitting, I guess.”

  “Holy cow!” Liza exclaimed. “Samuel F. Wade? That’s your father? I’ve read his books!”

  Jack nodded. “One and the same.”

  “Wow, Jack! You’re right. He truly is brilliant.”

  “And saner now, thank God.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” Though she suspected some of those violent, axe-murderer scenes he wrote might have a thing or two to do with Jack’s mother and Bill Bain.

  “Anyway,” Jack concluded his story. “I had the house to myself, so I fixed this place up and offered it to Lydia so she’d have a nice place to raise her kid. Unfortunately, about five months into the pregnancy, she miscarried. It was devastating for her. That’s when she turned to God and Jonathan and…the rest is history.”

  Liza’s head reeled. “I never would have guessed any of this…” she mumbled.

  Jack stripped off the towel and reached for his clothes. When he was dressed, he pulled her into his arms and said, “I’m gonna head up the hill, darlin’. Give your body a rest.” He kissed her on the forehead, then released her. “You sleep tight.”

  She watched him go, realizing all her prodding was a sexual buzz-kill. Liza gnawed her lower lip as dread settled in where sparks had once been.

  Shit.

  Had all her questions and stirring up memories of the past just nipped their romance in the bud?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How to bring romance back to Wilder?” Liza mused as she closed the notebook she’d been scribbling ideas in for the event planning proposal she intended to present to Jess.

  “It’d sure help business,” Jess said from her workbench.

  “What about point-of-sale purchases?”

  Jess lifted her gaze from a basket she was filling with flowers and asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve been to one of the grocery stores in town as well as the drugstore down the street. Neither have a floral department.” She slid off her stool at the cashier’s desk and crossed to the tall commercial refrigerators that housed all of Jess’ recent arrangements. “We could stick one of these in the stores, with fresh, pre-made arrangements.”

  Strolling over to Jess’ work area where she kept the blooms, Liza said, “And we could put some of these buckets at the checkout lanes, with wrapped bouquets in them. So a couple picking up a bottle of wine for a dinner party sees them and decides to take a nice arrangement to the hostess. A kid who’s buying a birthday card for his mom, but doesn’t know what kind of gift to give her, sees your flowers and solves his problem with a bouquet of lilies. A man stopping off for condoms before his hot date grabs a dozen red roses to ‘grease the wheels’,” she added with a wink.

  Jess laughed. “I get your point. And it’s…brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Maybe because you’re the one taking care of the bookkeeping, the ordering-taking, the designing, the delivering, the everything.”

  “It has been a little overwhelming, wearing all those hats.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Geez…I might need you full-time, especially if the event planning takes off.”

  “Maybe you can hire Ginger when she’s out of business,” Liza said in a dour tone.

  Jess looked up from her basket again. “Is she really in dire straits?”

  “Her business is floundering.”

  Jess didn’t reach for another flower. Instead she said, “Poor girl. It’s so unfortunate.”

  “And no one’s helping her.”

  “Well… I still buy all my lingerie there. Regardless of what Lydia has to say about it.”

  “What right does she have to say anything at all?” Liza queried as she reached for the remaining empty basket sitting on the workbench, thinking she could follow Jess’ lead while they talked.

  “Lydia doesn’t consider Ginger’s wares…suitable…for Wilder.”

  “Again,” Liza pointed out as she wedged the green foam into the bottom of the basket and sprinkled some water on it to dampen it, as Jess had done with her baskets. “Who is Lydia to talk? What business is it of hers what people wear—or do—in the privacy of their own bedroom?”

  “Her husband is the reverend. Being his wife means she has certain obligations.”

  “Like cramming morality down the throats of the townsfolk? Subjecting people to her views and opinions, touting them as governing guidelines of decency, even though, last I checked, Texas hasn’t yet seceded from the nation and become Bain Country?”

  “Well…”

  Liza continued on, her voice hitching up a notch or two as her aggravation got the best of her. “There is a Constitution upholding all Americans’ rights and freedoms. Or did I miss the part that says the citizens of Wilder are excluded from the rights under the First Amendment? And for that matter, wasn’t the amendment to abolish liquor repealed in like, what, the 1930s?”

  Jess laughed. “Boy, when you get on a tangent!” She shook her head and smiled. “Remind me not to engage in a debate with you on, oh anything!”

  Liza stabbed a stem into the foam. She thought it was a lily, but couldn’t say for sure.

  “Sorry,” she said, contrite. “Didn’t mean to go all Rambo on you.”

  “No, it was great. I mean, I completely agree. Except…” She shrugged a shoulder as she watched Liza jam another flower into the foam. And cringed. “Being the reverend’s wife, of course she’s going to take offense over Ginger’s displays.”

  “I noted several cheap knockoffs of brand-name shampoos in Lydia’s shop, but I didn’t take offense to her pushing fakes on to her clients.”

  “It’s not the same,” Jess
said.

  Of course, she was right, but still. “So Lydia frowns upon the goods Ginger is trying to sell and everyone else follows suit because Lord help them if they should publicly choose sexy lingerie over God,” she borrowed Jack’s sentiment about booze from the night before, “and the next thing you know, there’s a silent ban on Ginger’s boutique and all the hard work and money she invested is for naught.”

  Jess sighed. “I hear what you’re saying. And it’s not like Lydia is personally trying to destroy Ginger’s business—”

  “Not just her business,” Liza interjected, “But Ginger herself.” She recalled how distraught the shop owner had been on Saturday and it broke her heart all over again.

  Jess was silent a moment. Liza picked up a yellow daisy—an easy one to identify—and poked it into the base in the basket. She pushed too hard and the delicate stem snapped.

  “Damn,” she muttered.

  “Careful,” Jess said. “You have to ease them in gently. Otherwise you’ll end up with all those broken stems—and each one costs me money.”

  “Sorry. You can take it out of my pay.”

  She laughed. “I will not.”

  “I’ll be more careful.” But it was going to take her twice as long to assemble a basket than it did Jess. In fact, Jess was reaching for the satin to lavish the arrangement with a bow while Liza had only stuck a half-dozen or so stems into her basket.

  Jess finished up and came round to Liza’s side of the workbench. Assessing her work, Jess let out a soft tsking noise, as she was prone to do. Looking at the basket with a critical eye, Liza could see her dismay.

  “Little crooked, isn’t it?”

  “You have to keep it balanced on both sides, knowing you’ll use a larger flower in the center as the focal point.” She reached for a book, flipped through some pages and set it on the table next to the basket. “Try to copy this arrangement.”

  It didn’t seem like a difficult task, yet Liza instantly broke two more stems. “Might want to rethink that offer to take the damaged flowers out of my pay.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Keep working on it.” She untied her apron at the waist and slipped it over her head. “I have two deliveries to make before I have to drop off the baskets, so there’s still time to finish this one. I’ll swing back by in about an hour.”