Adonis in Texas (Rugged and Risque 2)

Liza let out a low snort as the four women rushed off.

Jess grinned. “Now that’s how to take a stand, my friend. You keep at it, Ginger.”

Admittedly, it felt good not to let Lydia bully her. But while she’d won today’s battle, she doubted she’d win the war. One might think a reverend’s wife would be gracious and lovely to everyone in her husband’s congregation, but the woman had her own agenda and her own ideas of how people should live in Wilder.

With a sigh, Ginger said, “I’m sure Lydia will tell her husband there needs to be a new policy regarding sidewalk displays downtown, and Jonathan will put it before the City Council.”

“Let him,” Liza retorted in a confident tone. “Jack’s got a seat on the Council now and he’s a strong voice for equality, with a lot of staunch supporters, I might add.”

“Praise the Lord for that,” Jess quipped. “I’m so glad he ran, and that you led his campaign. I shudder to think of the distressed state Wilder would be in if he hadn’t stepped in to help turn things around. Businesses were closing much too quickly because of the reverend’s morality movement.”

Case in point, Liza’s fiancé, Jack Wade, had become the sole saloon owner in town after Reverend Bain and his constituents had limited how late alcohol could be served on Friday and Saturday nights, and had banned sales altogether on Sundays. Those laws, and a few others, had put a stranglehold on the town and had wreaked havoc on its economy.

While Jonathan Bain had toned down his saints-vs.-the-sinners platform, his wife had not. Despite a few months’ reprieve from her holier-than-thou attitude following the fire in Ginger’s shop, which had occurred when Lydia accidentally knocked over some candles in her shocked and appalled state after getting a gander at Ginger’s window display, Lydia had bounced back. And was as self-righteous as ever.

“We all have to stand our ground,” Jess continued. “But it’s well worth it. Since things have picked up for everyone financially, my flower shop is thriving and George’s business is booming.”

Jess’ husband wasn’t the only dentist in Wilder, and he’d suffered recently when families had tightened their purse strings. Liza worked for Jess and Ginger knew it was a huge relief she could stay on Jess’ payroll. Liza sweeping in from Manhattan and shaking things up had been the ca

talyst for people opening their eyes and making changes in town, and neither Ginger nor Jess wanted her efforts to be for naught.

Ginger had struggled herself and she was eternally grateful for her friends’ unwavering support and patronage.

“Looks like you have customers,” Liza said with a smile. Two women strolled over to admire Ginger’s sensuous window displays and Liza added, “We’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget, we have reservations for five people tonight at Pietro’s. Unless you want to make it six…”

As Liza wagged her eyebrows suggestively, Ginger scoffed at her. “Please. Between Lydia’s rants about me and the limited selection of eligible bachelors in this town, I haven’t dated in years and have absolutely no prospects to make tonight’s dinner a triple date.”

Sadly. But Ginger had resigned herself to her dismal dating situation long ago. She focused solely on her business and her friendships.

“Maybe we should all take a weekend trip to San Antonio or Austin,” Jess mused. “See what the single scene looks like for you there.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “No fixing me up.” She was adamant about that. If she eventually met the right man, it’d be because they’d spotted each other across a crowded room and had formed an instant connection. Not because one of her friends had thrown them together.

But lust at first sight wasn’t a theory she subscribed to, so she brushed off that little fantasy.

Her gaze shifted to the women who’d wandered into her shop. “I have a sale to make,” she said in an optimistic tone. “See you tonight.”

She left her display rack right where it was and entered the boutique. As it turned out, the two women purchased several items and Ginger had more customers throughout the day.

As the sun began to set, she tidied up the array of panties and bras on the large, round wooden tables in the center of the store. She’d had to replace the ones that had quickly gone up in flames during the fire and had chosen to venture away from the antiques she’d previously used for displays—having a fear of how overly flammable old, delicate wood could be. Finding heavier, sturdier pieces with a rich cherry wood finish had added a touch of sophistication to her enterprise.

Though she no longer lit candles in her shop, she did use the waxless, battery-operated variety to keep the mood sensual and inviting. Tall dressers, also in cherry wood, were filled with sexy lingerie, samples dangling out of the opened drawers to entice customers to rummage through them.

The space she had now was twice the size of her old shop and less rent, given that Cooper Denton, the owner of the entire block, had taken pity on her after the fire and had offered her a killer deal. That was the nice thing about small towns. Despite the push-and-pull created by the Bains and their followers, most of the people in Wilder enjoyed a close-knit community and would do anything they could to help a neighbor in need.

Ginger had never imagined leaving—she’d suffer through the hassle Lydia Bain created in order to stay. Unfortunately, she spent her nights alone because there really weren’t many bachelors from which to choose and she’d refused to settle. She had her dream, though. She’d wanted the lingerie shop for years.

Stepping outside, she found the globes of the old-fashioned streetlamps glowing softly as twilight descended upon Wilder. She gripped the metal frame of her sidewalk display and wheeled it toward the front door. A low whistle caught her attention and she glanced up to find two men striding toward her, both a bit unsteady on their feet.

Ah, the rodeo was in was town and that always meant a few rowdies loitered about in between competitions and events.

The tall, dark-haired man on the left had his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans. The burly redheaded one held a small paper bag with an aluminum can inside, the rim peeking out of the sack. Likely a beer.

“Damn, you are a pretty little thing,” the dark-haired guy said as he sidled up next to her.

Tugging on her rack, Ginger rushed inside, only to be followed by both men before she could lock the door behind her.

A prickle of anxiety crept in on her. She actually was a “little thing” at five-foot-two out of heels and a size two when she didn’t skip any meals.