Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

“Excuse me?”

Jack shook his head as a sedan approached in the opposing lane. There were no street lamps to illuminate the road, and the tall pine trees almost eclipsed the moonlight, but Jack recognized the vehicle as his own headlights flashed over it.

“Everything okay?” Liza asked as he scowled.

“Just busybodies,” he grumbled as he gave a three-fingered wave to his uncle, the Reverend Bain, as the car passed. The rest of his hand remained wrapped around the steering wheel. “People should mind their own business.”

Unfortunately, Jack was reminded again that Liza’s association with him would define which camp she resided in with the townsfolk. Unless he could somehow keep her in neutral territory. She shouldn’t have to take sides with the saints or the sinners. Nothing in Wilder was her doing or her concern, really. She was just visiting, wasn’t she? Nothing permanent.

Hell, according to his property manager, they’d modified the rental agreement to a four-week term instead of the six months Jack had initially specified when he’d decided to put the place up for rent. Not that he was complaining. Four weeks of rent helped to keep Josh on the payroll until Jack could figure out his next move.

What the morality sanction was doing to his profits, however, wasn’t something he wanted to think about at the moment. A mile or so down the road, he turned onto a tree-lined dirt path that led to a large white farmhouse illuminated by porch lights and, further down, a matching cottage nestled on the shores of Wilder Lake. He pulled the truck alongside a flashy red convertible Mercedes and whistled under his breath.

“Fancy wheels.”

“A gift,” she said. Then frowned. “Damn, I’d forgotten about that.”

His brow lifted. “What?”

“Oh,” she said, obviously catching herself by surprise. “Nothing, I just… It will only make sense to me. Whatever. No worries.” She waved a slender, manicured hand in the air. “All in the past.”

She stared straight ahead, though, looking at the car and scowling as she crossed her bare arms over her extremely enticing chest. She sat beside him quietly for a few moments. Not necessarily waiting for him to get out and open the door—though that’s what he intended to do. No, she was trying to settle herself. Something had unnerved her. The Mercedes?

She gnawed her lower lip. It looked to be a purely absent-minded gesture. In the shimmer of golden moonlight, he could see the confusion swirling in her eyes. As though she was debating her plan of action.

Oh hell. Was she nervous to get out of the truck because she’d have to make up her min

d about whether she would or wouldn’t with a man she’d just met at a bar?

Jack unhooked his seatbelt, then reached for the latch on hers. Her gaze snapped to his and, in a heartbeat, the cab of the truck became a much more intimate space. The foot-and-a-half separating them felt as though it’d been reduced to mere centimeters.

Jack’s eyes roved her body again and he heard her breath catch. When his gaze reconnected with hers, she seemed to stop breathing altogether.

When he spoke, his tone was low and friendly. “What are you running from, Liza?”

Unexpectedly, a fat tear welled in one eye, but she blinked it away so fast he might have imagined it. Until she said, “I haven’t cried since my father’s funeral. I won’t start tonight. Don’t worry.”

He merely shrugged. Women’s tears didn’t faze him. He’d seen his fair share. Some were his doing. Most were other’s. He had big enough shoulders to deal with it.

“I haven’t done anything illegal, I assure you,” she said with a soft, yet edgy laugh.

Didn’t take a degree in psychology to get the gist of the problem. “Something you have to distance yourself from in order to let go of?”

Boyfriend, no doubt. Jack hoped it was that simple, that she wasn’t in need of hiding out from anyone. Hopefully, it was nothing more than a bad split she needed to move away from in order to free herself from the binds.

“A few somethings,” she admitted. Her gaze locked with his. He couldn’t help but try to search for answers in the deep green pools. He found none. But there was a hint of sadness. And something else that looked disturbingly similar to remorse. What could that be about?

Jack mentally shook his head. Maybe he was just reading too much into all of this. “Everybody’s got their demons, darlin’.”

She nodded, not saying a word.

Jack climbed out of the cab and rounded the truck to her side. He opened the door for her as she escaped the restraints of the seatbelt. Apparently attempting to make as graceful an exit as her entrance had been, she slid over the edge of the seat. Unfortunately, she miscalculated and missed the rung entirely, thereby dropping directly to the ground. Her tall heels hit the soft earth and drove deep, sticking into the lush grass like tent spikes.

She fell into Jack’s arms and he was quick to react, swallowing her up in a loose embrace.

“Gotcha,” he whispered, his voice a bit dark and husky on the quiet night air.

Having Manhattan’s soft curves meld to his hard muscles forced Jack to face that inevitable debate once more this evening.