Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

Jack chuckled. “Keep harpin’ on it, George. I made my intentions clear, but I’m not in any hurry. She’s sticking around for a while. We’ll see what’s what come morning.”

George seemed to take great interest in his glass for a few seconds as he stared down at the amber liquid. Then he lifted his gaze and asked, “And what about the fact that she’s living in Wilder? Doesn’t that complicate things for you?”

“Of course.” The reverend and his disciples were publicly opposed to pre-marital sex and had God on their side when it came to keeping most of the virgins in town innocent until their wedding days. Jack didn’t begrudge anyone who fell for the divine guilt trip. He just avoided the whole issue by dating women in Austin or San Antonio. But with the object of his immediate desire residing in Wilder—on his property, no less—he’d have a lot of scowls and Hail Marys coming his way.

“Liza’s virtue isn’t anyone’s business but her own,” Jack told his friend.

“And what about her reputation?” George countered with a lift of a dark eyebrow.

“She walked into my bar thinking she was looking for a good time. Turns out, she wasn’t quite ready to sin. I’m pretty sure that was obvious to the masses.”

“You chasing after her doesn’t help her plight.”

Jack shook his head, though he knew George had a point. He’d considered it himself when he’d offered the ride home. But his empathy was clearly taking a backseat to his desire for her. “She’s a big girl from the city, George. I think she gets the gist of the rumor mill and the fact that people are going to draw whatever conclusion is most convenient for them. I’m sure she can handle it.” He hoped like hell he was right.

“Your call. I’m just saying that a woman who looks and dresses like that one…she’s bound to be trouble.”

Grinning, Jack said, “You think I don’t already know that?”

Hell, from the moment she’d walked through the door of his saloon, she’d begun to weave a sticky web he was instantly caught in. But he was more than capable of extracting himself when the time came to move on. Besides, she’d only signed a four-week lease. It wasn’t as if she was planning on staying.

“Well, best of luck to you on this one, my friend.” George finished his drink, then said, “I’d better get home before Jess starts to wonder what I’m up to.”

“She’s sound asleep by now, happy for the break from your snoring.”

“Unfortunately,” he said as he pulled his keys from his front pocket, “you’re right about that.”

“You okay to drive?”

George nodded. “I just had the one beer before the Scotch. But thanks for checking.”

“I don’t need your wife or the sheriff on my ass,” Jack said lightheartedly. “I’ve racked up enough complications for one day.”

“City Council,” the other man reminded him. “Try to put as much effort into it as you are the girl.”

Jack grinned again. “But the girl is so much more appealing.”

George snorted. “Trouble, indeed.” He turned and sauntered out of the bar, chuckling along the way.

And leaving Jack with the disturbing feeling that he might be in over his head on all counts.

* * * * *

Liza wasn’t smiling when she awoke hours later to an incessant, annoyingly high-pitched sound that instantly bugged the shit out of her. Lifting her head from her pillow and pushing back the long strands of chestnut-colored hair that covered one stinging and likely bloodshot eye, she looked around the small bedroom and frowned.

What the hell was that noise?

Sitting up, she shoved the rumpled sheets off her legs—apparently having ditched the duvet in her sleep—and stared out the window, listening carefully. There it was again. Not just high-pitched, but also damn greedy. Ignoring the dull ache in her head that was her hangover, she climbed out of bed and peered through the glass pane. A tall tree sprouted skyward alongside the cottage. An elm, possibly? She wasn’t a nature guru, didn’t know tree or flower species beyond the extremely obvious, like pines and roses.

One of the lower branches housed a nest of baby birds, all going absolutely nuts as their mother returned with breakfast. Another bird squawked overhead, sounding authoritative and distinctively asshole-ish.

“Good morning to you too, Peter,” she grumbled.

Moving away from the window, Liza padded along the cool hardwood floor and entered the kitchen. The cozy cottage was comfortable. Hell, who needed thousands and thousands of square feet, anyway? Peter had installed an intercom in his apartment so that he could reach her no matter which room she was in. That always seemed so pretentious and creepy. Everything about them seemed that way now. They’d even mimicked those ridiculous movie scenes where a couple sat at opposite ends of a twenty-foot-long dinner table and called the wait staff in just to pass the salt.

The whole rocky relationship had been one big, fat façade. She could admit it now that she had some distance from her former life.

That thought settled in her brain as she went into the bathroom, desperately needing aspirin and a shower. She also had to brush the little booties off her teeth.