“You must be Miss Brooks,” Lydia said. Her spine stiffened notably when she spoke.
“Guilty as charged,” Liza replied.
Jack shot her a “Did you really have to say that?” look and Liza stifled a grin. She didn’t mind ruffling stiff feathers.
“I’m Lydia Bain,” the reverend’s wife said in a suddenly haughty tone. She eyed Liza from head to toe and added in a clipped tone, “Welcome to Wilder.”
Then she turned away, dismissing Liza completely. Her chin even lifted a notch.
Liza bristled at the obvious slight. Who was this woman to judge—and dismiss—her? Who was she to judge the lingerie boutique owner or anyone else for that matter?
Fuming, Liza took a step forward, but Jack was on the move.
The local Barney Fife had arrived on the scene and Jack walked away from Lydia, letting her give the details of the accident. Liza couldn’t see any visual signs of injury on her person and she assumed Jack felt she was fine too. At least physically.
He stalked toward Liza in that purposeful way of his and hooked his arm around her waist. She turned with him as he continued to walk, bringing her around to the passenger’s side of the truck once more, out of eye- and earshot of everyone else.
The tension was suddenly visible on his face and in his tight muscles, so Liza asked, “What gives? You were the one spouting the ‘I don’t let anyone tell me what to do’ thing, but Jesus. You don’t seem the least bit disturbed by her obviously narrow-minded views.”
“Little more to it than the obvious, darlin’.” He opened the truck door. “Why don’t you get in? The Bains and I have the same insurance agent, so it’s not like we need to exchange information.”
Liza didn’t budge. “Aren’t you going to give your side of the story to the police? Make sure they get it right?”
He shot her a very challenging look, as though telling her to back off. Liza ground her teeth. What was the deal with Lydia Bain, anyway? And why was Jack so tolerant of his aunt when he so vehemently deplored his uncle?
As she stewed over all of this, she realized he’d all but whisked her away from Lydia. Yet he’d been perfectly happy to let the reverend draw the conclusion earlier that they’d just indulged all their guilty pleasures when he’d stopped by the cottage. In fact, Jack seemed quite content to flaunt their attraction to each other to everyone else—he’d all but marked his territory last night at the saloon and then had enjoyed them being on public display in town.
Yet when it came to his aunt… He couldn’t keep Liza far enough away from her. Why?
Frustrated, she turned away from the Devil and pulled the rung below the door, climbing into the truck without his assistance. Jack shook his head as he closed the door. Her guess was her independence didn’t sit quite as well with him as he wished it did.
Well, get over it, cowboy.
Liza was no longer allowing anyone to have a say in who she was and how she acted.
After fastening her seatbelt, she crossed her arms over her chest and stewed some more, knowing Lydia Bain was going to be the bane of her existence in Wilder.
All of which made the drive back to the cottage a quiet one. Jack didn’t say a word. Liza didn’t either, because she really couldn’t settle on anything civil to say.
Their first fight? Or was there a huge cultural divide here that she’d ignored all this time? Had her raging hormones and her own personal baggage precluded her from seeing a bigger picture with Jack?
She slid a glance his way, taking in his strong profile. The set jaw she was now accustomed to. The flexed muscles of his arms and shoulders that belied his tension.
There was something so contradictory about him. The whole “I do whatever I want, whenever I want” attitude didn’t exactly mesh with the way he’d interacted with the reverend’s wife. Was there something between them?
She gasped at the wayward thought. It explained so much! And hey, they were just step-relatives…not related by blood…
Yet as Liza turned in her seat without even fully realizing it and stared outright at Jack, she shook her head.
No. She couldn’t envision passionate and possessive Jack with the prudish, Plain-Jane Lydia. Especially knowing how wicked he could be in bed. Then again, he’d said he couldn’t see Liza with a guy named Peter, and lo and behold! She’d tried to make that obvious mismatch work. For six years, no less.
“What?” he finally asked, without even taking his eyes off the road. Clearly, he’d felt her gaze on him.
“Just trying to figure out the day, I guess.”
For all intents and purposes, Wilder was one quirky little place. As crazy as its namesake.
Jack shook his head. “Don’t read too much into anything, darlin’.”