Bada-bing. Instant highlights.
She needed Lydia Bain why?
Feeling particularly pleased with her resourcefulness, Liza pushed the door to the store open and let out a sharp, “Oh!” as the glass sheet nearly slammed into Reverend Bain.
He was quick on his feet, though, and jumped back.
“I’m so sorry, Reverend!” she exclaimed as she stepped around the closing door. “Are you all right?”
He smiled at her as he gave a slight shake of his head. “You almost got me there, Liza.”
“I didn’t see you. I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s all right. Just bad timing on my part.”
“Who’d expect a sidewalk traffic jam in Wilder?”
“Not a normal occurrence, no. But I’m glad we bumped into each other.” His smile was contrite. “Well, not literally, of course. I wanted to make sure you and Jack were okay. Lydia has just been beside herself since the accident this afternoon.”
A brow jerked up. “Really?” she couldn’t help but say, though she did have the good social grace not to elaborate. If Lydia Bain was “just beside herself” when Liza had been in her shop, she was going to hate being in her presence when Her Royal Witchiness was back to normal.
“Jack and I are fine,” Liza continued on, trying to keep her composure. “Thanks for asking. He has quick reflexes and was very concerned about my safety. His aunt’s as well.”
Maybe she could help to redeem Jack in the reverend’s eyes.
“Lydia and Jack have always been good friends. She would feel remorseful for hitting anyone’s car, but it was particularly distressful for her to damage Jack’s truck and potentially hurt him, because they’re so close.”
Was that the source of contention between Jack and Bain? Did the reverend have a burr in his saddle because Jack and his wife were friends? Did he suspect, as Liza had initially, that there might be something sexual between them?
Hmm. The plot was thickening. And the bad part about it was that Liza seemed to be stuck in the middle.
“The damage didn’t look too bad,” she assured him. “Your wife’s car took the brunt of the hit. I’m just glad she wasn’t injured.” Liza had to dig deep for that one, but in the grand scheme of things, of course she wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt in a car accident.
“I’m on my way over to the salon now to find out when she’ll be wrapping up with the ladies. I don’t particularly like that she’s working late after being so shook up. Poor thing.”
Yes, poor thing, indeed. Liza resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Say,” he added. “If you’re looking for something to do this evening, the church hosts Bingo on Saturday nights. We get quite a turnout.” He consulted his watch and said, “It’s almost seven o’clock. Shops are closing up and people will be heading over after dinner. Usually gets exciting around eight.”
The city girl was at a loss for words. Her first Saturday night in Wilder and her best invitation was to play Bingo with the church folk? Last Saturday she’d been at a swank function at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in Manhattan. Sipping champagne and prematurely celebrating the rebound of McClellan-Piper’s corporate debacle, which she’d worked so hard to fix. She and her colleagues had been there with clients when they’d learned the CEO had foregone her crisis management plan and had heaped the whole mess on poor PR. Leaving Liza holding a bag of shit she hadn’t been the one to fill.
She tried to shake off the memory. She needed to move on, didn’t she?
“Thanks for the invite, Reverend,” she said. “I already have plans.” There was still a chance for her to do a little more sinning this evening. A thought that sent an erotic shiver down her spine.
While she bit back a smile at the idea of hooking up with Jack again, the corners of the reverend’s mouth dipped. Though he didn’t give her a full-fledged, disapproving frown, she was sure he knew what her plans entailed.
With any luck, her sexy cowboy would continue what he’d started this morning. Liza was more than happy to put her bizarre day in town behind her and singe the sheets tonight back at the cottage. The mere thought of the Devil’s scorching-hot kisses and wicked ways was enough to make her want to wrap up her conversation with the reverend and head straight to the saloon.
But then he said, “If you change your mind, the ladies usually play until eleven.”
“Eleven?” Her eyes narrowed. Hadn’t Jack said his bar had to be closed by ten tonight? Yet the Bingo Babes got their curfew extended to eleven? Where was the justice?
“You’d be surprised at how lively it gets,” the reverend continued with a smile.
“I can imagine.” Oh please! “Well, again, thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”
“You take care of yourself, Liza,” he said in a fatherly tone.