Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

As Jack turned on his booted heels to retrieve their drinks, he shot Liza a sexy look that had her forgetting all about Lydia Bain.

Until Jess said, “You really shouldn’t take her personally. She tries to do the right thing, but sometimes she gets a little caught up in the reverend’s agenda.”

“He’s been nothing but civil to me,” Liza pointed out as she took the seat George pulled out for her. “Whereas she’s been nothing but hostile. So it’s rather difficult to sympathize with her.”

Jess frowned. “I’m sure the circumstances are such that—”

“I’m sorry,” Liza interrupted. “To which circumstances are you referring?”

Jess’ gaze shot to George and it felt as though an elephant had just walked into the room.

“Well,” George said in a tentative voice, giving Liza the impression she was about to get the runaround. But he lifted his hands in the air, as though in surrender, and said, “The Bains are very concerned about everyone’s well-being. Sometimes, though, their good intentions are…misguided.”

Liza gave this tidbit a moment of thought, then said, “So, for example, you’re both Sunday worshipers but you don’t necessarily agree with the reverend’s Saturday night curfew. That doesn’t make you his lost causes?”

George actually scowled. “I don’t particularly like someone telling me when I can or can’t drink.” Clearly Liza had hit the right button. “Or how late I can stay out with my wife on a Saturday night. The reverend knows this and, no, he’s not going to challenge my choices.”

“But he’ll lay a healthy amount of guilt on you for them?”

“He means well,” Jess was quick to add. “But George and I are of the ‘to each his own’ mind.”

“Well hear, hear.” Liza lifted her glass and touched the rim to theirs.

She slid a glance toward the bar and found the Devil serving up drinks to two men she had yet to meet. Jack had expressed thoughts similar to George and Jess’, and yet the reverend’s morality sanction stood. The saloon was filled to capacity with Saturday night revelers. And yet the reverend’s sanction stood.

Why?

“Seems there ought to be enough opposition in town to work out a better compromise than this one.”

“Wilder politics,” George said with a hint of disgust. “Some of the town ordinances are questionable in how they came about, but not challenged. However, with Jack on the City Council, we just might be able to turn things around.”

He and Jess exchanged looks as if to say, “If it’s not too late.”

But then Jess lifted her glass and repeated Liza’s toast as they all clinked glasses.

She said, “At any rate, I’m just glad you and Jack are okay. I mean, the way Lydia described smashing into Jack’s truck today. Good Lord, it’s a wonder you two didn’t end up in the Emergency Room.” She patted a hand over her apparently fluttering heart as though they’d had a near-death experience.

Good grief. What picture had Lydia painted of the accident? So she’d hit the corner of Jack’s truck. It wasn’t as if she’d totaled either vehicle. Their three lives hadn’t been in mortal jeopardy and yet, from everything Liza had heard of it, one would think they’d all been capsized in the Poseidon Adventure.

Her gaze slipped to Jack again as he delivered the Mills’ drinks and she wondered why Lydia—and everyone else—was making such a big deal out of this fender-bender.

Add it to the list of unresolved mysteries.

“So,” Jess said, drawing Liza’s attention back to her. She took a sip of her wine as Jack went back to the bar, then said, “We won’t be seeing you at service tomorrow, you’ve made that clear. But how about lunch afterward? We know this great little Italian place you’d like, being from New York and all.”

Liza laughed. The misconception that New Yorkers only ate Italian food had hit Wilder. Although Jack had certainly served up some local flavor this morning. In more ways than one. And Liza was looking forward to experiencing whatever else he cooked up. This morning’s “warm-up act” had whetted her appetite, but now she was ready for another steamy night with the sinfully delicious cowboy.

Willing her pulse to slow a bit, because it raced at the mere thought of Jack’s hands on her body and his hard cock sliding in out of her pussy, she said, “I’d love to have lunch with you tomorrow.” In fact, she was pleased her dance card was finally filling up. Maybe she’d make some friends here after all.

“Jess, you’re forgetting that tomorrow is the third Sunday of the month,” George reminded her.

“Oh darn it!” she exclaimed as she lightly tapped her hand on the table. “You’re right.” To Liza, she said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. The Junior League will be meeting following church. I’ll be delivering flowers to the Elks Lodge for their business luncheon. That usually takes quite a bit of time, because it’s just me delivering and setting up. And then I really should put together a couple of centerpieces for Aunt Murdy’s seventieth birthday party in the afternoon.” Jess frowned.

“Maybe I can help,” George offered.

She smiled adoringly at her husband. “No offense, George, but you’re a bull in a china shop. I need the arrangements delivered in an upright position with nothing bent or broken.”

“Point taken.”