Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

It didn’t seem like a difficult task, yet Liza instantly broke two more stems. “Might want to rethink that offer to take the damaged flowers out of my pay.”

“You’ll get the hang of it. Keep working on it.” She untied her apron at the waist and slipped it over her head. “I have two deliveries to make before I have to drop off the baskets, so there’s still time to finish this one. I’ll swing back by in about an hour.”

Liza took that to mean their discussion on Ginger’s failing shop—and Lydia’s responsibility for it—was closed.

Well, one thing was for certain. When the good citizens of Wilder didn’t want to talk about something, they let you know about it.

Liza focused all of her attention on the floral arrangement she was miraculously creating and then tidied up the shop while Jess came and went. She found it odd that the phone only rang twice. Once when Jess was in the shop, so she’d taken the order. The second call had come while she was on a delivery. It’d been a wrong number.

As the clock inched toward noon and Liza anticipated her lunch with Ginger, the little chime at the front door told her someone had come in. Thinking it was Jess returning, she came from the back work area, saying, “It’s been quiet, so I—”

Liza drew up short in the middle of the store. Lydia Bain looked as shocked to see her as Liza was. Composing herself quickly, Liza said, “Hello, Lydia. I thought you were Jess.”

“Obviously.” She moved further into the shop, heading toward one of the refrigerators with the pre-made arrangements.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Liza asked. She recalled what Jack had told her last night and she tried to muster that empathy again, despite the fact that her earlier tangent had her all worked up over Wilder politics and the Bains’ effect on people’s livelihoods.

“I take it Jess isn’t in.”

“Making a delivery.”

“Well,” Lydia said as her gaze slid over Liza, taking in her fitted, red cami top with the thin straps and her black dress pants and matching strappy sandals. Liza had yet to break out the pearls and conservative clothes she’d worn for her mother and Peter. She was, in fact, considering donating them to the local Goodwill. Lydia would probably snatch them right up. As long as she didn’t know who’d worn them previously.

Not that she’d believe they’d belonged to Liza.

“I’m interested in an arrangement for the salon,” Lydia said. “But I’ll wait for Jess to return. I want her opinion.”

Not grinding her teeth together in frustration was difficult for Liza. “I have a pretty decent eye,” she said. “I’d be happy to help.” It was her job, after all.

Lydia was certainly reluctant. But eventually she conceded, likely because she knew how rude she was being. Not exactly appropriate behavior for the reverend’s wife. “Fine. I’m looking for something to fill the space in the corner of the shop by the hairdryers.”

Liza conjured a mental image of the beauty salon. Jess had been in that far corner. Next to her had been a white end table with lavender scroll-accents painted along the edges. The walls of the salon were a faint, buttery color. Very dainty and prim. Liza stepped up to the wall of coolers that sectioned off the display area of the store from the work area. She surveyed the arrangements.

“You’ll want something tall and full so it doesn’t get swallowed up in that big, empty corner.”

“Yes,” Lydia agreed, albeit reluctantly. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

The easy choice was the bouquet of yellow and lavender flowers in the clear vase. But, although the arrangement would be color-coordinated with the shop, it’d hardly make a statement. Liza opened one of the doors and pulled out the summer bouquet with a variety of vibrant colors, the predominate ones being pale green and bright magenta. The flowers were held in a large ceramic pitcher, with colorful horizontal stripes painted on it.

She turned to Lydia and said, “This would definitely stand out. It’d brighten that entire corner and I think the vase would make an excellent conversation piece.”

At first, Lydia’s eyes lit up, as though she completely agreed and could easily envision the arrangement in her salon. But then the corners of her mouth dipped and she seemed to debate her course of action. Finally, she said, “While that is very stunning, it might be too much in my little shop. A bit too overwhelming and out of place.”

Her gaze lifted from the arrangement to meet Liza’s, who bit back the retort lingering on her tongue. Taking the high road, she returned the vase to its shelf and reached for the tried and true.

Turning back to Lydia, she said, “This is probably better suited for you.” Though the yellows and lavenders—and certainly the clear vase—would look boring as hell in non-Techincolor Kansas.

“Yes,” Lydia said with a tight smile. “This is the one. Much more appropriate.”

“Of course.” Liza took the flowers to the cashier’s desk. Jess had given her a crash course on the register and she rang Lydia up. “That’ll be twenty-one even.”

She handed over twenty-five dollars and said, “The rest is for Jess. I always tip her when she delivers. Stopping in feels like I’m cheating her.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate your generosity.” It was a bitch being civil, but Liza was trying to fit in here. Not cause too much of a scene, though she had half a mind to. How insulting to be the one providing service to Lydia and Lydia pointing out the tip was for Jess.

The money had nothing to do it. Liza didn’t give a rip about the four-dollar gratuity. What rubbed her raw was Lydia’s blatant snub.

“Well, then,” Lydia said as she gathered up her purse and floral arrangement. “Thank you for your time.”