Devil in Texass(43)

journey they were sharing, because things happening this weekend were as new to him

as they were to her. He liked taking her to lunch and seeing her in his bar and sharing a bed with her. He liked that life in Wilder was new and exciting to her, because it made it that way for him too. He’d forgotten along the way the reasons why he stayed,

especially with the morality sanction causing so many problems for him.

But these past couple of days he’d felt…reenergized. Ready to fight the good fight.

Take on whomever he had to in order to help turn the town around.

Liza gave him a new perspective on life in Wilder. He hadn’t even realized he’d lost

his somewhere along the way. But last night, he’d been reminded of all the good his

father had done before his mother had taken a whopping bite out of his dreams. Sam

Wade had liked his life in Wilder before that. Jack had enjoyed his life here too, until the reverend and his crusaders had gotten heavy-handed.

There was a balance to be struck and he wanted to help people see that. This was

his town as much as it was the Bains’ or anyone else. Including Liza, the newcomer. Just like the rest of them, she shouldn’t have to conform to someone else’s ideals in order to fit in. Perhaps that’s why he’d felt so comfortable showing them off as an item today.

And he truly did think of them that way. He was interested in seeing how things

between them progressed, even if it might prove detrimental to him in the end. Because, again, she hadn’t committed to staying. Had a whole other life elsewhere, with someone else. A someone who might come looking for her, wanting her back, no matter how

easily she’d dismissed Peter this afternoon when Jack had made his inquiry.

Frowning, he stood and drained his beer. To which George replied, “I’d say the

phrase ‘she’s under your skin’ is a horrific understatement.”

Jack tossed his empty bottle in the trash. “You’d be right.”

Thankfully, he didn’t have the opportunity to elaborate, because George’s wife

entered the bar and Jack busied himself opening a bottle of Chardonnay for her. George took his book and his drink and joined her at a table, where Jack delivered her wine.

“I heard the good news,” Jess said. “George told me you’re running for office.”

“Guess there’s no getting out of it now.”

She laughed. “Not a chance. Of course, we’ll do everything we can to help.”

“Just keep coming in so I can afford this joint.”

“You don’t have to twist our arms!” Jess said as she reached for her glass.

Jack returned to the bar, tidying it up before the evening crowd started to file in,

leaving him little time to think about Liza and the predicament he’d found himself in.

Created for himself, really, because he’d known what he was doing last night. Had

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known this morning when he’d made love to her. Had known when he’d paraded

down the main drag with her.

As the stools at the bar started to fill up, he scribbled the word “reserved” on a

cocktail napkin and placed it in front of the empty stool on the end. Just in case Liza got a grip on all the things she had to reconcile and decided to stop in tonight.

* * * * *

She felt his electrifying gaze on her the minute she walked through the door.

Containing the smile that tickled her lips wasn’t easy. Nor was regulating her breathing.

It escalated at the mere thought of Jack and excitement zinged through her because she knew he was watching her.

She scanned the area, trying to decide where to sit, knowing she should meet more

people. This was a comfortable, friendly environment, after all. Not the “dropped in

Oz” experience she’d had in town. She wondered if her hypothetical house had

flattened Lydia when she was in her shop. She decided she didn’t mind the idea of

having put her Royal Witchiness in her place—and hoped she stayed there.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she went back to assessing the room,

looking for a strategic place to plop down. But when her eyes landed on Jack, stationed behind the bar, dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his rock-hard biceps, she knew there was only one person she wanted to spend

the evening with. She had plenty of time to make friends later. Being away from the

Devil for just a few hours had her jonesing like an addict.

She stepped up to the bar and said in a teasing tone, “You really need more bars in

this town.”

“Mine not good enough for ya, darlin’?”

“It’s not that,” she said as she set her purse on the bar and slid onto the only empty stool as he whisked away a napkin in front of it. “I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you. I’m just thirsty.”

He chuckled, making every one of her nerve-endings tingle. “I’ll try to keep my ego

in check, given that you’ve stopped by two nights in a row.”

“Yes, do try.”

His expression changed, however, in the next second. Hardening with a scowl. He

said, “You do realize this is the only bar left in town?”

“Why’s that?” Liza asked as she settled more comfortably onto her stool.

“Ask your friend Reverend Bain the next time he stops by your cottage.”

Ah, him again.

“You know, he mentioned something odd this afternoon when I ran into him.”

“He came back to the cottage?” Jack asked, looking sufficiently outraged.

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Quick to quell his anger, Liza said, “No, no. I went back into town to check out the

hair salon. Big mistake, as you can imagine. And so unfortunate for me. But I digress.”

She reached for the glass of water Jack poured for her and took a sip. Then she said, “I nearly ran the reverend down when I was coming out of the drugstore. He invited me

to Bingo tonight. Said the ladies play ‘til eleven.”

“Yes, they do,” Jack said, his jaw tightening as though he knew exactly what she

was about to say.

“Why is that? If the saloon has to close at ten because of the Saturday night curfew, why is the church still open for business? For gambling, no less?”

“It’s not sinning when you’re under God’s roof, darlin’.”

She frowned. “That’s a little too convenient.” But she was already beginning to see

there were two sets of rules in this town. One for the sinners and one for the saints.

“White or red?” Jack asked, changing the subject as he tossed a fresh napkin onto