A Little Texas Two-Step

“Did you know you left your front door open?” she scolded. “Anybody could come in and—”

At the door to Leighanna’s bedroom, Reggie stopped cold. A suitcase lay on the bed, a tangle of clothes and shoes tumbled over its side, wire hangers were scattered over the floor. Leighanna stood in front of the dresser, jerking handfuls of lingerie and socks from the drawers.

Reggie let out a slow, long breath, unsure of what was happening. “Are you coming or going?” she asked uneasily.

Leighanna whirled. Her eyes were red, her cheeks mottled by anger. “Going!” She marched past Reggie and dumped the load she carried into the suitcase.

“Where?” Reggie asked.

“I’m moving out.”

Fear knotted in Reggie’s stomach. Leighanna was like family to her, as was Mary Claire, and she’d already lost Mary Claire and her children when they’d moved to Temptation. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Leighanna, too.

When Leighanna brushed past her again, headed for the dresser, Reggie grabbed her arm. “Wait a second,” she said, hoping to slow Leighanna down long enough to find out what was behind this quick exodus. “Why are you moving out?”

Leighanna jerked free of Reggie’s hold. “Roger!” she snapped, and marched on to the dresser. She snatched an armful of clothing from the bottom drawer, then kicked it closed with her foot.

Reggie could only stare. She had never seen Leighanna like this before. Always calm, soft-spoken, Leighanna seldom lost her temper. She was generous and loving and giving...even to that scumball of an ex-husband of hers, Roger.

And that’s exactly what he was, too, Reggie thought angrily. Leighanna might have been blinded to his faults, but Reggie had never been. She had leased Roger the apartment four years ago when he’d first married Leighanna and would have kicked the loser out years ago when his first rent check had bounced if she hadn’t felt sorry for his poor wife. She’d held Leighanna’s hand throughout the divorce, had even tried to open Leighanna’s eyes to his scheming ways when he would drop by periodically after their divorce, trying to borrow money from her. But Leighanna was naive and totally trusting, and never saw through his deceit until it was too late.

That he was behind this fit of temper didn’t surprise her. What worried her was what Roger had done to provoke it.

“What does he have to do with your moving out?” she asked uneasily.

Leighanna turned on Reggie, her hands filled with clothes, her blue eyes wild with anger. “You’d think it would be enough for him that he ruined my life right along with my credit, wouldn’t you?” she raged. “But, no! Not Roger! He’s like that damn bunny in the battery commercial, pounding his drum. He just keeps going and going and going!”

Reggie sank to the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumping. “What has he done now?” she asked in resignation.

Leighanna threw the armload of clothes into the suitcase and planted her hands on her hips as she whirled to face Reggie. “He came into my apartment while I was gone to visit Mary Claire and stole all my money from the cookie jar.”

Reggie was on her feet in a flash. “He did what?” she cried.

“He stole my money! All that I had saved to buy a new car.”

Angry now herself, Reggie paced away, fisting her hands at her sides. “Well, he won’t get away with it this time. Not if I have any say in the matter.” Always ready to take charge, Reggie mentally listed what would need to be done. “We’re calling the police. We’ll file charges for breaking and entering and for burglary. When they find him, they’ll throw his lousy butt in jail, and this time we’ll see that they throw away the key.” She stopped and wheeled, thrusting a warning finger at Leighanna. “Don’t touch another thing,” she ordered. “The police will need to dust the apartment for prints.”

Leighanna went right on throwing clothes into the suitcase. “Forget it, Reggie. The police can’t do anything.”

“And why not?” she asked incredulously. “He broke into your apartment and stole your money. Last I remember, that’s still a crime.”

“He didn’t break in. He used a key.”

“A key!” Reggie all but screamed. “For God’s sake, Leighanna, you gave him a key?”

“No, I didn’t give him a key.” The fight suddenly went out of Leighanna and she dropped down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands. “He must have had a duplicate made last month when he took my car to have it repaired.”

“Repaired?” Reggie repeated sarcastically. “You mean when he fleeced you of the repair money, don’t you?” She dropped down on the bed beside Leighanna in frustration. “Geez, Leighanna! When will you ever learn? The man can’t be trusted.”

Leighanna dragged her hands down her face then tipped her face to the ceiling. “I know. I know,” she said miserably. “But he said he knew somebody who could replace the transmission cheaper, and that he wanted to do it for me to make up for all the money he owed me.”

Reggie just rolled her eyes. It would be just like Leighanna to fall for a line like that. “Well, there’s still the burglary charge,” Reggie reminded her. “We can nail him with that.”

Leighanna turned to look at Reggie, her expression one of defeat. “And you think the police will believe me? I can’t prove that the money was there and I certainly can’t prove that Roger took it.” She pushed to her feet and straightened. “Forget it, Reggie. There’s only one thing left for me to do and that is to move.”

Reggie jumped from the bed. “And what will you solve by moving?”

“I’ll be away from him. Far away. Somewhere where he’ll never think to look for me.”

“And where would that be?”

“Temptation. I’m moving in with Mary Clare and her kids.”

One

Hank caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced toward the entrance to his bar. A woman stood before the front window, bent at the waist, her chin thrust forward as she peered through its dirty glass.

Hank muttered a curse. He was sick and damn tired of people sticking their noses in his window at all hours of the day. The sign on the door clearly read Closed, but that little fact didn’t seem to bother the throng of people who’d made their way to Temptation.

And it’s all Cody’s fault, he grumped silently, thinking of his friend and Temptation’s sheriff. If he hadn’t come up with the fool notion to advertise for women to save Temptation from becoming a ghost town, all these folks wouldn’t have converged on their town.

He watched, frowning, as the sun panned gold from the woman’s shoulder-length blond hair while the wind whipped it across her face. She caught the long tresses that curtained one cheek in long, delicately boned fingers to hold it back from her face.

Scrawny little thing, he told himself as he watched her. Probably didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds dripping wet. He stepped around the bar to get a better look. Yep, he confirmed, she was scrawny all right. Her arms were thin as reeds, her shoulders narrow, and if she had any boobs at all beneath that baggy silk blouse, she was hiding them well.

Hank snorted and shook his head. Personally, he liked his women with a little more flesh on them. Full hips made for a man to ride, breasts big enough to fill his hands, lips thick enough to wrap around his—

At that moment, she glanced up and caught sight of him through the window and offered him a tentative smile.

Well, she had the lips, he admitted reluctantly. And the pearliest white teeth he’d ever seen. While he watched, she snagged the sign from the window he’d put there three days before. She disappeared for a moment, only to reappear on the other side of the locked front door. She tapped on the glass then pointed to the sign she held.

Hank groaned. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, knowing full well that she was wanting to apply for the waitress position he’d advertised for. And Hank knew damn good and well this was going to be a waste of his time. She couldn’t handle the job. The work was backbreaking, the hours long, his customers rowdy at best. A slip of a woman like her wouldn’t last one shift as a waitress in a bar like The End of the Road.

Muttering curses under his breath, he crossed to the door and unlocked it. “Can I help you?”

Leighanna took a step back and pressed the sign to her breasts, startled by the intimidating size and the gruffness of the man who stood opposite her. Tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, he had the face of an angel but the eyes and the mouth of the devil himself. “I hope so,” she said, then nervously wet her lips.

The dart of that pink tongue made Hank think of other things he’d like that tongue to do. Before he had time to follow that train of thought, though, she extended her hand.

“I’m Leighanna Farrow,” she said by way of introduction. “Are you the owner?”

Hank scowled. “Yeah, I’m the owner.” Reluctantly, he took her hand in his. “Hank Braden.”

Her hand was smooth as silk against his callused palm and soft as butter, further proof that she wasn’t fit for the job.

She pushed a smile to her lips as she withdrew her hand...but he could see the fear in her eyes, could almost smell it over the scent of her perfume. His customers would eat a woman like her alive.

“I’d like to apply for the waitress position,” she said politely, and offered him the sign.