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“You okay?” he asked, shooting her a quick look.
“Yeah,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Fine.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. After unhooking his belt, he pushed open the door and got out of the truck. Liza followed suit.
As she was rounding the vehicle, Jack was approaching the driver’s side of the sedan that had pulled out of a parallel parking space along the street. The driver obviously had not looked for oncoming traffic and hit them. The car had dented the front corner of Jack’s truck and broken the headlight. Other than that, the major damage was not related to Jack’s vehicle.
“Jesus, Lydia,” he said as he opened the door of the car, which was an older model without airbags. “Are you all right?”
“I didn’t see you,” Liza heard the woman say. “I was looking at that dress rack across the street. Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking!”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said, his tone dropping a notch, becoming more soothing, more sympathetic. “Are you all right?”
Liza stood back a few feet, watching the interaction. The woman in the car—Lydia—was roughly their age. She was a simple-looking woman, dressed in soft pink, her brown hair pulled back in a short, tidy ponytail. She wore no makeup, save for clear lip gloss, and no jewelry other than a thin gold band on her left ring finger. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel.
“Yes,” she finally said with a nod of her head. “I’m fine. I just… Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he told her.
“No, it’s not!” Her voice rose. “Look what I’ve done to your truck!”
“It’ll survive,” he said, still the epitome of calm. “Let me help you out.”
She shook her head, yet conceded at the same time. She let go of her death grip on the steering wheel and allowed Jack to help her out of the car. Her entire body shook, Liza noticed. She felt bad for her. Lydia had been distracted when she’d hit them and was clearly shaken by the accident.
“We’ll pay for the damages,” she said to Jack. “I’ll tell Tom at the body shop to put them on Jonathan’s account.”
Jack’s jaw tightened—a telltale sign Liza read so easily now. No powers of deduction needed to determine to which “Jonathan” Lydia referred. She was the Reverend Bain’s wife. And Jack’s aunt by his mother’s second marriage.
Liza looked at the woman with different eyes. Before she’d known her identity, Lydia seemed like a fragile, disoriented woman. But now… Her gaze shifted and landed on the dress rack across the street that Lydia had said had grabbed her attention and caused her to hit Jack’s truck.
Liza’s jaw fell slack. One would never guess from the demure signage and window display that there was a lingerie shop in the neighborhood. But the rack—or rather, the lacy nighties hanging on it—was a dead giveaway.
The reverend’s wife hadn’t been distracted by a pretty dress. She’d been stunned into paralysis by the “risqué” display—and Liza did have to use that term loosely, because she personally couldn’t find anything wrong with the clothes. Lydia Bain had slammed right into Jack’s truck as, Liza presumed, she’d gawked at the sexy lingerie.
Good grief. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
It hadn’t occurred to Liza before, but Hill Country was part of the Bible Belt. And she was now fully immersed in its culture. Her brows knitted together as she watched Jack take such good care of his aunt. Other people gathered round to make sure she was okay, and a few seconds later, Liza heard the familiar sound of a police siren.
She found it interesting that Jack did not express the same disdain for the reverend’s wife as he did toward the reverend himself. Liza was already seeing evidence that she shared her husband’s views, so why was Jack so tolerant of her and not Bain?
She shook her head. Liza was racking up more questions about the Devil than she’d ever anticipated. And found it incredibly ironic that she’d pinned the nickname on someone so representative—especially in a town such as this—of the moniker. Sinner that he was.
“Really,” Lydia was saying with disapproval in her voice, which pulled Liza from her thoughts. “What is Ginger thinking?”
Once again, Lydia’s eyes were on the clothes rack across the street. Liza’s gaze didn’t leave the reverend’s wife. She was clearly unnerved. No, it was more than that. She was shocked at the audacity of the shop owner who’d put her sexy wares on public display.
What was the big deal anyway? The nightgowns were short and lacy, sure. But Liza had seen more risqué outfits in a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Then again, considering everything Jack had divulged thus far, her guess was the reverend preferred his wife in plain white cotton rather than sexy red lace.
Jack’s earlier words came back to Liza in a flash.
I don’t like him shoving his personal beliefs down everyone’s throat.
Interesting. Did it rub Jack raw that Lydia Bain was subject to her husband’s crusade to save the morality of the townsfolk? Did he know something about her that made her prudishness disturbing to him?
As though Liza had spoken all of this aloud, Mrs. Bain’s gaze snapped to her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Liza asked, having no other comment to make because she was still trying to sort out this whole Twilight-Zone experience she was suddenly living.
