Flirting with Texas (Deep in the Heart of Texas) (16 page)

“No,” he said. “But I have to check out all complaints. Especially when they come from upstanding citizens.”

“Perhaps they’re just making an assumption based on what Miss Hattie’s was before.”

“Maybe.” Dusty shook his head. “But this person claimed that Minnie had invited a new girl to the henhouse for that exact reason.”

Jenna lowered her eyes to hide her reaction. Is that why Minnie had sent her the invitation? She wanted Jenna to
become a prostitute like her mother? It didn’t seem likely. When talking with Moses, Minnie hadn’t acted like she was interested in prostituting Jenna. In fact, she had acted like she just wanted to help her. Because of that, Jenna wasn’t yet ready to tell Dusty everything she knew.

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a new girl.”

Dusty paused with his hand on the door handle. “But you’ll call me if you hear something, right?”

“Of course.”

He nodded. “I’d give you a hug, but I’d say that your boyfriend has had about all he can handle.” He looked at the house, and Jenna turned to find Beau standing on the porch, his shoulder resting against a post.

“Be sure to stop back by again, Sheriff,” he called. “Miss Hattie’s always welcomes law enforcement officers.”

Jenna waited for Dusty’s car to pull around the circular drive before she turned and walked to the bottom of the steps.

“Do you want to explain what that was all about?” she asked.

“What? Your college boyfriend didn’t tell you about our conversation?” He pushed away from the post and walked over to the swing and sat down. The chains rattled as he plopped a pillow in one corner and stretched out.

“I wasn’t talking about his reason for being here.” She climbed up the steps and stood in front of the swing. “I’m talking about you making him think that I’m your girlfriend.”

Beau set the swing into motion with his foot and shrugged. “I wanted to get his mind off the entire prostitution thing, and it seemed like a good way to explain
your presence at the henhouse. Did you have another explanation?”

“How about the truth?” She leaned back on the railing.

Beau laughed. “That we were kidnapped by two country bumpkins and brought all the way here from New York so you could make up with your parents? Your college sweetheart doesn’t look like the type of man who would believe a hokey story like that.”

It was really hard to concede a point to Beau, but she had to give him this one. She walked over to the swing and knocked his boot off the arm so she could sit down. “Okay, so what’s going on? And please don’t tell me that you’re the owner of a house of ill repute.”

“Of course not. Even if Minnie might be trying to change that.” Beau replaced his foot on the arm of the swing and crossed his other boot over it, trapping her with his blue-jeaned legs. “Although it is an intriguing thought. You mind giving us a push?”

She rolled her eyes and pushed the swing back and forth with the toe of her go-go boot. “So who do you think sent him?”

“That’s a good question. The sheriff wouldn’t say, but I got the feeling it was someone who has more than a little pull. What I can’t figure out is where this person got their information. According to Minnie, just the hens knew about the invitation they sent you.”

“And Minnie hasn’t hired anyone else?”

“Just some woman from Bramble to help with the cooking and cleaning.”

Jenna continued to push the swing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat on a porch swing. Or the last time she was able to see the endless view of the
horizon. A feeling of contentment settled deep down inside her, and she sighed and settled back.

“Well, it’s probably nothing to worry about. Dusty seemed to be satisfied that nothing unlawful was going on.”

“Only because he has the hots for you.”

Jenna’s gaze swept over to Beau. His eyes were closed, and one arm was tucked beneath his head while the other rested on his chest.

“Dusty doesn’t have the hots for me,” she said. “We haven’t seen each other since college.” Her gaze settled on the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and the dark hair on his forearms. “Why isn’t the hair on your arms gray?”

“I guess I’m just a freak of nature. And time doesn’t make a difference to a guy. Once in heat for a girl, always in heat.”

“You should talk about being in heat. You are the horniest man I’ve ever met. I’m surprised you haven’t already found your way into Starlet’s bed. I’m sure you’d be welcome.”

Just the thought of Beau with Starlet ruined her contented feeling. She tried to push his legs off the arm of the swing so she could get up, but the toes of his boots got caught in the chain. She might’ve continued to struggle with his big feet if his next words hadn’t stopped her cold.

He opened his eyes, and they seemed to drill right through her. “I’m not interested in Starlet.”

Heat swirled up from some unknown place, spreading through her body and settling in the polyester crotch of her shorts. And it took a real effort not to crawl right on top of the man and take him up on what his intense gaze offered.

“I can’t.” The words came out in a breathy
whisper. “I’m sorry, but what happened in the bathtub was a mistake.”

Beau stared at her for only a moment more before he untangled his feet from the chains of the swing. Dropping his boots to the porch, he stood and walked to the railing. When he finally turned back around, his signature smile was in place, but his eyes held not one glimmer of heat. In fact, they were as cold as a New York City winter.

“Then I suggest you stay away from my bath time. Or on second thought, maybe it would be best if you stayed away from me altogether.”

T
HE HENS WERE ALL CLUSTERED
around the kitchen table having some kind of a powwow when Marcy walked in the back door. It must’ve been a private meeting because as soon as she entered, they all shut up. It wasn’t a big deal. Marcy had never been part of the “in” crowd—or any crowd for that matter—nor did she want to be. She had been a loner all her life, and she preferred things that way.

“Hi, Marcy,” Baby said. “Did you get the butter I asked you to get at the grocery store?”

Damn. Marcy had forgotten all about Baby’s butter. She’d been so upset after talking with Pastor Robbins that she had forgotten about everything else, including her shoes. When she had looked behind her to see Pastor Robbins picking them up, she had been so worried that he would follow her to give them back that she’d slipped into the library to hide. There she had found a flustered Mayor Sutter surrounded by students from Bramble Elementary. Since the mayor didn’t know the first thing about checking out books or locating the proper reading level
for each child, Marcy took over for him. Dealing with the hyped-up children had helped to take her mind off her conversation with Pastor Robbins. But the ride out to the henhouse had brought it all back.

Was she crazy? Had she actually propositioned a man of God? She was lucky God hadn’t struck her dead right there in Confederate Park. Of course, that didn’t stop her from lying through her teeth now.

“The Fresh Mart was closed,” she said. “Something about Ed’s cousin being sick.”

Minnie lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I’m sure Baby will get by until tomorrow. For now, there’s something I’d like to talk with you about in the library.”

Since Minnie only conducted business in the library, Marcy got a little nervous. She covered her reaction with belligerence. As soon as she walked through the library door, she snapped at Minnie.

“So are you gonna fire me for not getting Baby’s butter? Well, go right ahead. I’ve done everything you asked me to do—including scrub out the toilets. Even though I can’t see how that is going to get me ready for becoming a hooker. Or making beds. Or scrubbing dishes. What kind of man wants a woman touching him with dishpan hands?”

“I’ve known a few who don’t mind at all,” Minnie said as she rolled around the desk. “But I didn’t call you in here to fire you, Marcy. In fact, I’m very proud of the job you’ve been doing at the henhouse.” She smiled. “And for volunteering at the Bramble library. A good hen always does her civic duty.”

It was the first time Minnie had referred to Marcy as a hen. And she didn’t know if it made her happy or scared shitless.

“I don’t know anything about civic duty.” Marcy closed the door. “I just like the peace and quiet.” She stared at the old woman as a thought struck her. “How did you know about that, anyway?”

“I’ve got my ways.” Minnie took a sucker from the side pocket on her wheelchair, but then seemed to change her mind and put it back. “But that isn’t the reason I wanted to talk with you. We had a visitor today.” Her gaze settled on Marcy. “A male visitor.”

Fear swelled up inside Marcy. A male visitor at the henhouse could only mean one thing. It was time for her to start her job. She glanced up at the ceiling. Was he up there now? Waiting for her? Just the thought of going to bed with a stranger sent a wave of dizziness washing over her. She swayed on her feet and barely made it to the chair.

“Are you okay?” Minnie asked, her voice concerned.

Marcy couldn’t answer, not when she was fighting to keep from throwing up or passing out—or possibly both. She felt worse than the time she drank an entire bottle of elderberry wine. She placed her head between her knees and took huge gulps of air. She didn’t know how long she remained there before a cool hand rested on the back of her neck.

“Slow and steady breaths, Marcy,” Minnie said as she stroked her hair.

No one had ever touched Marcy like that. Mostly because she never let them. She didn’t like to be touched, which was odd for a girl who’d had sex with as many men as Marcy had, but she was too busy trying to keep from passing out to stop the woman. Besides, the gentle strokes were soothing and seemed to work. After only a few moments, Marcy was able to lift her head.

Minnie held out a glass of amber liquid. “Drink it down fast. It will help.”

She didn’t have to tell Marcy twice. Marcy downed the brandy in one gulp. The fire of the alcohol brought a warmth to her stomach and a clarity to her head.

“I can’t do it,” she said as she handed Minnie back the glass. “At least, not yet. And not with some stranger.” When Minnie looked confused, Marcy continued. “Please don’t fire me. I really need the money. I just need to ease into it. I need to start with someone that I know and trust. I had someone in mind, but he’s not interested. But I’m sure I can find someone else.”

Minnie studied her. It always made Marcy extremely uncomfortable. The old woman’s beady eyes pierced right through her like the creepy fortune-teller at the county fair.

“So you’ve already spoken with someone about your new profession?” Minnie asked.

Marcy thought about lying, but then figured that nothing got past the woman’s eagle eyes. “Yes, but you don’t have to worry about this man saying anything. I know something about him that he wouldn’t want his congrega—other people to know.”

If Minnie had caught her slip, she didn’t let on. She only nodded and took the empty glass back. “So is this man your boyfriend?”

Marcy shook her head. “Not hardly. We could never be that. It would just be about sex. That’s why I thought it would work.”

“And why this man?”

It was a good question. Why had she chosen Pastor Robbins to initiate her into a life of prostitution? Did she
think having sex with a preacher would exonerate her from her life of sin? She
was
crazy. Even if Pastor Robbins agreed to her harebrained idea, it wouldn’t change what she was. In fact, she’d have the added guilt of corrupting a saint.

“I guess I just wanted my first time as a hooker to be with a good man,” she said. “A good, kind man who wouldn’t treat me like a prostitute.” She slumped down in the chair. “But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? It doesn’t matter if my first time is with a good man or a good-for-nothing criminal. A whore is a whore.”

The slap that Minnie gave her had Marcy’s head snapping back and her ears ringing.

“ ‘Whore’ is a man’s cockamamie word,” Minnie said. “I won’t have you using it in this house, and I sure won’t have you using it to describe yourself. You’ve still got a lot to learn.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “And now I’m wonderin’ if maybe I’ll need a little help to fix all the damage.”

Marcy didn’t know what damage the old woman was talking about. The only damage she could think about was the damage Minnie’s slap had done to her face. Her cheek stung like hell.

She rubbed it as she glared at Minnie. “You don’t have to fix anything. I plan on pulling my weight here. And I will.” She swallowed hard and got up from her chair. “If this customer upstairs wants company, I’ll be more than happy to give—”

The library door opened, and a man stepped in. A tall cowboy in pressed jeans and a hat that cast a shadow over most of his face. There was something familiar about him, but Marcy didn’t take the time to figure it out. The
sick feeling was back and worse than ever. And no matter what she had just told Minnie, she didn’t wait around for the introductions. With a hand clamped over her mouth, she headed to the door and brushed right by the man.

“Wasn’t that Marcy Henderson?” Beau asked, once Marcy had left.

“One and the same.” Minnie rolled back over to the desk and placed the empty glass on the tray. After talking with Moses, she’d been worried about Marcy. Now she wasn’t so worried anymore. The girl still needed some work, but her fear of becoming a prostitute proved that she was headed in the right direction. Now all Minnie needed to do was help Marcy to discover her worth. Of course, she wasn’t the only woman at the henhouse who needed to discover that.

Minnie smiled. It was going to be a long, busy summer.

“She’s the girl I was telling you about,” Minnie said. “The one I hired to help with the cooking and cleaning.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Beau pulled off his cowboy hat and sent it sailing across the room. It hit the leather chair by the fireplace with the accuracy of a Frisbee. “From what I hear, she’s not the trustworthy type.”

“I never put much store in gossip,” Minnie said. “If I did, Miss Hattie’s would be nothing more than a house of ill repute.”