Two

      “I swear, the man thinks he’s God’s gift to women!”

      Mary Claire couldn’t help but laugh as she set a pan of hot, steaming water on the stoop at Leighanna’s feet. “From what I hear, he is.”

      Leighanna scowled, remembering the barrel racer mentioned the night before, and levered a heaping tablespoon of Epsom salts into the pan of hot water and stirred. She didn’t want to ask, but couldn’t resist. “What have you heard?”

      Mary Claire sat down on the porch beside Leighanna and propped a bowl of peas on her lap. “Nothing specific, really. Just that he has quite a way with the women.”

      “He could have fooled me,” Leighanna said dryly. She eased her swollen feet into the hot water and had to bite her lower lip to keep from crying.

      Chuckling, Mary Claire patted her arm. “They’ll feel better after you’ve soaked them for a while.” She picked up a pea pod and broke off its end. “Did you make much in tips last night?”

      “A little over forty dollars.”

      “That’s good, isn’t it?”

      “I suppose. But it doesn’t come anywhere near matching the salary I made as manager of the boutique.” She threw up a hand, stopping Mary Claire before she could even offer. “And, no, I won’t accept a loan from you.”

      Mary Claire pressed her lips together and went back to her shelling. “I still don’t understand why you got stuck with all of Roger’s debt.”

      Leighanna heaved a sigh. “Because we were married. Because the debts were in both our names. Because Texas is a community property state. And because Roger is a jerk and refuses to pay them.”

      “Couldn’t you just declare bankruptcy?”

      “I could...but I won’t. It’s bad enough that I have to suffer because of Roger’s shortcomings. I won’t allow anyone else to suffer, too.”

      “So, you’re just going to work your fingers to the bone until they’re all paid off?”

      “If it takes that. But the bonus at the end is that my name will be clear and my credit standing will be good again. That makes all the hard work worthwhile.”

      Not wanting to think about her debts anymore, it was much too pretty a day for such morbid thoughts, Leighanna closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. “I see why you love it here so much. The air is clean, the sky is clear—”

      “And there’s not a traffic jam in sight,” Mary Claire finished for her. “Heaven, isn’t it?”

      “What’s heaven?”

      Mary Claire and Leighanna both looked up to see Harley, Mary Claire’s fiancé, strolling down the brick walk toward them. Leighanna could see the love in the main’s eyes as he looked at Mary Claire and felt just the tiniest stab of envy. She’d met Harley on her first visit to Temptation and had immediately liked the man. Beyond the fact that he was drop-dead handsome, he seemed to adore Mary Claire and her children, and that alone was enough to win Leighanna’s approval of him.

      Smiling, Mary Claire lifted her face for Harley’s kiss. “Temptation.” She patted the spot next to her on the step. “Join us. Leighanna was just singing the praises of her new home.”

      Harley chuckled as he dropped down beside Mary Claire. “Tough night at work?” he asked, gesturing to the pan of water where Leighanna soaked.

      Leighanna frowned. “In more ways than one.”

      Mary Claire bit back a smile. “I think your friend Hank made a bad impression with Leighanna.”

      Harley reared back, looking at Leighanna in surprise. “Hank?”

      “Yes, Hank,” Leighanna said sourly. “Do you know that he had the audacity to ask me to kiss him?”

      “Did you?” Harley and Mary Claire asked at the same time.

      Leighanna reared back, looking at them in surprise. “Well, of course I didn’t! The man’s a lecher!”

      Mary Claire bit back a smile and Harley nearly choked on a laugh, but both remained silent.

      “Well, he is!” Leighanna cried indignantly. “Every time I turned around, he was there, touching me or brushing up against me.” She shuddered, remembering.

      “Most women would kill to have Hank pay ’em that much attention,” Harley offered quietly.

      Leighanna rolled her eyes. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, they can have him. The man has a one-track mind. Sex!”

      Leighanna tried the door and found it unlocked. “Hank?” she called hesitantly as she pushed open the door. “Are you here?” When he didn’t answer, she hesitated a moment, then with a shrug, stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

      Heading straight for the bar, she tossed her purse behind it and grabbed a clean towel to tuck into her jeans. If she’d learned anything from her first night at work, it was the proper apparel for a waitress in a place like The End of the Road. Today she’d worn jeans and a washable cotton shirt. She’d already ruined one silk blouse at The End of the Road and wasn’t anxious to sacrifice another.

      She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar and fought back a shudder. Always a woman who took pride in her appearance, her current state of dress was somewhat depressing. As the manager of the clothing boutique in Houston, the image she had projected had been important. Since the owners of the boutique had included a generous discount on all the clothes she purchased there, doing so had been easy.

      Glancing down at her feet, she frowned. The running shoes were certainly not a fashion statement, that was for sure, but hopefully, with their help, she wouldn’t need to soak her feet again.

      With a sigh, she glanced at the clock behind the bar...and smiled. Four-thirty. She’d purposefully arrived early, just to spite Hank. Too bad he wasn’t around so that she could gloat.

      Humming softly, she dragged the chairs from the tables, then refilled the salt and pepper shakers, just as she’d done the night before. When Hank still hadn’t appeared by the time she’d finished, she glanced around, trying to decide what she should do next. One look at the filthy front windows gave her the answer she needed. Taking the bucket, she filled it with water and a heavy dose of vinegar, grabbed a couple of clean rags and headed for the front door.

      Once outside, she parked the bucket beneath a window and stepped back, folding her arms beneath her breasts as she studied the building. The structure itself was old. probably built more than fifty years before, and was constructed of native limestone. Only two windows faced the front of the narrow structure, but the double doors situated between them each sported a glass. A faded sign stretched above the door. The End of the Road, she silently read.

      It was certainly that, she admitted, glancing around at its remote location. Situated at the edge of town, the building stood over two hundred feet from the main road. Fronted by a gravel parking lot, and protected on three sides by thick stands of cedar, the bar seemed to have sprouted from the rocky ground itself. Thick clumps of cactus cropped up here and there along the fence line bordering the parking lot, and a tangle of weeds and vines grew in the narrow strip of ground between the gravel lot and the building itself.

      The