Two hours after they had breakfast that morning, Hunter pulled into the small border town of Acala. It wasn’t as hot as she remembered, but nothing else had changed. Same dusty streets. Same cantina. Same church right next door.
Mercy thought about Jenny and Kyle helping with church services the next day and considered surprising Jenny by attending. But if her old roommate found out she was here for three days with Hunter Wilson without a chaperone, she’d climb up on her soapbox and start preaching at Mercy. If she even found out that Mercy had spent last night with him in the same motel room, it wouldn’t matter if they were as innocent as newborn baby lambs, Jenny would never believe they hadn’t shared the same bed.
“Here we are.” Hunter drove his truck around to the back of the cantina, and Mercy was surprised to see a sweet little white frame house with a deep front porch. She had never thought about where Mickey and his new wife might live, but there it was, with a lovely flower bed facing the street on the opposite side of the cantina.
“Mickey and Maria left this morning and won’t be back until Monday morning. I’ve got a key, so I’ll get us in and come back for our luggage,” Hunter said.
“It’s a far cry from the place where I stayed last time I was here,” she said as she walked up onto the porch.
Hunter opened the door, stood to one side, and let her go inside. “I’ll be right back.”
“Air-conditioning,” she said when a blast of cold air from a ceiling vent came down on her.
“Surprised?” Hunter asked. “Mickey loves this part of the world, but he likes his luxuries too.” He brought in her suitcase first, and then his bags.
“This is lovely,” she admitted. “Does Mickey make enough on that cantina to live this well? I didn’t even know air-conditioning existed in this town.”
“Mickey doesn’t have to worry about money. He could live anywhere in the world and do whatever he wants. He just likes the laid-back life down here. When the electricity fails, the A/C is powered by a big generator that takes care of the house and the cantina. Maria says you’re to have the master bedroom since it has a private bathroom. She also says if I don’t treat you right, I’ll answer to her.” He opened a door and carried her things into that room. “My room is right next door.”
A king-sized bed took up very little of the huge room. Double doors opened out onto a deck. Bright colored flowers were planted in pots and hanging from baskets.
She opened the doors and inhaled deeply to take in the aroma of roses, gardenias, and azaleas, and then saw a movement in her peripheral vision. She whipped around to find Hunter standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“The door was open,” he said with a shrug.
“Yes, it was, and this is lovely,” she replied.
“So, this will be okay with you for you for a couple of days while we help Mickey and Maria out with the cantina?”
“You mean this is a working vacation? No one told me that!” She threw up her palms and sat down on the stool in front of a vanity. “What’s my job supposed to be? Do I get to put my ear to the wall and turn up the jukebox when the gospel music gets too loud next door at the church?”
“I thought you’d put on a sexy little costume and dance on the tabletops for the men. We could put a hat on the floor, and you could keep all the coins they throw in it!” Hunter teased.
“And what time am I supposed to have my hat dance regalia ready?” she asked.
“We open the cantina today at five o’clock. I do the short-order cooking and bartending. All you have to do is stay behind the bar and smile. That should be enough to bring in more customers than old Mickey gets in a whole month. Wait until the menfolk around here learn there’s a blond angel at the cantina. They’ll flock in by the droves,” he smiled.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she told him. “It’s thirty minutes until we open up the cantina. I would like a shower before then. You said grill, right? Does that mean tacos? I eat when I’m angry, when I’m nervous, or when I’m happy.”
“Which one are you today?” Hunter asked.
“Nervous and maybe a little happy,” she answered.
“That’s a good beginning,” Hunter said. “Take as long as you want. I’ll be in the cantina getting things ready when you finish.”
He disappeared, and she heard the front door close. The two-bedroom house was a lot bigger than it looked on the outside. Did Jenny and Kyle have a place similar to this? Did the mission provide a parsonage that had a generator? Or maybe even a few swamp coolers?
She fished her cell phone out of her purse to call Jenny, but she couldn’t talk to her when she was about to go help in the cantina. She didn’t have time for a long lecture, and their relationship was fragile these days. The two times that Mercy had called her, Jenny had sounded frazzled and in a hurry to get off the phone. Evidently, missionary work was a lot more involved than just having Bible school for a week in the summertime. With a sigh, she slipped the phone back in her purse and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.
“Tomorrow, I’ll go see Jenny. I’ll just surprise her with a visit,” she promised as she dropped her clothing on the rocking chair next to the vanity and padded naked and barefoot into the bathroom.
She adjusted the water, then stepped inside and closed the glass door. Standing under the warm water, she remembered the makeshift shower in the adobe hut where she and Jenny had stayed at the beginning of the summer. Was that really just at the beginning of the summer? So much had happened that it felt like years and years.
Looking back, Mercy could see that it wasn’t being in Acala or even the incident at the cantina that had changed her. Those things were merely the straws that broke the camel’s back. What had finally brought things between her and Jenny to a head was the fact that Mercy had reached the end of tolerating Jenny’s control. She might not have handled it as well as she should have, but the end results had been the same. She had stood up to Jenny, and that caused a split in their friendship.
“I miss her, though,” Mercy muttered as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. “I miss sharing recipes and going shopping together and talking through our problems over a quart of ice cream.”
While she flipped her hair up on top of her head and secured the ponytail with a rubber band, then pulled a bandanna from her pocket and tied a loose bow around it, her thoughts went to Hunter’s story about his two wives. Why would he ever want to get involved with another woman—especially a tall blond who spoke her mind?
She tugged a white eyelet lace camisole down over the waistband of a pair of flattering skinny jeans. She would have brought different clothes if she’d been doing the choosing, but at least her mother hadn’t packed silk business suits or after-five party dresses. She checked her reflection in the freestanding full-length mirror in the corner and smiled. Maybe her outfit would make him eat those teasing words he’d said about her dancing on the bar.
She slipped on a pair of sandals and locked the door behind her as she left the house. There were no dust tornadoes or spiders crossing the lawn when she made her way around the house and swung open the doors of the cantina. The place was already half full, and the jukebox was blasting away in a lively tune. Men were bellied up to the bar and sitting around the mismatched tables.
Several of the customers whistled when she walked across the floor. One of them called out, “Can I buy you a shot of tequila?”
“No, you may not,” Hunter yelled from behind the bar. “She’s with me this weekend.”
“Hey, isn’t that the señorita who came in here demanding we turn down the jukebox?” another one asked.
“That’s right, I am, but this weekend, I’m here to help Hunter, not to have Bible school,” she answered.
The guy held up his beer in a toast. “You chose the better side.”
Mercy rounded the end of the bar, took an apron from a hook, and wrapped it around her waist. “I can draw beer and serve up bottles.”
“Only if you want to,” Hunter told her.
“My job is to help you, and like you said, figure out what we’re going to do about us. Mama always says the best way to get to know a person is to work beside them for a few days,” she told him.
“Hey pretty lady, could I get a pint of beer down here?” someone called from the other end of the bar.
“You got it.” She located the pint jars and drew it up.
In a couple of hours, Mercy and Hunter were working together as a team. They had little time for talking, but she felt like she had found out all kinds of things about him. He was kind, and more than once he’d chipped in to help pay for a customer’s beer. He worked hard, which told her that he would do anything for a friend in need, and the few times that something didn’t go right, he took it in stride, and didn’t lose his temper.
The last one surprised Mercy after the Raylene story, but then she might not have handled things as well as he did. If a person she loved treated her so horribly, she would have done more than just tossing them out naked in the yard.
At the end of the evening, Hunter locked up, and Mercy picked up a towel from a stack under the counter and wiped down the top of the bar.
“So, what have you learned about me from working beside me?” Hunter sat down and propped his boots up on a table.
Mercy drew up two jars of beer and carried them to the table. She set them down and then followed Hunter’s lead. Feet on the table, beer in hand, she let out a long sigh. “Ahhh, it feels good to sit down.”
“Thanks for the beer,” he said and took a long drink. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“I learned that you’re kindhearted and a hard worker,” she answered, “and that you look pretty good in a Hawaiian shirt.”
“Well, I learned that you are gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing or how you fix your hair, and that I like working beside you. I know that comparing people is often like comparing apples and oranges, but neither Carla nor Raylene liked to get their hands dirty. A couple of times during the time I was with each of them, I came out here to help Mickey, and they refused to come with me,” he said.
“I can’t fault them,” Mercy said. “I might not be here either if my mother hadn’t packed me up and sent me with you. Did they help you on the ranch?”
“Nope,” he said and took another drink of his beer. “Carla hated anything to do with the ranch. She worked in a local bank as a teller just so she wouldn’t have to be stranded, as she called it, on the ranch. Raylene didn’t do anything except shop, spend money, and cheat on me. But I don’t want to talk about them.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Mercy asked.
“You,” he answered. “Why did you major in business?”
That seemed like a silly question to start off the conversation, but Mercy answered it. “Because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and it seemed like a broad enough field.” She tipped up her beer and took a long drink.
“Want a job?” Hunter asked.
“Are you asking me to tally up the cash register?” she asked.
“We’ll do that together, and put the money in Mickey’s safe,” Hunter said. “I need an office manager at the ranch. I’ve got a staff that takes care of the oil business in town, but I need someone to take care of the ranchin’ business. I hate spending time in front of a computer. I want to be outside with the hired hands, not sitting at a desk inputting data or doing payroll. Jake’s been on me for months to hire someone. Interested?”
“Can I think about it?” Mercy asked.
All kinds of scenarios played through her mind at warp speed. If she and Hunter did get into a serious relationship, what would happen to her job if everything went south? Would she live on the ranch or in an apartment in town? What would the job and benefit package look like?
“It’s a lot to think about, so yes, you’ve got time. Can you give me an answer in ten minutes?” He wiggled his dark eyebrows.
She air slapped his arm. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I have been lucky,” Hunter said. “I’ve been beating around the bush, not knowing where to start this conversation.” He paused, took a deep breath, and then went on. “I never thought I’d feel anything again, but there’s chemistry between us, and I’m not running from it.”
“Me, either, but neither of us should be going too fast. We need to take things slow, and be sure that…”
Hunter butted in. “You sound like Jake, but I agree with you. We don’t have to rush into anything.”
Mercy covered a yawn with her hand. “Not bad company, just a tired body.”
“Then let’s go on to the house and finish straightening up the cantina tomorrow. We could both use a good night’s sleep.” Hunter set his feet on the floor, stood up, and offered his hand to Mercy.
She wasn’t surprised at the chemistry between them when she put her hand in his. If their relationship did get off the ground and fly, would she always feel this way?
Mercy couldn’t believe it when she woke up and looked at the clock and saw that it was already after noon. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and bacon wafted under her door. Her stomach reminded her that it had been a long time since she’d eaten a cantina hamburger on the run the evening before. She crawled out of bed, brushed her teeth, and headed for the kitchen in an oversized T-shirt that barely covered her underpants. Her mother had no doubt packed it for her to wear with jeans, but it had become a nightshirt when she went looking for something to sleep in other than the fancy blue gown.
“Good morning,” Hunter said. “Did you sleep well?”
“A heck of a lot better than the night before,” she admitted as she filled a mug with coffee. “Something smells good.”
“Bacon is done. Biscuits will come out of the oven in ten minutes, and I’m about to scramble some eggs and make some pancakes,” Hunter told her.
“That sounds great.” Mercy set her coffee on the counter and opened two doors before she found plates behind the third one. She set the table for two and brought out butter and two kinds of jelly from the refrigerator.
Hunter whipped up pancake batter. “Did Mickey leave us any orange juice?”
“Yep, right here.” She took a bottle from the fridge and took two glasses from the cabinet. “We’re all set, except for syrup. Where would I find that?”
“Pantry.” Hunter used an egg turner to point in the direction of a door on the other side of the room. “We seem to make a pretty good team in the kitchen as well as the cantina.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “You didn’t tell me that you could cook—other than in the cantina, that is.”
“Dad didn’t know anything about running a kitchen, so he hired a housekeeper and cook. She had this thing she called the goose and gander law, which was basically just saying that boys should learn to do what was usually girls’ work, and girls needed to know how to do what was dubbed boys’ jobs,” he explained. “I’m glad she taught me the basics. I’m not a gourmet, but I know enough to keep body and soul together. How about you?”
When the timer went off, Mercy removed the pan of biscuits from the oven and set them on the counter. “I like to cook. Jenny and I used to spend hours looking over new recipes to try.”
“So, you had good times with her as well as bad ones?” Hunter asked.
“Seems that way.” Mercy busied herself by putting the hot biscuits onto a plate and taking them to the table. “How about you? Were there good times?”
“More with Carla than with Raylene,” he answered. “Have you thought about my job offer? If working together helps us get to know each other, then that might be a good thing, right?”
“Might be,” she agreed, “but I’ll need a week or two to think about it. You are a very sexy man, Hunter Wilson, and it would be easy to say yes right now. But let’s see if we still even like each other when there’s three hundred miles between where I live and your ranch.”
“You looked up the distance, didn’t you?” Hunter grinned.
“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean…”
He cut her off by holding up a palm. “You like me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t want to be kidnapped,” she smarted off at him. “But liking and loving and getting along every day in a work situation are different than an attraction.”
“Want to hear about what goes with the job?” He brought the rest of the food to the table and sat down across from her. “You saw how big the house is, so you can live there if you want to. You’ll get the full medical package with the job, and two weeks’ vacation after you’ve been there a year.”
“To come out here and work in a cantina, I suppose.” She picked up a piece of bacon with her fingers and took a bite.
Hunter chuckled. “Well, now, if that’s what you want to do on your vacation, I’m sure Mickey would be glad for the help.”
Mercy was stunned at what he had just offered, but there was no way she could live with him in his house. That would be testing temptation entirely too far. On the other hand, she would have her own office, and only be responsible to Hunter. That would definitely go over on the plus side of the list when she made it.
“Give us both a week to mull over this,” she said as she began to fill her plate. “What have we got planned for this afternoon?”
“We have to put the cantina to rights, count the money and get the cash register ready for tomorrow, and restock the bar…” He paused.
“I can do the cleanup if you’ll restock the bar,” she said.
He slathered butter on two biscuits. “You’ve got a deal, but I’ll help with the sweeping and mopping after I get the cash register ready. You don’t have to do all that alone.”
“I’d like to visit Jenny for a little while tomorrow,” Mercy said.
“I’ll need to update Mickey tomorrow, so feel free to do anything you want before we open,” Hunter said. “I’d forgotten that Jenny lived here.”
“She’ll probably fuss at me for what I’m doing, and for not attending church services tomorrow, but…” She shrugged.
Hunter laid his fork to the side, reached across the table, and covered her hand with his. “She’s lucky that you are even going to see her.”
Mercy was sweating by the time they had the cantina ready to open. She made a mad dash through the bathroom, washed her face, redid her ponytail, and applied a little lipstick. She had just rounded the end of the bar when the doors swung open and a dozen men crowded into the place, along with four or five women.
They all found their way to the bar, ordered, and then took their drinks to tables. Hunter busied himself making burger baskets and tacos, while Mercy drew up drinks. She was paying very little attention to the customers right up until the whole place went so quiet that she could hear the gospel hymns being sung in Jenny and Kyle’s church next door.
At first, she thought that the jukebox had simply run out of songs, but when she turned around, she saw what all the folks were staring at. A woman had pushed her way through the doors and was now standing just inside the cantina. She had a mop of bright red hair that had to be natural because a bottle could never produce that color. Freckles danced across her nose and colored contacts made her eyes Crayola green. She wore a pair of skintight black pants, a low-cut black top that left half her breasts exposed, a black cowboy hat, and boots with a turquoise phoenix inlaid on the tops. For a full two minutes she just stood there like a statue, or maybe a model. No, that wasn’t it—like a woman who was picking out a man to follow around behind her like a puppy dog and help her take those boots off when she was ready.
Even Hunter had a smile plastered on his face like a little boy who’d found a whole stack of Playboy magazines in the trash can. Then a dozen men came into the cantina and all of them went slack-jawed at the sight of her.
“What are you smiling at?” Mercy asked him.
“Same thing all the rest of the men in here are grinning at,” he said. “It’s not often we get a second woman in here as beautiful as you.”
“So, you think she’s beautiful, do you?” Mercy whispered.
“Hello, señorita,” one of the guys said. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, I’ve picked out the man who will buy me a drink.” She pointed straight at Hunter and made a beeline for the bar.
A man who’d been sitting on a barstool for a while got up and used his clean red bandanna to dust off the seat. “I hope you were pointing at me, ma’am,” he said.
“Thanks for the stool, but I was pointing at the sexy bartender,” she said.
“Sorry, it’s against company rules for the bartender to buy drinks for customers,” Mercy told her.
“Are you jealous?” Hunter whispered.
“I’m not the jealous type,” she told him.
“Then I will have a beer and a double shot of tequila,” the lady told Mercy, but she winked at Hunter.
“Any particular kind?” Mercy asked.
“I don’t care what kind as long as it’s cold. I need something to cool me down while I look at the hot bartender.” The woman dropped her eyes from Hunter’s face to just below his belt buckle.
Mercy set a long-necked bottle and a double shot of tequila on the bar in front of the woman. “Are you from around these parts? We haven’t seen you before.”
“I come to this cantina for a little fun every few weeks. Haven’t seen you or your brother in here before. What happened to the chubby little fellow and his wife?” she asked, but her eyes stayed on Hunter like she could have him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“She’s not his sister,” the guy that had given up his seat said.
“I see. Are you his wife?” The woman grinned.
“No, I’m not his wife,” Mercy answered.
“Then let’s dance, sweetheart.” The woman stood up and held out her hand to Hunter. “If she’s not your sister or your wife, you’re a free man, and I like what I see.”
“Anything to please the customer.” Hunter tossed his towel at Mercy. “And since you aren’t jealous.”
Mercy glared at the two of them while the woman plugged money into the jukebox, wrapped her arms around Hunter’s neck, and plastered her body so close to his that light couldn’t find a way to get between them. Mercy watched the woman tangle her fingers in Hunter’s hair.
Enough was enough. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. Her mother’s old saying popped into her head, and she tossed the tea towel on the bar and made her way out to the dance floor.
“Go get ’er,” one older man said. “She ain’t got no right to your man.”
“And then make him sleep on the couch tonight,” another one said.
The entire cantina went quiet for a second time that evening. Even the music on the jukebox seemed to fade when Mercy walked out into the middle of the floor. “Excuse me.” She tapped the woman on the shoulder. “This is our song, and I don’t let my man dance with a strange woman when our song is playing.”
“But he said you aren’t his wife or his sister,” the woman said.
“He doesn’t know what I am, but you do, honey.” Mercy edged between the woman and Hunter. “You knew when you walked in here that he wasn’t running the range. He’s got a brand, and if you are thinking about doing any rustling, you should know what happens to women who try to steal what belongs to me.”
“What is it that happens?” She stopped dancing and propped her hands on her hips.
“They go home bald, because I will snatch all that red hair out of your head, and then try to claw out your fake green eyes,” Mercy told her.
“What I want, I take.” The woman looked up at Mercy. “I’m not afraid of you, darlin’.”
“Well, you better want something outside this cantina, and you’d do well to be afraid of me, because I will fight for what I want.” Mercy wrapped her arms around Hunter’s neck and led him back to the bar in a fast two-step.
“I thought that other song was our song,” Hunter said as the song finished. “And what’s this about me having a brand and fighting for what you want?”
“I don’t share well with others.” She picked up the tea towel and drew up another beer for a customer. “And according to what happened at the ranch party, neither do you.”
“You are so right. What’s mine is mine.” Hunter grinned.