Hard Lovin' Man

Chapter One Jack Morgan could spot trouble a mile away. Gazing through the cigarette-smoke-filled haze, he knew beyond a doubt that the girl sitting at the far end of the bar spelled trouble with capital letters.T-R-O-U-B-L-E.Her black shirt was a little too tight, a little too low, and a little too short, revealing a pierced navel that had winked at every male she passed as she sauntered back from the rest room. Her short-cropped spiked hair was an unnaturally bright orange.The neon light cast by the sign hanging between the shelves lined with bottles of booze glittered off her earrings. She had a pierced nose, a pierced brow, and a pierced lower lip, and Jack was willing to bet money she'd extended her self-mutilation to include a pierced tongue.He wondered what possessed any sane person to willingly have a needle poked into her flesh. Taking a swallow of his cold beer, he remembered wondering the same thing when he was in the army and had awoken from a drunken binge to discover a tattoo high on the back of his own left shoulder."Hey, Jack, ready for another one?"The dew-coated mug wasn't quite empty, but the owner-bartender made his living based on how much people drank, not how long they sat. Still, Jack enjoyed simply sitting and studying people. Especially at the Sit 'n' Bull. Maybe because in his youth, he'd desperately wanted to be allowed inside the hallowed walls, to experience the mysteries that drew so many farmers, ranchers, and blue-collar workers to the place that those who arrived late had to park their trucks and SUVs in the weed-infested vacant lot behind the building."Not tonight, Morty. Did you happen to card that girl?"Whether to improve his eyesight or his memory, Morty lifted his white brows, brows bushy enough that Jack wondered if the guy's hair had all migrated south. Morty kept his bald pate polished to a sheen that was as glossy as the countertop of his bar.He glanced around suspiciously. "Which girl?""The one Dave's hitting on." Dave Lighten. Insurance salesman. Even a town as small as Hopeful, nestled within Houston's shadow, needed insurance salesmen.Morty chuckled, a low rumble that caused his stomach to quiver. Every year, the day after Thanksgiving, he wrapped a Santa costume around that belly and collected toys that he delivered on Christmas Eve. No one knew how Morty determined which kids needed his gifts.Until Jack had gained entry into the Sit 'n' Bull and learned about Morty's generous nature, he'd never known who'd left the bicycle outside his trailer when he was eight. But he'd damn sure known it wasn't Santa Claus. By that age, he'd experienced enough in his young life not to believe in anything that promised to bring happiness."Yeah, right," Morty finally said when he stopped chuckling. "No self-respecting mama is gonna let her underage daughter walk out of the house dressed in that getup.""Maybe her mother isn't the self-respecting type. Card her, Morty.""Ah, Jack, geez, come on. I did card her, okay?""What year was she born?""I don't remember."Jack took out his wallet and laid a five on the counter. "Five says she's sixteen."Morty groaned. He knew the routine. He was diligent about not serving alcohol to kids who were under-age. But he was getting older. Every now and then, one slipped past him.Jack slid off the stool and walked the length of the bar until he reached Dave. The salesman had his head bowed close to the girl's, obviously trying to sell her on something. Probably the benefits of visiting the No Tell Motel, where a guest could drop two quarters into the Magic Fingers box on the nightstand. The payoff was a vibrating bed. Jack had seen Dave's car parked outside the motel so often he figured Dave had a frequent-visitor discount card -- for both the motel and the Magic Fingers.Jack clamped his hand over Dave's shoulder.Dave jerked his head around, the aHeath, Lorraine is the author of 'Hard Lovin' Man' with ISBN 9780743457446 and ISBN 0743457447.