“Sure. It was the worst kept secret in Pendleton.” He also remembered that she’d shimmied out of her fringed buckskin skirt long before the last day of her reign, but that was between her and Joe.
“Yeah, well, Violet hooked up with that goofy bastard at a rodeo in Hickory Springs last spring, and his other not-quite-ex-girlfriend showed up at his motel a night earlier than he expected.”
Uh-oh. “How bad was it?”
“Shrieking, scratching, catfight ugly, but you know who won.”
Violet. Hands down. Then Joe remembered Hank’s crack about the handcuffs. “Somebody called the cops?”
“Yep. Violet ended up cuffed and stuffed, and rather than just coughing up the bail, that dumbshit rookie you’re working with called her dad.”
Joe ground his teeth. Hank definitely had to die. First chance, Joe was feeding him to Dirt Eater, one piece at a time.
“Then the next day, one of the committeemen made a nasty comment and Cole Jacobs offered to plow the arena with the guy’s face. Needless to say, they won’t be producing that rodeo next year.”
Joe slumped deeper, pressing a fist to his forehead. “So I’m probably not the best thing that could’ve happened to her right now.”
A beat of silence, then Wyatt sighed. “What did you do?”
Joe gave him the condensed version, minus the red lace bra. Some things a man wanted to keep all for himself.
Wyatt sighed again. “Well, she picked the spot, so technically it isn’t your fault, but her dad could still boot your ass clear back to Oregon. Not the greatest thing for your reputation, given that you just weaseled out of working Pendleton.”
“Hey! That was your idea, not mine.”
“I know. Just sayin’ it would be good to smooth this over if possible.”
He felt that jab again—not quite guilt, but a close cousin—and blew out an irritated breath. “This is stupid. We didn’t do anything wrong. Just because I told her dad…”
“Told him what?”
“Nothing.” Joe swatted at a moth, bouncing it off the side of the bunkhouse. It landed on its back, fluttered around, then righted itself and flew right back at him. Stupid bastard. “I asked if it was okay to go out with her. Period.”
Across the yard, a shadow moved behind what he guessed were Violet’s bedroom curtains. She would be stripping off that red shirt. Then the bra. He could be there in ten seconds…
He swatted the moth away again, feeling slightly more sympathetic.
“Ah. I see,” Wyatt said, in the wise man tone that made Joe want to reach through the airwaves and strangle him. “Basically, you have enough respect for this woman to approach Steve Jacobs, man to man.”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t…”
“The promise was implied. Everyone who’s ever seen an old western knows that.”
Even Joe. Hadn’t he thought almost as much, standing in Steve’s living room? And his conscience had been taking potshots at him since the first time he’d touched Violet. She had too many sensitive strings attached—the business, her family, Beni, and yeah, Delon—that could easily be ripped to shreds. Joe had sworn he’d never knowingly inflict that kind of damage. Not after being on the receiving end during the implosion of his parents’ marriage, and witnessing the trail of destruction his mother had wrought since.
This wasn’t just about some promise he may or may not have made to Violet’s parents. Joe had violated his personal code of conduct. This woman was everything he had always avoided, for good reason. Wyatt had tried to tell him—his own gut had tried to tell him—but he’d been too wrapped up in self-pity and anger to listen.
He breathed out a curse. “What the hell do I do now?”
“The honorable thing, of course.”
Joe lifted the phone away from his ear to glare at it. “What?”
“There’s only one way you can put a positive spin on this,” Wyatt declared. “You have to be a gentleman and make an honest woman of her.”
He laughed outright at Joe’s very ungentlemanly response.
Chapter 16
Violet propped her elbows on her sister’s granite-topped kitchen island, buried her face in her hands, and groaned. “I can’t believe it happened again.”
“It isn’t that bad,” Lily said, obnoxiously cheerful over morning coffee. “Y’all didn’t even have to get a mug shot.”
Violet dropped one hand to give her a baleful glare.
“Oh, come on—if this was someone else, you’d be laughing. You tossed her off the balcony, Violet.”
“She was trying to claw my eyes out! And I didn’t toss her. I just shoved and she fell.” And thank God for the ornamental shrubs one floor down.
“Hank said she came out lookin’ like she’d been in a cage fight with a porcupine.”
“Hank should shut up.”
Lily hooted. “Fat chance.”
Make that no chance. What Hank knew, everybody in the Panhandle would know within a couple of days. Violet slumped over her coffee cup, groaning again. “How could I be such an idiot?”
“Now there’s the million-dollar question.”
Violet rolled her eyes up to give Lily a death glare, which her sister ignored in favor of fetching a plate of muffins. Homemade, of course. Fresh blueberries. Real butter. Lily had inherited more than their mother’s lack of height and tendency toward plumpness. Lily was the anti-Violet—soft, fluffy, and content. The sisters were closer than they had a right to be, considering. Lily was a cowgirl by default—growing up, everyone had to pitch in—but she’d escaped to the kitchen every chance she got, the same way Violet had dodged housework in favor of trailing after her dad. Lily set the plate between them, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she picked out a muffin and peeled off the wrapper.
Violet hissed out a long breath that did nothing for her frustrated hormones. “I’m cursed when it comes to this stuff.”
“No. You’re stupid.”
Violet jerked her head up. “Excuse me?”
Lily gazed back at her, unapologetic. “You should be sittin’ there basking in the afterglow. Hank’s gonna run his mouth regardless—you might as well’ve stuck around and got your money’s worth.”
Violet gaped at her. “Awesome advice from the minister’s wife.”
“And now you know why I haven’t been invited to lead the ladies’ prayer group.” Lily plunked down her muffin and leveled a gaze that matched her unflinching tone. “How many times have we had this conversation, Violet?”
“I…um…a few.”
“Starting with the Earnest Fun Days Rodeo when you were sixteen,” Lily reminded her. “You and Clayton James, up in the announcer’s stand after the Saturday night rodeo.”
Otherwise known as The Night Violet Lost Her Virginity. An urban legend in Earnest. Violet had chosen their hometown rodeo to finally give in to Clayton’s persistent efforts to get her out of her jeans, so everyone from three counties was right there handy to witness her downfall. And his.
“You didn’t have to dump him,” Lily said. “Was it his fault he was so weak in the knees after you got done with him that he fell down the stairs?”
Violet felt her mouth pushing into a pout. “No, but if he hadn’t gone to squealing like a stuck pig, everybody might not’ve figured out what we’d been doing up there.”
“His ankle was broken.”
“So? He could’ve sucked it up until we got him back to his camper.”
“Harsh, Violet.” Lily turned the muffin with her fingers, studying it like a crystal ball. “That’s where it started, with poor ol’ Clayton. And a month later, the accident happened.”
Violet endured the usual wash of grief, muted by the years but never gone. “That’s got nothing to do with my dating habits.”
“It’s got everything to do with all of us.�
� Lily picked a blueberry out of her muffin and smashed it between her fingers. “Cole turned into, well, Cole. I was in such a rush to grow up I got hitched to my junior high boyfriend when I was nineteen, and you were so focused on helping Daddy save the ranch, you never got around to figuring out who you are.”
Violet’s jaw came unhinged. “What?”
“You want to think you’re so sensible, but let’s look at the evidence.” Lily cocked her head, doing a great impression of their mother at her most persistent. “After knowing Delon your whole life and having no desire to jump him, why that night?”
“I was on the rebound.”
“Pfft!” Lily gave a dismissive flick of her fingers. “You knew that would end when the big doofus graduated and went back to Wyoming. What else? Something made you take a second look at Delon.”
Violet made herself think back to a night she generally preferred to forget. “He was drinking like he meant it. And he was in a mood. Dark. A little crazy. Like he wanted to inflict some damage.”
“In other words, he reminded you of his big brother.” Lily laughed at the heat that flared in Violet’s cheeks. “Like you were the only one who had a crush on Gil back then.”
Sure—back when Gil Sanchez was still fun, still flirted with every female from eight to eighty and wasn’t mad at the world and the majority of the people in it.
“I didn’t sleep with Delon because I wanted his brother,” Violet said, pretty sure it was the honest truth. “I was worried. I thought I’d just sit down and make conversation, but he bought me a shot of tequila, then he asked me to dance…”
“He was lettin’ his badass side out,” Lily finished. “And you’ve never been one to say no to anything that looks remotely like trouble.”
The snippy remark pushed Violet over the edge from irritation to anger. “Go ahead, Lil. Rub it in. I’m an idiot when it comes to men.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you meant it.” She pitched her voice into a snotty drawl. “Why doesn’t that Violet Jacobs find some nice, sensible man to be a father to that boy of hers?”
“That boy already has an amazing daddy, and if you had any interest in nice and sensible, Delon wouldn’t still be sleeping in Beni’s room.”
Violet bunched her fist and knocked it against the granite. “I know. He is such a great guy, it’s stupid that I don’t feel…”
“No. Stupid would be convincing yourself to settle for playing Mommy and Daddy with a man who’s like a brother to us.” Lily pushed her mutilated muffin aside and propped her elbows on the bar. “Are you looking for a forever guy?”
“Right now? No.” Violet threaded her fingers through her hair, massaging her aching brain. “I’d just like to go out once in a while, have some fun, maybe get lucky. Is that so horrible?”
“Not if it’s what you want and nobody’s getting hurt…other than the occasional crazy ex-girlfriend.”
Violet curled her lip into a snarl.
Lily laughed. Then she got serious. “The problem isn’t that you’re dating the wrong guys, Violet. It’s that you won’t accept that you’re a sucker for the renegades, and you refuse to meet them on the dark side.”
“The…what?”
Lily waved an impatient hand. “You can’t date a wild-ass Cajun bronc rider in a sensible manner. It’s a violation of the natural order and it raises hell with your karma.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Great Guru.”
“The point is, some people are good at being bad. If you’re gonna dance with the devil, you should let him lead.” Lily propped her chin on her hand. “That Cajun hottie had been flirting with you for weeks. Whose idea was it to hold off until the Hickory Springs rodeo to do the nasty?”
Violet scowled, but muttered, “I wanted to wait until Beni was with Delon.”
“Uh-huh. And if the Cajun had had his way?”
“He tried to talk me into a midnight run to Galveston Island to go skinny dipping.”
“And you said no because that sounds risky, but it turns out the most dangerous place you could have sex with this man is in a respectable motel in Hickory Springs. You see?” Lily flashed a self-satisfied grin. “Where would you have gone last night if you’d left it to Joe?”
Heat shuddered through Violet at the memory of the look in his eyes when she met him at her front door. His voice hot in her ear at the Notch. Makes me want to shove you up against the nearest fence…
Lily jabbed a finger skyward, triumphant. “See? If you’d let him decide, you’da been golden, no one the wiser.”
“Except Mama, Daddy, and Cole.”
“Who are gonna know anyway. So…”
Damn. She hated when Lily had a point. Violet slumped over her mug, the coffee turning sour in her stomach. She’d made nothing but wrong moves since the day Joe showed up.
Lily reached over to squeeze her arm, voice softer but no less insistent. “You’ve gotta own it, Violet. Hold your head up, date whoever you damn well please, and let the world kiss your rear. You’re a smart, strong, amazing woman. You shouldn’t be asking anybody’s permission to live how you want.”
“Not even Beni’s?”
Lily gave her a crooked smile. “Not until he’s old enough to understand what ‘Mama’s gettin’ lucky tonight’ means.”
“So next week,” Violet said drily.
Lily laughed. “Knowin’ Beni, that’s about right.”
Violet straightened, feeling oddly better. “What about how I’m wasting my best years and someday I’ll regret not settling down while I can still snag a decent man?”
“That’s church lady talk.” Lily’s mouth curled into an impish smile. “Besides, one of these times you’re gonna slip and get tangled up with a guy who’s more than what you thought, and then we’ll see.”
The words echoed in Violet’s head as she drove home, sending a shiver of premonition up her spine. She shook it off. Her heart had proved to be a tough nut. A few scuffs here and there, but no real cracks. Joe Cassidy wasn’t gonna change that in two short weeks. But maybe—just maybe—she’d give her sister’s advice some thought. Stop fighting the inevitable and enjoy the men who attracted her. Her body heated instantly at the memory of Joe moving against her. Oh yeah. She could really, really enjoy Joe. Too bad he wasn’t likely to volunteer to repeat the experience after last night.
Chapter 17
Of all the damn times for a woman to decide not to hang around the morning after. Joe had heard Violet’s car start, but short of jumping out of bed and running into the yard in his underwear, he couldn’t stop her. And since Steve was glowering more than usual over pancakes and bacon, Joe didn’t dare ask where she’d gone.
Back in the bunkhouse, the cell phone on the table taunted him. One quick call. Just to touch base with Dick. He called his mother instead and listened to a blow-by-blow recitation of Frank’s business deal in Japan. That was why these men adored her. She didn’t pretend to listen—she paid attention, asked questions. By her next divorce she could probably take over as CEO…assuming it paid better than marrying the guy who already had the job.
“When are you coming home?” she asked when she’d exhausted the topic of international trade barriers.
“A week from Sunday. I’m flying into Pendleton, picking up my car, and heading straight home.”
Roxy was silent for a few beats. Then she said, very quietly, “I wish you wouldn’t go back, Joe.”
To work for Dick, she meant. Roxy hated Dick. Had said it a thousand times, usually at the top of her lungs, and in not very polite terms, but this was different. This felt like a plea, verging on begging. Please, Joe, don’t make me worry about you. That wasn’t like her at all. Roxy might express her opinions, but she never threw her maternal weight around.
“I’m still considering my options.”
“Well. That’s good then.” She forced a silvery laugh. “If you need more space to think, let me know. I hear Mexico is amazing this time of year.”
Joe grimaced, imagining the two of them lounging on a beach while the cabana boys leered at him, assuming he was a rich cougar’s catch of the day—a common misconception when you had a very young, very hot mother. But it would be nice to spend some real time with her. And when he put the phone down, the temptation to pick it up and call Dick had passed.
Lunch came and went with no sign or mention of Violet. Joe was so wound up he barely choked down the exceptional meat loaf. It was impossible to save the day if a woman didn’t have the basic damn decency to show up for her own rescue. At first, he’d figured Wyatt was off his rocker. Joe’s initial, powerful instinct was to stay far, far away from Violet. But the more he thought about it, the more Wyatt’s plan grew on him. The damage was already done, so what was the worst that could happen? He’d have to spend a lot of time with her. Not exactly a downside, and it would definitely stave off the boredom. He grinned, thinking of pink shirts, red lace and wrangling bulls. Violet was never, ever boring. To do the job right they’d have to make everyone believe she’d sent him home with a broken heart, but his pride could take the punishment, and when he was gone her life would go back to normal, no harm done.
Assuming he could talk her into playing along at all.
After lunch, Joe ping-ponged around the bunkhouse, picking up magazines, tossing them down, turning the television on, then off, then on again. He’d found the number for Hank’s parents in the creased bunkhouse phone book, tried it several times and got no answer. He couldn’t call Violet because he didn’t have her cell number.
He did another lap around the bunkhouse, glaring at the Earnest Feed and Seed wall clock. One thirty. At this rate, he wouldn’t get a shot at a private conversation with either Hank or Violet before the afternoon practice session. At two, he decided the hell with both of them, then he bolted to the window at the sound of tires on gravel. The car was a sun-bleached blue Taurus jammed with wanna-be bull riders and their gear, an equally battered pickup close behind. Hell. No chance of waylaying Violet now. Might as well get changed.
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