“And while you were busy planning, she decided to do. You. Again.” Gil made a show of scratching his head. “Call me stupid, but damned if that doesn’t make me think she might actually like you.”
Or figured he was a known quantity. What better place to start getting over Willy than where she left off when she put the Panhandle in her rearview mirror? He’d given her what she wanted. Heat, speed, oblivion. Get it over with. Now he’d give her space, time to shed whatever tears she had left. Time for him to patch up the hole those tears had drilled in his defenses. Tough, capable Tori might turn him on, but those silent teardrops had taken him out at the knees, and that was no position to be in when a man had to guard his heart.
“’Course, she could be thinking the same thing,” Gil said.
“What?”
Gil arched his brows. “Gotta make a girl wonder, you all of the sudden gettin’ romantic on the night Violet got engaged.”
“That had nothing to do with it!” He shook off the spurt of anger and rerouted the conversation. “Why did you call Tori?”
“To ask when you can ride some real horses.”
Bam! There went the air, right out of him. He had to drag it back in to make words. “What did she say?”
Gil scowled. “Bunch of bullshit about patient privacy. Said she’d text you the answer. Guess she hasn’t got around to it.”
Or Delon hadn’t got around to turning on the phone he’d shut down during his date with Tori. It started bleating text alerts as soon as he turned it on, one after another after another. Christ. How many people were convinced it was their God-given duty to tell him about Joe’s proposal? Some even attached pictures, for hell’s sake. He scrolled through until he saw Tori’s number. Two messages. The first only a few minutes after he’d left her house this morning.
He opened the message and bam! There went his air again. When am I going to see you again?
Just like that. No games. No second-guessing. He should be thrilled. He was thrilled, damn it, even if it did feel an awful lot like that moment at the top of the roller coaster when you wondered what you were thinking, strapping yourself onto this ride, and your good sense was hollering at you to bail out, but it was already too late. He gave his head an impatient jerk that slammed another boulder into his temple and scrolled down to her second message.
Pepper says three weeks. But you can start riding a live-action bucking machine now, if you have one.
Gil had angled closer to read over his shoulder. “We still got ol’ Tin Lizzy.”
Delon barely had time to consider what it might take to resurrect their homemade bucking horse when his phone went nuts again with texts beeping in. Honest to God. The people in this town seriously needed to get a life. Then he read the subject line on one of the texts and stopped cold. Heart pounding in rhythm with his head, he opened the Internet link that had been so helpfully included.
“Holy shit. Almost a thousand comments.” Gil slapped him on the back. “Congrats, D. You’re viral. And it ain’t even the kind that’ll make your dick fall off.”
Delon cursed, stringing together every foul word he knew in every possible combination, ending with, “I’m going to kill Hank.”
The front office door banged open, and long, swift footsteps came down the hall toward them. Gil and Delon barely had time to exchange a questioning glance when Violet appeared in the doorway. She jerked a nod at Gil, then narrowed her eyes at Delon. “We need to talk.”
Delon returned her gaze without flinching. “Yes we do.”
* * *
They stomped silently up the stairs to Delon’s apartment. Violet waited until the door closed behind them before turning on him.
“You’re out early,” he said, taking the preemptive strike. “I figured you’d be wallowing in prewedded bliss.”
Violet flushed, but didn’t back down. “Actually, I was, until my mother called, all in a tizzy. Seems she let Beni use her laptop to play Candy Crush on your Facebook account while she made breakfast, and he wanted to know why everybody was posting pictures of your new Freightliner at someplace called The Notch, and what do they mean, ‘When this truck is rockin’, don’t come knockin’?”
Fuck. Forget Hank. Tori was going to kill him. Just what she didn’t need, on top of all the other media and Internet attention. And her father…Delon shuddered, imagining the senator’s reaction when he saw those posts. Delon was gonna have some serious explaining to do. But first, he had to deal with the woman standing in front of him.
“Thank God you’ve never done anything to embarrass the family,” he drawled, heavy on the sarcasm. “Or are you pissed because you consider The Notch one of your and Joe’s special places, since it’s where you got caught naked together?”
Color blazed hotter in her cheeks. “I’m not saying I’ve never done anything stupid. It just seems pretty convenient that you pulled that stunt last night, of all nights.”
“You think I had sex with Tori and got Hank to plaster it all over the Internet just to steal your thunder?” He was so stunned, it took a few seconds for his anger to catch up. “Sort of like the way Joe made his big proposal at the Lone Steer, of all places?”
Her hands fisted, and her eyes sparked with fury. “News flash, Delon. Not everything is about you. Joe picked the Lone Steer because we have history of our own there.”
“And it obviously never occurred to him to discuss it with me first.”
“Discuss it—” She threw up her hands. “He doesn’t need to ask you for my hand in marriage.”
“And Beni’s.”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“He didn’t just propose to be your husband. He’s going to be the stepfather of my son. I think I deserved at least a heads-up.”
Her mouth snapped shut. The anger drained from her face by degrees, leaving it stiff and cold. “I’m sorry for that. Joe wanted to surprise me. He didn’t think…”
“Yeah. Joe does a lot of that—not thinking. Seems to me that’s how he ended up in Texas to begin with.”
She sucked in a breath that broke at the end. Delon folded his arms over a pang in his chest at the sight of the tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. How had they come to this? Since childhood he’d admired and cherished and, yes, even loved her in his own way. They had endured pregnancy and childbirth and six years of parenting together and he’d sworn to protect her and Beni with his life, if necessary.
This should have been one of the happiest days of her life, and he was ruining it. He kicked aside the guilt. She and Joe had ruined a whole lot of days for him, too. And could do worse if good ol’ Delon sat back and let them.
“What else is Joe gonna do without checking with me?” he asked. “Persuade Beni to go out for soccer next year instead of baseball, because that’s what Joe played? Convince him that being a bullfighter is way cooler than riding bucking horses like his old man? Buy him his first beer, or box of condoms?”
Violet’s mouth worked, as if the words were piling up so fast they were getting jammed in her throat. “Joe would never—”
“Right. Because he’s so responsible. He wouldn’t make a big spectacle instead of proposing to you in a nice, quiet place so we could all sit down and discuss the best way to break the news to my son.”
“Our son!” She jabbed a finger at him. “And in case you forgot, Joe did try to talk to you. And we all know how that turned out.”
“At least I didn’t get cuffed and hauled away by the cops,” he shot back, feeling sick and mean even as he said it.
She hissed at the reminder of the worst of her dating disasters, then drew a deep, deliberate breath in a visible attempt to calm herself. When she spoke, her voice had only a slight tremor. “I am gonna marry him. I love him, and I believe he’s good for Beni. I’m sorry you don’t feel the same way. I will talk to Joe and make sure we don’t spring any
more surprises on you. What more do you want from me, Delon?”
“A formal custody agreement,” he blurted.
She jerked back as if he’d taken a swing at her. Her eyes were dark and hurt as she stared at him. “Okay,” she said finally. “If you want to hand over Beni’s college tuition to a pack of lawyers, just fucking dandy. Have yours give me a call. From what I hear on the news, your girlfriend should be able to recommend a great attorney—assuming she hasn’t cut and run before you see her again.”
“Don’t even start—”
“I didn’t,” she spat. “You picked this fight. But you can be damn sure I’ll finish it.”
She left Delon with the slam of the door ringing in his ears.
Chapter 35
Beth cornered Tori midmorning and held out her phone. “You’re famous. Well, more famous.”
Tori swore. Right at the top of that stupid Keeping Up with the Pattersons page was a picture of her and Delon at The Smoke House and another of the truck parked out at The Notch, lit up like a neon billboard. The contributor had helpfully included a title. The mysterious Miz Patterson doing a little sleeper creeping with local rodeo star Delon Sanchez. Does this mean they’re picking up where they left off in college?
If it had been hers, Tori might have thrown the phone across the room. As if on cue, her cell buzzed with an incoming text. Delon, finally replying. Her heart stumbled, part thrill, part fear that he’d decided to haul another load to Duluth and not come back for, say, six months.
You’ll see me after work, if you still want to. Your place?
Tori let go of the breath she’d been holding. Yes. You okay?
There was an interminable pause before he replied. Hey, I snagged a princess. I’m the coolest guy in the Panhandle right now.
Yeah, right, and she was Roy Rogers, but at least he was coming to see her tonight. She tossed her phone down on the desk a little harder than was good for its health. Nosy goddamn assholes. They wanted to talk? Fine. She’d feed the gossips until they choked.
* * *
When she got home from work, Panhandle Security had added a second vehicle on the dirt road behind her property—thanks for that, Daddy, but please don’t read the comments—and a black Dodge Charger was parked in front of her house. Delon leaned against the hood, arms crossed over his equally black T-shirt, looking like an advertisement for trouble, the kind a woman would jump into—or just jump—without a second thought. The wrist brace was back, and he radiated a kind of reckless tension that made her hesitate a few steps away.
“Lookin’ pretty badass today,” she said.
He brushed his fingers over the Charger’s silver racing stripe. “Gil’s.”
“It suits you better.”
Delon looked startled. “It’s not my style.”
“It’s exactly you. All-American muscle—strong and fast but with room for a car seat.”
He shook his head, but she got the impression that he was pleased.
“Why do you have Gil’s car?”
Delon’s eyes glinted. “He put on a cowboy hat and my jacket, and took my car and a couple of reporters for a drive to the sleaziest titty bar in Amarillo.”
Tori laughed, half in delight, half in relief. By the time she’d left work, she’d convinced herself Delon was only stopping by to call it quits. Who needed this kind of crap? Instead, he was giving the gossips a metaphorical stiff middle finger, too.
“It wasn’t my idea. Well, it was, but I was just shooting off my mouth. I wouldn’t have actually gone.” He angled her an unreadable look. “You’re not upset?”
“About which part?”
The question seemed to stymie him for a beat. “Take your pick.”
Well, that opened up some interesting possibilities. Should she rank them chronologically, or by perceived order of importance? “I’m not sorry we had sex. And the Internet stuff…that’s on me, not you.”
“Uh, not exactly.” He ducked his head. “You remember Hank?”
“From The Smoke House?”
“Yeah. That private road we were on…it’s his parents’ ranch. I should’ve remembered he’d go home that way.”
“Oh.” So it was Hank who’d taken and posted the pictures. She cataloged that information for future retribution. “Not the smartest move on your part.”
Delon grimaced in answer.
Tori took stock of her reaction and decided her low-banked anger was directed solely at Hank and the rest of the life-sucking Internet leeches. “I can live with it, but I’ve got to warn you, it’s only gonna get worse. I took a long lunch and did some shopping at my local adult toy store…with witnesses.” She dangled the bag temptingly from one finger. “Wanna come in and play?”
His gaze jumped past her, as if looking for an escape route. “Now?”
Ouch. Surprise—even shock—was understandable, but outright horror was a little tough on the ol’ pride. Her cheeks stung as she dropped the bag to her side. Her only option was to bluster on through. “You’re right. Probably better to have dinner first. Strenuous stuff, what with the whips and—”
“Why are you gonna whip my daddy?” a voice asked from the vicinity of the barn.
Tori froze. Oh. Dear. Lord. Beni.
“She meant she’s gonna whip me into shape.” Delon barely hesitated, even if his face had gone a dusky color. “And I thought I told you to stay out of the barn. There’s a cat—”
“I know!” Beni waddled out into the light, his arms latched around the cat’s armpits, her front legs pinned to her ears and her hind feet dragging in the dust. “Look, Daddy! It’s big as a lion!”
Tori and Delon simultaneously sucked in air. Delon managed to incorporate a curse, but not loud enough to startle the cat. Her eyes were slits, her teeth bared, but she hung limp, as if stunned that someone dared manhandle her. Any second now she would regain her senses and explode into a ball of claws and teeth.
“Uh, Beni?” Delon spoke slowly, with extreme calm, as if addressing a person standing on a land mine. “Remember how I said you should always ask before you touch a strange animal?”
“Oh. I forgot.” Beni spun around to face Tori, the cat swinging in his arms. “What’s its name, Miz Tori? Can I pet it?”
Only if you want to lose an arm. “Um…she doesn’t really have a name, and maybe you should put her down very carefully and then ask her if she wants to be petted?”
Beni plunked the cat onto her butt. She sprang to her feet, paused long enough for one full-body shudder and a death glare, then stalked into the barn, fur rumpled and tail rigid with indignation. Tori sagged, knees gone to jelly.
Beni gazed after the cat, crestfallen. “I guess that means no.”
“Guess so.” Delon’s jaw was tight with the suppressed fury of a parent recently scared shitless and trying not to come undone.
Tori finally regained function of her peripheral nervous system, and though she would’ve rather asked how in the hell Beni had managed to get his hands on the devil cat, she plastered on a smile and said, “This is a surprise. I thought you were staying with your mother for a few days.”
“She went back to San Antonio with Joe ’cuz they got ’gaged.”
“Ah. Yes. I heard.” Shut up, Tori, it’s none of your business. “Are you happy about that?”
Beni stuck his lip out. “No. I wanted to go with them, but Grandma said I better stay home ’cuz Daddy needs help with his workouts.”
Not exactly the answer she was looking for. “Do you know what engaged means?”
Beni brightened. “Joe’s gonna be my stepdaddy, so now he has to buy me birthday and Christmas presents. And he says we can still be buddies and do cool stuff, but Mommy said he better buck up ’cuz her and Daddy aren’t gonna be the ones making me clean my room and do my homework while he has all the fun. And Uncle Cole says it means
Joe can quit pretending to sleep in the bunkhouse.” He scooted closer, whispering loud enough to be heard in the next county. “I asked Joe if he plays video games under the covers too, when he’s pretendin’ to sleep. He said yeah, something like that.”
Tori choked off a laugh, checking to see how Delon was taking all this. His jaw was clenched so hard she was surprised she didn’t hear teeth cracking. So. No chatting about the engagement.
“I sure wish I could pet the cat some more.” Beni sighed, then turned hopeful eyes on Tori. “Since Daddy doesn’t want to play with your new toys, can I?”
Tori goggled like a beached carp.
“They aren’t the kind of toys kids like,” Delon said, impressively calm.
“Oh.” Beni made a face. “Like those video games in Vegas that just take your money and don’t have ninjas or dragons or anything cool.”
“Yeah. Like those. How about we take a drive to Dairy Queen instead?” Delon raised an eyebrow at Tori with a gleam in his eyes that made a little heat wave shimmer over her skin. “Miz Tori likes things with big engines.”
Yes she did, and they weren’t just talking about the car.
“Yay!” Beni pumped his fist. “Can I get a chocolate-dipped cone if I promise not to let it drip all over again?”
“Sure.”
Tori had to squelch a laugh. Dear God. After Willy’s family she’d thought she knew kids, but Beni Sanchez was way out of their league.
“We can sneak through the drive-up lane,” Delon said, misreading her hesitation.
“Sounds like a plan.” Tori scooped up her bags, tossed them in her car and locked it for good measure.
Beni clambered into the Charger. “Hey, Daddy, I thought Uncle Gil said there was no sticky crap allowed in his ride.”
“Uncle Gil should’ve thought of that sooner.” Delon tossed the keys to Tori.
She snatched them out of the air. “I didn’t ask—”
“You wanted to,” he said, and slid into the passenger seat.
Chapter 36
By Friday afternoon, Tori’s spurt of rebellion had faded. She refused to skulk around in disguise, but if one more freak asked her to take a selfie while standing in line for coffee, there would be widespread annihilation.
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