“Joe!” He grabbed the man’s arm and tugged. “I’ve been waiting and waiting to show you the new trick I can do on my trampoline. Can we go now?”
“As soon as we talk to your daddy.” Violet ran a practiced eye around the room, taking stock of the belongings Beni had scattered. “And you gather up your stuff. Where’s your game?”
Beni waved toward Tori. “Over there. Joe, when we get home can we—”
Beni’s voice was drowned by a roar in Tori’s ears, the whoosh and crackle of a fireball that started in her gut and billowed upward to consume her entire being. Violet fucking Jacobs. Beni’s mother. Delon’s so-called friend, girl most likely to have warned him away from Tori—for his own good, of course—and then, apparently, jumped him the minute she was out of the way.
Violet stepped forward, extending her hand with a polite smile. “Hi, I’m Violet. You must be—”
“That’s Tori,” Beni cut in. “She’s Daddy’s new therapist and she kicks a—I mean butt—at Guardians of the Sea.”
“I know your mother,” Tori said, spitting the words out like red-hot tacks.
Violet froze, her hand wavering in midair. Then her eyes widened and her arm dropped to her side. “Tori Patterson?”
“Yes.” Her voice hissed like a tongue of flame.
They stared at each other, the air buzzing with tension. Beth put one hand on the phone, as if to call for help in the event of a brawl, and even Beni had gone still, those sharp, dark eyes bouncing from one grownup to another. Joe’s shoulders tensed as he rocked onto his toes, ready to defend against a threat. Which was ridiculous. She had nothing on Violet. But her name meant something to Joe. And why did Violet look like she’d been whacked upside the head with a two-by-four?
Joe hooked an arm around Violet’s waist and pulled her back, his smile cautious as he slid into her place. “Joe Cassidy,” he said, offering the handshake Violet hadn’t been able to complete.
Tori shoved the video game into his outstretched hand instead, the flames licking her throat, her cheeks. Her voice, though, was ice cold.
“We’ve met, but I doubt you remember. My husband Willy was on rodeo committee at Cheyenne. We hauled you and Wyatt back to your hotel from the beer garden one night.” Tori sharpened her mouth into a razor-edged smile. “Much to the disappointment of the rest of the crowd, but Willy was afraid you would bring down the whole tent, doing that stripper routine with the poles.”
Joe shot a chagrined look at Violet. “Uh, yeah. That was right after Wyatt’s wife left him.” His expression went sober, his voice rough with sincere regret. “Aw, shit. You’re…you were Willy Hancock’s wife. I’m sorry. He was a great guy.”
“Yeah. He was.”
Tori had to work to take in air. After weeks of emptiness, her chest couldn’t expand to accommodate all the emotions flying around inside her. Silence fell again, stretched so thin by the tension in the small waiting area it felt as if the air might pop like a balloon if anyone dropped a word into it.
“Daddy!” Beni exclaimed. “Look! Joe’s here!”
Tori jerked her head around to find Delon standing behind her, in the open doorway to Beth’s office. His gaze was fixed on his son, the way Beni clung to Joe’s side, and for an instant there was something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. Then he blinked, and his stony mask slid into place. His gaze moved to Violet. Her shock had faded, but she couldn’t hide her dismay at the sight of Tori and Delon in such close proximity.
She attempted a smile. “We, um, thought we’d swing by here to pick Beni up. Save some time.”
Before Delon could reply, Tori fixed Violet with a long, deliberate stare, then let it slip down to Beni as she poured sugar into her drawl. “And Lord knows, you don’t waste any time.”
As she sidestepped Delon to leave, she fired him a look designed to skewer him straight through the guts. His eyes flinched away. Dammit. She couldn’t believe he had…with Violet…and…and…
She stomped back to her office and slammed into her chair. She’d been right on the money. Delon Sanchez wasn’t a nice guy at all.
Chapter 16
Delon watched Beni skip ahead, hanging on Joe, chattering about all the things they could do together like jumping on Beni’s new trampoline, and could Joe teach him how to do that cool trick with the soccer ball? All the things Beni used to do with his daddy. Delon should be grateful this thing between Violet and Joe was temporary. Gil had suffered through nine years on the sidelines of his son’s life. No wonder he was such a moody bastard.
Violet stalked along beside him, her cheeks slapped red with anger and embarrassment. “Nice of you to mention that Tori’s back.”
“What do you care?” The question was insolent, on the verge of rude. Hurt flashed across her face before temper shoved it aside. Delon had an instant to feel like a real prick before she lashed back at him.
“Oh hell, I don’t know, Delon. Maybe because if you’d said something I wouldn’t have felt like a total ass in there.”
And she would’ve been prepared to defend herself. Or maybe not. The Tori of old would never have slammed Violet that way.
He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. “If old girlfriends are a problem, it must be really awkward to go places with Joe.”
Fuck you, Delon.
The unspoken words hovered in the air between them for a taut, brittle moment before Violet pulled them back with a deep, aggravated breath. She swatted a hand toward the red brick wall of the physical therapy clinic. “That is not just an old girlfriend. Don’t try to pretend you don’t give a shit that she’s back, after I watched you moon over her for months after she left.”
Months when Violet was pregnant with Beni and Delon thought she was too distracted to notice he was hemorrhaging from a chest wound. “You should’ve been thrilled. You were the one who told me to stay away, that she’d be nothing but trouble.”
“So you thought it would be better if you just dropped by and screwed her once in a while?” Violet gave a savage, tooth-filled smile when he flinched. “Who were you ashamed of, Delon? Us, or her? I assume that’s why you never brought her around.”
“What for? Target practice? Like you and Shawnee and the rest didn’t get enough shots in at school.”
Violet’s mouth opened, then closed, and he could see the shame painted on her face. “You’re right. We were assholes, and there was no excuse for the way we treated her. I’m surprised you never said anything.”
“Would it have made a difference?” If anything, he’d guessed it would make things worse for Tori, an outsider poaching on their territory. Or he’d been too much of a chickenshit to let them see how much he cared. Another Sanchez, making a stone fool of himself over a woman who was clearly going places he would never belong. Something dark and corrosive squirmed in his gut, made him feel sick. Of himself. Joe. Violet. A past he couldn’t undo, a future he couldn’t grasp.
“I can’t speak for the others, but it would have mattered to me,” Violet said.
“Whatever. It’s old news.” He unlocked the car, grabbed Beni’s overnight bag, and tossed it to Violet. “Next time, do me a favor and keep your advice to yourself.”
She snorted, loud and derisive. “Like you did?”
“I’ve never commented on your love life.”
“Bullshit.” She jabbed a finger into his chest hard enough to make him flinch away. “You sat right there at my kitchen table and told me that I’d be best to steer clear because Joe was a womanizing hound dog.”
Yes, he had. And he still wouldn’t say was.
“And you obviously paid zero attention.” He resisted the urge to rub what was sure to be a bruise on his sternum. Violet knew her own strength and wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Exactly.” She jabbed again, but Delon dodged out of range. “I heard you, but I listened to my heart, and I have no regret
s. So instead of blaming everybody else for ruining your great romance, maybe you should figure out why you were so ready to let us.”
They stared at each other for a long, heated moment, broken by the plaintive sound of Beni’s voice from across the parking lot. “Mommy? Why are you and Daddy fighting?”
“It’s nothing.” Violet gave Delon one last quelling look before turning away. “Daddy’s just tired and cranky because his knee hurts.”
“Are you sure?”
Beni leaned into Joe’s leg, his eyes wide with worry. Joe put a hand on his shoulder, holding the other out to take Violet’s as she joined them. A cozy little triangle that left no room for Delon.
“Yeah. I’m sure.” Violet fired another disgusted look at Delon, then injected a heavy dose of cheer into her voice. “What are we having for lunch?”
“Pizza!” Beni exclaimed, and clambered into his mother’s Cadillac, the argument already forgotten.
He didn’t even wave good-bye.
* * *
Tori was still steaming when she got home from work that night. The latest email from her mother hadn’t helped. Tori had replied with a slightly less polite than usual thanks but no thanks, then hit delete without looking at the attached pictures of gleeful children—victims of traumatic brain injuries—who’d benefited from treatment at the esteemed institute, which was just dying to offer Tori a fellowship. In Los Angeles, for God’s sake. She’d rather move to Tibet. At least they had horses.
She jammed a baseball cap onto her head and boots onto her feet, grabbed a jacket, and slammed out the door, headed for the barn. She was almost glad Shawnee was coming to rope. She was in dire need of a sparring partner to work off the residual fury from her face-off with Violet, and Delon wasn’t around to kick.
She booted a rock instead, sending it skittering into the scruff of dead grass alongside the house as she strode into the barn and flipped on the lights. Fudge blinked from where he lounged in the wood shavings in his stall, the devil cat curled in a ball on his back.
Tori made a derisive noise. “Really? You’re that desperate?”
Fudge gazed back at her, unrepentant. The cat opened its eyes to malevolent slits and glared at her as it unwound, stretched, then vaulted off the horse’s back to scrabble up a post and disappear into the hayloft.
She fetched a halter, shaking her head. “You’re pathetic.”
Fudge vaulted to his feet with a grunt and shook, his body an equine earthquake that sent wood chips flying. Tori picked a few remainders out of his mane, slid the halter on, and led him out to the hitching rail. At the sight and sound of Shawnee’s decrepit pickup rattling to a stop in her driveway, Tori’s anger roared back to life. Shawnee barely got both feet on the ground before Tori was in her face.
“You didn’t tell me Violet is Beni’s mother.”
“It never came up.” Then comprehension struck and Shawnee tilted back on her heels with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “You saw her? Where?”
“At the clinic. She and Joe stopped by to pick up Beni—who was apparently conceived about five minutes after I left town.”
“More like a week.” Shawnee’s eyes took on an evil glint. “So let me get this straight. You, Delon, Violet, and Joe, all face to face. And Violet without a clue you’d be there.”
“You forgot Beni.”
Shawnee slapped her thigh. “Son of a bitch! And I missed it.”
“I thought you and Violet were friends.”
She shrugged. “I don’t do the besties for life thing. She went pro rodeo with Jacobs Livestock. I stick to the team ropings. And I don’t live up here in the sticks. Since college, the only time we see each other is when someone we both know gets married.” Shawnee gave a gleeful laugh. “I bet she damn near shit a brick when she saw you.”
Why? Tori was the one who’d been temporary. Violet had been a part of Delon’s life forever. And would be forevermore, with Beni between them.
“How long were they together?” Tori asked.
“A couple of hours.”
“What?”
“That’s about how long it took them to sober up and dive for their clothes.”
Tori stared at her, aghast. “She told you all the details?”
“Didn’t have to.” Shawnee flashed another evil grin. “Everybody in a hundred-mile radius of Earnest, Texas knows exactly what night she got knocked up.”
“How?”
“There must’ve been a hundred witnesses, and it was a shocker when they hooked up. Delon was at the Lone Steer drowning his sorrows. Violet, being a good friend, thought she should help him. She never could hold her booze and he’s not much better. Talk about a pair of sloppy drunks.”
“How sloppy?” That might explain why, when Delon was so careful…
“Put it this way—there oughta be a warning label on condoms.” Shawnee made a graphic, fumbling motion with her hands. “Do not attempt to operate when shit-faced.”
“Do I want to know why Delon was out getting drunk?” Please tell me it’s not what I think it is.
“He’d just got back in town and figured out you’d hightailed it without so much as a go to hell.” Shawnee gave her a wide, toothy grin. “Congratulations, Princess. You’re the reason they have a kid.”
Chapter 17
Screw the tie. Delon flung it on the passenger seat of his car, where it landed on a large bag of chocolate stars. Share size, the bag declared. Well, screw that, too. He fished out half a dozen and popped them in his mouth. He didn’t have anyone to share with except Beni, and too much sugar was bad for a kid’s teeth.
He inhaled another half dozen chocolates as he rewound the argument with Violet. He should’ve called to smooth things over. He hadn’t. Couldn’t. It was like a gnarly, foul-mouthed troll had taken up residence in his head. Delon knew he was behaving badly, but there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it. Every time he saw Joe, he vowed to be civil—friendly was asking too damn much—and every time that stinking troll crawled out of his hidey-hole and drop-kicked Delon’s good intentions into the next county.
At least Violet and Joe wouldn’t be at the Buckaroo Ball. Not that the organizers hadn’t tried to rope the great Joe Cassidy into making an appearance, but Violet knew better than to risk a public display of the lack of affection between him and Delon. Plus she would’ve had to trust Joe not to drop an F-bomb in the middle of dinner. She’d manufactured some excuse about Joe not being able to make a commitment due to his schedule.
There was no escape for Delon. Everybody knew he was sitting on his ass in Earnest, recuperating. They would prop him up in front of the crowd as the local rodeo hero who’d almost won it all, and he’d try not to snarl as he dodged the same questions over and over. How’s the rehab going? When will you be back on the road? Plenty of time for a late run at qualifying for the National Finals, right?
All for a good cause, he reminded himself, and shook the last crumbs out of the candy bag. Then he plastered on his meet-the-fans smile and prepared to take one for the Cowboy Crisis Fund team. He’d barely set foot inside the lobby when a short, round woman in orange swooped down on him.
“Delon! So good to see you.” She looked him up and down with a gleam in her eye that went slightly beyond hospitality. “Mmm-mmm. I can’t imagine what the single girls in this town are thinking, letting you wander around loose.”
She latched onto his arm to drag him toward the ballroom, a huge necklace shaped like a sterling silver pistol bouncing in the deep cleft between her breasts and smaller versions bobbing at her ears—her concession to the western theme. As they walked, she leaned in to pat his arm and coo, “You’re not even limping. Why, I bet you’ll be spurring those broncos again in no time.”
And so it begins. He made a noise that she took as agreement and let her haul him through the crowd, pausing every dozen steps to greet
partygoers and make introductions. He arrived at the head table, his mind buzzing with unfamiliar faces and high-dollar perfume. His escort stopped short, frowning. All of the seats were occupied except three near the center.
“Well, now, that’s odd. I arranged the place cards myself, and I had you down there.” She waved a hand toward one end, where a heavyset man with aggressive eyebrows was ranting in the ear of the woman next to him, while she stroked her butter knife as if debating whether to use it on him or herself. She spotted Delon’s escort and fired a glare hot enough to melt the barrels on the sterling silver pistols.
“Oh my.” The woman’s grip on Delon’s arm loosened. “If you’ll just excuse me for a minute, there seems to be some confusion—”
“My fault,” a voice said behind them, smooth and baritone.
“Senator Patterson!” She spun around. “We are so thrilled you could join us tonight! And your lovely daughter, too!”
Delon’s gaze snapped to the woman who stood slightly behind the Senator. He had to blink twice to bring her into focus. Tori?
No. He was looking at Victoria Patterson, not the woman who was his therapist. She’d gone heavy with the makeup, darkened her eyes and reddened her mouth, and her hair was pulled up into a smooth twist on the back of her head, held in place by something that left a shimmering row of diamonds visible. More diamonds dangled from her ears and in glittering trios from a silver choker around her neck. Even the contacts were back, making her eyes glow an unearthly blue. She offered him a cool smile, her posture erect, her chin angled just so, as if balancing an invisible crown on her head. Suddenly, she was kick-in-the-guts beautiful again, in the high-class way that screamed So far out of your league, cowboy.
The senator captured one of the woman’s fluttering hands and held it in both of his, paralyzing her with a smile. “I apologize. I had one of the servers switch the place cards. Victoria and Delon are old friends and I knew they’d appreciate the chance to catch up while she’s in town.”
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