She slouched at her desk, scooping one weary hand through her hair while she propped her cell phone against her ear with the other. “I’m sorry about the roping tomorrow. If I have to interact with any more humans this week, I can’t be held accountable.”
“I’d like to call you a wuss,” Shawnee said. “But there are some seriously whacked-out people in the world. I hope you haven’t been reading that crap.”
“God, no. I endured enough of the wrath of the righteous in Wyoming, up to and including the waitress who called me a home-wrecking whore because Willy’s oldest brother took me out to lunch.”
“Jesus Christ. How’s Delon taking it?”
“Better than I expected.”
It didn’t hurt that suddenly everyone remembered how her daddy had insisted Delon sit with them at the Buckaroo Ball. Plus—big surprise—an anonymous source close to the senator had leaked that he was pleased to see his daughter moving past her grief with a man he liked and respected. Delon had the official Patterson stamp of approval. In the Panhandle, that was as good as being blessed by the Pope or picked for Oprah’s book club, only without the depressing ending. Or so one could hope.
“I gotta go,” Shawnee said. “Want to borrow my shotgun for pest control?”
“Nah. I’ll just quit putting out cat food.”
When they’d hung up, Tori propped her feet on the desk, feeling marginally better. Shawnee had a way of cutting through the bullshit that made it seem irrelevant, and the office was blissfully quiet and empty of other humans at a quarter past five. Maybe she’d just sit here for an hour. Or three.
Beth poked her head around the door. “I’m bustin’ loose from this chain gang. You should do the same. There’s something outside you need to see.” At Tori’s groan, she laughed. Bless her heart, unlike most everyone else, Beth’s attitude hadn’t changed one iota despite having to field calls from reporters and various other morons trying to get through to Tori. “You’re gonna like this one, I guarantee.”
Curiosity pushed Tori to her feet. She stepped outside the front door, scanning the immediate area until her gaze caught on the truck parked across the street, hitched to a refrigerated trailer. Not the sleek black Freightliner, but a boxy, vintage-looking white Peterbilt. Sanchez Trucking was stamped on the door in plain block letters. As Tori started across the parking lot, Delon opened the door and climbed down. She paused on the sidewalk, across the narrow street.
He stood, one hand braced on the door, the sunlight picking out the blue-black glints in his hair. “I know it’s not twenty-four hours’ notice, but we got a last minute load to Pueblo, with a back haul from Colorado Springs. Wanna come?”
Her heart leapt like a rabbit at the sight of an open cage. “Right now?”
“You said you wanted to run away.” He waggled the door in invitation. “I figured this was as good a time as any, considering.”
Go. Just hit the highway. And Pueblo sounded fantastic. Then reality stuck its cold nose on her arm. “I can’t. I’ve got Fudge, and the steers—”
“One of our mechanics lives in Dumas, he said he’d run over and feed them. Just tell him when, what, and how much.”
There it was again. The unfailing attention to detail that got him what he wanted because he made it so easy to say yes. Of course, the same could be said of her mother, but Delon had used his powers only for good where Tori was concerned. Making her feel special. Cared for. And damn, it was nice to just close her eyes for once and go along for the ride.
She waved a hand at her work uniform of khakis and blouse. “These are the only clothes I have with me.”
“I’ll pull in at the first big truck stop along the way. We’ll get you a do-rag and a Stay Loaded T-shirt, make a real trucker chick out of you.” He grinned, the devil dancing in his eyes. “So, you in?”
And just like that, she was. All in. All done. Again. Her heart tumbling off the ledge she’d been so determined to cling to this time, at least until she knew there was a soft place to fall. She took a deep, grounding breath. Too late now. Consequences be damned. She wasn’t passing up a chance to hit the road.
She grinned back at him. “Take me away, cowboy.”
He held the door for her. She burst out laughing when she stepped up into the truck. “Somebody got a leather fetish?”
It was everywhere—on the insides of the doors, the ceiling, and lining the entire sleeper, which was only a few inches taller than the cab. Diamond-quilted red leather. The effect was like a rolling bordello.
Delon grinned. “What can I say? It was built in the seventies.”
He claimed the best part about the Peterbilt was the lack of an onboard computer, but since Gil couldn’t track every turn of the wheel, he compensated by peppering them with texts.
Delon handed her his phone. “Ignore everything except delivery instructions or load information.”
“Hmm.” She scrolled through the texts. “He hopes you did a really good pre-inspection—there’s an asshole on a witch hunt working at the weigh station south of Trinidad today. And the Wally World is off Highway 45 on Northern Avenue in Pueblo if you need to load up on half-priced Valentine’s candy.”
Delon muttered a curse. Then he tilted his head thoughtfully. “We could stop there to get you some clothes and stuff.”
“Your call,” she said, stifling a grin.
North of Trinidad, as the sun sank behind the mountains, the country opened up into rugged, inhospitable high desert.
“Have you ever been to Navajo country?” Delon asked, out of the blue.
“No.” She wasn’t sure how to proceed. He’d never voluntarily mentioned anything to do with his mother before. “The pictures look amazing.”
“It’s…harsh. And beautiful, I guess, but where my mother lives…” He shifted to check the rearview mirror, angling his face away from her. “I’m never comfortable there. When I was little, I refused to even look outside on moonless nights. Something about not being able to see a single light anywhere…I was sure I wouldn’t last ten minutes out in all that nothing. Like it knew I didn’t belong.”
Is that why…? Don’t you ever wish…?
He didn’t say anything more. She let the questions fizzle out. He’d already told her everything she needed to know about his relationship with his Navajo homeland.
Like it knew I didn’t belong.
* * *
She had never shopped for clothes at Walmart. Yet another way in which she had experienced life a step apart from the majority of the world. She made a beeline for the underwear department while Delon hit the deli for fried chicken and the fixin’s so they could eat dinner while they waited to unload. She also grabbed jeans, a T-shirt and sweatshirt, and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Then, inspired, she made a quick swing through the grocery department before checking out.
When they reached the distribution center, the line of trucks waiting to unload stretched half a mile. Delon grimaced as he steered the Peterbilt into place at the end. “This is the not so fun part.”
“It’s fine. Great, actually.” With him. Exactly as she’d fantasized, back in the day.
Delon shook his head. “Give it another few thousand miles. You might change your mind.”
Her breath caught, and she quickly turned her face toward the window, before he saw the effect of his casual words. A few thousand miles. Literally going the distance. Together. But he’d only been speaking rhetorically, and she was racing way too far ahead. A real future with Delon meant tying herself to the Panhandle. He would never leave Beni or Sanchez Trucking. Could she stand to stay, give up any chance at normal—if the alternative was walking away from Delon again?
Too soon, too soon…
Delon crawled into the sleeper and napped, leaving her to keep them moving up the line and wake him when they got close to the front. It was very late—or very early,
depending on your definition—when they pulled into a truck stop on the edge of town and found an open parking space. Delon shut the truck down and leaned back, hands still propped on the wheel. “Want to grab a shower or anything?”
“Maybe in a bit. I was thinking about dessert right now.”
He stretched, arms overhead, arching his back, his T-shirt hitching up just high enough for a glimpse at her muscles. “They probably have pie and ice cream in the café.”
“Actually, I brought my own.” She reached into the Walmart bag beside her seat and pulled out a jar of Nutella.
Delon’s eyes lit up. “Did you grab graham crackers or vanilla wafers, too?”
“No. I thought we could do some…home cookin’.”
Delon blinked. Then smiled, slow and wicked, as he took the jar from her hand. “I believe I can come up with a recipe or two.”
As she’d suspected, Delon was a very, very good cook.
* * *
They loaded out in Colorado Springs at nine the next morning. Tori alternately read and dozed as they rolled south toward home. Delon tapped his fingers along to the heavy beat of the music on the cassette player his father had refused to let him swap out. Their sparse conversation centered around the traffic, the scenery, and what each of them had on their agendas for the coming week. Simple. Easy. Comfortable. Other than the insatiable itch to take her turn behind the wheel. If she and Delon ever—
She ruthlessly chopped off the thought. Too much. Way too soon. For both of them.
A cold front had rolled in overnight, pushing clouds heavy with the threat of rain. A few drops smacked the sidewalk at the rest stop outside of Raton, New Mexico, as Tori walked out of the bathroom and around a corner to hear Delon say, “I know, but it just won’t work out this time. Tell him he can ride along on Wednesday, instead, when I go to Sagebrush Feeders.”
Tori paused, then took a step back, out of sight but not hearing.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Well, next week, then.” His voice was tight, his tone defensive. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
She waited until she was sure he’d disconnected, then strolled out. He stood, phone in hand, looking wretched.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
His head jerked up. “No. I just…by the time we dump this load in Amarillo, I’m going to be late picking Beni up. I had to let Violet know.”
“We’re taking 285 right through Dumas. Can’t we swing by her place? It’s not far out of the way.”
Delon turned his back, shoulders tense. “I don’t want to be late on the delivery.”
But—
Tori choked back her protest, letting him stride ahead of her toward the truck so she didn’t have to school her expression. Habit had her analyzing his gait, looking for a deficit. There was none. But based on the evidence, the same might not be true of their relationship. Beni obviously wanted to ride along in the truck with his dad into Amarillo and back. Barring unforeseen delays, they could make a quick stop at the Jacobs ranch and still have an hour to spare.
Since Delon hadn’t hesitated to bring Beni along to her house, she assumed he wasn’t concerned about Tori’s influence on his son. Which left her with one painful conclusion—
He would rather disappoint Beni than take her anywhere near the rest of the people who mattered most to him.
* * *
The dark clouds pressed down, turning late afternoon to dusk, and the rain had settled into a steady, bone-chilling drizzle by the time Delon parked the old Peterbilt beside the shop. He shut the truck down and tapped out a quick text to Violet.
I’m home.
She had texted earlier to tell him that Cole had to run into town to the feed store so he’d bring Beni along, saving Delon the drive out to the ranch—and avoiding an opportunity for Beni to notice the anger simmering between them. Fine by him. He hadn’t got around to finding a lawyer. Just thinking about it made him queasy. But he’d heard—been forced to hear repeatedly—that Joe and Violet were planning a fall wedding, so he had plenty of time.
He grabbed his logbook, stuffed a folder full of paperwork inside, and tucked both into the front of his jacket for the dash to the front office door. He could actually dash, even after hours in the truck. Thank the stars and Tori, when it came to day-to-day life, his knee felt almost back to normal. And during the last few workouts on ol’ Tin Lizzy, he’d finally started to settle into that elusive new groove, thanks in large part to Gil watching like a hawk and barking curses at him every time he lapsed into his old style.
Gil was worse than their junior high football coach. “Pick your feet up and move that lazy ass!”
Delon left the logbook on the front desk to deal with later. The door to his dad’s office was open, the lights out. Gil’s door was closed, but the murmur of voices was audible. Another video call, most likely, and Delon wasn’t in the mood to make nice. He needed a shower. A shave. And time to process the fact that he’d dropped Tori off less than twenty minutes earlier, and he already missed her so much it was all he could do not to call just to hear the sound of her voice.
He headed for the shower, instead, but she stayed with him as surely as if her soap-slick body was pressed up against his. Damn, he needed to get her into a shower, first chance he got. Tori—naked, wet, and wrapped around him—had been one of the toughest memories to shake after she’d left for Wyoming. Delon had intended to make this shower a quick one since Cole and Beni could arrive any minute, but what the hell, the door was open. They could let themselves in. He cranked up the hot water and let his mind wander to all the sweet, hot places he’d avoided for so long.
The water abruptly turned cold, startling him back to reality. He scrambled out and grabbed a towel. Damn. How long had he been in there? He opened the door a crack, but the apartment was still empty. Hitching a towel around his waist, he hustled out to find his phone, sitting dark and silent on the kitchen counter. No reply to his text. No message. He checked the time. Forty-five minutes since he’d parked the truck. The drive in from the ranch took no more than ten, even in this crappy weather.
His temper flared. So now Violet was going to play games, keep him waiting, just to prove she could? Not fucking likely. He punched in her number and glared at the rain spattering against the window as he listened to it ring.
“Delon?” She sounded surprised, as if she hadn’t expected him to call her on this bullshit.
“Don’t screw with me, Violet.”
“What are you talking about?” She seemed honestly surprised.
“You ignored my text. It’s only half an hour until the feed store closes. How long were you figuring on waiting before you told Cole to go ahead and bring Beni in?”
A few beats of utter silence passed on her end of the line. “I got a call from Kirsten Vold. We were hammering out details of what stock we’d be bringing to Casper when I got your text. And one of the yearling colts got into the barbed wire. Cole had to take it to the vet in Amarillo.” She hesitated, then rushed on. “I sent Beni with Joe. Straight to your place. They left the minute I got your message.”
Delon’s anger dissolved at the tremor in her voice. His pulse began to thump heavily against his eardrums. Shit. Shit. Over thirty minutes late, on a ten-mile drive? No. He would not jump straight to worst case scenario. Would. Not. He pushed away images of mangled metal and blood oozing onto wet pavement. It could be as simple as a flat tire or…
Violet cursed, and Delon heard scuffling on her end of the line, as if she was pulling on a coat. “Joe’s cell phone is going straight to voice mail. I’m gonna grab Daddy and head toward town.”
Delon had already dropped his towel and grabbed for a pair of sweatpants from the laundry basket on the couch. “I’m leaving here right now.”
He yanked on a sweatshirt, shoved his bare feet into boots, and snatched his car keys as he ran out the door. His heart sla
pped against his ribs in time to the windshield wipers as he gunned out of the lot, around the edge of town and onto the rural route. Three miles out, he saw the amber flash of emergency lights on the edge of the road. Violet’s car. Upright. Undamaged. But the dome light glowed, and the rear passenger’s side door hung open.
As Delon screeched to a stop on the opposite side of the road and jumped out, Beni’s head popped up over the roof. He flashed a wide grin, with a noticeable gap. “Look, Daddy! I lost my first tooth!”
“I…wow, that’s…great.” Delon had to brace both hands against the roof of Violet’s car and breathe deeply, waiting for his heart to stop fibrillating. “Why are you stopped here?”
Joe appeared beside Beni, rising as if he’d been crouched beside the car. His hair was plastered in straggly strands to his face and neck, his expression wary, apologetic, with a touch of exasperation. “He literally lost his tooth. He pulled it out, and then dropped it in the back of the car. I stopped to help him find it. And then he did, and tried to show it to me, and dropped it again—in the dirt.” Joe glared at the ground below him. “Do you have any idea how small those things are, and how many little rocks on the side of the road look just like a baby tooth?”
Delon drew a deep, shuddering breath, on the verge of hysterical laughter. A tooth. He’d just had the life scared damn near out of him over a stupid tooth.
Joe lifted a clenched fist. “I found it. Just now, when you pulled up. Your headlights—”
“Yay!” Beni made a grab for Joe’s hand.
He jerked it away. “Uh-uh. I’m holding on to this thing until your mother—” He cut off, knocked the fist on the side of his head, then extended it toward Delon. “I’ll give it to your Daddy. It’s his job to deal with the Tooth Fairy.”
Delon didn’t reach out immediately, just stared at Joe as he stood, his sweatshirt soaked through, rain dripping from his hair and off the end of his nose.
Tangled in Texas Page 27
