Tangled in Texas

by Kari Lynn Dell

  All of the air emptied out of his lungs again as the miserable truth he’d been dodging slammed into him. Possibly the most important moment of his entire rehab, and he had excluded her. But—

  But nothing. All of the excuses—the tension between Violet and Tori, the awkward introductions that might have interfered with his precious focus—none of that was Tori’s fault. He’d known this day was coming and he’d had three weeks and endless opportunities to get it over with. Once again, he’d failed the test. Bombed it. A big fat zero.

  And being left out might not kill her, but it could be fatal for him.

  Chapter 38

  Tori was roping better every day. Three strides from the chute, her loop cracked around the steer’s horns. She ripped out the slack and dallied up, Fudge already moving left as the rope came tight around the saddle horn. The steer had barely changed directions when Shawnee scooped both hind feet out of the dirt. Fudge hit the end of the rope and pivoted to face up. Yes!

  An appreciative clap sounded from the arena gate. “That’ll win you a check in anybody’s roping.”

  Tori was so startled to see Violet she released her dally, paying no mind as the steer dragged her brand-new Rattler rope to the stripping chute. She shot a questioning look at Shawnee. What is she doing here?

  Shawnee gave a beats the hell out of me shrug and rode straight up to Violet. “Let’s see the glitter.”

  Instead of holding out her hand, Violet pulled a silver chain from under her shirt. “Joe says it’s too dangerous to wear a ring working stock, but mostly he’s such a cheapskate it’d kill him if I broke it or lost the stone.”

  Shawnee leaned down closer to examine a silver pendant that glinted with diamonds. “Aw. A heart. Ain’t that sweet?”

  Violet flipped it around. “Read the back.”

  “‘For bail money contact Joe Cassidy.’” Shawnee hooted a laugh. “It’s even got his phone number.”

  “He has a warped sense of humor.” Her voice was dry, but laced with such affection, such suppressed joy that Tori had to make a pretense of smoothing Fudge’s mane while she fought down the lump in her throat.

  There were moments with Delon—a glance, a smile—when she knew they were sharing a thought. A memory. When his eyes went warm and sweet as melted chocolate and she wanted to lick him up one side and down the other, and she could read the response in the crook of his mouth. When I get you alone…

  And then he would throw up the Not so fast! sign so deliberately she could hear the rattle of jake brakes, like a truck decelerating down a long incline. Delon was thoughtful and sweet and knew exactly how to touch her—body and soul. But he somehow stayed just out of reach. He’d taken her to dinner. He’d taken her to the movies. But he hadn’t taken her anywhere near Miz Iris or the Jacobs Ranch. The heart of his world. So why had Violet come to her?

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Violet’s voice held a shimmer of nerves along with the apology. “I had to run into Dumas for groceries and I thought…um, hoped we could talk.”

  She stood beside Roy, one hand resting on the horse’s neck, tall and strong and intrinsically right in her jeans and boots. Tori felt as if she’d dropped through a wormhole and they were back at rodeo team practice, Shawnee and Violet on one side, her on the other.

  Shawnee picked up her reins, spun the buckskin on his hocks, and rode over to the heeling box. “Me ’n’ Roy’ll be over here out of the line of fire.”

  Left alone in the middle of the arena, Violet braced her shoulders as she met Tori’s gaze. “This was the third weekend Beni insisted on staying with his dad instead of with me, even though Joe was home. He says he has to be there to coach Delon.”

  Yeah. Tori knew. It was one of the excuses Delon used to avoid spending time at her place. She let her voice cool to just above freezing. “So…what? You want me to fire him?”

  “No.” Violet took a deep breath. “I wanted to thank you.”

  Tori felt her jaw sag and hoisted it up again.

  “Kids that age are self-absorbed little bastards.” Violet’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Those first months after Delon’s injury were hell. Beni couldn’t see why he should have to hang out with Delon when they couldn’t do anything fun. Why couldn’t he play with Joe instead? If I made Beni go, he pouted the whole time and made Delon miserable. If I let him stay with me, Delon pouted and made me miserable. And Joe…”

  She drew another breath and puffed it out. “Joe’s got no experience at being part of a family and he’s sure he’s gonna screw it up. The worse things got with Delon and Beni, the more Joe was convinced it was his fault. The fight at the Lone Steer was the last straw. Joe started finding excuses not to come home between rodeos, and I was afraid…”

  Violet’s voice wavered. She cleared her throat. “When Beni got all excited about helping with Delon’s rehab and insisted on spending all of his time with his dad, Joe finally understood it was never about him.” She hooked a finger under the silver chain. “That’s when he bought this.”

  Tori blinked, stunned. She’d been braced for Violet to warn her away from Delon. From her son. “You aren’t upset about all the stuff online?”

  “I may not have taken it well right off.” Then Violet snorted a laugh. “But come and talk to me when one of you ends up in handcuffs.”

  “We don’t…” Tori’s face went hot. “I mean, we haven’t since—”

  “Not that kind of handcuffs, perv,” Shawnee said.

  Violet’s eyes widened. Then she snapped her mouth shut and shook her head. “I do not want to know.”

  “I do, but the selfish wench won’t spill the details,” Shawnee grumbled.

  Violet’s face had flushed almost as red as Tori’s. “Seriously. Way too much information. But if it helps any, Joe tossed Hank’s phone out the window of Wyatt’s plane on the way back to San Antonio and told him he was going with it next time he did something idiotic.”

  Tori almost smiled.

  Violet almost smiled back, the gleam of it in her eyes. “I’ll let y’all get back to your roping. But thanks again. For everything. It’s amazing what you’ve done with Delon’s rehab. The way he rode today—”

  “He what?” The words were out before Tori could stop them. As she absorbed the full ramifications of what Violet had said, her body went cold, layer by layer. Skin, muscle, bone, marrow—the chill sank clear to her soul, where it froze into razor-edged shards of ice.

  Violet looked stricken, her voice dropping to a guilty stutter. “He, um, rode. Some horses. Out at our place. I…we, ah, assumed…he didn’t tell you?”

  Tori could only stare, words washed from her mind by wave after wave of hurt. He hadn’t told her what he had planned. Hadn’t invited her to be with him at one of the most pivotal moments of his recovery. Hadn’t even come straight to her from what had apparently been a successful practice session, to share his triumph. As his therapist, she felt slighted. As his…his…what the hell was she exactly? She’d thought she’d known. Or at least had an idea. But now…

  Violet was looking at her, anxious and apologetic and damn it to hell, if that was pity, Tori was gonna have to punch something. Or someone.

  “Well, fuck,” Shawnee said. “Just when I thought he was gettin’ a clue.”

  Violet’s forehead creased into a puzzled frown. “I swear, lately it’s like he’s possessed. He’s always been such a nice—”

  “Bullshit.” Tori loaded the single word with every ounce of her gathering fury.

  Violet blinked, taken aback, then narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t known him since…forever.”

  “You’ve been acquainted with him. You don’t know him at all if you think he’s nice.” Tori hissed it like a curse.

  Violet’s expression went mulish. “We have experienced childbirth together. Stayed up all night taking turns rocking a colicky baby. I know Delon bett
er than anyone!”

  “Really? And yet you’ve never noticed that not once in his whole damn life has he gotten what he wanted most—and he’s pissed as hell about it.”

  Violet shook her head so violently a strand of dark hair caught at the corner of her mouth. “Delon hasn’t been himself lately, but normally he’s the most easygoing—”

  “It’s an act,” Tori said flatly. “He just moseys along, playing the part, never sticking his neck out because that’s a good way to get your head ripped off.”

  Violet snorted her disdain. “And you’re the expert because…”

  “I grew up eyeball deep in politicians. I know spin when I see it.”

  “But you’re still attracted to him,” Shawnee drawled. “Lookin’ for a man just like dear old daddy?”

  Tori recoiled instinctively. “No!”

  The twinge in her gut said it was true, though…up to a point. Delon could be an awful lot like her father: gorgeous, charming, thoughtful in a way that made a girl feel like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Impossible to pin down if he didn’t want to be. She swung off her horse and yanked at the latigos with hands almost too unsteady to loosen the cinches, using Fudge’s big body to hide the emotions that pummeled her heart.

  Maybe that was why she could see behind Delon’s mask. She’d watched her father put on The Senator along with his suit and tie, donning the face the public wanted to see. The difference was, Delon didn’t trust anyone enough to shed his protective layers, even in private. She’d had most of him once, in those first few exquisite hours after they’d met, before he’d decided she was someone he had to guard against. And she’d had most of him even after that. It was as if he’d realized it was too late to hide the passionate, reckless streak he caged up deep inside him. These past weeks, she’d kept hoping it would break loose. After today, after this, she suspected he’d strangle it to death first.

  “I’m sorry,” Violet said. “I shouldn’t have…he’s probably got a perfectly good reason, if you’ll give him a chance to explain.”

  Make excuses. More fucking spin. Tori gathered up every ounce of her self-control and used it to tamp the hurt and anger down, out of sight. When she turned to confront them, her expression was blank. “He doesn’t need to explain. I understand perfectly.”

  And of all the damn things, her eyes chose that moment to fill. He’d cut her out. Coldly. Intentionally. Well, to hell with all of them. She spun around and walked away, Fudge trailing meekly behind without even a parting nicker at Roy, as if he knew she was at the end of her leash and God only knew what might happen if it snapped. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She’d barely finished crying for one man and here she was, dripping all over her sweatshirt because of another one.

  No way would she let Shawnee and Violet see her brush the tears away. At the end of the arena she retrieved her rope and released the steer from the stripping chute, then kept going. Out the back door, across the pasture to where she could kick inanimate objects, probably break her foot, and howl her pain into the darkening void of the evening sky.

  Chapter 39

  Delon had timed his arrival almost perfectly. As he pulled into Tori’s driveway, Shawnee was loading her buckskin in her trailer. Delon intended to smile, wave, and skedaddle past without stopping to chat. Shawnee cut him off and drove two stiff fingers into his solar plexus hard enough to make him yelp like a kicked puppy. Geezus. Why did women keep doing that to him?

  “You are a total piece of shit.” She turned on her heel and stomped to her pickup. As she climbed in she added, “She’s in the barn. Take your phone. You’ll need 911 to come and gather up the bloody scraps.”

  Delon sank back to brace himself against the car, reeling. Son of a bitch. Tori knew. How? His stomach rolled into a queasy ball. He’d planned to start off with the surprise he had tucked in his pocket, then once she was softened up a bit, throw himself on her mercy while she might have some. He rubbed a fist over the throbbing bruise on his sternum. Too late for that now.

  He pushed away from the car and started toward the barn, step by dreaded step. Inside, only the light in the tack room was on, spilling a rectangle of illumination across the dirt floor. His heart thumped like his grandfather’s old Navajo drum as he crossed the threshold, squinting into the shadows.

  “I didn’t realize you planned to stop by tonight.”

  Delon jumped at the voice that seemed to come from nowhere. Then he saw her shadow in Fudge’s stall. She pulled the saddle and blanket off the horse and shouldered open the stall door to carry them across to the tack room, her cap pulled low over her face. He could read absolutely nothing in her body language as she set the saddle on the rack and hung the blanket over a bar mounted on the wall above it.

  “I…forgot to call.”

  She made a noise that could have meant anything from No big deal to Fuck off. He dared a couple more steps while she scooped sweet feed from a metal can into a bucket. Her movements were brisk and efficient as usual, but it seemed to him that she deliberately kept her face in shadows.

  “It was an asshole thing to do,” he said.

  “Won’t get any argument from me.” She went back into the stall, clipped the bucket to a strap on the fence, then stood fingering Fudge’s mane as he ate, obviously waiting for Delon to either go on or drop dead.

  “I’m sorry. It was just…” He grasped at a random straw. “I was nervous.”

  “And having me there would make it worse?”

  Her voice was still so damn neutral. How was he supposed to know how to play this? Claws scritched on wood overhead. Delon took an abrupt step back as the cat shimmied down a pole from the hayloft, prowled along the top rail of the stall until she reached a post directly between Delon and Tori, and settled down to regard him with unblinking contempt.

  He kept a wary eye on the cat, lowering his voice. “I was afraid this first time would be ugly, and I didn’t want to disappoint you, after all the work…”

  “Don’t.” Tori whirled fast enough to make Fudge jerk his head up, scattering drool-soaked oats. Her body was rigid as a quivering arrow, her face a pale blur in the dark stall. “At least we’ve never lied to each other. Don’t start now.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  She laughed, a sound brittle enough to make the cat’s upper lip peel back. “You really should run for office. You’re a natural. Just find the right words, smile the right smile, and let the people think you gave them what they wanted.”

  “I’m not blowing smoke.” Anger fingered in between the strands of panic tugging at his heart. “I’m trying to explain.”

  “No need. I get it.”

  “Get what?”

  “You.” She brushed at the slimy grain Fudge had drooled on her leg, the motion dismissive. “Everything in its place, right? Me over here, them over there. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was important to you.”

  The razor-edged words sliced open his gut, letting every dark, slithering secret fall out. He recoiled, anger the only weapon he had left. “All I did was get on a few bucking horses.”

  “At the Jacobs Ranch.” She cocked her head, her voice mocking. “Was everyone present and accounted for? Miz Iris. Steve. Beni. Violet’s cousin…what’s his name? Maybe I’d remember if I’d ever been introduced.” This laugh was razor-sharp. “And Violet was there, of course. Your whole happy family. Imagine, if you’d told me ahead of time. I might have insisted on coming along and meeting them.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “The horror.”

  “You and I have only been together for a few weeks.”

  “Together?” She snorted. “Funny. It feels more like I’m sitting in one place again while you circle around, making sure you never get close enough to get burned.”

  The fingers of anger clenched into a red-hot fist in his gut. “Oh. Right. You want me to just bail in and assume you’re
going to stick this time, based on…what?” He flung an arm toward the house. “Most of your stuff is still in boxes. You could back your trailer up to the front door and be gone tomorrow. You haven’t even named that damn cat.”

  The cat bared its teeth and made a low, yowling noise that puckered Delon’s skin.

  Tori ignored it. “What does my cat matter?”

  “Nothing, apparently, just like your house and your yard. Show me one thing that proves you give a damn about anyone or anything around here.”

  She went very still. Then she took four steps forward, until the light from the tack room fell across her face and he saw her eyes, red and swollen from tears that had left tracks in the dust on her cheeks. Worse, so much worse, was the look in her eyes. Utter devastation, and she put it right out there for him to see. She couldn’t have knocked the stuffing out of him faster if she’d hauled back and punched him.

  “Take a good look,” she said. “And for the record, it’s nowhere near the first time on your account.”

  Son of a bitch. He wanted to hold her, kiss away the evidence of her pain, promise never to do it again. He wanted to shake her. With all she’d suffered after losing Willy, how could she let anyone do this to her? Why couldn’t they just have something comfortable and safe?

  “What do you want from me?” he asked again, desperation leaking into his voice.

  “Everything.”

  He didn’t…he couldn’t…he turned his palms out and lifted them away from his sides. “This is it.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  He let his hands fall limp and gave a bitter laugh. “What’s new? But it’s all I’ve got.”

  “Bullshit.” She folded her arms, everything about her posture screaming a challenge. “I had all of you for one night. One morning. Before you chickened out.”

  “Chickened—” He stepped toward her, outraged, but the cat hissed a warning that stopped him dead.