Reckless in Texas (13 page)

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.

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.

Joe went with his usual practice gear: thigh-length black compression shorts, then cotton athletic shorts, faded from years of wash and wear. He pulled on an Extreme Bulls Tour T-shirt with the sleeves whacked off, folded a bandana and tied it on sweatband style. His cleats crunched on the gravel as he strolled to the arena, trying not to give himself whiplash every time a car turned into the driveway.

Cole came out of the barn leading a platter-footed roan named Hammer with a head like his namesake only narrower between the eyes. Bastard could run, though, and would pull down a grandstand if you asked him. Cole stopped dead when he saw Joe. “Where ya goin'?”

“Uh…the arena?”

“Why?”

Joe looked around, confused. Had he misunderstood? “You're bucking bulls today, aren't you?”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

Cole frowned. “Red never came to practice.”

“Maybe Red had something better to do,” Joe snapped, his last nerve frayed to a thread.

Cole pondered that, studying Joe like he was trying to figure out if there was a catch. He stood there long enough for Violet's Cadillac to pull into the drive. She stepped out and froze, staring first at Joe, then the gear bag slung over his shoulder. Damn her chicken-livered hide. She hadn't expected him to be at the arena, either. She'd hung back until the last possible second figuring she could avoid him.

Nice try, darlin'.

“Guess we could use you,” Cole said. “Hank's trailing cows today and might be late, and the other kid who helps out has football practice.”

“I'll try not to get in the way,” Joe said, and stomped on down to the arena.

A dozen cowboys had shown up, mostly high school and college kids, along with a few parents. Joe veered away from the crowd and down the fence a few yards where he dropped his bag on the ground and finished gearing up, then spread his feet, grabbed one ankle and pulled his chest to his knee, holding for a slow count of sixty. Hooves thudded on the packed dirt behind him and he looked upside down through his legs to see Violet aboard a stocky gray gelding. She was looking back, and she was not admiring his face. He held the stretch for another ten seconds, then latched his hands behind his head as he unrolled his spine, one vertebra at a time, then turned his head to look directly at Violet. “Ahh yeah. Hurts so good.”

Violet's face went beet red, and she kicked her horse on through the gate.

“Hey, Joe. How's it going?” a voice asked.

He dragged his attention away from Violet, struggling to place the vaguely familiar face. Teenager. Dopey grin. The kid from the barbecue joint. “Korby. Hey. Ready to ride the hair off one?”

Korby grinned ear to ear. “You betcha.”

The kid sauntered off to join the crowd behind the chutes, adding to the chorus of hollow clanking as ropes and bells were dragged out of gear bags. Metal gates banged, voices called, and bulls rumbled low challenges as they were sorted and loaded—a rodeo symphony. Violet retreated to the far end of the arena. She could probably look worse, but she'd have to work at it. Her cap was yanked down so far he could barely see her nose, those jeans were god-awful, and whatever she was wearing under her long-sleeved denim shirt was an insult to her curves. And still Joe's head filled up with red lace and the scent of warm strawberries.

Joe was in the arena, warmed up and ready to go, when Hank vaulted the fence and jogged over to the front of the chutes. “How's it hanging, Joe?”

“Fine.”

“I bet, after last night.” And the little pinhead had the nerve to wink.

“Hey, Hank!” Korby had a foot braced on either side of the nearest chute, straddling a high-horned black bull as he worked a gloved hand up and down his rope to heat the rosin. “I thought you were gonna call me last night.”

“I meant to. I got distracted.” Hank's grin turned sly as he angled a glance at Joe.

“Yeah? By what?” Korby waggled his eyebrows. “Or should I say who?”

Screw finesse. Joe whipped an arm around Hank's neck and yanked him into a headlock tight enough to make his eyes bug out. He kept his voice low but deadly. “Shut the fuck up or I'll shove your head so far up your ass you'll be able to lick your own tonsils.”

Hank clawed at Joe's arm, fighting for oxygen. Joe tightened his grip. “You say one word that embarrasses Violet and you and I are going to have a serious problem. Understand?”

He loosened his hold enough to allow Hank a jerky nod and a gulp of air. Joe slapped him hard on the chest with his free hand and flashed a smile that was closer to a snarl. “I knew you were smarter than everybody says.”

Hank gulped again and nodded harder. Joe let him go, stepped back, and looked over to find Violet watching, eyes huge. He lifted a hand and gave her a cocky, two-fingered salute. She looked away. Hah. If that made her nervous, she was gonna hate what came next.

Steve gave a gun-shot clap of his big hands. “All right, boys! Let's ride some bulls.”

Joe shoved Hank into position. “Take the lead. And pay attention. We're gonna do some schooling tonight.”

Joe rode him hard, pushing, hounding, drilling the kid, bull after bull, so Hank didn't have a chance to think about anything but the job at hand. Korby's black bull made three tentative jumps straight down the arena, each more aggressive. On the fourth jump he launched straight in the air and dove right, whipping the kid off the side, hand still in the rope. The unaccustomed weight tipped the smallish Brahma off balance and jerked him flat on his side.
Whomp!
Right on top of his passenger.

Hank leapt at the bull's head as it wallowed around, trying to get up. Joe yanked the tail of the rope to free Korby's hand. The bull staggered to its feet, leaving the kid curled in the dirt, wheezing.

As Violet and Cole herded the bull clear, Hank dropped to his knees. “Hey, buddy, you all right?”

Korby nodded with a sound like a whoop, only in reverse. “No…air…”

“He okay?” Violet asked, peering from horseback over the huddle of cowboys that had gathered.

“He will be when he gets his wind.” Joe stepped back, braced himself, then draped his arm across the cantle of Violet's saddle, around her hips. She sucked in a sharp, outraged breath, her leg flexing as if to kick her horse. He tightened his hold. “Stay, Violet.”

“What are you
doing
?” she hissed down at him.

He put his free hand on her thigh and tilted his head toward her like they were whispering sweet nothings. “Try to pretend you like me. Otherwise people are gonna think you're just after my body.”

Her mouth dropped open and he could practically see the curses piling up on her tongue. “Are you nuts?”

“Most likely.”

Hank and one of the dads hoisted Korby to his feet and helped him out of the arena. He staggered over to the fence, then collapsed into a heap, sweat trickling through the dirt on his face as he drew in slow, careful breaths. The rest of the cowboys scattered to get ready for the next pen of bulls—except Steve Jacobs. He stood on the back of the chutes, glaring at Violet and Joe. Seeing him, Violet let one of those curses slip and lifted her hand, as if to rein her horse away. Joe caught her wrist.

“
Stop it.
”

“No.” Joe forced another smile. “We need to talk, Violet.”

Her gaze jumped away, skimmed over the increasing number of curious faces aimed their direction, then came back to Joe. “Fine. Meet me at the other place after practice.”

Joe let go, his fingers trailing down her thigh as if he had the right. “I'll be there.”

After helping Cole gather the flank straps and hang them in a neat row behind the chutes, Joe was the last one to walk out of the arena. Steve Jacobs was waiting outside the gate. The part of Joe that was apparently still ten years old whispered,
Run!
Joe ignored it and kept walking, until he was close enough to maintain his manly dignity, but still out of reach of those big fists.

“You want to date Violet, that's up to her, but you keep that crap outta the arena.” Steve jabbed a thick finger toward the gate. “Hard enough for her to get the respect she deserves without you droolin' all over her.”

“Yes, sir,” Joe said, because disagreeing wasn't an option, and Steve wasn't wrong.

Steve gave a curt nod.

“That's it?” Joe blurted.

Steve Jacobs laughed. A single
hah!
like a sonic boom that rocked Joe in his cleats. “If you make my girl mad, she won't need my help rearranging your body parts.” The amusement lurked in his eyes as he thumbed his hat onto the back of his head. “But I should say that I appreciate what you're doin' with Hank. Kid needs his butt busted.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve gave another nod and ambled away, leaving Joe to consider how it was the first time in his life he'd voluntarily called a man
sir,
not once, but twice. And meant it both times.