Authors: Kari Lynn Dell
Reckless in Texas (29 page)
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Read on for a sneak peek at the next book in Kari Lynn Dell's Texas Rodeo series
Delon Sanchez woke up pissed off at the world. Which was pretty much like every other morning in the past four months. For the official Fan Favorite Cowboy two years running and the unofficial nicest guy in pro rodeo, it was like being trapped inside someone else's skin. A person he wasn't particularly fond of.
He made a fist and beat on his pillow as if it had caused his dream. That stupid, pointless dream where he didn't get hurt at the very end of the best rodeo season of his life. Didn't feel his shot at a world title disintegrate along with the ligaments in his knee. The dream where he went on to the National Finals Rodeo and walked away with the gold buckle, heavy and warm and so damn real he could still feel the shape of it when he woke up.
Empty-handed.
He jammed his fist into the pillow again. His subconscious was a cruel bastard, and a whiner on top of it. Every year an injury yanked the trap door out from under some cowboy's gold buckle dream. That was rodeo. Hell, that was life. Delon was no special flower fate had singled out to trample.
He flopped onto his back. A spider sneered at him from the corner of the ceiling, lounging on a web Delon had just knocked down the day before. He was tempted to reach down, grab a boot and fling it, but the way his luck was running, he'd just miss and it'd bounce off and black his eye. He stuffed his hands behind his head with a gloomy sigh. They should have drawn a chalk outline in the arena where he'd fallen, because the man who'd climbed down into the bucking chute that night was nowhere to be found.
Gone, in the twenty-two seconds from the nod of his head to the moment of impact. He'd timed it on the video out of morbid curiosity. Less than a minute before the paramedics jammed a tube down his throat and re-inflated the lung that'd been punctured when the horse trampled him, wiping out his knee and busting two ribs. Three days before he'd checked out of the hospital. In that short time, his entire life had disintegrated.
Or had been an illusion all along. But that was his fault. He'd let himself want too much, dream too big. Other people could reach up, grab the world by the throat, and make demands. Every time Delon tried, he got kicked in the teeth.
Whiner.
He flipped the spider the bird, kicked off the blankets, and got up to dress for another therapy session that would accomplish nothing except forcing him to absorb one more unwelcome change. He doubted this new therapist could fix him either, but maybe she wouldn't be afraid to tell him the truth.
He slipped down the back stairs, escaping his apartment above the shop at Sanchez Trucking without seeing a soul, but was forced to stop at the Kwicky Mart for gas. With only two thousand people in Earnest, Texas, the face at the next pump was bound to be familiar.
And it would have to be Hank. The kid hopped out of his pickup, so nimble Delon wanted to kick him. “Hey, Delon. How's the knee feelin'?”
Like he'd torn it up so bad even Pepper Burke, surgeon to the stars of professional rodeo, couldn't make it good as new.
“Fine.” Delon turned his back, hunching his shoulders against the bitter January breeze as he jammed the gas nozzle into the tank of what his brother jeeringly called his mom car. Well, screw Gil. If he'd paid more attention to safety ratings, he'd be flaunting a gold buckle by now.
Hank lounged against the side of his dad's one-ton dually while it guzzled four-dollar diesel like sweet tea. “Looks like it's getting' pretty serious between Violet and Joe. Think they'll get married?”
Delon made a noncommittal noise and mashed harder on the gas nozzle. Short answer? Nope. When the shine wore off, Joe Cassidy would be gone, back to Oregon. Bad enough he'd leave Violet in pieces, but there'd be one brokenhearted little boy, too. Delon's boy. Until now, Delon had just shrugged and laughed at Violet's dating disasters. She couldn't seem to help herself, so he might as well just let her get it out of her systemâbut she'd never brought her disasters home before.
Beni worshipped Joe, along with every bull rider in the pro ranks and most of the buckle bunnies. The bull riders had good reason. Joe's job was to save them from getting stomped, and he was damn good at it. And a whole lot of those women had admired him from real close up, too. So no. Delon didn't think Joe was the marrying kind.
A red Grand Am whipped around the corner and the little blonde Didsworth girlâMary Beth?âdistracted Hank with a smile and a finger wave. He returned it with a cocky grin. “I hear she's got a thing for bullfighters.”
“Don't they all?” Delon muttered.
Even Violet, who should know better, being a stock contractor's daughter. What was it with women, lusting after men dumb enough to throw their bodies in front of large, pissed off farm animals? Sure, it was exciting, but the long term career prospects were not great.
Said the guy who got a knee reconstruction for his twenty-ninth birthday.
Mary Beth parked down the block, climbed out of her car, and made sure Hank and Delon were watching as she sashayed into the drug store.
Hank gave a low whistle. “I gotta get me a piece of that.”
“She's a human being, not an apple pie,” Delon snapped. “And she's still in high school.”
“Old enough to know what she wants.” Hank turned his smirk on Delon. “Like you've got any room to talk. Everybody knows about your hot blonde.”
Tori
. The memory slammed into Delon. Another of those times he'd made a grab for something
way
out of his reach. And fallen hard.
Hank shot him a sly grin. “You were seein' her for whatâfive, six months? And you never brought her around, not even to meet Miz Iris. Sounds like a booty call to me.”
Delon had to choke down his fury for fear of sparking the gasoline fumes. Besidesâdamn it to hellâhe couldn't argue.
“Can't blame you. I seen pictures.” Hank made a show of wiping his brow with his sleeve. “She was
smokin
'. Melanie and Violet and Shawnee called her Cowgirl Barbieâsaid she had the perfect outfit for every occasion and roped like she was afraid she'd break a nail.”
Tori was definitely not made of plastic. Delon would know. He'd examined every inch of her on multiple occasions. Had planned on doing it a whole lot more, until he'd called her one last time.
I'm sorry, the number you have reached is no longer in service...
“Too bad she wasn't the one you knocked up. Senator Patterson's daughter? That's some serious cash.”
Delon slammed the nozzle back onto the pump and wheeled around, biting off a curse when pain stabbed through his knee. “Honest to shit, Hank, why someone hasn't strangled you yet is beyond me.”
Hank gazed back in wide-eyed bafflement. “Why? What did I say?”
Only the gas pump between them stopped Delon from running the little bastard down as he drove away. He reached over to the passenger's seat, grabbed a Snickers bar and ripped it open with his teeth, but even the blast of sugar and chocolate couldn't ward off the memories. Tori, with her silky blonde hair, endless legs and eyes as blue as her blood. Who'd left without so much as a
Kiss my ass, cowboy, we're through
, never to be heard from again.
And he'd been stupid enough to be surprised, even after seeing how it'd ended for his brother. Except it never ended for Gil because he
had
knocked up the rich blonde, and he had to fight tooth and nail to be a part of his son's life. At least Delon didn't have to drive clear to Oklahoma to see Beni. He just had to share him with goddamn Joe Cassidy.
Delon crammed the rest of the Snickers into his mouth and punched up the playlist he'd labeled
The Hard Stuff
. The bass notes vibrated clear down into his gonads as he thumped his fist against the steering wheel in time to the beat. He might drive a mom car, but he'd match the custom stereo system against any gang banger in Amarillo.
He pulled into the parking lot at the clinic and sat for a moment, dreading the upcoming appointment. Victoria Hancock was probably better than average or Panhandle Sports Medicine wouldn't have hired her, but he was so damn tired of rolling with the punches. Taking the crumbs he was given and pretending he was satisfied.
Don't kick up a fuss now, Delon. Your mother can't come visit if you're gonna throw such a fit when she leaves.
He scowled, drop-kicking that memory into the distant past as he climbed out of the car. On the worst days along the rodeo trailâbeat-up, exhausted and homesickâhe'd always been able to paste on a happy face. He was the guy who could work the crowd, the sponsors, the rodeo committees, trading on the face God had given him to the tune of as much sponsorship money as some of the world champions. Now he could barely manage a smile for the receptionist.
Bethâa faded redhead with tired eyes who didn't have much luck hiding her prematurely gray roots or the hard miles that had put them thereâsmiled back. She clicked a few times with her computer mouse. “Got you checked in, Delon.”
“Thanks. Can I go ahead and warm up?”
She shook her head. “Tori said she wanted to do a full evaluation first thing. She'll be right out.”
His heart smacked into his ribs. Tori? Couldn't be. Lots of women named Victoria shortened it to Tori. He was just jumpy because Hank had mentioned her. She had been studying physical therapy, but what were the oddsâ¦
The waiting room door opened and a woman stood thereâtallish, slender and almost plain, wearing khakis and a white Panhandle Sports Medicine polo shirt. The floor tilted under his feet.
“Hello, Delon.” Tori didn't smile. Didn'tâ¦anything. Her face was as blank as if they'd never shared more than a cup of coffee. “Come on in.”
She turned to lead the way without checking to see if he followed. Delon squeezed his eyes shut, taking a moment to steady himself. Here he'd been thinking his life couldn't get much more screwed up.
That'd teach him.