Reckless in Texas (11 page)

“Oh. Right.” Korby grabbed an order pad. “What can I get you?”

Violet ordered brisket with the works and sweet tea. Assuming she knew best, Joe had the same. Korby poured the tea and set it on the counter, allowing himself another leisurely survey of Violet's curves. “What are you all spiffed up for?”

“Dinner,” she said, a hint of pink sneaking into her cheeks. “And a movie.”

Korby glanced at Joe, then at Violet, then at Joe. His eyes widened again. “
O-oh.”

Violet's face went a deeper shade of pink. She grabbed her tea and stomped over to plunk down at a table. Korby gave Joe a thumbs up behind her back. Joe responded in kind.

“I saw that,” Violet said.

Joe slouched into the chair opposite her and grinned shamelessly. “What, you've got eyes in the back of your head?”

“Yep. They sprouted while I was in labor.”

Joe snorted. “Like I tell Roxy, childbirth makes you a mother, not Wonder Woman.”

“There's a difference?”

Joe pictured Violet in that metal bra thing and felt a few more brain cells sizzle. “Now that you mention it…”

And she laughed.
Whoa.
That was some laugh. Low and husky, drawing his attention to her throat, and the way that soft, strawberry-scented skin would vibrate under his mouth if he made her laugh again. Or moan. He definitely had to find out where she was ticklish.

The door slammed open and a black-haired missile launched at Violet. “Moommmiieeee!”

Joe grabbed their drinks in the nick of time. As Beni landed in his mother's lap, the rickety table landed in Joe's. Beni gave her a huge, smacking kiss. “I missed you!”

She righted the table with one hand and clutched the neckline of her shirt with the other as Beni's weight tugged it downward. “Missed you too, bub. What are you doing?”

“Me and Daddy been in Amarillo checking out a new Freightliner for Grandpa. It's black and has a computer and the sleeper is totally
awesome.
”

Delon paused just inside the door, his gaze bouncing from Violet to Joe and back again. He got hung up for long beat in the front of Violet's shirt, same as Korby, but the way Delon's eyes narrowed, Joe didn't expect another thumbs up.

“We saw your car outside,” Delon said to Violet, patently ignoring Joe. “I assumed you'd run in to pick up dinner.”

Combined with the tight set of his jaw, it verged on an accusation.

Violet's face went from pink to red. “We're going to a movie. Anything good showing in Dumas?”

“Dinosaurs!” Beni declared.

Delon put a hand on the back of Violet's chair, staring down at Joe, protective as hell. Of his woman, or his kid's mother? Maybe Delon figured they were the same thing. If so, he'd done a piss-poor job of letting Violet in on the secret. Plus there was that barrel racer.

Beni bounced on his mother's knees, tipping the wobbly table almost into Joe's lap again. “Can I come to the movie with you? The dinosaur one? It is
so
cool!”

“And you know this how?” Violet asked.

“We went yesterday.” Delon scooped Beni up and gave him a gentle swat as he deposited him on the floor. “You don't need to go again.”

“But I want to see that part where they poop out the eggs—”

“Hush.” Delon put a firm hand on each of Beni's shoulders to hold him in place.

“Dinner for two!” Korby plopped a tray onto the counter, then got all bug-eyed when he saw Delon and Beni. “Oh. Hey. Delon. You're um, here.”

They all tried not to look at each other for a couple of beats, except for Korby who appeared to be memorizing the moment for retelling. Finally, he said, “You want food or, um, something?”

“No thanks,” Delon said. “We ate already.”

“Oh. Okay.” Korby's eyes darted to Violet, then Joe, then back to Delon. He stayed at the counter, watching them all like he expected the fireworks to start any second.

Joe got up, pried their dinner out of Korby's grasp and set it on the table. “I'm starving. How about you, Violet?”

She gave a stiff little nod. Delon didn't budge. Son of a bitch didn't take a hint for shit. Joe settled into his chair and took a bite of his brisket. The smoked meat melted in his mouth. He didn't have to fake a groan of approval, but he gave it some extra
oomph
.

“Good stuff.” He smiled at Violet. “Better eat up if we want to make it to the early show and get you home in plenty of time to tuck you in.”

Delon's jaw clenched and his eyes went slitty, but before he could say anything, Beni piped up. “How come you can tuck Mommy in but Daddy can't?”

Crap. Joe had forgotten the kid. “Uh—”

Beni folded his arms and glared, suspicious. For the first time, Joe saw a distinct resemblance to Steve Jacobs. “Grandma Iris says only married people tuck each other in. Like her and Grandpa.”

Joe opened his mouth, then glanced at Violet, who gave him a look that shut it again.

“Joe was kidding,” she said. “We're just going to a movie. Then home. Alone. I mean, we're driving home together, but then I'll go in my house and he'll go in the bunkhouse…” She trailed off, her face red and her eyes desperate.

“Why do you want to go to the movie with him?” Beni's face squinched up and his voice pitched higher. “Why can't you go with Daddy so I could come, too?”

“You haven't seen Daddy for almost a month. You're having man time, remember?” Panic leaked into her voice, and into the pleading look she gave Delon.

Delon gave them a look that suggested Violet might be the one who wanted man time, but he backed toward the door, tugging Beni with him, the potential for embarrassment outweighing the need to stick around and thump his chest.

Beni nailed Violet with a pathetic look. “Can I call you at bedtime and say good night?”

A muscle popped in Delon's cheek, like he was grinding his teeth at the thought of what that call might interrupt. “Uh, Beni, it might be late—”

“Sure,” Violet said.

Delon shot Joe a glance.
So there, asshole.
Joe gave it right back to him with a cocky
We'll see about that
smile.

“Okay. We can go,” Beni said, with tortured sigh.

Violet kissed her fingertips and reached over to tap his cheek. “Talk to you later.”

The door slapped shut behind them and the room went silent except for the tinny echo of the baseball commentators from Korby's television.

“Well, that was fun,” Joe said brightly.

If looks could kill, there would've been nothing but a pile of smoking ashes on his chair. Yep, now he remembered why he didn't do this dating thing.

Violet hadn't gone to a movie in a theater with a man since college. Delon didn't count because Beni was always planted between them. She'd forgotten the hum of anticipation, the intimacy of sitting shoulder to shoulder as the lights went down and the darkness folded in.

Joe was close enough for her to breathe in his spicy aftershave and feel the heat radiating off his body. Prickles of awareness raced across her skin, cranking her nerve endings to maximum sensitivity. Every neuron in her brain tuned into Joe's wavelength like a million tiny antennae, amplifying every breath, the slightest shift of his weight. She braced for the move he was sure to make, anticipation winding tighter and tighter until she thought she'd suffocate from the tension.

And Joe did…
nothing.
No hand on her knee or arm across the back of her chair. Not even an accidental brush of hands over the shared armrest. He just sat there popping Junior Mints into his mouth one at a time and staring at the screen like the stupid movie had a plot. Her emotions spun, whirling from arousal to confusion to irritation and back again. He'd stopped sneaking peeks at the front of her shirt once the silicone princess starting flashing her rack on screen. Not that Violet wanted him to look down her shirt. She just wanted him to want to.

Suspicion hit her like an overripe tomato, splattering slimy seeds of doubt in every crevice of her brain as she pictured the redhead in the Corvette again. She might be with Wyatt, but Joe could have a woman like that, and he'd chosen Violet instead? Maybe he'd never been all that interested. Just bored. Or on an ego trip. She'd challenged him. He'd won. Damn this shirt. She might as well have answered the door naked. Same message.

And then she had to go parading around town. Forty minutes farther down the road and they could've been in Amarillo, where there wasn't a chance in a million of Delon waltzing in. But hey, at least now Violet didn't have to figure out how to tell him about her date.

She jumped when Joe stuck a hand in front of her face, Junior Mint resting on his palm. “Want the last one?”

“No!” she snapped. The couple two rows ahead glanced over their shoulders. Violet winced and lowered her voice. “I mean, no thank you.”

“Okay.”

Joe popped it in his mouth, folded the box into thirds and stuffed it into the cup holder. Then he lifted his arm and looped it over her shoulders as casual as if he had a right. Violet's heart revved, stuttered, then took off, pinging around her rib cage like a pinball. The banging inside her chest was so loud it nearly drowned out the explosions on screen as robot aliens laid waste to New York City, which was pretty much a waste to begin with in Violet's opinion, but she'd heard a rumor people there felt the same way about Texas.

Okay, she might be getting a little delirious. Probably because she'd forgotten to breathe. Which she did now, but it made a weird gulping sound that had Joe shooting her a concerned look.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, but that made her hair slide from under Joe's arm, which left his bare skin pressed against hers and that was
not helping.
“Hiccup.”

“Want me to get you a drink?”

Only if it was ice water in a cup big enough to shove her face into. She shook her head, and that caused more rubbing of skin against skin. She was surprised the ends of her hair didn't start smoking, the heat was so…
wow.
Then his fingers stroked her arm, and she thought the top of her head might actually be sizzling.
Breathe, Violet. In. Out. In…oh hell, brain, do
not
go there—

Crap. Too late.

Joe's fingertip traced a circle over her biceps while his thumb brushed the supersensitive flesh on the inside of her upper arm, and honest to God, her toes actually curled. If he extended that thumb one measly little inch, he'd be touching her breast. Or she could just take a deep breath…

Right. Like her lungs would expand that far, considering they'd gone on strike the second Joe touched her. The least this shitty movie could do was provide a smidgen of distraction, but no, they just ran around swearing and shooting and creating excuses for the leading lady to bend over and give the camera a clear shot down the front of her strategically torn uniform.

Violet tilted the cell phone clipped to her belt, intending to sneak a peek at the time, but it lit up like a strobe light when she touched the button. A man five seats to their left gave her a death glare. And these morons had at least another forty-five minutes of chasing their asses in circles and blowing stuff up before they got around to saving the world. She slapped her hand over the phone, then lifted her head and gave a little squeak of surprise when she found Joe's face only inches from hers.

“Another hour?” he asked.

Violet nodded, rendered mute by his proximity, the way his eyes locked on hers.
Hoo boy. So much for not interested.
His gaze wandered down to her mouth, the arm around her shoulders drawing her in. Slowly. Inevitably. Oh God. He was going to kiss her. And she was going let him, even though the oldest Shackleford girl was sitting right across the aisle, so Lily would get a text message complete with photos before Violet got her tongue untangled from Joe's.

She jerked back and blurted, “Let's get out of here.”

All three of their nearest neighbors cranked their heads around to glare. A dozen others stared in avid curiosity.

Joe lowered his voice and leaned in, so close her eyes crossed. “If we do that, we won't get to see how it ends.”

“
Boom! Crash!
More boob shots. Defeat is certain until the hero pulls off the impossible save at the last possible second and the robots explode and everyone lives happily ever after.”

“You forgot my favorite part.” He met her eyes again, his smile a lazy challenge. “Where the guy and the girl sneak off and get naked.”

Her pulse thudded hard and her mouth went dry. There were so many ways this could go horribly wrong, and then they'd either be minus a bullfighter again or Joe would be underfoot for another two and a half weeks. If things went sideways, it would be beyond awkward. But if it went well…

When the last rodeo ended, Joe would be on the first plane back to Oregon and Violet would slide back into her rut with a smile on her face. A big,
big
smile, if the energy crackling between them was any indication.

Joe raised his eyebrows, questioning. “Where are we going, Violet?”

Straight to Hell, probably, but if she was this turned on just sitting next to the man, it might be worth it. She made up her mind. Perhaps she'd made it up days ago. “I know a place…”

Joe's answering smile was hot as Tabasco sauce, burning
all
the way down. He popped to his feet, dragging her with him. “Lead the way, darlin'.”

Violet drove, mostly as an excuse to not have to look at him until the car bumped to a stop a few miles out of town, on a patch of beaten dirt at the edge of a bluff. Joe climbed out and stretched, arching that long, lean body. Just watching the man move was more excitement than she'd had in months. Until tonight, she'd seen him in either baggy soccer shorts or loose-fitting grubby jeans with an untucked T-shirt over top. These jeans were not grubby or loose. His belt fit snug around narrow hips, framing what was possibly the nicest butt she'd ever laid eyes on. And would soon be laying hands on.

The thought sent a jolt of lust through her so powerful she checked for scorch marks on the steering wheel before she got out of the car, trailing behind as he strolled to the edge of the bluff, then stopped abruptly. “Whoa. That's quite a drop.”

Three feet from the toes of his boots, the flat plain dropped two stories, down to a wide green valley scattered with clumps of trees. The Canadian River meandered through them, more like a sluggish creek this late in the year. Beyond the river, the lowering sun lit up the striated colors of the breaks, row upon row of convoluted ridges and canyons, carved into the earth by centuries of wind and water.

“Hank's family owns all of this?” Joe asked.

“Only down to that curve of the river,” Violet said, pointing. “The rest of their property stretches north. The ranch house is a couple miles over that way.”

Joe glanced over his shoulder at the rutted dirt road that skirted the top of the bluff. “Their driveway could use some improvement.”

“The main road comes in from the west. This is a shortcut.”

Joe went back to studying the landscape, shadows skimming across his eyes. “Reminds me of the Painted Hills in Oregon.”

He really was homesick. And why wouldn't he be? This land, Violet's home ground, tugged at her soul with an ache that was never quite satisfied, even when it rippled all around her in a sea of earth and sky. Homesick didn't begin to describe how it would feel to be evicted, even temporarily.

She glanced down and vertigo pulled at her, spinning her head and making her feel as if she would tilt into the void. She backed off a couple of steps.

“Don't like heights?” Joe asked.

“Sure. Looks great from here.” She allowed herself another long, appreciative look at his body, framed against the glow of the setting sun. “I suppose you're into bungee jumping off bridges and kayaking waterfalls.”

“Hell no. Never been a fan of unnecessary pain.”

Violet raised her eyebrows. “Interesting choice of careers.”

“Totally accidental.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, gaze fixed on the shadows that crept across the valley floor. “I started working for Dick when I was in high school, stacking hay bales, pitching manure, all the grunt work. One day at practice they needed a bullfighter, so I gave it a shot. Turned out I had a knack for it.”

An understatement, if she'd ever heard one. “Are your parents rodeo people?”

Joe laughed. “My dad's an electrician, born and raised in Tacoma. He moved back right after the divorce. And Roxy—my mom—she comes to the rodeos, then hides her face 'cuz she can't stand to watch.”

“Did you try competing?”

“Not once I started fighting bulls.” He gave a dismissive flick of his fingers. “Riding is a crap shoot—gotta draw good, ride good, hope the judges like you—but the bullfighter always gets paid. A lot better money than what most eighteen-year-olds can make.”

“Were you supporting yourself?”

“By choice. Roxy—my mom—was engaged to a financial planner from Portland, and no damn way was I moving to Yuppieville.”

“What about your dad?”

His expression didn't change, but somehow all of his edges became harder. “Like I said, I was eighteen. I could take care of myself.”

And would rather be on his own, straight out of high school, than ask for help from either of his parents? Just Joe. No family to give him a leg up. Everything he'd done, the career he'd made, he'd built for himself. He'd earned the right to some arrogance. Possibly, he'd needed it to survive.

Possibly, she'd misjudged Joe in a dozen other ways, and suddenly getting to know him felt a whole lot more dangerous than jumping his bones.

* * *

She led him to a trail that angled down the side of a narrow, brushy draw, a path worn by ancient feet. This area had been home to the earliest human settlements recorded in the southwest. A side path curved below the rim of the bluff, ending in a room-sized niche scooped out of the crumbling dirt and soft rock. Easy to imagine the natives resting here, high above the river bed in this tiny fortress. The charred remnants of a campfire were fresh, though.

Joe looked around, then gave her a slow, heated smile that said he knew exactly what this place was. “Come here often?”

“Not lately. It's called The Notch.” A place for the younger crowd to sneak beer and kisses. Chances of anyone coming along on a weekday were slim, but she assumed the privacy code still applied; see a car, stay clear, in case there was more going down than a few drinks.

Speaking of alcohol…she could use a shot. How was she supposed to do this? Did they chat first, or get right down to business? And crud…condoms. Should she have brought her own instead of assuming a guy like Joe would be prepared? Then she pictured stopping at a store in Dumas and bumping into one of the ladies from her mother's garden club while holding a pack of Trojans in her hand. Oh,
hell
no.

She occupied her jittery hands by spreading the blanket from the trunk of her car at the base of a rock outcropping, the warm, smooth surface providing a decent back rest when she sat down. Her pulse skipped when Joe lowered himself beside her and draped his arm over her shoulders, sending a shimmer of heat across her skin.

He bent one knee and rested his arm on it. “Ah, yeah. Much better than that stupid movie.”

She willed herself to relax, tip her head back against his arm and savor the feel of warm, hard muscle against her neck. The sun was a blazing semicircle sliding below the horizon, setting fire to the wispy layers of clouds and reflecting off the ragged edges of the breaks, turning them into a glowing maze of pinks and reds and golds. Violet inhaled. Joe's cologne tickled her nose and made her want to bury her face in the crook of his neck.

“You should see the Palo Duro Canyon,” she said, her nerves bubbling over into words. “It's lot more impressive than this. And not very far. Just south of Amarillo.”

“Maybe you can show it to me while I'm here.” His fingers skimmed over her arm, his voice sliding into a scale that raised goose bumps even though the words were harmless.

The trailing edge of the sun flared, then shrank to a brilliant pinpoint before flickering out. Dusk settled in around them, softening the edges, blurring the lines. Darkness. Yes. That would be good. Much less…revealing. The smell of damp earth and cured grass rose off the riverbed; and birds chittered in the trees, settling in for the night. Joe's arm was a pleasant weight on her shoulders, his hands still for the moment.