Reckless in Texas (23 page)

Joe sat beside Violet on the bed at the motel and slid the collar of her shirt aside. His fingers trailed over her skin and he felt her quiver in response. God, he wanted to put his mouth right there…

“What's that?” Beni asked, standing on tiptoe to peek over Violet's shoulder while she tried to snap the buckles on his life jacket.

“A muscle stimulator,” Violet said. “To make my neck feel better.”

She scooped her hair up and out of the way as Joe peeled a gel-backed electrode off a plastic sheet and pressed it onto the nape of her neck. Then he placed the other three electrodes on the surrounding muscles, hooked up the wire leads, and set the dials to low.

“You know how to run this thing?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Joe handed her the unit he kept in his gear bag, the size and shape of a pack of cigarettes, then fished a couple of the muscle relaxants from his pocket and held them out.

She pushed his hand away. “No.”

“Yes.” He slapped them into her palm and grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand. “Relax. Take a nap. The muscle stim will shut off after twenty minutes. I promise I won't break your kid.”

“I wasn't really worried about
you
breaking
him
.”

Oh, come on. The kid was five. Joe could handle him. Probably.

“Take your medicine,” he told Violet. “We'll be fine.”

The instant they cleared the pool gate Beni shot out of Joe's grasp, took a flying leap and splashed down like a miniature hippo. He came up sputtering and coughing, despite the life jacket. Joe bailed in after him and took an elbow in the throat and a knee in the gut as he grabbed the slippery, thrashing body.

Beni gagged, spit, and choked out, “Again!”

Hoo boy. Joe hauled him to the side of the pool by the straps of his life jacket, planted his butt on the concrete deck and said, “Stay.”

Beni stuck out his bottom lip, but stayed put.

Joe peeled off his soaked T-shirt and lobbed it toward the nearest lounge chair, then braced a hand on either side of Beni, pinning the squirming kid in place while he leaned in, nose to nose. “So here's the deal, sport. You want to swim, you follow my rules.”

Beni's forehead did a mutinous pucker. “My daddy lets me make the rules.”

“Bullshit.” Even Joe wasn't falling for that line. “We got a deal, or do we go back to the room?”

Beni chewed his bottom lip, considering. Geezus, he was something. Really, it didn't matter that Joe knew nothing about kids. Beni was a fifty-year-old con man stuffed into a four-foot-tall package.

“Oh-kay,” Beni said, stretching the word into two pained syllables and tossing in an eye roll for good measure.

“Great. Rule number one.
No running.
”

* * *

Violet was still alone in the room when she woke up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and checked the clock as her brain slowly came unmuddled. She'd been asleep for two hours? Where was Beni? Even Joe must've run out of energy by now. She went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, then shuffled outside. The air slurped around her like hot molasses when she stepped out the door.

Beni's voice echoed across the parking lot. “You can't beat me this time!”

“Wanna bet?”

They were halfway down the pool when Violet reached the fence, Joe gliding easily while Beni churned water like an egg beater with bad gears. Violet's mother lounged poolside in the shade of a huge red-striped umbrella, head buried in a book.

“Have they been swimming this whole time?” Violet asked, easing into a chair beside her.

“They take a break every half hour to reapply sunscreen. Joe has a timer set on his phone to be sure they don't go over.” Iris tilted her head toward where it sat on the table, beside a small cooler. “There's sweet tea in there. And cookies in that plastic tub.”

Violet pulled out a jug of tea, guzzled a third, then got herself a peanut butter cookie.

Her mother studied her closely. “Looks like you're moving better.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Violet mumbled through the first chewy bite. The pain in her neck had been reduced to a dull ache. “I didn't mean to keep you waiting. Why didn't you wake me?”

“You needed the rest. And it's nice to just sit here and listen to Beni laugh.”

Because they were so damn lucky both of his parents were alive to hear him. Violet nodded, the second bite of cookie hanging up on the lump that swelled in her throat.

“I win!” Beni yelled, finally reaching the shallow end of the pool.

Joe stood, water sliding off his body, and Violet got choked up all over again. His soccer shorts were plastered to his body, the weight of the water dragging them down to expose the curve of his hipbones and a stretch of taut skin below his navel, a regular smorgasbord of lean, tanned muscle glistening in the sun. Violet could damn near taste the water on his skin.

Her face went hot. Geezus. Her mother was sitting
right there
. Violet took another bite of cookie before her mouth did or said something completely inappropriate. Beni spotted her and scrambled onto the pool deck. Joe lunged, snatching Beni up by the straps of his life jacket, leaving his feet spinning in midair.

“What's rule number one?”

Beni scowled, but went limp. “No running.”

Joe set him on his feet. Beni marched over to Violet and planted his hands on his hips, forty-five pounds of perturbed boy child. “Mommy, Joe is mean
.
”

Violet swiped wet hair off his forehead, trying not to stare as Joe hoisted himself out of the pool and strolled over to join them, dripping and shameless. Damn. He even had nice feet. It would not be good if she gave in to the urge to lick the water out of his navel with her son and her mother watching.

Violet forced her eyes to focus on Beni. “Looks like you were having fun to me.”

“He wouldn't let me do any of the good stuff.” Beni ticked off the injustices on his fingers. “No flips. Or jumping off the diving board. He wouldn't even throw me like Daddy does. We wasted
hours.
”

“We made up for it.” Joe flopped onto the next chaise lounge, scooping a hand over his head as if to push back the hair he didn't have any more. He slid Violet another of those wary looks. “Your mom said it was okay.”

“It's great. Thanks.” Her voice sounded chirpy. Nervous. She shifted her gaze to the pool, squinting against the glitter of sunlight on the water. “I didn't expect you to spend the whole day out here.”

Joe hitched a shoulder. “It's been fun.”

Violet raised her eyebrows.

“The water's nice and cool,” he amended, his smile as fleeting as the eye contact before his gaze dropped.

“Time to get dried off. Soon as your grandpa gets back, he'll want to leave,” Iris told Beni.

He grabbed a cookie, then plunked back down on the foot of his mother's chaise lounge, giving her the sad puppy eyes. “Can't you come with us?”

“I have to stay and give Joe a ride to the airport in the morning.” She combed her fingers through his wet hair. “And the next day, Daddy gets to come home.”

“Is he gonna be all better by then?”

“He will be before you know it,” Iris said, then turned to Violet. “Gil borrowed an RV to take Delon home.”

Violet could hardly fathom that Gil hadn't broken every speed limit between here and Earnest when he heard about Delon's injury, but that damn motorcycle had busted more than Gil's body. It had shattered a bond between two brothers that Violet would have said was unbreakable.

Beni wolfed down the last of his cookie, then scrambled to his feet. “Come on, Joe. I wanna swim some more before Grandpa gets here.”

Joe stood and scooped Beni up in one swift, seamless motion. At the side of the pool he swung Beni like a sack of feed. “One, two…” He hesitated just long enough to let Beni plug his nose, then, “Three!”

Joe launched Beni out over the water, then jumped in after him, splashing down simultaneously to the tune of Beni's delighted shriek. Joe looped an arm around Beni's waist while he sputtered, “Again!”

Joe gave him another toss, laughing as Beni squealed. She never would've guessed Joe could be so patient. So careful. He looked so…so…

Perfect. Still. Violet's heart spasmed, the pain arcing through her chest. But as her head cleared from the nap and the drugs, something tickled her memory—a glimpse, a fleeting image not quite registered before it was gone. With one eye on Beni and Joe, she swiped and tapped on her phone until she located the video Hank had shown her that morning. She kept her face schooled—
nothing to see here, just checking my email
—while she fast-forwarded past the wreck, to the point where she was sprawled in the mud and Joe came into view.

The hard glare of the arena lights revealed all. As he dropped to his knees and reached for her, he was totally exposed—every thought, every emotion drawn in stark lines on his face. And what she saw made Violet's heart ring as true and sweet as a Sunday church bell.

Joe wasn't pretending. Not in that moment. Maybe not in any of the moments.

She let the phone drop into her lap, blinking hard behind her sunglasses to hold back the tears. Of joy? Hope? Delusion? He was still determined to leave. Did it matter how he felt if he didn't want her more than his precious Oregon desert?

A hand squeezed her arm. Her mother smiled, but it was sad around the edges, a mother feeling her child's potential pain. “It won't be easy, baby girl, but you have to try.”

Violet drew in a long, shaky breath, her fingers clenching around the phone as she watched the man she loved laughing with her son. Yes. She had to try. She couldn't let him walk away without a fight. This Joe—yes, dammit,
her
Joe, whether he would admit it or not—was worth saving. She just had to figure out how. And soon. She had to stake her claim before he stepped on that plane tomorrow.

Dragging him away once had taken all of Wyatt's considerable power. If Dick Browning got his hooks back into Joe, Violet feared she might never be able to pry him loose again.

Violet wrestled clothes onto Beni's water-logged body and walked him out to her parents' rig where Joe was stowing the cooler in the pickup for her mother. He'd pulled on a damp, wrinkled T-shirt over his wet soccer shorts and shoved his feet into unlaced running shoes. Maybe she could just offer to help him get out of those wet clothes.

She nudged Beni. “You should thank Joe.”

Beni marched over and stuck out his hand. “Thank you for swimming with me. You're not
so
bad.”

“You're welcome.” Joe gave the offered hand a brisk shake. “You're not so bad either.”

Beni grinned, then scampered off to climb in the pickup. Joe stepped forward and offered his hand to Steve Jacobs. “It's been good working for you. Thanks for having me.”

“We appreciate you coming down. You ever need another job, give us a call.” Then Steve grinned. “Long as you're willing to work cheap.”

Joe laughed and let Iris hug him, which Violet chose to take as a good sign. She'd take anything right now. She and Joe watched the rig disappear around the corner, then shuffled their feet and tried to figure out where to look.

“Guess I'll go shower and get dressed,” Joe said.

He didn't ask if she wanted to scrub his back. “I'm gonna grab a Coke. You want one?”

“Sure.”

She strolled to the convenience store down the block with one eye on her watch. How long would it take him to shower and dress? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour? She flipped through a couple of magazines and engaged in a lengthy internal debate over what kind of snacks to buy. She had no idea what kind of chips Joe liked. The thought brought her up short. How could she imagine she was in love with a man when she didn't even know if he preferred smoked almonds or cashews? Hell, for all she knew he was allergic to nuts. No, wait, he'd had three peanut butter cookies, so she was safe there.

Okay, deep breath
. If she didn't relax she would walk into that motel room and blurt out something that scared him clean out of town. She might not know how Joe felt about banana versus chocolate Moon Pies, but she had no doubt how he'd take a declaration of undying devotion. She could practically smell the burning rubber. She could just say she'd changed her mind and would like to see him next time he was down this way. But what if he said “Great,” and that was that? The earliest of the rodeos he might possibly work was in February. Scratch the hell out of that plan.

She grabbed almonds and cashews plus three kinds of chips, then tossed in a pack of mint gum. Forget talking. Guys hated that stuff. She should just show Joe how she felt. He'd understand what it meant if she asked him to get naked.

Naked. With Joe. She breathed through the heart palpitations, ignoring a curious look from the teenager behind the cash register. Okay, she had a plan. Step one—don't hyperventilate and pass out at Joe's feet. That would be humiliating. Unless he gave her mouth to mouth, and she really was losing it if she thought that might work as an ice breaker. Step two—make her move, whatever that was gonna be. Honestly, once she and Joe and a queen-sized bed were alone in a motel room, how hard could it be?

She filled two large Cokes from the fountain, gathered up her pile of snacks and started for the cashier only to be brought up short by a rack of condoms. Oh Lord. Should she? She couldn't. But what if Joe didn't?

Oh, grow up, Violet,
Lily's voice said inside her ear.
Own it.

She snagged a box off the rack, marched up to the front of the store and dumped the works on the counter, chin up. Let the greasy worm of a cashier think whatever he wanted. He took a step back, eyes going wide. Hmm. Maybe she shouldn't own it quite that hard.

Her heart thumped a little louder with every step she took back to the motel. She stopped outside the door, staring at the gold metal numbers, stymied. She had a key card, but she couldn't go busting in. What if Joe wasn't dressed? That would be…bad? She waited a few more moments, hoping the door might magically open. It didn't. She wandered over and sat down on a bench outside the motel office. She would've figured Joe for a five-minute shower kind of guy, but what did she know?

Within a few minutes her hair was plastered to the back of her neck. How stupid would it be to sit out here basting if Joe was waiting for her to knock? So she did. Softly at first. Then a little louder. No response. She waited a few beats, listening with all her might, then tried again. Still nothing. The pickup was still parked in the lot, but there was a burger joint around the corner. He might have gone for food.

She pulled the key card out of her pocket, slid it into the lock, and eased the door open a crack. “Joe?” she called softly.

No answer. She pushed the door all the way open, then stopped, then let out the breath she'd been holding. So much for worrying how to kill time. Joe was sprawled facedown on the bed, sound asleep.

* * *

He couldn't believe he'd slept most of the afternoon. 'Course it might have something to do with spending the previous night curled up with Violet, afraid to doze off for fear of where his hands would wander in his sleep. Now she sat across from him at the motel café, chasing a cherry tomato around her plate with a fork. She'd barely touched her salad and her eyes were shinier than usual. On the verge of glassy, like a rookie bronc rider about to crawl down into the bucking chute for the first round of the National Finals.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Her fork jerked. Joe caught her wayward tomato as it rolled across the table and set it on his empty plate.

“I'm great. Almost back to normal.” She turned her head slowly side to side to prove it. “Why?”

“You didn't eat. And you look hot.” When she blinked, he hustled to add, “Uh, feverish I mean.”

“I had snacks while you were sleeping.” She dropped her chin and went back to molesting her tomatoes. And God, he was in bad shape when even that sounded dirty. “Have you talked to Dick?”

His gut tightened at the reminder. “Yesterday.”

“And?”

“He wants to get together and talk about next year's schedule.”

She pulverized a crouton with her fork. “Business as usual?”

“Sort of.” He'd see when he was face-to-face with the old man.

The red-haired waitress strolled over and propped a hand on an ample hip as she eyed Joe's plate. “Guess I don't have to ask if the chicken fried steak was good—you licked off everything but the shine on the fork.” She switched to her attention to Violet. “Somethin' wrong with the salad, honey?”

“No, it's fine. I wasn't hungry.”

The waitress cleared away the plates, leaving nothing between them but an empty table and an ocean of unspoken words. All the important stuff had been said. He had to go home. She didn't want him to come back. End of discussion. She put the salt and pepper shakers in their chrome rack and lined it up precisely with the square ceramic trays that held paper packets of sugar and non-dairy creamer. Fidgeting. Violet never fidgeted.

The waitress came back and slapped the check down on the table. When Joe reached for it, Violet grabbed his hand, trapping the check underneath. He could swear he heard a
crack
of live voltage at the contact, the current sizzling up his arm. Her breath caught as if she felt it too. Their eyes met, held, hers swirling with emotions Joe couldn't identify.

She turned his hand over, the slip of paper trapped between their palms. “I'll get that,” she said, voice husky.

“No.” His fingers curled around the check, stroking the tender skin of her wrist in the process, making her breath catch again. He couldn't resist the temptation to trace the edge of her palm, his voice going low. “And don't try to say I'm still on the payroll.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. God, those lips. He wanted them on his. On him. Everywhere. His fingers tightened. He could pull her out of the booth and drag her across the parking lot to her room. She'd come with him. He knew she would. And he'd make damn sure she came, too…

“Y'all don't need to fight over lil' ol' me,” the waitress drawled.

Violet snatched her hand away and tucked it into her lap, face flaming. Joe was so cross-eyed with lust he couldn't even read the total on the bill let alone figure a tip, so he fumbled a pair of twenties out of his pocket and shoved them at the waitress.

“I'll be right back with your change,” she said.

“Keep it,” Joe said, unable to tear his eyes off the way the creamy skin of Violet's throat moved when she swallowed.

If he put his mouth right there, he'd feel her pulse. Know if it was pounding like his. Violet lifted her hand, fingertips pressed to the exact spot he wanted to taste. No doubt what was in her eyes now. The heat rolled in a wave across the table, washing over him, dragging him under.

“Well, if you're in a hurry,” the waitress said with a knowing smirk. “Y'all have a nice night, now.”

Joe nodded. Or meant to. All of his parts that weren't throbbing had gone numb from blood loss. He wasn't exactly sure how he got across the restaurant to the door. As he held it for Violet, he glanced back to see the waitress leaning against the counter, watching them. She grinned and fanned herself with a menu. Outside, the evening air was thick and smooth as silk against his hypersensitive skin. Violet walked silently beside him, close enough that her arm almost brushed his, dialing up his awareness to the point of pain. They paused at her door. She fumbled the key card into the lock and pushed the door open, but didn't go inside. Joe's gaze went straight to the bed.

He cleared his throat. “I should head out to the camper—”

“And what? Play Beni's video games?” She lifted her chin, the challenge clear in her eyes. “You're not scared, are you, Joe?”

His own words thrown back at him, from the night he'd first asked her out. If he had a brain in his head he'd laugh, concede the point, and go on his merry way. “'Course not.”

She leaned in, the scent of sun-kissed oranges flooding his senses. “Then stay.”

Go! Now!
a voice hissed in his head. His body swayed toward hers, tugged by the gravitational force of his need.

Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “The naked kind of stay, Joe.”

The wave of lust knocked him back a step.

Violet flinched and dropped her chin. “Forget I asked—”

“No!” Dear sweet Jesus, no.
Don't screw this up, asshole.
He'd walked away from her once. He might burst into flames if he did it again. He waved a jerky hand toward the pickup. “I just…I need my bag and…stuff. If I'm going to, you know…stay.”

“Oh.” Her smile flashed again, bright with relief. “Well, I brought my own, um, stuff. But I'll wait inside while you get yours.”

“Right. Okay.” She'd brought her
own?
Joe took another step back, hooked his heel on a crack in the pavement and nearly landed flat on his butt. “Be right back.”

He dropped the pickup keys twice attempting to unlock the door. His nerves jumped at the beep of the horn when he pressed the key fob. Dear God. He felt like someone had implanted an entire drum set in his chest.
Crash! Boom! Bang! Rat-a-tat-a-tat-tat-tat.
He locked the pickup, plunked his duffel onto the hood, and yanked the zipper open, digging for the box of condoms just to be sure. Yep, still there. Brand new. He'd bought them for his first date with Violet. Cocky son of a bitch. And now she'd brought her own. His heart did another extended drum solo.

He tucked the box into the pocket of his cargo shorts, slung the bag over his shoulder, turned…and froze. Glued to the ground, panic slithering cold through his gut. If he went back in there…

If?
What was he, crazy? Of course he was going in. He was dying
,
possibly literally, to get his hands on Violet. To have her hands on him. Besides, if he left now, she'd be hurt. Think he didn't want her, as if that was remotely possible. And since when was he scared of a girl? Never. It was just nerves. Or what was that called? Performance anxiety. Yeah. Because this was Violet, not just someone he'd met in a bar. Plus he'd endured all those hours of what amounted to foreplay last night and there was a good chance he might explode the second she touched him.

Well, fine. The humiliation would be worth it, and he had until eight o'clock tomorrow morning to make it up to her.

He eased through the door she'd left open a crack, elbowing it shut with more force than he'd intended. Violet started at the slam, perched on the edge of the bed with her hands folded in her lap. Joe stalled again. Violet raised her eyebrows in question.

“I'm not sure I know how to do this without a few beers first,” he blurted, then winced at how bad it sounded. Worse because it was true.

“Make it tequila and I'm right there with you,” she said with a shaky laugh.

He laughed, too, even though it was a painful reminder of how crude he'd been that night at the Lone Steer Saloon. What was she doing here with him? She should have punted his sorry ass back to Oregon two days after he showed up.

“I'm guessing it'll work better if we're both on the same side of the room,” Violet said.

Joe nodded, but his feet were nailed down, like the first time he tried jumping off the high dive. One more step and he'd be over the edge, except this time he was blindfolded, and he had no clue how far it was to the bottom, or whether there was even water in the pool. Violet took a deep breath, braced her hands on her knees, and pushed to her feet. Air backed up in Joe's lungs, the pressure building with every step she took. She stopped in front of him and reached up to lay her hand on his jaw.

“How 'bout we pick up where we left off?” And then she kissed him.