Violet woke up Monday morning exhausted from beating the crap out of her pillow. Imagining it was Joe. That arrogant bastard. She should have punched him in the mouth and told him what he could do with his shot of tequila. But no. She’d stuttered a lame ass No, thank you and scurried back to her parents like he was the Big Bad Wolf and she was packin’ a basket of her mama’s cookies.
Even if he did look as tired and homesick as he swore he wasn’t to whoever was on the phone, she shouldn’t have parked next to him at the bar. Nothing good could come of it when he appealed so strongly to her worst instincts. He’d been a complete jerk and her stupid skin still hummed where he’d brushed up against her.
What the hell, Violet?
She jammed her toothbrush into the holder and followed the sound of her son’s excited chatter to the kitchen. Her single-wide mobile home had a bedroom and a bathroom on each end with the kitchen and living room in the middle. A perfect setup for her not-so-usual living arrangements, especially on the nights when it was more convenient for Delon to crash in the extra bed in Beni’s room.
Father and son sat at the table scooping cereal out of matching Sponge Bob bowls. Delon looked disgustingly good in the morning. He looked disgustingly good most of the time. What the man did for a plain white cotton T-shirt should be illegal. So how come she never got hot flashes when he brushed up against her?
Again, What the hell, Violet?
Delon lifted one dark brow. “Feeling a little rough?”
She curled her lip at him. “Feeling suicidal?”
He jumped up, poured a cup of coffee, and shoved it into her hands.
She inhaled, then drank, then sighed. “Okay. You can live.”
“Whew!”
She smiled, relaxing for the first time in days. They’d agreed from the beginning that sex was off the table. Well, not the very beginning. First Delon had insisted they get married. And Violet had asked if he’d lost his ever-loving mind, and he’d sulked for a while. Then they’d agreed. There was too much at stake—a lifetime of friendship, the infinite connections between their two families, Beni’s happiness—to muddle it up with sex.
Not that they’d never been tempted. What woman wouldn’t be tempted by Delon, especially when the rest of the male species seemed hell-bent on proving that she was an idiot to even glance elsewhere? More than once, when one or both of them had been worn to the bone by life and the rodeo road, they’d nearly given in. Offered and accepted the comfort right at their fingertips—but somehow they’d always stopped before crossing the line. Was it crazy to think a relationship should be based on more than mutual respect and love for their child?
Delon pulled a bowl out of the cupboard, filled it with raisin bran, and set it in front of her on the table. “Hey, Beni, why don’t you run over and say good-bye to Grandpa and Grandma?”
“And Katie, too?” Beni asked.
“Sure.”
Beni was off like a shot to inflict a hug on Cole’s red heeler dog and bum snacks from his grandmother, warding off any chance of starvation on the ten-mile drive into town.
Delon sipped his coffee, letting Violet suck down half of her first cup before he spoke. “So how’s it going with Joe?”
Heat climbed into Violet’s face. Stupid. She hadn’t done anything. And she didn’t intend to, dammit. “He’s a hell of a bullfighter.”
“That’s a given.” Muscles bunched in Delon’s arms as he cradled his mug, suddenly fascinated by his coffee. “How’s he fitting in, um…personally?”
Violet paused in the act of pouring milk on her cereal. “How do you mean?”
Delon flicked a glance at her as he rotated the mug between his hands. “I heard you were together at the Lone Steer last night.”
“Who told you?” Violet plunked the jug down hard enough to make milk splash out the top.
He hunched a shoulder. “Oh, you know. People.”
Yeah. And she could guess which people. Violet jumped up and grabbed a washcloth to swipe at the spilled milk. “I wasn’t with Joe. I sat by him at the bar while I took care of the tab.”
“They said it looked like he was hitting on you.”
They should eat shit and die. And since when did Delon give her the third degree? They’d always had an unspoken don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy when it came to dating. “He was just trying to mess with me.”
Delon looked up, frowning. “Why?”
“I’m not sufficiently grateful for his presence. His ego is dented.” She stomped to the sink, rinsed the cloth, and wrung it to within an inch of its life. “Don’t worry. After that disaster in Hickory Springs, I’m giving up men until my next reincarnation.”
“I can see how that would put you off.” Delon’s lips twitched, just barely, but he flattened out the grin before she could snarl.
Violet wandered over to the table to plop down opposite him. “Sorry. I’m a little out of sorts this morning.”
“Anything I can do?”
Tell her Joe was wrong, and Jacobs Livestock wasn’t a two-bit rodeo company, living off scraps that were too small for the big shots like Dick Browning? With every sneer, Joe reminded her that next year she’d be producing the same rodeos, in the same dusty, one-horse towns, while he strutted around on a stage bigger than she’d ever experience at this rate.
“Just my usual case of end-of-summer blues.” She forced a smile. “Give me a few days to knock some road dust off, get out in the open space, and I’ll be good.”
Delon knew her too well to fall for her flippant tone, but he only hesitated a beat. “If you say so.”
Violet polished off her cereal and left Delon gathering up the belongings Beni had scattered in the few short hours since he’d been home. Outside the air still held a hint of morning freshness, but it would be weeks before the leaves turned from green to gold. Dust puffed around her feet as she crossed the driveway to her mother’s blocky frame house, shaded by oak and pecan trees. Past Violet’s house stood a bunkhouse that had been refurbished to serve as guest quarters, then Cole’s two-room cabin. When Violet had hired Shorty Edwards, it’d made perfect sense to put their temporary bullfighter up in the bunkhouse. Save a few bucks on a motel, win him over with her mother’s cooking. Now she had Joe Cassidy camped on her doorstep. This was so not going the way she’d planned.
The ranch stretched south, over a series of low bluffs and plateaus, the draws choked with scrubby mesquite and tough native grass. The only real patch of color was Iris Jacobs’s yard: lush green set off by splotches of pink, blue, orange, red, and more. Otherwise, the landscape was painted in muted shades: mostly brown, plus the chalky pinks, reds, and whites of the bluff behind the ranch buildings. Not exactly paradise, but Violet wouldn’t trade the Panhandle for all the trees in the Piney Woods.
She found her mother in the kitchen, leaning on the sink, head cocked toward the open window. Violet favored her in coloring and features, if not size. Iris’s brown hair was short and curly, her body strong through the shoulders but soft in the middle, just like her disposition. She made a shushing motion and gestured toward the window. Violet eased over to peek out.
Beni sat on the picnic table on the covered rear deck, cereal box on his lap. Joe was perched on one side of him and Cole on the other. Cole was in his usual uniform of denim button-down shirt, jeans, and battered straw cowboy hat. Joe wore a Pendleton Whisky T-shirt and a Coors cap. With that lanky body and hair straggling past his collar, he reminded Violet of a major league pitcher—deliberate scruff, lethal speed, a deadly combination.
Beni reached into his box, fished out a few chocolate puffs, and handed one to each of his companions. “Ready?”
They nodded gravely.
“Okay, go.”
All three popped the cereal into their mouths and chewed. Beni scrunched his eyes shut as if waiting for a firecracker to explode. After a few seconds, he opened one eye to peek at Cole, who shook his head. Beni opened the other eye to check with Joe, who did the same.
Beni heaved a mournful sigh. “It’s not working.”
Violet looked at her mother, who shrugged.
Pushing open the screen door, Violet went out onto the deck. “Why the sad face, little man?”
“There’s something wrong with this cereal.” Beni scowled at the box. “On TV, they said amazing things will happen if you eat it.”
Violet had to work to keep an appropriately solemn expression. “What kind of amazing things?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve been eating and eating it—”
“And not one single monkey has flown out of my ass,” Joe drawled.
Cole made a noise that sounded like a chocolate puff going down the wrong pipe.
Beni giggled. “You said a bad word.”
“Oh sh—I mean, shoot. I didn’t mean—”
Violet strangled another laugh and gave Beni a stern look. “Sometimes big people say those words. Doesn’t mean you can.”
“But, Mommy—”
“No.” She turned to Cole before Beni could drag her into a debate about exactly which words were off-limits, requiring him to say all of them. “You still want to gather those two-year-old bulls?”
“Not this morning.” Her father strolled out to join them on the deck. “Delon said he’ll take a look at that Jake brake on the Peterbilt if I can drop it by their shop by ten. Someone’ll have to follow along and give me a ride home.”
Cole pushed to his feet. “I’ll come. We can swing by the feed store and pick up more mineral for the cows.”
Violet mentally revised her schedule, bumping laundry and bookkeeping to the top of the list. “We can gather after lunch.”
“Or I can help you now,” Joe offered.
Four heads swiveled toward him. Joe met Violet’s glare with a bland smile and a gleam in his eye.
“You have to be a cowboy to chase bulls,” Beni declared. “You’re just a bullfighter.”
Violet choked down a snort of laughter at Joe’s thunderstruck expression. Just a bullfighter. God bless her son.
“I know how to handle stock,” Joe said.
“As good as Uncle Cole?” Beni asked.
“Uh—”
Beni patted Joe’s arm. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s as good as Uncle Cole, but you can borrow his horse. Mom says Dozer’s been working this ranch so long he can make any idiot look useful.”
Cole laughed, a single, loud hah! Violet nearly had an aneurysm trying to gag herself. There was a strangled snort from her dad’s direction, but when she glanced at him, his face was impassive. Joe did not look amused.
“That’s real nice of you, Beni,” Violet said. “But we’ll wait—”
“If you think you’re up to it,” her dad said, his words edged with challenge.
Joe didn’t blink. “No problem.”
“But—” Violet began.
“Okay then.” Her father glanced at his watch. “We’d better get a move on, Cole.”
As the back door slapped shut behind them, Violet fired a glare at Joe. He smiled, mocking as always, but before either of them could speak, Delon stuck his head out the door. His gaze landed on Joe and cooled. “Joe.”
“Delon,” Joe answered, in an equally flat voice.
Violet looked from one to the other, catching a whiff of testosterone in the air. What the hell?
“Ready to go, Beni?” Delon asked.
“Yes!” Beni jumped up and ran to his father.
Delon turned him around and gave him a nudge. “Hug your mom good-bye.”
Violet leaned down and he threw his arms around her, pressing his silky cheek against hers. “I’ll miss you,” she said, squeezing hard.
“Miss you, too,” he said, and planted a smacking kiss on her face. Then he squirmed free and scampered through the door, dragging his dad by the hand.
“See you Thursday,” Delon called over his shoulder.
Then they were gone, and Violet was alone on the deck with Joe.
He flashed a toothy smile. “Looks like it’s just you and me, darlin’.”
Violet growled under her breath. Hell. Just…hell.