Chapter 35

Beth cornered Tori midmorning and held out her phone. “You’re famous. Well, more famous.”

Tori swore. Right at the top of that stupid Keeping Up with the Pattersons page was a picture of her and Delon at The Smoke House and another of the truck parked out at The Notch, lit up like a neon billboard. The contributor had helpfully included a title. The mysterious Miz Patterson doing a little sleeper creeping with local rodeo star Delon Sanchez. Does this mean they’re picking up where they left off in college?

If it had been hers, Tori might have thrown the phone across the room. As if on cue, her cell buzzed with an incoming text. Delon, finally replying. Her heart stumbled, part thrill, part fear that he’d decided to haul another load to Duluth and not come back for, say, six months.

You’ll see me after work, if you still want to. Your place?

Tori let go of the breath she’d been holding. Yes. You okay?

There was an interminable pause before he replied. Hey, I snagged a princess. I’m the coolest guy in the Panhandle right now.

Yeah, right, and she was Roy Rogers, but at least he was coming to see her tonight. She tossed her phone down on the desk a little harder than was good for its health. Nosy goddamn assholes. They wanted to talk? Fine. She’d feed the gossips until they choked.

* * *

When she got home from work, Panhandle Security had added a second vehicle on the dirt road behind her property—thanks for that, Daddy, but please don’t read the comments—and a black Dodge Charger was parked in front of her house. Delon leaned against the hood, arms crossed over his equally black T-shirt, looking like an advertisement for trouble, the kind a woman would jump into—or just jump—without a second thought. The wrist brace was back, and he radiated a kind of reckless tension that made her hesitate a few steps away.

“Lookin’ pretty badass today,” she said.

He brushed his fingers over the Charger’s silver racing stripe. “Gil’s.”

“It suits you better.”

Delon looked startled. “It’s not my style.”

“It’s exactly you. All-American muscle—strong and fast but with room for a car seat.”

He shook his head, but she got the impression that he was pleased.

“Why do you have Gil’s car?”

Delon’s eyes glinted. “He put on a cowboy hat and my jacket, and took my car and a couple of reporters for a drive to the sleaziest titty bar in Amarillo.”

Tori laughed, half in delight, half in relief. By the time she’d left work, she’d convinced herself Delon was only stopping by to call it quits. Who needed this kind of crap? Instead, he was giving the gossips a metaphorical stiff middle finger, too.

“It wasn’t my idea. Well, it was, but I was just shooting off my mouth. I wouldn’t have actually gone.” He angled her an unreadable look. “You’re not upset?”

“About which part?”

The question seemed to stymie him for a beat. “Take your pick.”

Well, that opened up some interesting possibilities. Should she rank them chronologically, or by perceived order of importance? “I’m not sorry we had sex. And the Internet stuff…that’s on me, not you.”

“Uh, not exactly.” He ducked his head. “You remember Hank?”

“From The Smoke House?”

“Yeah. That private road we were on…it’s his parents’ ranch. I should’ve remembered he’d go home that way.”

“Oh.” So it was Hank who’d taken and posted the pictures. She cataloged that information for future retribution. “Not the smartest move on your part.”

Delon grimaced in answer.

Tori took stock of her reaction and decided her low-banked anger was directed solely at Hank and the rest of the life-sucking Internet leeches. “I can live with it, but I’ve got to warn you, it’s only gonna get worse. I took a long lunch and did some shopping at my local adult toy store…with witnesses.” She dangled the bag temptingly from one finger. “Wanna come in and play?”

His gaze jumped past her, as if looking for an escape route. “Now?”

Ouch. Surprise—even shock—was understandable, but outright horror was a little tough on the ol’ pride. Her cheeks stung as she dropped the bag to her side. Her only option was to bluster on through. “You’re right. Probably better to have dinner first. Strenuous stuff, what with the whips and—”

“Why are you gonna whip my daddy?” a voice asked from the vicinity of the barn.

Tori froze. Oh. Dear. Lord. Beni.

“She meant she’s gonna whip me into shape.” Delon barely hesitated, even if his face had gone a dusky color. “And I thought I told you to stay out of the barn. There’s a cat—”

“I know!” Beni waddled out into the light, his arms latched around the cat’s armpits, her front legs pinned to her ears and her hind feet dragging in the dust. “Look, Daddy! It’s big as a lion!”

Tori and Delon simultaneously sucked in air. Delon managed to incorporate a curse, but not loud enough to startle the cat. Her eyes were slits, her teeth bared, but she hung limp, as if stunned that someone dared manhandle her. Any second now she would regain her senses and explode into a ball of claws and teeth.

“Uh, Beni?” Delon spoke slowly, with extreme calm, as if addressing a person standing on a land mine. “Remember how I said you should always ask before you touch a strange animal?”

“Oh. I forgot.” Beni spun around to face Tori, the cat swinging in his arms. “What’s its name, Miz Tori? Can I pet it?”

Only if you want to lose an arm. “Um…she doesn’t really have a name, and maybe you should put her down very carefully and then ask her if she wants to be petted?”

Beni plunked the cat onto her butt. She sprang to her feet, paused long enough for one full-body shudder and a death glare, then stalked into the barn, fur rumpled and tail rigid with indignation. Tori sagged, knees gone to jelly.

Beni gazed after the cat, crestfallen. “I guess that means no.”

“Guess so.” Delon’s jaw was tight with the suppressed fury of a parent recently scared shitless and trying not to come undone.

Tori finally regained function of her peripheral nervous system, and though she would’ve rather asked how in the hell Beni had managed to get his hands on the devil cat, she plastered on a smile and said, “This is a surprise. I thought you were staying with your mother for a few days.”

“She went back to San Antonio with Joe ’cuz they got ’gaged.”

“Ah. Yes. I heard.” Shut up, Tori, it’s none of your business. “Are you happy about that?”

Beni stuck his lip out. “No. I wanted to go with them, but Grandma said I better stay home ’cuz Daddy needs help with his workouts.”

Not exactly the answer she was looking for. “Do you know what engaged means?”

Beni brightened. “Joe’s gonna be my stepdaddy, so now he has to buy me birthday and Christmas presents. And he says we can still be buddies and do cool stuff, but Mommy said he better buck up ’cuz her and Daddy aren’t gonna be the ones making me clean my room and do my homework while he has all the fun. And Uncle Cole says it means Joe can quit pretending to sleep in the bunkhouse.” He scooted closer, whispering loud enough to be heard in the next county. “I asked Joe if he plays video games under the covers too, when he’s pretendin’ to sleep. He said yeah, something like that.”

Tori choked off a laugh, checking to see how Delon was taking all this. His jaw was clenched so hard she was surprised she didn’t hear teeth cracking. So. No chatting about the engagement.

“I sure wish I could pet the cat some more.” Beni sighed, then turned hopeful eyes on Tori. “Since Daddy doesn’t want to play with your new toys, can I?”

Tori goggled like a beached carp.

“They aren’t the kind of toys kids like,” Delon said, impressively calm.

“Oh.” Beni made a face. “Like those video games in Vegas that just take your money and don’t have ninjas or dragons or anything cool.”

“Yeah. Like those. How about we take a drive to Dairy Queen instead?” Delon raised an eyebrow at Tori with a gleam in his eyes that made a little heat wave shimmer over her skin. “Miz Tori likes things with big engines.”

Yes she did, and they weren’t just talking about the car.

“Yay!” Beni pumped his fist. “Can I get a chocolate-dipped cone if I promise not to let it drip all over again?”

“Sure.”

Tori had to squelch a laugh. Dear God. After Willy’s family she’d thought she knew kids, but Beni Sanchez was way out of their league.

“We can sneak through the drive-up lane,” Delon said, misreading her hesitation.

“Sounds like a plan.” Tori scooped up her bags, tossed them in her car and locked it for good measure.

Beni clambered into the Charger. “Hey, Daddy, I thought Uncle Gil said there was no sticky crap allowed in his ride.”

“Uncle Gil should’ve thought of that sooner.” Delon tossed the keys to Tori.

She snatched them out of the air. “I didn’t ask—”

“You wanted to,” he said, and slid into the passenger seat.