Epilogue
On the first day of December, Cole Jacobs rolled down the rear door of the cattle hauler to secure it behind the last bucking horse. Then he ambled along the side of the trailer, peering through the vent holes to be sure each of the occupants was settled in its compartment.
“Still seems like a waste when we could haul six horses to the Finals with the pickup and stock trailer,” he told Delon.
“But then we wouldn’t get the advertising.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the black Freightliner. The sleeper now featured a life-sized action shot of Delon with Sanchez Trucking emblazoned below in foot-high letters. “And you wouldn’t get to drive that.”
That being Delon’s brand-new bloodred Charger, his present to himself after winning the hundred-thousand-dollar bonus round at Calgary. Streaks of splattered black paint ran down each side, condensing into a silhouette of a bareback rider on the rear fender. Delon’s signature graced the back side of the rear spoiler. And yeah, there was a booster seat in the back.
Shawnee had snorted and declared, “You’re the only man I know who turned into a badass after he got shackled down.”
Cole only glanced at the car and grunted, but he hadn’t argued real hard when the swap had been suggested. Of course, that’s when he thought Delon would be driving the semi. Now he peered doubtfully at the cab, where Tori was perched behind the wheel watching them in the rearview mirror. “You’re sure she’s ready for this?”
“She’s been hauling her own horses for years, she scored a hundred percent on her CDL exam, and we’ve hauled three loads of cattle for Sagebrush Feeders so she could get used to this trailer.” And dazzle the pants off of Jimmy Ray Towler. The man would never hire anything but Sanchez trucks for the rest of his life. “She’s ready.”
Cole didn’t look satisfied, but he never did when it came to his precious livestock. Especially these six horses, the first Jacobs Livestock had ever sent to the National Finals. “You’ll take over before you get into Las Vegas?”
“Cross my heart.” Even if it meant a battle with Tori. Especially if. Delon grinned. He might be a latecomer to the concept, but he had gained a deep appreciation for make-up sex. He waved Cole off and swung up into the passenger’s seat.
Tori tried to look blasé, but her eyes were dancing. “We’re off?”
“Gas it, baby.”
She grinned, shifting the Freightliner into gear. Delon tipped back in his seat, ripped open a Snickers, and prepared to enjoy every minute of the drive to the City of Sin, with scheduled rest breaks for the horses that would give them plenty of time for some sinning of their own. He’d been doing a lot more of that in the past nine months—not just the sinning, but kicking back and letting go. As a result, his season had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d never won so many first-place checks, and he’d never heard so many eight-second whistles blow while he was flat on his back, knocking dirt out of his ears. Boom or bust. Between the two, he’d ended up in his usual spot entering the Finals—right in the middle of the pack.
The difference was, now he knew he could take on anyone in any round and come out on top. And bit by bit, he was settling into his new groove and getting more consistent. If he could put it all together in Las Vegas, there was no telling how things might shake out. Lord knew the last few months had proven damn near anything was possible.
The Internet storm had raged for weeks, taking a bizarre turn when the Texans got all up in arms because the Wyomingites were talking shit about their girl. Tori and Delon had practically been forgotten as the two sides screamed cyber insults at each other’s states. They’d been on the verge of declaring war and forming volunteer armies when sites related to the whole mess started to crash. Every time a new social media page sprang up, it would be shut down within days, if not hours. Site administrators swore they had nothing to do with it and scrambled to patch up the holes in their security. Everyone had assumed the senator must be pulling strings, but when Tori said so to her sister, Elizabeth had laughed.
“Daddy’s in the government. He doesn’t know people who have those kinds of mad hacker skills,” said the woman who was engaged to sweet-faced, unflappable Pratimi, who could probably hijack the entire Internet if she set her mind to it. Further proof it wasn’t wise to mess with any of the Patterson women or what they considered theirs. Which, thankfully, included Delon.
And speaking of…
“Your mother does understand that we are not sending Beni to a boarding school for gifted kids just because she’s offering to pay?”
“No, but you might be able to put her off for a couple of years.” Tori shot him a wicked smile. “Besides, I’d give it a week, max, before Beni educated them to the point that they were begging to send him home.”
Delon shuddered, imagining the damage his child could do in that amount of time. Ever since Claire had informed them Beni was an actual genius, he’d been campaigning to skip kindergarten and first grade. “Does she test every kid who comes to dinner?”
“Only the ones she considers family.”
Delon let that sink in and decided he would be pleased—for now. Claire was still one scary lady. And they’d always known Beni was smart, but it was a tad bit frightening to know he was literally capable of anything.
Or he could turn out to be the world’s smartest truck driver, barring Tori. She wove flawlessly through the traffic in Amarillo, then merged onto the four-lane headed west. Beni had rejected both the Freightliner and the Charger in favor of flying in Wyatt’s plane along with Violet and Joe. The thought made Delon a lot less nervous since his firsthand experience with Wyatt’s skill as a pilot.
How all the bits and pieces of his life had come together into this big, jumbled whole was beyond him. He might never get accustomed to the sight of Senator Patterson sipping sweet tea on Miz Iris’s deck, arguing farm subsidies with Steve. Even Shawnee had gotten sucked in, her presence for Thanksgiving declared mandatory when Miz Iris learned she wouldn’t be spending it with family. Not a dull moment around that table, with her on one side and Gil on the other.
He’d thought he loved Tori the first time around. And he had, as much as either of them had been capable of at that point in their lives. Now, though, they were both so much…more. The depth and breadth of his feelings still terrified him sometimes, but at least he knew he wasn’t in it alone.
The phone rang. Tori punched a button on the steering wheel and Gil’s voice came through the speakers. “There’s construction forty miles west of Albuquerque, but if you take a long lunch break, you’ll get there after they knock off at five. And don’t scratch my paint, Blondie.”
Tori flipped him the bird without taking her eyes off the road.
“Our paint,” Delon said. “Same goes for you and Cole with my car. I made him promise, scout’s honor, to keep you away from the titty bars and whorehouses. My name is all over that thing.”
Gil gave an evil chuckle. Then he said, “Speaking of putting your name on things, we’re all gonna be in Vegas. Why don’t you two tie the knot while we’re there? Save a lot of hassle.”
The suggestion sent Delon’s heart tumbling end over end. He’d intended to propose, but he’d planned to wait until after the Finals, when he could work out the perfect time and place. Not rolling down Interstate 40 with his brother putting the words in his mouth.
“Thank you, Mr. Romance,” Tori said. “If this dispatcher gig ever falls through, you have a bright future as a matchmaker.”
Gil laughed and hung up. The truck hummed along in complete silence for almost five miles. Then Tori angled a look at him and raised her eyebrows. “Well?”
His heart hammered in triple time. “I… You want to?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
She extended her hand and they sealed the proposal not with a kiss, but a fist bump. “I’ll let my family know. Daddy intends to be there the whole ten days, and Elizabeth and Pratimi are flying in for the last three rounds.”
“What about your mother?”
Tori shrugged. “I’ll invite her, but she just got back from her own honeymoon. I doubt she can clear her schedule again this soon.”
Of all the shocks, that one might’ve been the biggest. Once she’d accepted that Richard Patterson was truly done with politics, Claire had abruptly married the owner of a medical equipment company with whom she’d been working closely for years. The senator seemed stunned, and even a little hurt. His dating life had been much more cautious, at least partially due to his daughters’ mandate that all candidates be screened by them, and none could be more than fifteen years younger than him.
So he’d bought a horse instead, boarded it at Tori’s, and started roping with her and Shawnee whenever he was in town. Fudge, especially, was ecstatic. He finally had a full-time friend. The cat was not amused.
Tori sighed happily. “We’ll have the whole drive home for our first honeymoon.”
“First?” Delon echoed.
“Please.” She did a patented debutante eye roll. “We have a private jet, and my father will want to foot the bill. There will be a beach. Maybe our own island. Do you prefer the Mediterranean or the Caribbean?”
Delon gave a disbelieving laugh. “I will never get used to this.”
“Sure you will.” She reached over and patted his arm. “You’ve got the rest of your life.”
He took another bite of his Snickers bar and smiled. From where he was sitting, it looked like it was gonna be one hell of a ride.
Order Kari Lynn Dell’s next book
in the Texas Rodeo series
Tougher in Texas
On sale August 2017