Reckless in Texas by Kari Lynn Dell Page A

up.
    â€œHead to head against Kaycee Field, Bobby Mote, Steven Peebles? Only if you’re consistently awesome. You want to beat those boys, you’ve got to expose yourself.”
    â€œDelon must have exposed himself at least once. He’s got a kid.”
    Wyatt laughed. “Beni. I met him at Houston last year. He’s a piece of work.”
    â€œNo kidding.” Just a bullfighter, my ass.
    â€œWait a second.” Wyatt snapped his fingers. “Violet Jacobs. I met her, too. You’re hitting on Beni’s mother? She’s…completely unlike you.”
    â€œBullshit,” Joe snapped, irritated for no reason he could define. “She’s a pickup man. A stock contractor. A damn good hand out in the pasture. She’s exactly like me.”
    Only a whole lot softer. Joe’s brain might’ve been too distracted by the pain to take much notice at the time, but his body had an excellent memory of what it felt like to have Violet stretched out underneath him. His body was very much in favor of trying it again.
    There was a long, weighted pause. Joe could practically feel the draft as Wyatt flipped open his skull and tried to poke around inside his head. But when Wyatt spoke, his voice was suspiciously neutral. “I meant she’s not like your usual women. Which you just illustrated perfectly.”
    â€œWhatever that means,” Joe muttered. “From what I saw, Delon has dibs.”
    Wyatt snorted. “That’s gonna come as a shock to Stacy Lyn Reed. She’s been knocking a chunk off of him every chance she gets.”
    â€œReally?” Joe screwed up his face in disgust.
    â€œShe isn’t hard to look at.”
    â€œShe’s scary. That woman could have Delon for lunch and toss you and me both down for dessert.” Probably simultaneously.
    â€œShe makes it hard to refuse.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know. I make damn sure she never gets close enough to ask the question.”
    But if Delon was getting his cork popped by the reigning queen of the barrel racers, there was definitely nothing romantic between him and Violet. Mr. Nice Guy would never cheat—and that left the field clear for Joe.
    â€œSo…Violet,” Wyatt said. “Interesting choice for a guy who prefers his women uncomplicated. She couldn’t pack more baggage if you gave her a freight train. The kid, her family, the business, Delon…”
    â€œViolet can handle it.” Just like she handled herself in the arena, picking up broncs. And roping that bull today. Capable. Strong. And very, very soft in all the right places.
    â€œJoe.” Wyatt made it both a question and a warning.
    Joe ignored both because just then the light went out in the office and the door opened. He straightened, his pulse kicking up a beat in anticipation. “Gotta go.”
    â€œWe need to talk about next year,” Wyatt said. “At least consider your options—”
    â€œNot now.”
    â€œWhen?” Wyatt demanded.
    â€œTomorrow. Or maybe the next day. I’ll be in touch.”
    â€œDammit, Joe—”
    â€œLater.”
    Joe hung up, then turned the phone off so Wyatt couldn’t call back. He needed to get the drop on her and he had to focus. Violet would not make this easy. Joe had never bothered to practice much finesse outside the arena, but he could fake it. He’d always been quick on his feet.
    Violet emerged from the shadows of her parents’ backyard and crossed the road with her usual long, no-nonsense strides. She was nearly to the foot of her steps when she faltered, then stopped, spotting Joe on her deck.
    Her eyes narrowed from startled to suspicious. “If you came to tell me you’re filing a workers’ comp claim, save your breath. Roping bulls is not in your contract.”
    â€œNope. That was purely voluntary.”
    Alarm filtered into her expression. “Are you hurt too bad to work this