Tangled in Texas by Kari Lynn Dell

Author:Kari Lynn Dell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2016-12-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

Sometime just after sunup, Delon levered himself off the couch and did a Frankenstein shuffle into the bathroom, leaving the door open and the light off. He wasn’t ready to face his morning-after self in the mirror. But instead of sinking, his mood bobbed like a duck on a pond. For the first time in weeks he felt a tiny ray of hope that his knee might come around. And he’d sort of asked Tori out, and she’d sort of said yes.

He worked through a set of gentle stretches, bending his knee a little farther every time. He might not be kicking himself in the ass anytime soon—literally, at least—but he was a damn sight closer than he had been. When he finished, he stuffed his feet into running shoes, grabbed the gel pack from the freezer, and headed downstairs, intending to poke around on the Internet. Maybe even check out some rodeo results. The shop was quiet, the hard edges of tools and machinery softened by hazy morning sunlight angling through the narrow windows in the truck bay doors. The sight gave him the usual glow of pride, cut through with a twinge of frustration. Was Tori right? Could he just decide to claim his place at Sanchez Trucking?

He was surprised to hear music when he opened the office door. Charley Pride was not on Gil’s playlist. Delon’s dad stuck his head out of the open door of the dispatcher’s office. He smiled, but it was wrapped in a question mark. “Hey, Delon. How’re you doing this morning?”

Of course he’d heard. Probably from half a dozen different people. “A little sore, but no damage done.”

“Well, good. That’s real good.”

If his dad wondered why Delon had been drunk and punching redneck pricks on Beni’s birthday, he didn’t ask. Not that he didn’t care. Merle Sanchez was just more comfortable with the whats than the whys. He’d tended to their scrapes and bruises, cheered them on through flag football and junior rodeos and the National Finals, but he kept his feelings buried deep under that laid-back, cheerful surface and preferred everyone else to do the same. The Sanchez way.

“What are you doing in the office on a Sunday morning?” Delon asked.

“Jimmy’s back haul from Tuscaloosa got canceled. I’m trying to find him a load by tomorrow night, or he’ll be dead-heading home.”

Burning up hundreds of dollars’ worth of fuel for zero return. Delon tilted his head toward Gil’s bank of computer screens. “You know how to operate that thing?”

“Nope. I’m doing it the old-fashioned way.” His dad waved the cordless phone. Then he heaved an aggravated sigh. “And not having a damn bit of luck.”

The main door banged open behind Delon and Gil stomped in, snarling. “This is the fourth time those fuckers have left us with our ass hanging in the breeze. I don’t care if they offer double our usual rate, we don’t ever schedule another load out of that warehouse.”

“It’s your call.” Their dad shot out of the chair, slapping the phone into Gil’s hand.

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