“I never thought you’d be the one driving on our first date,” Dalton said as they settled into a mile-eating pace.
“This isn’t a date.”
“Road trip, then.”
She glanced over. He had racked the seat back as far as it would go and still had to spread his knees to keep from jamming them against the glove box. Maybe she should have driven her crew cab truck. It was roomier up front, had four doors, and a full backseat. But if she had, Joss would have insisted on sitting shotgun because of her tendency to car sickness, and Dalton would have had even less leg room in back than he did now. Would have served him right.
“This isn’t a date or a road trip,” she said, slowing for the turn outside of Gunther. “It’s a rescue mission. That’s all.”
When she stopped at the light, he opened his door, poured the rest of his warm beer on the ground, then closed the door.
Raney watched him look around for a place to put the empty bottle. “You’ll have to eat that. Mama doesn’t allow trash in her car.”
He looked at her like he might consider it. Or worse, toss it out.
“There are eight cup holders in this car,” she told him. “Pick one.”
He chose the one on the door by his foot.
When the light changed, she turned right and headed south on US 83, which put the lowering sun at Dalton’s window. Then in front. Then back in his window as the road followed a winding wagon trail laid down a hundred years ago. Instant oven. She turned up the AC, set the cruise for seven miles over the speed limit, and settled back for the ninety-five-mile run to Abilene. “Tell me about Texas Tech.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m bored. And because I thought about going there.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I got busy and kept putting it off. Then Daddy died and I got really busy. What’s it like?”
“Big, crowded, noisy. Lots of drinking and partying, like most Texas universities. But it did have a decent football team.”
“I heard you went there for two years.”
“Me and thirty thousand other shitkickers and goat ropers.”
She shot him a quick smile. “Which were you?”
“I never roped a goat, but I’ve kicked plenty of shit.”
“It’s always important to be good at something, I suppose.”
He turned his head toward her. The low sun slanted across his face for a moment and made his eyes glow like green fire. His grin had the devil in it. “What are you good at, Raney? Or better yet, what are you not good at?”
She shifted in the seat, uncomfortable with the question. “Lots of stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Dancing, for one. I’m a klutz. I only got through cheerleading by endless practice. I can’t cook, either. And I’d rather have a root canal than go to a jazz concert.”
He chuckled. “I bet you put that on all the Internet dating sites, just to chase men off.”
“Would it work? I’ll have to try it next time a guy makes a pass.”
“You get a lot of passes, do you?”
“Lately, I have.”
There wasn’t much traffic until they neared Abilene. The gas gauge showed under half a tank and they still had 180 miles to go, plus, she needed a pit stop. She found a relatively new convenience store with gas pumps just before the turn onto Interstate 20 and pulled in. While Dalton pumped the gas, she went in to pay, use the restroom, and grab a couple of cups of coffee.
Dalton was sitting in the car, munching on an energy bar when she came out. He must have made a pit stop, too.
“We spill, we die,” she warned him when she handed him his cup.
“Then I’ll make sure I spill it on myself.”
“That’d be best.”
As soon as she turned onto I-20 east, she reset the cruise to eighty-eight for the drive to the Highway 6 turnoff. Behind them in the west, the sun sank lower, perching like a giant, lit-up plastic pumpkin on the edge of the horizon. Within minutes it was gone, leaving behind a fading wash of oranges and reds and wispy purple clouds.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Dalton said, head bent to study the sky behind them in the big sideview mirror. “I sure missed Texas sunsets in prison.”
“They don’t have sunsets in Huntsville?”
“Not where I could see them.”
Raney debated for a minute then blurted out, “Can I ask you a question?”
His smile faded. His attention shifted to the road ahead. “As long as it’s not about my tour in Iraq or my time in prison.”
“It isn’t.” Not really. “Why did you waive a trial?”
He hesitated so long, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then in short, clipped tones, he said, “I did what I thought was right, Raney. I was at fault. Maybe Jim Bob was, too. I don’t know. Considering the price he paid, I figure I got off easy.”
“But—”
His head whipped toward her, green eyes flashing. “Do you know the maximum sentence for vehicular manslaughter? Twenty years. That’s what the county commissioner wanted and he has a lot of influence in this county. So, I took a plea and paid the fine.”
“But everybody knows Jim Bob was a drinker. You might have gotten off.”
“Might have.” He gave a bitter laugh. “And what would a trial have cost my family? No, they’d been through enough and I just wanted it over with. We all did. And now I’m done talking about it.”
Chastened, Raney said no more and focused on the traffic around her.
A few minutes later, he said, “Now I’ll ask you a question. Are you mad at Joss because she’s pregnant or because she’s Joss?”
“Who said I was mad at Joss?”
He gave her a look.
“Okay. Maybe both. She never takes anything seriously and refuses to follow even the simplest rules. I’ve had to cover for her over and over, but she still won’t grow up and take responsibility. And now she’s going to be a mother? How’s that going to work?” Raney knew she was ranting, but it
