Two to Wrangle (2 page)

“Yeah,” he replied with a rueful look. “It was stupid as hell, and we both lived to regret it. Delaney wanted to settle down on the ranch and have babies, but I wasn't near ready to give up rodeo.” He paused. “She didn't understand that cowboy doesn't come off with the hat. It's in the blood.”

“But you had a responsibility to her.”

“I did,” he said, “But I wasn't willing to let anyone dictate my life. I've never answered to anyone except Tom, and he mostly let me have my head. I wasn't ready to play family man. It wasn't who I was or what I wanted. You can only deny yourself for so long. Restlessness and rodeo won out in the end.”

“You left her?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “It was her choice. She didn't want to live on the road in cheap motels, but I did. So Zac and I hit the road again, one rodeo after another in endless succession.”

“Did you cheat on her, Ty?”

He looked pained at the question. “Hell if I know. I'd like to think I didn't, but I can't recall any of it. There's weeks of my life that are just a blank page. That period wreaked almost as much havoc on my liver as it did on the marriage.” He sighed with a remorseful shake of his head. “We weren't any damn good for each other anyhow.”

“We all make foolish mistakes when we're young and stupid,” she said.

“If only mine had ended there,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Whether it was guilt or plain stupidity, I didn't hire a lawyer when Delaney filed for divorce, so she got half my ranch. I went on a real bender after that. One night I entered the arena tanked up on bourbon and Coke—and woke up the next morning in intensive care. That's when Tom stepped in. He made me an offer to run the hotel since his manager had been hauled off in handcuffs. The Hotel Rodeo was my chance to get my shit back together, but it also allowed me to maintain connections with the people and the world I love. It's been almost eight years now since Tom saved my life.” He swallowed hard, visibly fighting back the tears.

It was his look of utter desolation that did her in, drawing her to his side like an invisible string. As much as Monica had wanted to sever the ties that bound her heart to his, shared sorrow only made them tighter. Three days ago Ty had broken the news to her about Tom's passing, encasing her in his strong arms until her tears were spent. Now it was her turn to repay the favor.

Wordlessly she pulled his head to her chest, holding him tight as he wept the silent tears he'd fought so hard to hold back. Alcohol mixed with grief had his body trembling. It was only a moment or two before he drew back, angrily palming his eyes. “Fuck this shit.”

“It's okay, Ty. You had a lot to drink. Alcohol and grief make a bad combination. Go to bed,” she suggested. “You'll feel a lot better after you sleep it off.”

His eyes met hers. One large hand palmed her face. “I'd feel a whole lot better if you came with me.”

“I'm not going to be your comfort fuck.” She pushed him away. “If that's what you're looking for, you'll have to find someone else.”

“Goddammit, Monica! I don't want any other woman. Why can't you understand that? I only want
you
.”

His words shocked her dumb. She couldn't blame the booze this time. His focused eyes and clear voice were stone sober. She prayed he wouldn't repeat himself. She was a goner if he did. His words were much like the apple brandy she craved—sweet, warm, and intoxicating, spreading fingers of heat deep in her belly.

“No, Ty,” she whispered back. “I can't do this again.”

“Please, Monica. I don't want to be alone tonight. I've never felt so goddamned alone as I do right now. I don't like it. I don't want it . . .” He reached out his hand to her. “Nothing has to happen between us . . . just stay with me.”

Her brain told her to turn and walk out the door, but her four-inch heels were frozen to the floor. She knew exactly what he felt because she felt it too.

In reality, neither of them had to spend the night alone. One phone call from Ty would have Cassie warming his bed. And Evan had made it equally clear he wanted to put their breakup behind them. Although she'd insisted on separate rooms, Evan had somehow managed to take the one adjacent to hers. He'd take advantage of any show of vulnerability—but Ty was her true weakness.

Her desire for him was like a rip current, and just as dangerous. All it took was a touch, a kiss to pull her in deep and sweep her away. She'd fought it tooth and nail, but she'd had it bad for the Oklahoma cowboy almost from the moment they'd met. She couldn't deal with those feelings, so she'd run away from them, from
him
.

She still wasn't over him. Only time and distance could ever achieve that, but there wasn't much distance between them now. It lessened even more as she came toward him to accept his outstretched hand. Warm and strong, it closed around hers.

She didn't resist when he pulled her onto his lap. Then his arms closed around her too. His body was warm, solid, and scented of bourbon and Ty. It wasn't a bad mix actually. The scent of Ty seemed to go with almost anything.

“Thank you,” was all he said as he nuzzled her hair, his breath hot and moist.

They held each other for what seemed like hours before he stirred, waking her from a light doze. “Sugar, as much as I hate to do this, I have to get up for a bit. My right arm and both legs are asleep.” He shifted her off his lap. “How 'bout we move to the bed? It'd be a lot more comfortable for both of us.”

The look in his eyes stirred her insides, but she was quick to tamp down the desire. She withdrew a few inches, praying he wouldn't try to kiss her. She didn't know if she'd be able to resist him if he did. Forcing herself to rise, she brushed a hand tenderly over his bristled face.

He captured it, holding it against his warm skin. No words passed over his lips, but his hazel eyes implored her to stay. Tom's passing had affected them both deeply, and that shared grief created a whole new level of intimacy she'd never expected to experience with him. Whether he knew it or not, Ty's show of emotion had softened her toward him. Far too much.

“I'm sorry, Ty, but I haven't changed my mind. The worst is over now. Since you're feeling better, I need to go.”

He stood, placing both hands on her shoulders, his brows meeting in a frown. “Go where? To
him
?”

Shaking her head, Monica pulled her hand out of his grasp. It would be all too easy to tumble back into his bed, a fall that would only lead to the one she feared most.

“Good night, Ty. I'll see you in the morning.”

She headed for the door before temptation made her stupid.

M
onica left Las Vegas on Evan's Gulfstream, bound for Oklahoma. She hadn't wanted to fly with him, but it was the most practical solution. Tom's place had a private airstrip for the Beechcraft Bonanza he liked to pilot, while the nearest commercial airport was almost two hours away. On top of that, the housekeeper, Rosa, had informed her there wasn't a hotel within fifty miles of the ranch.

“Do you plan to stay at the ranch tonight?” Monica asked.

Evan's gaze met hers with a suggestive look. “It depends on what kind of invitation you're offering.”

“Not
that
kind,” she replied, eager to quash any suggestion of intimacy.

“Then no,” Evan replied. “I've been away from New York long enough. Just let me know as soon as you're ready and I'll send the plane back for you. In the meantime,” he took her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb, “I've got something for you to think about.” He reached his other hand into his pocket and retrieved a small velvet box.

“No, Evan.” She jerked her hand out of his grasp. “I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept your ring.”

Only weeks ago she'd believed her future was safe, secure, and wrapped in a neat bow. She had a dream job and one of New York's most sought-after bachelors as her fiancé. Evan was the best her world had to offer—handsome, rich, powerful, and successful. They were a perfect match, two of a kind, she and Evan—or so she'd believed—until he'd revealed an ugly, selfish, and manipulating side. She'd known then that she could never tie herself to him.

“C'mon, Monica,” he cajoled. “I meant it when I said I need you back. Just wear it for a while. The ring suits you, and we suit each other. Please don't disappoint me again.”

In the next breath he pulled her into his arms for a deep kiss. Taken off guard, she didn't fight it, but she didn't reciprocate either. She'd never thought of Evan as a bad kisser, but that was before Ty. She never would have believed that a cowboy's kisses could make her head spin. But they could and they did. Every single damned time.

It seemed like forever before Evan released her. She was irritated that he'd take advantage of her vulnerability to re-stake his claim, but Evan had always been an opportunist.

“Please don't pressure me like this, Evan. I'm not ready for this kind of decision right now.”

“What is it, Mon? I need to know.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You're so cagey and aloof. You were never like that before. There's something different about you, and it's not just since your father passed away. I noticed it as soon as I saw you. Do you have a thing going with that cowboy?”

Evan wasn't stupid. Although she'd denied all along that they were involved, he'd picked up on the vibe between her and Ty. She didn't know if it was more jealousy or possessiveness, but once he'd identified the cowboy as a rival, he'd taken every opportunity to interpose himself as a buffer between them. Rather than comforting, Evan's continued presence had become increasingly annoying, but he knew as well as she did that once he left, she'd be alone again with Ty.

The idea of that had her in agony. She knew better than to spend any more time with him, especially after last night, but how could she avoid it? Thankfully, Ty was driving to Oklahoma because Rosa refused to fly, which gave Monica time to steel herself.

“No, Evan. There's nothing between him and me.” She voiced the present tense with a clear conscience. Whatever had been between them was definitely over, or so she kept telling herself. “I just need some space, all right? I just lost my father. We'll talk about everything once I get back to New York.”

“All right.” Evan backed off, palms raised in surrender. “You need some time, I'll give you that, but you know I'm not a patient man. When you get back to New York, I'm going to expect an answer.”

Tom's attorney, Bob Wright, was there to greet Monica when she stepped off the plane. She'd met him once before, years ago, when Tom had legally adopted her and again when he'd rewritten his will.

“Ms. Brandt.” He offered his hand. “Good to see you again, although I heartily regret the circumstances. Tom was a good man and a true friend. We'll all miss him.”

“Yes. We will,” she agreed, fighting the lump in her throat.

“Is this your first time on the ranch?” Bob asked.

“It is, actually,” Monica answered. “Tom invited me several times, but I never came. Now I wish I had. I feel like a total stranger here.” She almost wished she'd waited for Rosa and Ty before coming, but she was on Evan's timetable and he was eager to get back to New York.

“Maybe you'll feel more at home once I introduce you around,” Bob suggested.

“That's kind of you, but it really doesn't matter,” she said. “I don't plan to stay long.”

“Gettin' itchy for the big city already, Ms. Brandt?” he teased.

“I admit feeling very much out of my element,” she confessed.

“Since we have some time, why don't I show you the place?” Bob suggested.

For the next couple of hours, Bob drove her around on a golf cart, showing her the grounds and introducing her to the ranch hands. The foreman, Bart, was a gruff, old weather-beaten cowboy who tipped his hat with a glower and mumbled condolences.

“Don't let ol' Bart fool you,” Bob said. “Trust me when I say he's hurtin'. Ol' timers like him would rather be strung up by their . . . er . . . boots than show any emotions.”

She knew the same was true of Ty, who she was certain would rather be strung up by the balls than ever be reminded of his impassioned outpouring.
Cowboys.
She shook her head ruefully. The breed seemed to be an odd blend of both the best and worst traits of the entire male species.

“This place is huge,” Monica remarked, as they returned back to the sprawling Spanish-style ranch house.

“It is,” Bob agreed. “The house is about four thousand square feet and sits on over five thousand acres of prime pasturelands. There are six bedrooms,” Bob continued. “Tom and Rosa's rooms are on the east side, and there are four more in the west wing, each with a private bath.”

“I wonder why he built so many.” She also wondered if Tom had ever felt lost in it living alone.

“He always wanted a big family,” Bob said.

“It's a shame he didn't get that wish,” Monica replied. Although Tom had married and divorced three times, she was his only child.

Wandering the great room, she noted the distinctly masculine furnishings, mostly burnished oak and studded leather. There were also myriad painful reminders of Tom—a worn pair of boots by the door, a hat rack that held several cowboy hats, and a pair of reading glasses sitting beside a recent issue of
The Cattleman.

She picked up the dog-eared book beside it, a well-worn hardback of Zane Grey's
Riders of the Purple Sage
. She caressed the cracked leather-bound cover. The book reminded her of Ty's drunken eulogy. She'd been enraged at the time. Now she only felt vague wistfulness that Ty had known Tom so much better than she had.

She deeply regretted that she hadn't met her father until ten years ago. She was eighteen and already in college when he'd walked into her life. All her mother, Vivian, had ever told Monica was that she was the result of a mistake made in Vegas. She'd never known her biological father until Vivian discovered he was a billionaire and filed a lawsuit. Although Vivian won eighteen years of back child support, Tom hadn't cared about money. He'd just cared about getting to know his only child.

Their relationship had developed awkwardly at first, but he'd been dogged about them getting to know each other. Tom was nothing like the other people in her life. She couldn't help wondering what it would have been like if she'd been raised by him. What kind of person would she be today had she grown up with a father's love?

At the stocked bar, Monica examined the bottles. Not finding any brandy, she poured two glasses of Chivas Regal and handed one to Bob, who accepted it with a nod of thanks. She took a sip with a tiny grimace, missing her usual Calvados.

“When you're ready, I'll need you to go through Tom's personal effects,” Bob said. “You can start that process any time.”

“I'll wait until Ty arrives,” she said. “He grew up here, after all. I wouldn't feel right doing any of that without him. When do you expect him?” She anticipated Ty's arrival with renewed anxiety. Not that the sprawling ranch wasn't plenty big enough for her and Ty to stay well out of each other's way.

“He called earlier to say he'd be arriving in the morning,” Bob replied.

“But didn't he just leave Las Vegas this afternoon?”

“Yup, but he said he'd rather drive straight through and rest when he gets here.”

“He'll be exhausted,” she said.

“Probably, but he's done the drive plenty of times before. He lived on the road for years when he was doing the rodeo circuits.”

“Did you know him back then?” she asked, recalling what Ty had told her about those years.

“I ran into him now and again,” Bob replied cautiously.

“Is he much different now than he was then?” she couldn't help inquiring.

Bob sat back, contemplation wrinkling his forehead. “Ty will always be Ty, but he's no longer hell-bent on self-destruction. His marriage was a disaster, but he seems to have gotten himself together since then. Tom was real proud of the job he's done at the hotel.”

“But the place is on the brink of bankruptcy,” she exclaimed. “Believe me, I know. I've reviewed the books.”

“Maybe so, but it's not Ty's fault. The place was struggling long before he took over. He's all that's kept it afloat. Without him, Tom probably would have closed it years ago.”

“You really believe that?” she asked dubiously.

“Tom believed it,” Bob replied. “It's why he decided to let Ty call the shots.”

“What do you mean? I don't understand.”

“You should probably be aware that Tom made a few changes to his will in the past year.”

“What kind of changes?” she asked.

“Don't worry, Miss Brandt. You are still Tom's personal representative and primary beneficiary, but there's a codicil granting Ty controlling interest in Brandt Morgan Entertainment.”

“Tom left the hotel to Ty?”

“Not quite. I said
controlling interest
in Brandt Morgan. You still own twenty-five percent of it.”

“Does Ty know about this?” she asked. She didn't know what she was going to tell Evan about the hotel. She was already dreading that conversation. She'd agreed to sell it to him and they'd all but signed the deal. Now it seemed all bets were off.

“Not yet,” Bob said. “I was waiting for Tyrone to arrive before I went over all the details of the will.”

“Tyrone?”
She almost choked. “Is that Ty's full name? I would have guessed Tyler or Tyson, but Tyrone?”

“He's named after his maternal grandfather, Tyrone Jefferson,” Bob replied, impervious to the laugh that gurgled up in her throat. “He was a good 'un, ol' Tyrone.”

“So you knew Ty's family?”

“Yup. I know just about everyone 'round these parts. I grew up here. Moved away to go to law school, but still have plenty of connections.”

“Staying out here at the ranch must save you a lot of inconvenience,” she remarked.

“Hell, yeah,” he laughed, “Tom's place is a second home to me. I'm almost ready to set up a second practice here.”

Monica sighed. “As much as I hate to do it, I'll probably sell the place, I know Tom loved it here, but I have absolutely no desire to own a cattle ranch, even with someone else running it. I don't see the point in being an absentee owner of a business I have no interest in.”

Bob rubbed his jaw. “I'm afraid that won't be your call either.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Tom didn't think you'd give a fig for the ranch, given that you'd never even come out here, so he also bequeathed the Circle B to Ty. Said he always felt bad that Delaney took half of Ty's place, so he wanted to make it up to him. Ranching ain't the life for everyone, 'specially women,” Bob said ruefully. “Tom loved his ranch, and he didn't want to see it sold.”

Monica wished she understood that kind of attachment. Having travelled from place to place most of her childhood, she'd never known any real home. Since adulthood, she'd worked a seventy- to eighty-hour week and eaten most of her meals out. Her poshly decorated Manhattan apartment wasn't much more than a place to shower and sleep. Marrying Evan wouldn't have changed anything in that respect. He was always on the move.