Two to Wrangle Read online

  “You had your hands all over her,” she accused.

  “Then you were seeing things. I had one arm around her shoulders, ’cause she’d had a bit too much to drink.”

  “I saw how she was looking at you, Ty, like she wanted to eat you up.”

  “Look, Monica. Les jus’ cut to the chase here. If you wanna know if I ever screwed her, the answer is yes. More than a few times, but never since I met you. I could have brought her up here to this room after you tossed your little hissy fit and stormed out the other night. Maybe part of me wanted to, just to spite you for it, but I didn’t. I know you’re gonna believe the worst of me, as you always do, but that’s the truth.”

  “All right,” she replied warily, still unsure if she could believe him, but wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. “If I did jump to conclusions, what did you expect after you acted so vague and mysterious. You really hurt me.”

  “I never meant to,” he said softly, remorsefully. “I’d planned to tell you everything if it panned out, but the whole deal was still hanging in the air at that point. I didn’t want to jinx myself by talking about it.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me about Delaney?” she asked. “You were married, for God’s sake! Why did you let me think you’d never been in a serious relationship?”

  “Because my marriage was a total fuckup. Probably the biggest of my life. I’m no good at relationships. I said that from the beginning. So mebbe you can understand why I don’t like to talk about it.”

  “But I thought you just said you wanted to tell me your side of the story.”

  “You really want to know all about me and Delaney?”

  “Yes, Ty,” she said. “I do.”

  He blew out an exasperated breath. “All right. If that’s what you really want, I’ll tell you the whole damned story.” He slouched, flinging one arm over the back of the sofa. “We first met at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. I was there riding bulls and raising hell with my best buddy, Zac McDaniel. Delaney had just been crowned Miss Yellow Rose and was campaigning for Miss Texas.” His eyelids drooped to half-mast as if he were re-watching it in his mind.

  “She was completely out of our league, and we both knew it, but given that Zac and me were always fiercely competitive, we both set out to get her attention. It really wasn’t much of a contest ’cause Zac’d never put himself out for a woman before. The more he ignored ’em the more they flocked to him, but Delaney wasn’t like that. She took a little finessing, which was right up my alley.”

  “I’ll buy that. You’re quite the Casanova when you want to be,” Monica said, tamping down a jealous twinge. “So what exactly did this finessing entail?”

  “It started with a two-step on the dance floor of the Stockman and ended a few hours later in the backseat of my truck.”

  “That was fast work,” Monica remarked dryly.

  “Yeah, well,” he gave a dry laugh. “Unbeknownst to me, she was already primed for some slumming with cowboys. Delaney resented that her rich family had her future all planned out, so she’d decided to take the bit between her teeth that night. All I knew was that she was rich, beautiful, and wanted sex, at least with me. By the time I realized she was a virgin, it was too damned late. We eloped that night. I was twenty-four and she was nineteen.”

  “You eloped that same night?” she asked incredulously. “No wonder it was doomed for disaster.”

  “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.

  Chapter Three

  Monica 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.

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p; “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.