Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(11)

“I get that you trust me about as much as a rattlesnake dozing in your boot. And part of me appreciates your suspicions ’cause you don’t know me from Adam, but what you need to understand is the man in that bed right there,” he jerked his head toward Tom, “means every bit as much to me as he does to you—probably even more, given that I’ve known him twice as long. Hell, he practically raised me.”

“I’m sorry if my style is too direct for you, cowboy, but I’m only acting in my father’s best interest.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he said. “Since we both want what’s best for him, you can consider me at your disposal.” He tipped his hat and walked out.

She looked after him, thinking disposal might be exactly the right word.





Chapter Four


Two weeks after Tom’s stroke, Ty was still reeling with disbelief. In a matter of days, Monica Brandt had managed to turn his entire life inside out. As soon as Tom was taken out of critical care and moved to rehab, she’d wasted no time in making good on her threat, waltzing right to the hotel’s corporate floor and moving herself lock, stock, and barrel into the CEO’s office—the one right next to his. Managing Tom’s affairs was one thing, but her patronizing attitude was just too damned much!

Almost from the start, Ty had felt a powerful antipathy for Monica Brandt. He’d wanted to like her for Tom’s sake, but he preferred warm, soft women, and there was nothing remotely warm or soft about her. Of course, he’d probably have viewed her through a much kinder lens if she hadn’t given him the cold shoulder from the start.

Before meeting her, Ty had imagined Tom’s daughter as one of those uptight, intellectually superior Harvard MBA types. As it turned out, he’d pegged her pretty damned close. Too bad, really. She wouldn’t be hard on the eyes if she didn’t always look like she’d been sucking lemons.

What burned his ass most of all was her unmerited mistrust of him. He’d done nothing to deserve it. Monica oozed suspicion from her every pore. He had to wonder what * had made her that way. Women were a lot like horses in his experience. Handled right, they were sweet, soft, and eager to please, but the wrong set of hands could destroy their trust forever.

Initially he’d wanted to help her, if only for Tom’s sake, but when she’d asked for—or, better said, demanded—the company’s financial records, he’d promptly obliged her, with eight years’ worth. He’d thought the towering monstrosity of accounting records would keep her out of his hair for a while. He was wrong. Just this morning she’d sent him a barrage of text messages that read about as friendly as a court subpoena. Hell, the way she was going about this financial review, he half-expected that would be next.

He’d held on as long as he could, but it was time to face the fact that Tom was never coming back and the agreement they’d reached over lunch was worth about as much as the air they’d wasted talking about it. Monica had no vested interest in the place and no reason for making good on Tom’s promise—which pretty much left Ty high and dry.

His phone buzzed again. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Her last three messages had demanded a face-to-face that he’d been avoiding for days. He’d stalled in the hope of getting his shit together, but no viable prospects had yet surfaced. Although he’d rather be skinned alive and hung by the balls than continue working for Monica, he also didn’t want to go back to ranching in Oklahoma. Too many bad memories resided there—along with his ex.

Ty entered the elevator mumbling curses, jammed the button three times, and then gave the steel door a solid kick with his boot. He followed with another just for good measure. He was his own man, dammit, not some lackey at her beck and call. He wasn’t used to answering to anybody but Tom. And Tom had trusted him. Monica didn’t. Although he’d managed to ignore her summons for the past forty-eight hours, he couldn’t put this off any longer. The time of reckoning was at hand.



Monica massaged her temples with a groan. She was exhausted after two sleepless weeks and her head throbbed unbearably even after four Excedrins. Although Tom had regained consciousness, and the neurologist had declared him out of imminent danger, he still faced months of rehabilitation. It was unlikely he’d ever speak again and his right side paralysis would severely limit his mobility. On top of that, the doctors had warned that even with prophylactic medications he was still at risk for a repeat stroke, especially in the first year. Her heart ached that he’d never be the same man.

On top of her concerns for Tom, she was also depressed for herself. She’d struggled for six years to earn a place of respect in the New York financial world, but now it seemed she had no choice but to walk away from it all. It was still hard to comprehend the unexpected turn her life had taken—hotshot investment banker one day, and the next the acting CEO of a floundering Las Vegas hotel catering to hicks!

She’d briefly debated hiring a private nursing team for Tom and heading back to New York, but she just couldn’t abandon him like that. Not when he’d made such an effort to become part of her life. Only Tom had ever given her a sense of family. Sure, he was proud of her achievement, but she was more than that to him. Why else would he have adopted her months after her eighteenth birthday? He was the only one who’d ever genuinely cared about her.