Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(20)

“Hey, ol’ man. I hear you’re being one stubborn sonofabitch, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

Tom didn’t meet his gaze, but the left corner of his mouth twitched.

“Not bad digs you have here. And all you have to do is push a button to have beautiful women at your beck and call? Not a bad deal at all. What’s this?” Ty retrieved an iPad sitting on a tray beside the bed. He scrolled through the apps, discovering one with icons designed to assist the speech impaired. “It looks like all you have to do is touch the screen. I think even an old dog like you can handle that.”

His remark brought no response. Ty dropped the device and plopped into the chair beside the bed. “Monica’s worried about you.”

Tom’s gaze flickered.

“She was real upset when she left. Thinks you’re shutting her out. Hell, she even got snot all over my favorite shirt.”

Tom glanced his way with another mouth twitch.

“Yeah, she was a real waterfall for a minute or two. She loves you, Tom. She wants more time with you. Hell, I do too.” Ty watched with bated breath as Tom’s hand inched toward the iPad. After a few taps on the screen, Ty stood to read it.

I’m forked.

Forked? It took Ty a moment to realize the software had an autocorrect feature with an obscenity filter.

Shoot me Ty. Tom’s eyes misted with tears of frustration.

Ty had never felt so helpless. “Hell, Tom.” He threw his hat down with a groan and paced the room. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but you know I can’t do that.”

Tom glared back at him and pounded out another message. Don’t wanna live like this.

“I know that, Tom. But we don’t want to lose you. Please don’t shut us out. Maybe in time it’ll get better— Tom tapped the screen again. Want Rosa.

“Rosa?” Shit! Ty hadn’t even thought of calling her. It wouldn’t have occurred to Monica either, but Rosa was probably going out of her mind with worry by now. Tom was used to coming and going as he pleased, but he never would have let two weeks pass without calling her.

“You want me to bring her out here? You want her to come and take care of you?”

Three taps. All caps. YES.

“I’m on it,” Ty said. “I’ll get her on the next plane.”

More taps. Won’t fly.

Ah, hell. Now he understood why Rosa never came to Vegas with Tom. “If that’s the case, I’ll fly out there and drive her back myself.”

Oklahoma to Vegas was a long-ass drive that he’d done countless times over the years. He just hoped Rosa wouldn’t give him any shit about leaving. He wanted to get in and out of Oklahoma quickly and quietly. The last thing he needed was a run-in with his ex-wife, Delaney, but he’d never be able to avoid it if she got wind that he was coming. He did a quick calculation. Three days. One night at the ranch and then two more to drive back to Vegas.

“I figure I’ll be gone two or three days,” he told Tom. “Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

Several taps followed. Food sux.

Ty knew Tom was on a strict soft diet, a miserable thing for a man who loved a good steak. “I can’t do much about that, but I’ll tell you what. When I return with Rosa, we’ll smuggle in that chocolate shake you love from the Heart Attack Grill.” At thirty percent butterfat, the shake was incredibly unhealthy, but also one of Tom’s favorite indulgences.

Thx. Tom shut his eyes.

Ty recognized it as his sign to leave. “I’ll be back soon with Rosa and a chocolate shake. Maybe then you won’t be such an ornery bastard.” He squeezed Tom’s hand.

Tom squeezed back.

It wasn’t much, but it was certainly a start.



Monica left The Oasis, unsure what to do with herself. Now that she and Ty had reached a détente, perhaps it was time for her to learn a bit more about the hotel operation. Instead of returning to the suite at the Skylofts, she instructed her driver to take her back to the Hotel Rodeo on the north end of The Strip.

“How long have you been in Vegas?” she asked the chauffeur.

“Over forty years, Ms. Brandt. Came out in the seventies and never went back to Jersey.”

“Really? You’re from Jersey?”

“Hoboken,” he replied. “Sinatra’s hometown. He was my ma’s idol; she even named me after ol’ blue yes.”

“Frank?”

“Yeah, but I go by Frankie, Frankie Dafino.”

“And you’ve never been back to Jersey? You don’t miss the East Coast?”

“Nope. I like the desert, but it ain’t like it was in the old days. Back then the Sands was the hot spot in Vegas. It was right over there,” he pointed as they passed the Venetian. “I watched them demolish it. They imploded almost all the landmarks back in the nineties. One by one, they all fell to wrecking balls. Now it’s a different place, but I’ll never leave.”

“Maybe you can give me the grand tour later?” Monica suggested. “Given the critical situation with my father, I haven’t had much opportunity to explore. Now that it looks like I’m here for the long haul, I should learn my way around.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Brandt. Nobody knows this town better than Frankie Dafino.” A few minutes later he pulled up to the hotel. “You want me to wait for you?”