Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(28)

“Maybe not, but little boys grow up to be men.”

She speared him with a disapproving look. “I think some do not grow up at all.”

Ty shrugged off her disapproval. His choice of lifestyle was no one’s business but his own. And he was happy with it. At least for now. Las Vegas was a great place for a man like him. If and when he ever decided he wanted a wife and kids, he knew he’d have to make some big changes, but at thirty-two he still didn’t see any of that happening. At least not in the foreseeable future.

Was he heartless? He didn’t think so, but he’d certainly never met anyone he couldn’t live just as happily, or more so, without—at least not after they’d had sex a few times. He didn’t know if he was capable of anything deeper than that, and honestly didn’t care to waste any more brain cells thinking about it.





Chapter Ten


Monica returned to her office, where she spent the next several hours putting out more fires. To solve the linen-delivery problem, she’d had to call in another supplier. It still meant they’d had to delay check-in, but she figured offering two-for-one drinks in the saloon would preempt any complaints from disgruntled guests.

With that issue taken care of, she debated reviewing the accounts payables or exploring the Nevada Gaming Commission website. Knowing nothing about gaming, she opted for the latter. She needed to be better informed next time Mr. Silvestri decided to drop by. Ty Morgan had done little to smooth her path, but if she was being fair, she had to admit she probably deserved it.

Now that she’d spoken to Tom, she didn’t know what to do about the hotel. She’d hoped to talk him into selling, but he still seemed bent on moving forward with Ty’s plans to renovate. Rebuilding meant she’d be stuck in Vegas at least until the reopening—likely a year, possibly two. She wasn’t interested in investing her time and her life in this. It might have been different if she had any enthusiasm for the project, but it was Ty’s dream, not hers. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Her only hope was to talk some sense into Ty when he returned.

She had some big decisions to make about the hotel, and he was part of that. She had to convince him that getting rid of the hotel was in everyone’s best interest. Maybe she should go ahead and line up a buyer. She certainly had enough contacts. Unfortunately, the first and best prospect that came to mind was her ex-fiancé, Evan Hirschfeld Davis III.

She pushed it all aside to immerse herself in the Nevada gaming laws instead, but after several hours steeped in legalese, she was digging for the Excedrin. She checked her watch. Almost ten—much later than she’d thought. It was past time to call it a day.

She regretted taking the suite at the Skylofts. She’d hardly spent more than a few hours there since she arrived, and at eight hundred a night, the tab had already surpassed five figures. It was time to change her living arrangements. Perhaps she should take advantage of the owner’s suite here, after all.

Quickly weighing the pros and cons, she dug out her phone and called her personal valet at the Skylofts, instructing him to pack up her things. She then texted Frankie to pick up her bags. The Hotel Rodeo might not be up to her usual standards, but it would have to suffice until she found something suitable to rent. She didn’t know how long she was going to be in Vegas and didn’t want to sign a lease. The whole situation had her feeling restless and frustrated—as though her entire life was stuck in limbo.

Deciding on a quiet drink to end the day from hell, she headed down to the saloon. Entering through the swinging half doors, she was surprised to find Gabby and Gus polishing glasses in a virtually empty bar. “I thought the hotel was sold out this weekend,” Monica remarked. “Where is everyone?”

Gabby looked up in reply. “They’re all at the bull-riding competition.”

“What time does it end?”

“Around eight,” Gabby answered, “but there’s also all kinds of special sponsored events connected with it. They’ll all start trickling in soon. By eleven the place’ll be packed. Can I get you a drink, Ms. Brandt?”

“I don’t suppose my brandy came in yet, did it?” she asked as she slid onto the barstool.

“As a matter of fact, it just did.” Gabby retrieved the green bottle from under the bar. “But it’s not chilled. You want me to mix you a cocktail?”

“Straight up is fine.”

Gabby poured and slid the brandy snifter in front of Monica. She took a savoring sip, basking in the apple essence. “I love this stuff. Ever tried it?”

“No, but it smells great.”

“I acquired a taste for it the year I spent in Europe. Here it’s considered more of an aperitif, but in parts of France they even drink it in their morning coffee. Send a bottle up to my room, if you would, please.”

“You’re staying in the hotel now?” Gabby asked.

“Yes. I’ve decided to move into the owner’s suite, at least for the time being. So how long does this whole rodeo thing last?” Monica asked.

“This competition is three days, but it’s not really rodeo.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rodeos feature a lot of different events in addition to bull riding—roping, steer wrestling, bronc riding, and barrel racing. This is just bulls.”