Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(3)

“Not the first time that’s ever happened in Vegas,” Ty quipped. “How long did it last?”

“Not long. Vivian high-tailed it back to Connecticut the minute I voiced my intention of hauling her back to Oklahoma with me. It was maybe a week later that I got served with divorce papers. I thought about contesting it but didn’t see the point. It was fun while it lasted, but she was far too highbrow for the likes of an Okie like me.”

“I know that feeling,” Ty remarked dryly. He’d made a similar error with a Houston-bred beauty named Delaney McCall. Ty had sworn never to repeat the mistake. Tom, on the other hand, wrote triple alimony checks.

Ty and Delaney had met at the Houston Livestock Show. He’d been instantly infatuated with her, while she’d taken up with him purely out of rebellion. Much like Tom’s marriage to Vivian, their honeymoon had been short-lived. The sex was hot but the rest . . . was not. She’d wanted to settle down on the ranch and have babies, but Ty wasn’t ready to give up rodeo contracting. He also wasn’t willing to let anyone dictate his life. One of his chief faults was his refusal to answer to anyone. Tom was the only exception to that rule, but Tom had largely let him go his own way.

“I never heard from Vivian for nigh on eighteen years,” Tom continued, snapping him back to the present. “But when she got word I’d come into some money, I got the shock of my life—and slapped with a patrimony suit. It turns out that Monica was born only two months after the divorce was finalized, but I never even knew she existed until Vivian decided to sue for eighteen years of back child support . . . and won,” he ended dryly.

“That’s a bitch and a half,” Ty remarked.

“She is,” Tom laughed. “But it wasn’t paying out all that money that burnt my ass as much as losing all that time with my daughter. You were the son I never had, and she’s the daughter I didn’t even know about.” Tom shook his head with a look of profound regret. “All those years wasted. There ain’t no way to ever make that up, Ty.”

“How’d Monica react to the news?” Ty asked.

“It was as much a shock to her as it was to me, but she agreed to a legal adoption. She was already in college when I finally met her. We’ve been slowly building on that ever since. Better late than never, I guess. I go to New York a couple times a year to see her, but I’ve never been able to convince her to come out to the ranch.”

“I don’t imagine a New York woman would care much for cattle ranching.”

“You’re right about that,” Tom agreed with a chuckle and then retrieved his wallet. “Here, take a gander.” He pulled out a photo of a young brunette in her graduation cap and gown. “Harvard Business School, magna cum laude.”

Ty studied the photo. She had Tom’s clear gray eyes, but where Tom’s were softened by a perpetual hint of humor, Monica’s held a gleam that suggested she knew her worth. Her mouth was curved in a subtle kiss-my-ass kinda smile. Going by looks alone, Ty summed her up as a bitch-in-the-making. “So what is she now, about twenty-eight?” he asked, more out of courtesy than real interest.

“Yup. Graduated with an MBA five years ago and landed a job on Wall Street in investment banking. Smart as hell and tough as nails to boot. You know a woman’s gotta be twice as good as a man just to compete. I’ve offered to put her in charge of any of my business interests, but she refuses. Says we’ll talk only after she’s made it on her own merits.”

Ty handed the photo back with a nod. Whether Tom was close to his daughter or not, it was clear that he was mighty proud of her.

“She recently got engaged to a real *, though,” Tom continued. “Smug, self-important sonofabitch. Don’t know what she sees in him.” Tom paused, still looking at the photo. “You know, Ty, if I thought you had any mind to settling down . . .”

“Me?” Ty snorted. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, Tom. I ain’t marriage-minded, and my track record with women isn’t much better than yours.”

“All right. Enough ancient history.” Tom replaced the photo in his wallet. “We’re here to talk about the present. I want to hear more about this idea of yours, Ty.”

Ty dipped his index finger into the glass and stirred the ice cubes. Even though it was the original purpose of this meeting, the sudden turn in conversation after talking about Tom’s successful daughter made him feel like a real shitheel. Monica, his own flesh and blood, had refused his help, and here he was with his hand out. He consoled himself that at least he’d worked for everything Tom had given him. He’d done his best, but the old hotel was finished unless Tom agreed to invest in it.

“I want to revitalize,” Ty finally said. “But we need an attraction to do it. Caesar’s has invested over five hundred mil in their new expansion, and SLS is refurbing the old Sahara across The Strip. They’re reopening it as a boutique hotel with a Fred Segal outlet. Everyone who wants to make it out here is renovating or innovating to attract a new non-gaming demographic.

“We can’t hope to stay in business, much less compete, unless we act on a big scale. For months I’ve been dealing with a settling foundation, leaking roof, and almost daily repairs. I’ve been slapping Band-Aids on the place for too long. If we don’t do something soon, we might as well demolish the whole damn place.”