Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(36)

His mouth compressed. “I can see where this is heading. You’re giving me the brush-off.”

“It’s not personal, Ty. I just think it’s better if we get back on a more professional footing.”

“Not personal? Of course it’s personal. We just spent a whole night—”

She silenced him with a glare. “Please don’t.”

“So this is really how you want it to be?”

She drew a long breath. “Yes, Ty. It’s what I want.” She’d already made herself too vulnerable to him and had to find some way to reestablish a comfortable distance.

“All right, then. Have it your way.” Ty returned a curt nod, tipped his hat, and strode off.

There was no way in hell she’d ever be able to maintain a credible act of indifference if they had dinner together, but watching him walk away left a lump in her throat that she couldn’t quite swallow back down.



What the f*ck just happened? Did I miss something?

Ty climbed into his truck and slammed the door. He’d pictured a lot of different things happening when he saw Monica again, but rejection sure as hell wasn’t one of them. Maybe he didn’t believe in relationships, but at least he’d always tried to let women down easy. Monica, however, had dropped him like a bad habit. And he hadn’t even seen it coming. He’d never had a woman refuse a dinner after a fantastic f*ck. Hell, he’d never had a woman refuse him anything, and it stung like a sonofabitch.

He had his hand on the ignition when his phone buzzed.

“Ty here,” he growled.

“And hello to you too,” an irritatingly familiar voice purred.

Damn. Why hadn’t he looked at the caller ID? “What’s up, Delaney?”

“I have some good news for you.”

“What kind? Did we suddenly strike oil?”

“Not that good, but still promising.”

She had his interest now. “Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“I told you I’d make some calls about the hotel, and I did. I just heard back from Uncle Phil. You met him at our wedding reception. Do you remember?”

“Not really. There were a lot of people there.” And he’d had a lot to drink.

“Well, he isn’t really my uncle, I guess he’s more of a godfather, but he’s loaded and loves to gamble. He belongs to one of those junket clubs and travels everywhere. He’s interested in investing, Ty. He wants to see your proposal.”

Ty considered his options. Given Tom’s improvement, he could probably move forward with his plans, whether Monica liked it or not. He doubted she’d overrule him if he pressed the issue with Tom, but the trouble was, Ty really didn’t want to do that to the ol’ man. It felt too much like forcing him to choose sides. On top of that, Monica was still Tom’s proxy, which meant he’d still have to work with her if they moved forward—and that only spelled trouble. Buying her out really was the best option, if he could come to some kind of financial arrangement he could live with. Taking on a partner was a hell of a lot better prospect than reporting to a board of directors. It seemed this was worth exploring.

“I’ll get on it ASAP, Delaney. I already have estimates, and the architect I consulted a while back did some conceptual drawings. How soon do you need me to send them?”

“You don’t need to, Ty. He wants to fly out and meet you. Uncle Phil’s one of those old-time handshake Texans. You know the kind. If he likes you it’s already a done deal.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

She chuckled. “Nope. Are you free this weekend?”

“Yeah. Or I can be. Hell! I almost forgot the bull-riding finals. It’s the last round before the world championships.”

“Even better,” Delaney said. “Think you can get him VIP seating?”

“I can pull some strings.”

“Great. He’s got a private jet. We’ll fly in.”

“We?” Ty repeated with dread.

“Of course! I’m part of this deal too, Ty. Besides, I’ve got two bulls entered in the futurity.”

“You do? Funny you didn’t mention that when I was out there.”

“Why should I? You don’t take any interest in the operation.”

“That’s why they call it a silent partner. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on.”

He’d auctioned off the livestock before he’d handed the ranch over to Delaney. He’d never expected her to stay there, let alone start a breeding program for bucking bulls. Although her family owned a huge spread, outside of horses her father and brothers had never let her handle livestock. Ty wondered if her interest in bulls was just another form of rebellion against them—like marrying him had been.

“Fine, Ty,” she said. “We have two promising young bulls that are going to buck like a sonofagun when that gate flies open. Happy now?”

“You planning to sell ’em?”

“Yup. That’s the plan . . . unless you’ve decided you want to get back into stock contracting.”

“Nope.” He rejected that suggestion out of hand. “My days on the road are over.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that. Your liver can’t be too sorry about it either.”