The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(35)

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find what he was looking for in life. Work that made him feel like a man instead of a corporate shill, and a place where he felt he belonged in this world, even if he had to engineer it himself.

“It’s going to all work out,” he said, brushing his lips against her hair. She had beautiful hair, full and luscious. Tawny bronze strands that shimmered in the moonlight.

Her breath shuddered as if in answer. The sobs had eased some, alternating with short intervals of silence.

Her moist breath puffed against the sensitive skin on his collarbone, as if she was feathering delicate little kisses there. Lust wound tighter inside of him, like a hair-triggered coil.

The temptation to slide his hands under her breasts and touch the soft mounds pressed seductively against his bare skin intensified, along with the rose scent that drifted off her hair to tease his senses. Heaven help him. He was in sexual hell.

How long he held her he couldn’t say. But sometime later, his body tight with unquenched need, he felt her relax in his arms. Her breathing slowed, coming in calm beats. He leaned back to view her face.

With her eyes closed, thick lashes feathered the high bones of her cheeks. She looked at peace as she slept in his arms, almost content. Whatever storm had racked through her, its effect had been dissipated, any signs erased. Her cheeks were no longer tear stained, her mouth was lax, and her body no longer trembled.

Instinctively he pressed his lips to her forehead, a kiss of affection for a woman who deserved some tenderness in her life. Something told him she hadn’t had much. At least not from the men who counted. Her father had died a decade ago, and her grandfather, though a sterling man in many ways, valued being tough, not tender. Ty guessed he fell into that mold, but having been raised with those same values, he understood, perhaps more than most, the emptiness that came with it.

Gently he settled her head on the pillow and slid his arm out from under her. In her sleep, she curled up tighter, but her even breathing confirmed she had not awakened.

He slipped away to the cool sheets of his own bed. How was he going to last the week, much less six months, sleeping in separate beds?





*


“Did Ty say where he was going, Mrs. Jenkins?” Mandy asked the stout, salt-and-peppered-haired woman. Mandy slipped into a hardwood chair at the kitchen table, where a plate of freshly made pancakes waited.

The kitchen had always been sunny and welcoming. Not as modern as her mother’s but not yet dated. The counters were granite, the appliances were white to match the white cabinets, and the floor was a white tile made to look like marble. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bowl that always sat on the kitchen table, filled with fruit, matched the blue of the walls. Though the will said it was now her house, it would be a while before she felt like changing much.

This morning she’d awoken to an empty bedroom with two packed suitcases, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then it had come rushing back. She’d spent the night wrapped in Ty’s arms and exhausted herself, crying like some overwrought woman who couldn’t control her emotions. She didn’t even want to guess what Ty thought of her. She knew her grandfather would have expected her to buck up, as he had when her father had died. She’d apparently disappointed him on many levels.

“Only that he’d be back at ten sharp to pick you up,” Mrs. Jenkins answered, turning around from the sink, where she had been cleaning a pan. She raised her gray eyebrows, obviously as curious as Mandy was. “He also said I could stay on at the same wages.” Her tone held a question.

“We both would like that. Like JM, we’ll be on the road so much that having someone keep up the house would be a godsend.”

Relief flooded the woman’s brown eyes. “I would like that. I feel so bad about your grandfather. Just six weeks ago…you wouldn’t have thought.”

“No one did.”

“Your marriage…did he know?”

Everyone in Mandy’s world must have been wondering what the heck was going on, and Mrs. Jenkins most of all if she had noticed which guestroom had been used.

“It was one of his dying wishes that Ty and I get married and…well, we’ve known each other a long time and figured, why not?” It sounded so lame, but at least she hadn’t lied—just left out a lot.

Mrs. Jenkins turned around and began scrubbing the pan. “Oh. Well. I hope you two will be very happy.” The woman couldn’t even make eye contact with Mandy. “Over the next few days, I’m going to help your mother pack up your grandfather’s personal things so you and Mr. Martin can settle in.”

Of course, her mother would think of that. She should offer to help, but with everything going on, she could not deal with sorting through her grandfather’s treasures. Last night had shown her that. It was enough she was living in his house where his presence filled every nook and cranny.

A glance at the clock said she only had twenty minutes to eat and get ready. She’d already showered, dressed in a denim skirt, cowgirl boots, and a pink cotton blouse, and looked over the names of the livestock to be pulled for the Washington rodeo. It was a small rodeo, one Prescott had been putting on for years, and one her crew could handle alone, so no fears of running into Stan Lassiter at least.

Gobbling down the syrupy sweet pancake, she chased it with a cup of strong coffee. “Thank you so much for the breakfast,” Mandy said as she rose from the table and placed her dishes in the dishwasher. “We’ll be back Friday evening and then heading out again early Saturday. So don’t worry about us for meals.” Mrs. Jenkins only worked Monday through Friday, seven to three, which allowed her to watch her grandchildren after school and have her weekends free. It was an arrangement that had worked well for her grandfather and, Mandy imagined, it would work just as well for her and Ty, if Mandy could handle living in her grandfather’s house. “By the way, we slept in the guest room with the twin beds. I made the beds, and since we were only in there for one night, no reason to change the sheets.”