The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(41)

Lyle eyed Ben, leading Ty to believe they’d talked about next year already. Mandy looked at Ty with surprise. Hadn’t she ever heard of a presumptive sale’s close?

Ben’s gaze swung between Mandy and Ty. “I won’t lie. There’s been others here already, sensing an opportunity.”

“Can I ask what you told them?”

“Told them we’d think about it. You keeping the rates per animal the same?”

Ty did a quick mental calculation. If others were looking to take business, would they have offered less or equal, given the fact they thought Prescott was vulnerable? Especially if that someone was Stan Lassiter.

“Yes,” Mandy answered before Ty could open his mouth.

Ben still didn’t look convinced enough to give the affirmative answer Ty was looking for. They needed something more.

“We’ll keep the same rate—and let you name a bull and bronc you’d especially want in the mix.” He hadn’t discussed this “sweetener” with Mandy because it had just come to him, but it was a winning idea.

Ben stared at him from under the brim of his hat. “Even if it had gone to the NRF?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mandy cross her arms, and the frown she wore didn’t look all that agreeable.

“Yes,” he said. It wouldn’t cost Prescott any more, but from his meeting with Guy in Colorado, he’d learned it meant a lot to a rodeo.

Generally, a stock company could charge more for NRF-caliber horses and bulls than other equally good stock because of the fame of the animal. Not every rodeo could afford the headliners, but that didn’t mean they didn’t get good stock for their dollars. However, a legendary horse or bull would pull the top cowboys to compete, and that, in turn, would draw more people to the event.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Ben offered his hand. Ty shook it. So did Mandy.

In Texas, Ty knew a man’s word was as good as a contract. They’d saved Abilene.





*


After the meeting with Ben and Lyle, Ty had begged off, allegedly to buy some new boots more suited to rodeo work than to “squiring around a pretty woman,” as he had put it, and Mandy decided she might as well get a manicure and chill. Ty had overstepped his bounds by offering that sweetener without consulting her, even if it did secure the business. It was a bitter taste of what having Ty as a partner would be like.

The manicure had stretched into a shopping trip for yet another pair of boots for herself—embossed tan leather, brown insets, and gold studs. Before she knew it, dinnertime was almost upon her, and she hurried back to the hotel room. She fumbled in her purse for the key card to no avail. She knocked on the door. No answer.

Apparently, she had beaten Ty back to the room. That suited her. She’d take advantage of his absence by enjoying a nice long, hot shower, if she could just find her key. She dug some more until she decided to check the zippered outer pocket. Success. She slid the key card into the slot, pushed on the handle, and opened the door.

She stepped inside, her purse and shopping bag swinging on her arm. No sign of Ty. Beds were made, suitcases and closet door closed. She strolled further into the room, spying a new pair of men’s black boots by the bed. He’d gone for barn boots, an interesting choice for a man who always looked like he’d stepped out of an issue of GQ. She noted he had rather large feet and couldn’t help wondering what else might be large.

A door clicked behind her. Whirling around she came face to…face with a gloriously naked Ty. She dropped the purse and shopping bag with a thud.

Bare chest, bulging biceps, and spectacular abs begged for her notice, but it was the large object dangling between his legs that captured her attention. And held it.

My god, he was hung. Beautifully, generously. Her heart hammered against her chest. Her palms leaked sweat. The back of her neck tingled.

She had no idea how long she stared. Just stared. Unabashedly stared. And maybe even drooled. She couldn’t tell.

She forced herself to look up, following the thin line of hair that ran from his navel up his finely sculpted chest, to those broad shoulders and thick neck, up to the chiseled jaw and lips cracked in a cocky smile, until her gaze landed on a pair of fine dark eyes dancing with amusement.

“Like what you see, Mrs. Martin?” he drawled.

Holy crap.

She swallowed the saliva that had condensed in her mouth. “What are you doing? Where are your clothes?”

“In the suitcase, which I was coming out to get. I took a shower.”

Gathering her splintered senses together, she found the discipline to turn around and face the wall. “Put some clothes on,” she demanded.

“Sight too much for you, darling?” he chuckled.

Steam rose inside her as if her heated blood was letting off vapors. She heard hard footfalls as he moved toward her. Please put clothes on before she jumped his bones like her pitiful body was exhorting her to do with each breath she took.

“You should have knocked,” she blurted out.

He chuckled again. “To come out of the bathroom?” She heard the click of the suitcase.

She waited, exercising all the control she could muster to keep from turning around and having another peek. The man was magnificent, and she was having a hard time fighting biology. She bit her lip in order to feel something other than lust.