The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(48)

“You’re afraid of getting too involved with him if you do have sex, is that it?” Cat leaned in.

“Exactly. I’ve no doubt that it is going to be great sex, which makes it even more difficult to resist him, but what if I end up caring about him more than is healthy, given he holds the fate of my company in his hands. I mean, I should hate the guy.”

“Maybe he’ll end up caring about you and won’t sell the company.” Libby always looked on the bright side.

“Or maybe you could use your feminine wiles to keep him from selling.” Cat wiggled her eyebrows.

“Not a chance. Ty is so goddamn objective, it isn’t funny. He revels in the fact that he’s all business, strictly business.”

“Reminds me of my father, and not in a good way,” Cat said. “If you want to have sex with him, though, how are you going to resist for six whole months? That’s an awfully long time to be in lust.”

“That’s the problem. He keeps saying that we have an end point, like that’s a good thing. At the end of six months, he could have sold the business and walked away, and I will have been left with nothing.”

“Nothing but a pile of cash,” Cat said and took a sip of her coffee.

Mandy sighed. “I want more. I want my company.” She hesitated a minute before confessing. “And I want a husband and kids. I want it all. And I’m likely to end up with none of it, especially if Ty takes my company.”

Libby rubbed her rounded tummy. “I can relate. It almost didn’t happen for me.”

Cat leaned back. “Well, I have two out of three—the ranch and the kid. Doesn’t stop me from hankering for a good man to call my own though. I’m just glad that I have Jake out of the whole sorry mess. I never understood how intense that special love for your child could be until I had my little boy.”

“How is it raising him alone?” Mandy asked. It was something she’d been wondering about lately.

“Not difficult, just time consuming. In these first few years, they pretty much need your full attention. I’m lucky to have my mom to help with Jake, and a foreman to run the ranch, though I wish I had more of a handle on what is going on, or at least knew the questions to ask. But as for raising Jake, it’s the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done.”

“That’s good to know.” Libby’s smile was wistful.

“Well, Libby, you have it all. Cat, you have most of it. I, well, I could be left with nothing.”

“Question is, would you settle for great memories?” Cat asked.

Libby reached over and patted Mandy’s hand just as the food arrived. “It’s another dilemma, isn’t it?”





*


“That one is Painted Glory,” she said, talking to Ty as she pointed to a pinto horse on the outside of the band of horses milling in the holding pen of the Washington rodeo. “He likes to whirl to get riders off. The one walking toward us is High Jinks,” she said of the bay horse.

Ty had flown her to the rodeo, and the flight had been, gratefully, uneventful. They arrived a few hours before the gates opened so they could touch base with Harold, who had everything under control. Her mother hadn’t accompanied Harold this time because she and Mrs. Jenkins were still in the throes of cleaning out the ranch house.

The event committee easily agreed to a contract for next season given Prescott had been putting on the small county rodeo for the last thirty years. Mandy convinced Ty to first check into their room at the nearby hotel so she could reassure herself that the room contained double beds, because she wasn’t ready to surrender, even if she was thinking about it—a little too much. They then headed back to the fairgrounds.

As they had time to kill before the traditional kickoff meeting, Ty mentioned he’d like to know more about the livestock, and Mandy obliged.

Reaching the fence, the bay gelding nuzzled Mandy, and she patted the horse on the wide white line that ran down the center of his face. “He’s a favorite. Been to the NRF five times and named saddle bronc horse of the year two years ago.”

“Most of these are wild horses?” Ty stood beside her, close beside her. He’d taken to wearing one of two options—a white Prescott shirt or black Prescott T-shirt, paired with jeans. Today he’d chosen the white shirt because they likely wouldn’t have time to return to the hotel room before the event opened. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing forearms that were getting tanner with each passing day.

He looked like every other rodeo hand and worked liked one. If she hadn’t known he was a lawyer, she’d never have guessed it now.

“Some. Others, like High Jinks here, are just spoiled horses. Owners let them get the upper hand, and now the horses won’t let anyone ride them. After High Jinks bucks someone off, he prances around the arena like a prince. He knows he’s done his job.” She gave him another pat, and the horse, as if cued, moved out.

It was difficult not to think about the finely sculpted body under that shirt, under those jeans. She’d seen all of him, more than once, and unfortunately, his naked image seemed to be burned into the sockets of her eyes, because try as she might, she couldn’t stop seeing it.

A stocky black mare nickered as the bay returned to the herd. “That’s Black Rum. I’m especially proud of her because she was born and raised at our ranch. Been to the NRF four years in a row. She usually bucks with the rank horses because she’s so hard to ride. She’s unpredictable in the arena, but around the ranch, she’s a gentle soul. Harold may be breeding her next year, which is a tough call since it will take her out for a season. We’re still discussing it.”