The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(49)

Ty had leaned back against the fence. His Stetson shaded his eyes from a sun that sat low in the bright-blue sky, and a mild breeze ruffled hair exposed under the brim.

“You love these horses, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. They are part of the family.” The family Ty was ready to break up. “I would be crushed to lose any of them.”

Ty touched her forearm, and heat climbed to her neck. “Let’s wait and see what the numbers say,” he said.

All he had to do was gather her in his arms and promise not to take Prescott away from her, and she’d be all his. The thought scared her. Because he’d only want her for a while and she…well, she just might want him forever.

“I don’t need the numbers—and neither should you. We are profitable. We are happy. End of story.” Or it should be.

She glanced at him, but Ty kept his focus on the horses. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Knew if any of it mattered to him. If she mattered to him. At least her happiness.

After Abilene, he’d given her a wide berth until last night. How was she going to sleep, even in her own bed, and not succumb, when a kiss from him made her act like a sex-starved female? Twice she’d come close to having sex with him, and even knowing it wouldn’t mean more to him than any one-night stand, she wasn’t sure she didn’t regret, just a little, the fact they hadn’t.

Sex would only complicate things. Sex would magnify every action and reaction. Sex would change everything. Everything except the fact he could still sell her company.

“At the meeting tonight, I’m announcing our marriage to the crew members,” Ty said.

She could imagine the speculation that would go on. People wondering what the rush was, if she was pregnant, if JM knew, and how long it would last.

“You okay with that?” Ty pressed.

“It will be all over the circuit then.” If it wasn’t already. “They’ll be taking bets about how long it lasts, you know.”

“Does that bother you?” He straightened and pushed off the fence.

She shrugged. “A little. It feels like we are living a lie. Like we are doing something we know is wrong. It doesn’t feel…natural.”

“Maybe because we haven’t consummated it yet. That can be fixed any time you’d like, Mrs. Martin.”

Mandy ignored his comment. Being with him twenty-four-seven was getting to be an experiment in self-control she wasn’t sure would be successful. “We’d best get set up for the meeting. And I’m thirsty. I’m going to swing by the hospitality tent. You coming?” she asked.

“I’ll meet you there.”





*


Ty walked around the rodeo grounds to try to absorb the atmosphere. Rodeos were lively affairs with vendors of goods and food, local clubs, and attendees, some who looked like they’d stepped right out of the pasture and others who looked like they’d stepped out of an advertisement for western wear.

This was the life that both JM and Mandy were passionate about. This was the place they wanted to be over 250 days a year. It was a transient life but with one huge difference—the 30,000-acre ranch that anchored them. He was coming to realize, after just a few days, developing that ranch would never happen, regardless of whether he sold the rodeo company or not.

Maybe that was all for the best. He’d find some other property to develop. If the numbers said he should sell Prescott, Mandy would need the ranch and what it represented even more. And with the money from the sale of the company, she’d have the means to keep it going, even if ranching wasn’t all that profitable.

He didn’t quite know how to play things with Mandy. He knew she was attracted to him. When he had her in his arms, she seemed ready and willing to take it further. Then, out of the blue, she’d stop. She wanted to, but this damn option to sell Prescott kept bringing her up short.

Whether they fooled around or not would have no bearing on selling, so why wouldn’t she?

He passed by the trailers of the cowboys and cowgirls who had come to compete, and saw Harold at a makeshift table squeezed between two trailers and ringed by five bales of straw, each holding a cowboy with cards in his hands.

Harold looked up and beckoned Ty over.

“We’re just killing some time and taking a break,” Harold said by way of explanation.

Ty liked poker. He was pretty good at it.

“Who’s winning?” Ty wondered if he should angle for an invitation.

“Not me,” Harold said.

The rest of the cowhands concentrated on their cards. Ty wondered if they were purposely ignoring him. None of them said anything to acknowledge him, much less invite him to sit down and play a hand.

Knowing when he wasn’t wanted had been a skill he’d honed in his own backyard.

“I’m going to help Mandy set up.”

Harold nodded, and the other cowboys continued their stoic impression of wooden soldiers.

It didn’t bother him, not being part of things. That’s how he’d grown up. That’s how he’d spent most of his life. That’s where he was most comfortable.





*


Mandy looked at the stunned faces of the rodeo workers surrounding her and wondered what was going through their minds. They stood outside the small, empty arena where the rodeo would take place in just two hours. The gates hadn’t opened yet, so the only people around were involved in setting up, and most were Prescott employees.