The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(55)
“I don’t know the details. Neither does Trace, which is eating at him. But I’ll tell you what I do know.” Ty proceeded to fill Mandy in on the convicted drug-addict mother, Delanie’s obvious distrust of men, even Trace’s bout with alcoholism. He skipped over the part where he had found his brother passed out in a back alley after learning Trace had mortgaged the ranch to fund his recklessness, and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. As well as the fact that he had thrown his brother into rehab with the threat of turning him over to the authorities if he didn’t shape up. Ty had stepped in to cosign so the ranch wouldn’t be lost to creditors. The worst investment he’d ever made in terms of payback, but then he didn’t do it for a return on his investment. Fact was, he didn’t know quite why he had done it. Maybe Delanie would prove the real return.
“At least Trace is being honest with Delanie about her mother. He’s told the child that her mother has broken some rules and she has to go someplace to relearn them so she can do better when she gets out. I hope Delanie gives him a chance, because even if that woman gets out before her fifteen years is up, Trace isn’t going to give up his daughter to her. Not now that he knows he has one.”
“She’s a sweet child, Ty. But chatty one minute and so somber the next. Like she’s swaying between being a child and an adult. Can we help her, help them both? The ranch doesn’t seem all that prosperous.”
A quick glance at her showed tears welling in her pretty green eyes. She’d said can we help. That surprised him.
“He’s asked for help. I’m giving it. I know his asking wasn’t easy.”
“You’re not close?”
“That’s an understatement.” Ty shifted gears. His relationship with Trace wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. It was too complicated. Hell, he didn’t even understand it.
“Well, maybe we can have them over or something. Or we could give him a break and take Delanie with us to a rodeo.” Ty could see the wheels in her mind turning.
“Given her trust issues, I don’t know if taking her away would be the right thing, but we’ll stay involved.” He turned to her. “I appreciate your support in this, Mandy. Given our situation, can’t say I expected you to care much about Trace or Delanie.”
“Of course I care. Trace may be a little taciturn, like you—”
“I am nothing like my brother.” Ty was surprised at how much he rebelled against that idea.
“Oh, on the contrary. I see a lot of similarities. You both are lone wolves, for one. Neither of you exactly wears your heart on your sleeve. And despite your tough facade, you both are putty in that little girl’s hand. I have to say I was pleasantly surprised at how well you handled that whole ‘daddies look out for their children’ theme.”
“Not that I made any progress.”
Her smile glowed in the half light. “You never know with kids. It may take some time, but I think you planted a really strong seed in her mind. She was definitely thinking on it. And she seemed pretty relaxed with Trace at dinner. It was kind of cute to see this big cowboy cutting up her meat, fetching her milk. She let him dab her face with the napkin.”
“He did look kind of comfortable in father mode. Like he was actually enjoying it.” Ty had been amazed at the smiles that little girl could pull from his brother.
“So did you.”
Chapter 13
After a few miles of silence, Mandy had given in to exhaustion and slept the rest of the way back to the hotel. Now, as she stood in the hotel room fresh from her shower, clothed in an oversized T-shirt and facing a bare-chested, jean-clad Ty, who had stretched out on the king-sized bed, she felt a tug of desire and an overwhelming need for closeness. Resisting him these last days had required mental discipline and physical restraint.
Here she was only a week in and her resolve was waning. What did that say about her character?
What it said was that her grandfather had purposely rigged the outcome by making them cohabitate in the same bedroom. It was easier, though still hard enough, when they had separate beds. But here she was, in a hotel room with that gigantic king bed containing a lounging Playgirl fantasy man.
A man who was so much more complex than she realized. A man whose life had been more difficult than she knew. A man she found herself far more attracted to than she had counted on.
Perfectly relaxed stretched out on the bed, he thumbed through his phone screens, his powerful shoulders resting against the tufted headboard, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his legs hugged by denim pants, and his bare feet crossed casually. And all she wanted to do was snuggle up against all that muscle and let him kiss her senseless.
He lifted his head, and she was caught in the crosshairs of a pair of shining dark eyes. It felt like some internal cyclone was propelling her toward him as his gaze dropped from her eyes to her neck, then to her breasts covered by cotton fabric, where he lingered an extra heartbeat before moving down past the hem to the length of her legs in a slow appraisal that pulled a trail of heat with it.
“You left the seat up, again.” It was easier focusing on the toilet seat than on the man sending lust beams from his spot on the bed. She’d found the toilet seat up a few times during their time together, and having a brother, she was used to it. But if they were going to be together for six months, she figured he should at least try to remember.