The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(63)

“Me either, Mandy.”

Of course not. He had nothing to lose.

He leaned in, tucked his finger under her chin, and turned her mouth to his.

He meant to kiss her.

Heart pounding, she took an irrational step back.

He straightened, his jaw bunched.

Mandy turned and walked toward the arena with her head high, her back straight, and all the Prescott pride she could muster.





Chapter 15


Ty walked back to the holding pens, where the smell was pure manure. Cattle lowed, horses nickered, and bulls snorted their displeasure at being caged. The cattle pens and horse pens were larger because they held the herds, but the bulls usually had individual holding pens, being they weren’t the most social of animals. He looked around for Mandy, but all he saw were a few hands going about their set-up duties.

He’d had his talk with Stan. The man claimed the committee had initiated the call, and then pointed out all the things that could ruin a rodeo stock company’s reputation, urging Ty to sell immediately and naming a price Ty didn’t need an analysis to know was ridiculously low. Poor choice of tactics. Made him distrust the man even more.

Last night had been pretty damn amazing, awakening in him a lust like he’d never known before. It must have been the fact he’d been waiting ten years. That had to be the explanation for the powerful surge of emotion that had rushed through him—still rushed through him.

She’d said she had no regrets about last night, but she’d stepped back from his kiss, and there had been something in her eyes that said otherwise. It hadn’t been there last night. No, she’d been all warm and welcoming last night. It hadn’t been there early this morning either. He’d swear he’d seen a “come hither” look in her eyes, and if Harold hadn’t called, they’d have taken another tumble.

Her frostiness had begun when she’d pressed him about Stan’s interest in the company and why Stan had shown up. Her reception to the news that Stan was at the rodeo made him silently bet against a repeat performance of last night. She didn’t trust him, and the fact he was trying to play it straight with her only seemed to fuel that distrust. The prospect of selling Prescott stood between them.

So why was selling made an option? He doubted the analysis would show Prescott was in financial trouble. Was the size of the revenue stream more important than the endeavor? A week ago Ty would have said yes. But now being part of Prescott, he was no longer so sure.

Ty looked around the pens and didn’t see Mandy. He asked a young hand who had been hired on a temporary basis to fill in for Bradshaw. Ty would never have granted a crew member time off during the busy season, but that had been Mandy’s call. The newly hired young man sent Ty to the arena. Still no Mandy.

He wanted to find her. Tell her about the meeting with Stan and allay her fears, given the man’s offer had been way too low. In this economy it would be tough to find qualified buyers who could meet the likely price. That would relieve him of the conflict between Mandy’s interest and JM’s—and make Mandy a happy woman.

He headed back toward the holding pens as he searched in the distance for any sign of a feminine form.

Rounding the corner, Ty heard the yelling even before he reached the pens. The commotion was coming from the parking lot. He glanced at his watch. The gates would have just opened.

With clipped steps, he passed by the corrals and spied a few cowboys running toward the lot. Ty was just about to follow when Harold swung in on his horse, spraying up dirt and gravel.

“Ty,” he called. “We’ve got trouble. A bull got loose.”

“Loose?”

Harold nodded. “Bring a rope.” He motioned toward a horse tied to fencing, a horse that looked like Willow. A rope was hanging off the saddle.

At least Mandy wasn’t on her horse trying to capture the bull. Bulls were dangerous animals. They’d gore a horse or a human—it didn’t matter to them. Charging was their way of defending themselves, and anything was fair game.

It had been a while since he’d done any fancy roping, but he’d been good enough to handle his father’s herd back in the day. He’d do better though if he was mounted, like Harold.

Willow backed up when Ty’s rump settled in the saddle. No doubt she’d been expecting Mandy’s weight on her back. But he’d seen the mare in action. She was a trained cutting horse, and she took commands well.

He reined the horse around and headed at a fast trot toward the parking area and the shouting. As he came out into open space, he saw two cowboys fanning hats in the direction of a large black bull. But the bull wasn’t paying any mind. He was staring at something or someone up against a cement wall.

Harold, his rope in hand, was yelling for somebody to get one of the bullfighters.

Ty nudged his horse closer. And blood drained from his body.

It wasn’t just something or someone that bull had pinned against the wall. It was Mandy. She looked stoically composed for being in the sight line of an angry bull, except her face was as white as bleached cotton.

Like a jackhammer on steroids, Mandy’s heart pounded against her ribs as she glanced at the snorting bull pawing the asphalt. Breathe, she reminded herself. Careful not to meet the bull’s gaze, she didn’t dare look away either, settling instead for watching him out of the corner of her eye as she leaned against the rough cement wall for support. Her legs were weakening, and her hands felt like a thousand needles were pricking her.