Two To Wrangle (Hotel Rodeo #2)(3)

Ty’s gaze held Monica’s as he continued, now swaying on his feet, “Tom Brandt was the kind of man who treated every stranger like a friend, the kind who’d even take on a troubled boy and raise him up as his own.” His voice broke. He swallowed hard and finished, “And that’s all I’ve got to say.”

As soon as he finished, Monica went into full offensive. “All right. We’re done here. Party’s over,” she barked out. “Clear it out. We’re shutting the place down.”

Monica searched the crowd for Gabby and the bouncer, Gus, who stood in the wings. A nod sent them scurrying to help Ty down from the bar. Gabby took the bottle from his hands, but Ty clutched the boots even tighter, hugging them to his chest.

Once he was safely back on terra firma, Monica demanded, “Where’s the urn, Ty? You had no right to take my father’s ashes. I want it back. Now.”

“The urn’s right there.” He inclined his head to the counter behind the bar. “You can help yourself to it . . . But Tom’s not in it.”

“What the hell do you mean he’s not in it?” she asked, struggling to keep her rage in check.

“He’s right here.” He patted the boots clumsily. “He always said he wanted to be buried with his boots on. I intend to honor that wish.”

“My God, Ty! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’ll tell ya wass wrong. I just lost the man who meant more to me than anyone in this world. I feel like my f*cking heart’s been ripped out. Thas whass wrong.”

Ty’s hazel eyes were filled with a sorrow that more than matched her own, and she was barely holding it together. Suddenly she understood. He’d acted out of deep and abiding grief.

She sighed, a mixture of compassion and defeat. “Come on upstairs, Ty. You need to sleep this off. Let’s get you to bed.”



After getting rid of Evan, Monica and Gus half-coaxed and half-carried Ty up to the owner’s suite. She’d been enraged when she’d first walked into the bar tonight, but her rage had mellowed to mere annoyance once they were alone. “That was quite a stunt you pulled tonight, Ty.”

“Iss what Tom woulda wanted,” he replied sullenly.

“For you to get drunk and make a total ass of yourself?” she snorted. “You really think so?”

“You don’t get it, Monica. You never will. Thiss ain’t your world.”

“You’re right about that,” she confessed with a dry laugh. “But you still had no right to do what you did.”

“I knew him longer,” he replied. “I earned the right to say goodbye my own way.”

“I never would have denied you that, Ty. I’d intended all along for us to take his ashes back to the ranch. I know he’d want that.”

“Yes. He would,” Ty agreed, his features softening with surprise. “Are you saying you’d go to Oklahoma?”

“Well, yes,” she said. “That’s what I’d planned.”

He threw his hat down and raked his hair. “Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe I wasn’t ready to deal with you yet. It’s too soon . . . after everything that happened.”

Only a few days ago, she was on the brink of falling hard for him when reality had slapped her in the face. I told you I answer to nobody. I’m not about to tell you how to live your life, and I don’t cotton to anyone dictating mine. Why was she destined to love someone who could never love her back?

“What happened wasn’t what you thought,” he said grim-faced. “You jumped to conclusions about me and Cassie.”

“So you say, but it doesn’t matter anyway.” She shook her head sadly. “We could never work, you and me.”

His brows knit. “Why the hell would you say that?”

“Because I could never trust you. Because I don’t believe cheaters ever change.”

“Cheaters?” He pinned her with his bloodshot stare. “You think I’m a cheater?”

“I’ve heard some talk . . .”

“If you mean about me and Delaney, that’s ancient history that has nothing to do with us.”

“But that’s just it, Ty. There’s never going to be an ‘us.’”

She’d once hoped there could have been, but not now. Seeing him with another woman was all the wake-up call she’d needed. It had hurt like hell, still did, but it also made her realize she’d only deluded herself. Once a player always a player. And Ty was a major-league player.

“Why’s that?” he asked. “You’ve tried and found me guilty just like that?” He attempted to snap his fingers and missed. “I don’t even get a chance to tell my side of the story?”

“All right, Ty. Since you’re feeling so damned talkative tonight, have it your way.” Pushing his booted feet out of the way, she plopped down on the far end of the sofa on which he lay sprawled. “What’s your side of it?”

“You really going to listen this time?” he asked. “Or are you only going to hear what you wanna hear?”

“I’m sitting here, aren’t I? I could have walked out.” And probably should have, but this was a side of Ty she’d never seen before—sorrowful, earnest, and vulnerable. The alcohol had taken his guard down. If she really wanted to know what made him tick, this was her chance. She might not get another. “Yes,” she said. “If you really want to talk, I’ll listen.”