Two To Wrangle (Hotel Rodeo #2)(34)

“The problem is that she still wants something from me.”

Zac’s gaze narrowed. “Like what?”

“A baby.”

Zac sputtered his drink. “A what?”

“You heard me right.”

“Are you sayin’ she wants to get back together?”

“Hell no!” Ty laughed. “She wants a kid but doesn’t want another husband. It’s that whole bio clock thing that seems to have pushed her over the edge.”

“Why you? There’s plenty of other men who’d be happy to do her. Hell, they’d line up for miles.”

“Delaney might be a lot of things, but easy ain’t one of ’em.” Ty gave a dry laugh. “She tried to bribe me with a stud fee in the form of an interest-free loan.”

Zac’s eyes bugged. “Why the hell would she do that?”

“ ’Cause she’s out of her ever-lovin’ mind. Gotta be one of those hormonal things.”

“Isn’t that what sperm banks are for?”

Ty shrugged. “She doesn’t want an anonymous father.”

“You gonna oblige her?”

“Shit no! If I ever father kids, I’m gonna be there to raise ’em up right.” He sat back, appraising Zac. “You did better than me in school. What’s your IQ?”

“I dunno. Hundred twenty-eight maybe.”

“Beats mine by at least five.”

“What the f*ck are you looking at?”

“You, Zac. Just wondering what kinda breeder you’d be. She says she wants above-average IQ, tall, and athletic. Seems to me you got that part in spades. I’m just wondering if it’ll offset your lack of looks and sense of humor.”

“Fuck you, Ty.”

“I’m serious. You once had a thing for her. Maybe you should volunteer?”

“Oh yeah?” Zac met his gaze. “And what if I decided to do just that?”

“Hell, Zac, I’d consider it a personal favor. I’d even buy your damned ticket to Oklahoma. Come to think on it . . . how’s your hand?”

Zac held it up. His fingers were purple and sausage-like. “Fucked up, but I don’t think anything’s broken after all. Why?”

“There’s a good chance I’m going to need a new ranch foreman.”

“Wait a minute,” Zac said. “Isn’t that Delaney’s domain now?”

“It’s not Delaney’s place I’m talking about. It’s Tom’s. Or rather, mine now.”

“Yours? So Tom left you the ranch? What are you looking to do with the place?”

“I want to expand the operation and get back to where I started.”

“Contracting, Ty? Thought you moved out here to get out of it.”

“I did, initially,” Ty said, “but things have changed. My plans have changed. If things work out for this hotel as I hope they do, I’m going to need bucking stock. I figure some of ‘em might as well be mine.”

“What about ol’ Bart? Doesn’t he run the place?”

“He’s ’bout ready to retire. I’d be happy to leave him in charge of the beef operation but I need someone who knows how to handle a rank bull. If you’re ready to hang up those bull spurs, the job’s yours.”

“I’d like more than just a paycheck, Ty. I’m thinking about my future too and right now it ain’t lookin’ so bright. My place needs too much work. It’ll take every cent I just won just to get it back in operational shape. If you’re looking to contract again, I’d be willing to sell out and invest as your partner.”

“You would?” Ty asked with surprise.

“Damn straight. Bulls are what I love, but at this stage in the game I’d be content to flank instead of ride.”

“Hell, Zac. I don’t know what to say. I’d be honored to take you on as a partner.”

Zac’s eyes held Ty’s as he slowly drained his whiskey. Setting the shot glass down, he offered his hand with a smile. “I think you just made me an offer I can’t refuse.”





Chapter Eleven


Ty awoke rumpled and cramped from another night spent on the sofa. Although he’d promised to give Monica some space, he’d been too tired to drive to his place. Last night he’d been too pumped up with adrenaline to feel any real pain, but today was another story. His body felt bruised and battered and exactly like he’d been run over by a bull, a feeling he knew only too well. Only last night he’d joked that Zac was a hundred and two in bull-rider years. This morning Ty felt like Methuselah. He rose, with a groan, cursing his bruised ribs and the cow who’d birthed Super Spin Cycle.

His iPhone buzzed, indicating a text message. Snatching up the phone from the charger, Ty realized too late that it was Monica’s. And the text was from that * Evan.

Miss you, Mon. Still waiting for your answer.

Answer? What answer? He couldn’t help himself. He typed back a reply. Still thinking.

The phone buzzed again. When should I send the plane?

What the f*ck? Was she really planning to leave him again? What happened to the week she’d promised him? He’d thought he’d smoothed her ruffled feathers before she’d left last night. Had he screwed up already? Realizing he’d painted himself into a corner, he typed back. Don’t know yet. Will call. Bye Evan.