Two To Wrangle (Hotel Rodeo #2)(36)

Her question, posed so directly, took him aback. Why hadn’t they ever discussed any of this before? When had she ever given him the chance? She hadn’t. She’d never once asked him about his ideas for the hotel. She’d never shown the least interest in his plans, or in his dreams, other than shutting them down.

He slumped back in his chair, recalling the fateful day he’d met with Tom. He’d made his case then, and won. But Tom had a sentimental attachment to the hotel. Could he also win over Tom’s pragmatic, hard-nosed daughter? He’d been prepared to counter all of the financial arguments he was certain she’d make, but was he ready to share his dream?

“What sold Tom?” he repeated slowly and then answered. “The vision of what could be.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I told Tom what you already know—that gaming revenues in this city are way down and will likely never recover to what they were in the heyday, but dining, shopping, and entertainment are way up. Everyone who wants to make it in this town knows they need to attract a new non-gaming demographic. That’s why I want to renovate,” Ty said. “But I’m not talking about dealing with foundation settling or fixing roof leaks. I’ve been slapping those kinda Band-Aids on the place for too damned long. What we need is an attraction. We can’t hope to stay in business, much less compete, without one.”

“And that means putting fifty million into a place that Tom only paid eight for?”

“That was thirty years ago, Monica. Real estate on The Strip has skyrocketed since then.”

“All the more reason to sell,” Monica argued. “You could be rich and free of all the headaches, Ty.”

“And then do what?” he asked.

“Whatever you want.”

“I’ve told you time and again, this is what I want. Can’t you understand that?”

“I’m trying to, Ty. I really am, but I’m a numbers girl, and so far, this just isn’t making much sense to me.”

“Fair enough,” Ty said. “Then let’s try and paint this by the numbers. Last night you went to the bull-riding championships. You already know that that single event generates close to fifteen million in non-gaming revenue in Las Vegas. The championship sells out months in advance, but those are mostly just hard-core fans. What if we could offer something for people who might be curious but not enough to cough up big money for championship tickets?”

“Bull riding?” she said. “You think that kind of attraction is the answer? Is that why you were so happy I wanted to go last night?”

“Yes. The bull riding association’s making money hand over fist on it, but what you saw was only a small piece of what I’d like to do. America still loves cowboys. You saw that last night. But true-blue cowboys, men like Zac and Kade, are a dying breed. People come from all over to see the magicians and those pansy-ass Canadian circus performers. Why not give them some all-American entertainment?”

“If you’re talking about putting on rodeos, isn’t that what South Point does just five miles down the strip? You’d be competing for the same patrons. That makes no sense. If you’re going to invest in big-money entertainment, you need to offer something fresh and original.”

“Fresh and original is exactly what I’m talking about,” Ty said. “I’m not proposing rodeo, I’m talking about bulls with a Las Vegas–style twist.”

“But I thought you wanted out of that. Wasn’t it why you left Oklahoma to come here?” she asked.

“Didn’t say I plan to be the one in the arena,” he said. “I’m too old and busted up for any more of last night’s shit, but there’s plenty of younger guys gunnin’ to do it.”

“I know you already have all the connections with the contractors and riders,” Monica said, “But wouldn’t that piss off the pro bull-riding people?”

“Not the way I plan to do it. I’m hoping we can work together,” Ty said. “The last thing I want to do is bite the hand that feeds us, especially here in Vegas.”

“All right, I guess I have an idea of where you want to take this, but how, Ty?”

“I have a few thoughts,” he replied.

She reached across his desk for a set of rolled blueprints. “Is that where these come into play?”

“Those? They don’t,” Ty said. “Cassie Alexander drew those up after an early discussion we’d had. She dropped them off the first night of the bull riding, the same night you walked outta here, as I recall.” He regarded her with a frown. “How did you know about them?”

“I was looking for you that night and found your office open. I saw them sitting on the desk, so I took a peek. I admit I was surprised.”

His frown deepened. “How do you mean?”

“These renderings are a near-perfect replica of the bullring in Seville. I thought that was really odd, given you’ve never been there. In fact, I was shocked to recognize that as the inspiration for the sketches.”

“It isn’t what I had in mind,” he said dismissively.

“Why not?” Monica asked. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, Ty. I don’t think you should blow it off without due consideration. The concept very much fits with Las Vegas. There’s a certain cachet to the Old World. Look no further than the Bellagio and the Palazzo for proof.”