Two to Wrangle

by Victoria Vane

  “If you’re that lonely, get another dog.”

  “I don’t want a dog. I want a ba-by.”

  “Then go get a deposit from a sperm bank.”

  “You don’t even want to go into business with strangers, so why the hell would you think I’d want to have a baby with one?”

  “You know plenty of men. Why me?”

  “Because you have all the right qualifications—above-average I.Q., tall, athletic build, good looks, sense of humor.” She ticked off the inventory on her fingers. “Maybe we didn’t suit each other, but you’re still better than most of the men I know.”

  “Hell, if I’m that good maybe I should just put myself out to stud?”

  “You’re not a proven sire, Ty. But I’d be glad to give you that chance.” Her lips curved into that smile that used to set his blood on fire, but sleeping with Delaney again would be the biggest mistake of his life. Not that he had any desire to. Whatsoever. Hell no! That flame had doused for good seven years ago.

  “You don’t have to settle down. You can stay in Las Vegas. I don’t care. I’ll do it all. C’mon, Ty. At least think about it.”

  “There’s nothing to think about. I’m not ready for kids. If and when I ever do decide I want them, I plan to be there. To raise ’em.”

  “Like your father wasn’t? Is that your real problem?”

  “My problem is with this whole topic of conversation, Delaney. Get this idea out of your head right now. ’Cause it ain’t gonna happen.”

  “What if you lose the hotel? What have you got then? A ranch in Oklahoma that’s half mine. What are we going to do, Ty? Draw a line down the middle of it?”

  “So you’d resort to blackmail? You’re quite the opportunist, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t see it that way. We’d both be getting something we want out of it. I’m still in my prime breeding years, but my bio clock is ticking. I’m offering you a lot of money at a ridiculous rate of return—interest free, just for giving me a baby. So what’s it gonna be, Ty?”

  Delaney thought she had him over a barrel. Maybe she did. He needed money to move forward with the hotel renovation, and she was offering a deal in exchange for his sperm, but there was no way in hell he’d ever father a child and then become absent from its life. He didn’t know if he even wanted kids. Maybe one day with the right woman he might, but that sure as hell wasn’t now with Delaney.

  He wondered what Monica thought of kids and what she’d look like holding a baby. He had a hard time imagining her as the maternal type. Did she even have it in her? For that matter, did he have it in him to be a father? That whole train of thought was enough to make his head explode.

  “You’re perfectly free to take the deal or walk,” she said, “but I need an answer.”

  He clawed a hand through his hair with a groan. “We’re not talking about this again, Delaney. Not now. Not ever.”

  “Fine, then.” She turned with a toss of her blond mane. “Be a stubborn jackass. Do you know where I can find Rosa?”

  “Most likely in the bunkhouse kitchen,” Ty said. “Probably been cooking up a storm since sunrise.”

  “Thanks,” Delaney said. “Has she told you if she plans to stay or if she’s going back to Houston? I was hoping to hire her on as a nanny.”

  “A nanny?” Ty repeated blankly.

  “Yes. Rosa practically raised me. There’s no one else I’d rather have.”

  “Aren’t you putting the cart before the horse?”

  Delaney set her chin. “One way or another, Ty, I’m going to have a baby. I’ll give you a few more days to mull over my offer, but after that, consider it off the table.”

  Ty watched Delaney flounce off with a rueful shake of his head. He’d shackled himself to her once before, and that was one time too many. He wondered now what he’d ever seen in her besides a pretty face and a hot ass. Although she’d put on about twenty pounds since they were together, the curves seemed to go with her sass. He was quick to shake that thought away—he wasn’t going to sleep with her again. No. Way. In. Hell. Although they’d screwed like rabbits their first few months together, when it was over, it was well and truly over. He didn’t have a fucking clue where else to turn, but Delaney’s price was higher than he was willing to pay.

  Replaying the events of last night, Monica rolled out of bed with a groan. What the hell had she been thinking when she threw herself at Ty? She didn’t know how she was going to face him in the light of day, so she avoided it for as long as she could. After taking a longer than normal shower, she skipped breakfast and then decided to look for Bob. It would be best just to get all the legalities over with and then leave. She should text Evan too. He’d offered his plane. She fully intended to take him up on it. Yesterday was none too soon to shake off the Oklahoma dust.

  Not finding Bob in the office, she decided to try the kitchen. Rounding the corner, she collided smack into a buxom blonde in a Western shirt and skin-tight jeans.

  “Omigod! So sorry,” the blonde exclaimed. “I was too pissed off to even see where I was going.”

  It took only a few seconds for Monica to recognize Delaney. Although they’d never been introduced, she’d seen the other woman in Vegas once before.

  Delaney stepped back, eyeing her appraisingly. “So you’re Monica. No wonder Ty’s all twisted up. Please pardon my lack of manners.” She offered her hand. “I’m Delaney, Ty’s—”

  “Ex?” Monica supplied.

  “Yup.” Delaney grinned. “But there’s no love lost on either side, believe me on that. Least not anymore,” she added ruefully.

  Did Delaney still carry a torch for Ty? Her expression suggested it, even if her words didn’t. Not that Monica could blame her. She hadn’t quite kicked the Ty habit yet either.

  “I came by to offer my condolences,” Delaney said. “Tom was a damn good man. They don’t make ’em like him anymore.”

  “Thank you, Delaney,” Monica replied stiffly. While she appreciated the sentiments, their meeting like this was awkward as hell.

  “How long are you staying at the ranch?” Delaney asked.

  “Not long. I’ll probably leave as soon as I’ve scattered Tom’s ashes.” Monica averted her gaze with a blink. The tears still threatened to come down at unexpected moments. “And gone through his effects.” She still hadn’t been able to start that process. How would she ever get through it? Especially with Ty by her side.

  Delaney looked surprised. “You brought his remains back with you?”

  “Yes. I know he’d want to be here. Ty says he knows the perfect place.”

  “Down by the river?” Delaney asked.

  “Yes.” Monica’s furrowed her brows. “How did you know?”

  “It’s where Tom used to take Ty fishing. They both loved to fish.”

  Monica felt a surge of jealousy mixed with resentment that this near stranger knew more about her father’s life than she did.

  “Do you ride?” Delaney asked.

  “You mean horses?” Monica replied.

  “Yeah,” Delaney grinned. “Sorry, that part’s implied in rural Oklahoma.”

  “Not really,” Monica confessed. “I’ve been on one a few times, but it’s been years.”

  “That might present a bit of a problem,” Delaney said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “ ’Cause there’s no other easy way to get to that spot. They always went out on horseback.” Delaney gave her another once-over and frowned. “You at least got some jeans and boots?”

  Monica’s jaw dropped. She was wearing navy slacks and her customary heels. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she’d need more appropriate clothes. It wasn’t that big of a deal when Bob had driven her around on the golf cart yesterday, but riding a horse was impossible in heels.

  “I guess that means no,” Delaney remarked. “What size boot do you wear?”

  “Seven and a half,” Monica said.

  “I’m an eight. You can wear some thick socks. Looks like I
’ve got you covered in that department. I probably have some jeans you can borrow too.” She eyed Monica with drawn brows. “What are you, about a six?”

  “Six or eight, depending on the designer,” Monica said.

  “The only designer ’round these parts is Wrangler. I still have a pair or two from my skinnier days that might fit you. I think you’ll be a lot more comfortable out here in the right clothes.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” Monica said. “But I hate to trouble you . . .”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Delaney reassured her. “My place is only fifteen minutes down the road if you’d like to give them a try. Otherwise, the nearest place to buy anything is going to be an hour away.”

  Monica chewed her lip. Although she hated to be indebted to Ty’s ex, she didn’t have the time or inclination for shopping. She also didn’t want to give Ty any excuse to leave her behind when he rode down to the river. “Thanks, Delaney,” she replied with a smile. “I accept the offer.”

  “What the devil?” Ty muttered under his breath. Gazing out Tom’s office window, he spotted Monica and Delaney looking like bosom buddies as they climbed into Delaney’s gleaming-white Escalade. He watched gape-mouthed as, wheels spinning and kicking up a spray of loose gravel, lead-footed Delaney turned and pulled out of the drive, leaving a long trail of dust in her wake. He had no idea what they could be up to—besides no good.

  Shaking his head in bafflement, he turned back to Bob. “So what you’re sayin’ is that I may have controlling interest of the hotel, but Monica still holds all the purse strings. What the hell good does that do me?” His prayer to finally have control of the hotel and a chance to fulfill his dream had been answered, but he still needed money.

  “How about investors?” Bob asked.

  “Tried that already,” Ty grunted.

  “And?” Bob prompted.

  “I found one. He came through with enough to buy Monica out, but not enough for the renovations.” Ty wasn’t about to mention Delaney’s insane proposal.

  “Tom also willed you the ranch, Tyrone.”

  Ty blinked. “The Circle B is mine?”

  “It took Monica by surprise too, not that she begrudges you. She said she has no interest in it and the ranch should rightfully be yours. Any idea what your plans might be for the place?” Bob asked.

  “Hell, I dunno.” Ty sighed. His head was still spinning after hearing the particulars of Tom’s will. “I need some time to digest all this.”

  “Course you do,” Bob said. “You and Monica both have some big decisions to make.”

  Although he had a one-in-a-million opportunity, Ty didn’t have a clue what his next move should be. In the past seven years when he’d overseen the operations for Brandt Morgan Entertainment, he’d never imagined he’d one day find himself in the CEO chair. He was never more afraid of screwing up. With so much on the line, his inexperience scared him shitless.

  He knew that his talents lay in managing the people, not the finances. Tom had known that too. That’s why he’d tried so hard to get Monica and Ty to work together. The terms of Tom’s will still bound them—unless Monica sold her share of the business. Somehow, he had to convince her not to sell, not just because he needed a savvy partner he could trust, but because he needed her.

  “Were you raised here in Oklahoma?” Monica asked Delaney.

  She already knew the answer, having heard the story from both Ty and Gabby, but she was eager to establish some neutral, if trite, conversational ground.

  “No,” Delaney replied with a proud tilt of her chin. “I’m a Hous-tonian, born and bred. My great-great-granddaddy even fought beside Sam Houston at the Battle of San Jacinto.”

  “Really? What brought you to Oklahoma?”

  “A mistake,” Delaney quipped, “but one I’ve learned to live with.” She slanted Monica a sidelong look. “Or maybe I should have said live without.”

  Ty Morgan.

  “Rural Oklahoma must be a far cry from Houston,” Monica said.

  “It is, but I love the ranching life,” Delaney said.

  “Did your family have a ranch?”

  “My daddy owns several cattle operations; most everyone in Texas with money has a hobby ranch, but I didn’t grow up on one. Mama’s a socialite and hated the place, so I was hardly even allowed to visit. I always envied my brothers. They got to spent all their free time out there, doing as they pleased, while I had no freedom at all. This is it. Home sweet home.” She nodded to a gated gravel drive and then made the turn.

  The property bore little similarity to Tom’s other than what seemed like miles of fenced, manure-dotted pastures. The houses couldn’t be more different. While Tom’s place was a sprawling, Spanish-style hacienda, Ty’s family homestead was a modest two-story white clapboard with a wraparound porch.

  “How old is this place?” Monica asked, noting the old-style chimneys.

  “I think it dates back to the twenties,” Delaney said. “But Ty knows exactly since his great-granddaddy originally homesteaded it.”

  “And you live all the way out here by yourself?” Monica asked.

  “Yeah,” Delaney grinned.

  “How?”

  Delaney’s brow wrinkled. “ ’Scuse me?”

  “How can you stand being out here alone after living in Houston? Aren’t you bored out of your mind?”

  “The first few years were really rough,” Delaney confessed. “But then it all sorta clicked when I decided to make a go of raising bulls.”

  “You raise cattle?”

  “I raise bucking bulls,” Delaney corrected. “Good ones.” Her smile stretched. “And it eats Ty alive. Ty used to be a rodeo stock contractor, but he always preferred to be in the arena with the bulls. He was reckless as hell when he was younger. I always wondered if he had a subconscious death wish.”

  “Wasn’t his father killed by a bull?” Monica asked.

  “Yeah, he was.” Delaney shrugged “So go figure. C’mon in and make yourself at home.”

  Monica followed Delaney inside, noting that she hadn’t even unlocked the front door. She thought back to her own place in Manhattan with its set of three locks and a security system.

  “Would you like a drink?” Delaney asked. “I have some Dr. Pepper, a six-pack of Blue Moon, or I could open a bottle of pinot noir I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

  “What’s special?” Monica asked.

  “Having female company out here. It’s been a while.”

  “No thanks,” Monica said. “I’m not really thirsty.”

  “Well, I am.” Delaney disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Monica to wander the living room. Markedly more feminine than Tom’s place, with a mix of leather, chintz, and chenille, the room was an unusual meld of rustic ranch and French country. Finding no photographs, she lingered at a lithograph of a bull. “This is unusual,” she remarked as Delaney returned, popping the top of a Dr. Pepper. “Is it a Picasso?”

  “You know your art,” Delaney said.

  “I’ve spent most of my life in New York. Part of that was exploring art museums.”

  “I have all eleven lithographs of his bull study,” Delaney said, “though I admit I prefer the first three in the series over the more abstract works.” She took the first swig of her drink. “Love this stuff. All Texans do. Sure you don’t want one?”

  “No thanks. I’m fine.”

  Delaney took another drink and then set the bottle down on a scarred coffee table. “I’d be happy to show you the rest of the place, if you like.”

  “It’s a lovely old house,” Monica said as they mounted the narrow staircase. “Very homey. I’ve never lived in a place like this. I’ve pretty much spent all of my life in apartments.”

  “Where did you grow up?” Delaney asked.

  “Boarding schools mostly,” Monica said with a dry laugh, “but I also traveled a lot too, mostly in Europe.”

  “I envy you that,” Delaney said. “My family took vaca
tions every year, usually in Mexico or Hawaii, but I’ve never traveled anywhere on my own. I’ve always wanted to go to Europe, but Daddy always said we have everything worth seeing right here in the USA. Where is your family?” Delaney asked.

  “My grandparents have a big home in Connecticut, but my mother lives in lower Manhattan. I settled there as well about five years ago.”

  “These two are bedrooms,” Delaney pointed to the respective doors. “There was a third, but we converted it into two bathrooms as there weren’t originally any upstairs baths and there was only the one downstairs until I added a powder room.”

  Monica shrugged. “I imagine that’s typical of a home this old.”

  “I told Ty when we first moved in that we should just raze the place and build a brand-new house, but he wouldn’t hear of it,” Delaney said. “His family worked the land for three generations and even weathered the great Dust Bowl. I guess I respect that he has an attachment to the place even if he didn’t want to live in it.”

  “Sounds like his family history means a lot to him,” Monica said. That surprised her at first, but then it made perfect sense. It explained why Ty held onto the place, even though Delaney had control of it.

  “Over time the old place has grown on me too,” Delaney continued. “Let’s go back down to my room, and I’ll see if I can find those jeans.” Delaney disappeared into her closet and returned a few minutes later to toss Monica a pair of well-worn Wranglers. “Here. These were always my favorite.” She added with a grimace. “But I haven’t been able to get both cheeks into them in almost five years.”

  “Then why do you keep them?” Monica asked.

  Delaney laughed. “Wishful thinking, I guess. Don’t worry about the length. They’re about two inches too long for me, so they should fit you just about right.”

  “Thanks.” Monica accepted the jeans. “Delaney, is this the only reason you invited me out here? I get the feeling it isn’t.”

  Delaney cocked her head and considered Monica for a long moment. “All right, since you asked me, I’ll give it to you straight. I suspect we’re never going to be best friends, but I don’t want us to be enemies either.”