The Maverick Meets His Match (14 page)

“You don’t have to hide your tears from me, Mandy. You’re entitled. God knows you’ve got enough to cry about.”

He tugged her, pulling her around to face him. She didn’t resist but buried her damp face in the bare flesh of his shoulder and wept.

He hugged her to him, mindful not to spook her by pulling her too close to certain parts of his body and grateful for even the thin shield the cover afforded.

“Let it out, honey. You’re safe.”

He felt the tremors as the sobs broke, as the tears wet his chest, as her moist breath teased his skin.

This was no time to come on to a woman, and yet, his body wasn’t listening. Holding her close in his arms under the cloak of darkness in the bed’s narrow confines had his veins thrumming and his blood hot. He couldn’t help but note they fit damn well together.

He felt undone as Mandy tearfully quivered in his arms. He was in uncharted waters, for sure. He’d never held a crying woman. His mother had cried a lot before she’d gone to the hospital, never to return. He’d only been ten at the time, hadn’t understood the reasons, and in all his father’s remaining years, he hadn’t enlightened Ty beyond saying his mother had been ill.

John Martin hadn’t been a very open man. He’d kept things in, didn’t show much emotion. Ty never could tell what the man was thinking, and the man never said.

Ty had a good idea what Mandy was thinking. That she should have never agreed to this arrangement. That she missed her grandfather. That Ty wasn’t the man she wanted to marry, even if it was for six months. That she wanted her company back.

He wished he could convince her it would be worth it in the end. She wouldn’t believe him, but as much as he had his own agenda for being there, it wasn’t to hurt Mandy. Business-wise, he intended to leave the Prescott family finances in a strong position, whether from the proceeds of a sale or the income from an agreement with the AFBR and a stream of rodeo contracts. He was committed to making that happen for JM and for Mandy. And maybe in the process he could prove to Mandy he wasn’t quite the bastard she thought he was. Maybe they could enjoy each other during this time. Leave as friends instead of enemies, laugh about having been married to each other “back in the day.”

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find what he was looking for in life. Work that made him feel like a man instead of a corporate shill, and a place where he felt he belonged in this world, even if he had to engineer it himself.

“It’s going to all work out,” he said, brushing his lips against her hair. She had beautiful hair, full and luscious. Tawny bronze strands that shimmered in the moonlight.

Her breath shuddered as if in answer. The sobs had eased some, alternating with short intervals of silence.

Her moist breath puffed against the sensitive skin on his collarbone, as if she was feathering delicate little kisses there. Lust wound tighter inside of him, like a hair-triggered coil.

The temptation to slide his hands under her breasts and touch the soft mounds pressed seductively against his bare skin intensified, along with the rose scent that drifted off her hair to tease his senses. Heaven help him. He was in sexual hell.

How long he held her he couldn’t say. But sometime later, his body tight with unquenched need, he felt her relax in his arms. Her breathing slowed, coming in calm beats. He leaned back to view her face.

With her eyes closed, thick lashes feathered the high bones of her cheeks. She looked at peace as she slept in his arms, almost content. Whatever storm had racked through her, its effect had been dissipated, any signs erased. Her cheeks were no longer tear stained, her mouth was lax, and her body no longer trembled.

Instinctively he pressed his lips to her forehead, a kiss of affection for a woman who deserved some tenderness in her life. Something told him she hadn’t had much. At least not from the men who counted. Her father had died a decade ago, and her grandfather, though a sterling man in many ways, valued being tough, not tender. Ty guessed he fell into that mold, but having been raised with those same values, he understood, perhaps more than most, the emptiness that came with it.

Gently he settled her head on the pillow and slid his arm out from under her. In her sleep, she curled up tighter, but her even breathing confirmed she had not awakened.

He slipped away to the cool sheets of his own bed. How was he going to last the week, much less six months, sleeping in separate beds?

“Did Ty say where he was going, Mrs. Jenkins?” Mandy asked the stout, salt-and-peppered-haired woman. Mandy slipped into a hardwood chair at the kitchen table, where a plate of freshly made pancakes waited.

The kitchen had always been sunny and welcoming. Not as modern as her mother’s but not yet dated. The counters were granite, the appliances were white to match the white cabinets, and the floor was a white tile made to look like marble. The walls were painted a soft blue, and the bowl that always sat on the kitchen table, filled with fruit, matched the blue of the walls. Though the will said it was now her house, it would be a while before she felt like changing much.

This morning she’d awoken to an empty bedroom with two packed suitcases, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then it had come rushing back. She’d spent the night wrapped in Ty’s arms and exhausted herself, crying like some overwrought woman who couldn’t control her emotions. She didn’t even want to guess what Ty thought of her. She knew her grandfather would have expected her to buck up, as he had when her father had died. She’d apparently disappointed him on many levels.

“Only that he’d be back at ten sharp to pick you up,” Mrs. Jenkins answered, turning around from the sink, where she had been cleaning a pan. She raised her gray eyebrows, obviously as curious as Mandy was. “He also said I could stay on at the same wages.” Her tone held a question.

“We both would like that. Like JM, we’ll be on the road so much that having someone keep up the house would be a godsend.”

Relief flooded the woman’s brown eyes. “I would like that. I feel so bad about your grandfather. Just six weeks ago…you wouldn’t have thought.”

“No one did.”

“Your marriage…did he know?”

Everyone in Mandy’s world must have been wondering what the heck was going on, and Mrs. Jenkins most of all if she had noticed which guestroom had been used.

“It was one of his dying wishes that Ty and I get married and…well, we’ve known each other a long time and figured, why not?” It sounded so lame, but at least she hadn’t lied—just left out a lot.

Mrs. Jenkins turned around and began scrubbing the pan. “Oh. Well. I hope you two will be very happy.” The woman couldn’t even make eye contact with Mandy. “Over the next few days, I’m going to help your mother pack up your grandfather’s personal things so you and Mr. Martin can settle in.”

Of course, her mother would think of that. She should offer to help, but with everything going on, she could not deal with sorting through her grandfather’s treasures. Last night had shown her that. It was enough she was living in his house where his presence filled every nook and cranny.

A glance at the clock said she only had twenty minutes to eat and get ready. She’d already showered, dressed in a denim skirt, cowgirl boots, and a pink cotton blouse, and looked over the names of the livestock to be pulled for the Washington rodeo. It was a small rodeo, one Prescott had been putting on for years, and one her crew could handle alone, so no fears of running into Stan Lassiter at least.

Gobbling down the syrupy sweet pancake, she chased it with a cup of strong coffee. “Thank you so much for the breakfast,” Mandy said as she rose from the table and placed her dishes in the dishwasher. “We’ll be back Friday evening and then heading out again early Saturday. So don’t worry about us for meals.” Mrs. Jenkins only worked Monday through Friday, seven to three, which allowed her to watch her grandchildren after school and have her weekends free. It was an arrangement that had worked well for her grandfather and, Mandy imagined, it would work just as well for her and Ty, if Mandy could handle living in her grandfather’s house. “By the way, we slept in the guest room with the twin beds. I made the beds, and since we were only in there for one night, no reason to change the sheets.”

Mrs. Jenkins eyes widened and her mouth gaped into an
O
.

Mandy hoped she hadn’t blushed as she brushed past Mrs. Jenkins and out of the kitchen.

Strapped into the plane’s passenger seat, Mandy forced herself to breathe as engines roared to life. It wasn’t just the thought of taking off in this slip of a plane that had her frozen where she sat, but the whole fiasco of the previous night.

What had surprised her was the tenderness Ty had shown. Holding her, whispering soothing words to calm her. She hadn’t been emotionally stable enough to be embarrassed—only comforted. So comforted she’d fallen asleep in those protective arms of his. The thought he might have held her all night against his hard body brought a flush of heat.

She glanced over at Ty. He was concentrating on the gauge-filled dashboard, his arm muscles flexing as he maneuvered levers. Capable, competent, commanding—those adjectives described the man to a
T
.

“Ready?” Ty’s smile was encouraging as the roar of the engines filled the air. When he smiled like that, broad, full, and opened mouth, the hard lines of his face softened, his eyes twinkled, and he looked almost boyish, like a kid with a new toy he wanted to show off.

She nodded and prayed she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. Her grandfather had dumped her fate into this man’s hands. She couldn’t look weak again. She’d cried last night, and now if she showed her anxiety about flying, how could she hope he would see her as tough enough to run Prescott? It was humiliating to be so beholden to one person’s opinion, and not just any person but the man who had broken her schoolgirl heart, manipulated her grandfather, and took the place, as head of the company, that rightfully belonged to her. And just happened to be her husband.

With a nod, Ty turned his attention to the dashboard and the blue sky beyond while Mandy closed her eyes, gripped the seat’s arms, and held on as the plane rumbled down the runway.

She silently counted.

When she reached twenty, the plane picked up speed, but no lift off. Twenty-five, the plane rumbled faster but still no lift off. She braced. Finally, at twenty-nine she felt the blip in her stomach as they left the ground. Teeth clenched, heart racing, she willed herself to relax, starting with her face, then her arms, then her hands…

“We’re up.” Ty’s tone held amusement.

Who was she fooling? Certainly not him. She opened one eye. Blue sky stretched out in front of her. She opened the other eye. They certainly were up. High. But the ride had become surprisingly smooth.

“Not so bad, right?” Ty seemed eager for her agreement.

“Not so bad,” she lied. But they had a few hours to go and a landing to get through. She couldn’t think about that or she might start panicking, and then what? Breathe.

“We don’t have to stay there.”

“Where?”

“At the ranch house. I haven’t given up my room at the hotel in town yet. We could stay there instead, if it’s too much for you. My Denver condo being on the market, that’s all I have to offer. But at least it’s not too far from the ranch.”

Ty had put his condo on the market? Guess he must have done that before learning he’d only be at Prescott for six months.

Still, what should she say to his offer? She didn’t want to stay at her grandfather’s. Last night had proven she wasn’t emotionally ready to do that. Yet admitting she couldn’t handle it would be admitting weakness. She’d dealt with living in her parents’ house without her father, hadn’t she? But then it had been a sanctuary where she and her mother and Tucker could grieve in private, away from her grandfather, who had been the model of stoicism in the wake of his only child’s death.

“It’s not too much for me. I can handle it.” She would handle it.

“It would be easier for me, if you wouldn’t mind. They have a workout room there.”

Ah, it wasn’t for her he was doing it, but for himself. Things made sense again.

“Well, if you’d prefer.”

“As long as it’s okay with you.”

“It’s okay with me.” A relief actually. “What about Mrs. Jenkins? She expects to be kept on.”

“Keep her on until we know what’s going to happen. The place still needs looking after.”

She nodded her agreement. It was settled then. She relaxed—well, as much as she could relax given she was thousands of feet in the air.

Chimes to the tune of Trace Adkins’s “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” rang through the whirring din of the plane.

Ty cursed as he fished a cell phone out of an open compartment in the console.

“See who this is,” he said, holding the phone out to her.

Mandy touched the screen until she viewed the message. “It’s a text. From a Kendall? Asking why you haven’t called.” It ended with a <3, and the avatar showed the top half of a shapely and well-endowed blonde in a skimpy bikini. Mandy felt betrayed. But that was just silly. Foolish. But oddly true.

Intellectually, she knew this marriage was a sham with a husband she would have never chosen. Never. But that hadn’t stopped the rush of anger. Odd.

Ty mumbled a soft curse, barely audible over the engines. “Text her that I’m flying and will call her when I land.”

“Somehow I don’t like the idea of texting my
husband’s
girlfriend.” She wished it hadn’t come out so snarky, but there it was.

Ty glanced at her, a smirk on his face. “Jealous, wife? I did have a life before Tuesday. One with a few loose ends to tie up, is all.”

She hadn’t really thought about his personal life. And what he was giving up. She glanced again at the bikini blonde, definitely a different size than Mandy. More like a whole different category. Enough to make any woman who didn’t wear size double Ds feel inadequate. And so like the women she’d seen him with over the years. Mandy began to type the message. “Should I say ‘we land’ or ‘I land.’”