The Maverick Meets His Match (32 page)

Mandy jumped back off the fence, no longer needing to enter the arena. Instead, she headed for the gate without waiting for Cody. The thump of footsteps behind her said he was following. In seconds she was within arm’s reach of Ty, who was getting congratulatory slaps on the back, while from behind her, Cody heartily declared the bull a contender and the rider not.

“I hung on as long as I could,” Ty said, shaking his head now covered by his Stetson. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t all that long.” The dirt on his clothes couldn’t take the shine off his smile. Damn if she wasn’t proud of him, crazy as he had been for getting on a bull.

“No, but all you thrown riders showcased just how well those bulls move. I’d like to see at least three of those bulls at our next Touring Division event being held in Casper in another two weeks. If they show well in the Touring Division, they’ll eventually graduate to the top AFBR series. That’s serious money,” he said, turning to look directly at Mandy.

She knew just how serious that money was. A good bull team could earn out six figures in the AFBR, even with the steep entry fees. She’d been trying to get on the AFBR’s radar for the last three years. Ty apparently did it with a phone call. And she thought he was selling her out.

It didn’t take long to sort out what bulls Lane wanted. After Cody refused an offer for lunch, saying he had to get on the road, Mandy hung back as Ty walked him to his truck. There was so much she wanted to say to Ty, and little of it she would say. No matter what she was feeling, in two months Ty would be leaving. As they’d agreed. As she had insisted. Baby or no baby.

She took a deep breath as she watched him amble back. He had a slight hitch to his gate.

“You all right?” she asked as he drew near.

He smiled, more of a grimace, as dust kicked up behind him from the departing truck. “Other than being sore as hell?”

She gave a laugh to cover up her relief. “That wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done, or your finest hour, cowboy.”

He stared at her, looking at once sheepish and pleased. “I know. I’ve been practicing on that mechanical bull we have for classes. Thought it was an opportunity to give the real thing a try.”

She took in that news, rolled it around in her mind. This man was full of surprises and contradictions. “But why?”

“I wanted to prove something.”

“To those cowboys?” she asked, startled he would care about anyone else’s opinion.

“No. To myself.” He tipped his hat back, revealing a serious set of dark eyes. “That I’m good enough.”

“For what?”

He shrugged and looked over the fences to the mountains in the distance.

She was touched by the fact that a man like Ty, who always seemed so confident, so in control, would be insecure about anything. She walked to him, sliding her hand down his face in a caress.

His attention was on her now, those dark eyes drilling into her, asking her some silent question she couldn’t quite decipher, but which she knew was important to him.

“I’ve never felt like I’m good enough.”

Mandy touched his arm. “Believe me, you’re good enough, cowboy. You don’t have to prove it to anyone.” And she meant it. Ty had worked each rodeo alongside the men, alongside her. He pulled long hours in the saddle during an event and even longer hours before and after to assure that Prescott presented the best rodeo for the money.

“Neither do you, Mrs. Martin.”

She kissed him. She meant it to be a sweet, comforting kiss, but the moment their lips touched, it took on a fire-fueled passion. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his hand cupped her chin, and their tongues did a sensual dance, deeper and deeper, more and more until there was no one else, nothing else in the whole universe but the two of them, body pressed to body, mouth devouring mouth.

When they finally broke, he stared at her as if he was searching for the answer to his silent question from before.

“I want to take you back home, strip you naked, and make love to you, Mandy Martin. Make that baby.”

“It will have to wait until tonight. We’ve work to do.”

“Later then. That’s a promise.” He kissed the tip of her nose. She felt like she could dance on air.

Ty wanted to urge Paddy into a full-out run, but he held back. He could use the time to work out what he was going to say, and riding in companionable silence next to Mandy mounted on Willow would give him that time. It was a bright fall afternoon in Wyoming, and the breeze was cool, the air mild, and the grasses lush.

He had convinced Mandy to take a horseback ride and have a picnic dinner. He had things to discuss. They hadn’t had many chances to ride during the hectic summer season, but now that the circuit had calmed down as fall arrived, they didn’t have a rodeo every weekend.

Which meant they had time to start planning for next year—when he would no longer be with Prescott Rodeo, with Mandy. Unless…

He’d been trying for days to figure out what to say and how to say it and if he should say it. This would be the biggest commitment of his life. And if she said yes, he’d be taking on the responsibility of someone else’s happiness, and that sacred the crap out of him. Of the few people whose life had once intersected with his, he hadn’t made any of them happy. And he wondered if he could make her happy.

Didn’t look like they would have to sell Prescott, given they were only six weeks from the six-month finish line and he hadn’t had any offers except for Stan’s early lowball bid. It was a relief knowing he had done his best, but he would be leaving Prescott in Mandy’s hands, and with the AFBR potential, PRC would be in better shape for her. That would make her happy.

Maybe she’d want him to move on so she could run PRC all by herself. She didn’t need him. She was fully capable of handling it herself. And so what was the value to her of being married to him?

Nothing.

So far, he hadn’t even been able to give her a child. That had been surprisingly disappointing. The doctor had said everything was working, and he was relieved he wasn’t shooting blanks, but shouldn’t she be pregnant by now? Because it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Yeah, the only thing he could offer her was sex. And he knew from experience that wasn’t enough.

Up ahead the creek was coming into view. He wondered how she’d feel about the spot he’d chosen. He wanted her to know that he was willing to make a fresh start and put the past, their past, behind them.

He glanced over at Mandy, her horse keeping pace with his. He loved the easy way she sat a horse, her cute butt glued to the saddle like the horsewoman she was.

She had twined the reins around her long, elegant fingers. Those slender fingers were at odds with the type of work she often did. He’d told her to let the hired help clean out the barn or curry the horses, but he’d often find her working side by side with one of the hands just to get the job done. She always comported herself like a lady, but she didn’t think twice about doing tasks most “ladies” would never touch.

He still didn’t know what he would say to her or if he would have the courage to ask her. Maybe he should just get to the creek and wing it. He padded his breast pocket to assure himself the rings were still there and then checked behind him to make sure the picnic basket was securely strapped to the back of his saddle, giving the basket a firm tug for reassurance.

“Race you,” he called out, and gave Paddy a gentle kick. The sorrel lurched into action, apparently happy to be given rein to run. Air whipped across his face as he urged Paddy forward. A quick glance behind confirmed that Mandy had followed at a pounding pace.

Ty headed for the copse of trees in the distance, the beating of hooves in time with the rapid beating of his heart. Anything was possible, he reminded himself, and nothing was certain.

Mandy pulled Willow up at the edge of the bank that gently sloped into the creek. The familiar rock she’d once hidden behind loomed over the water. She’d lost the race. Willow had given it her all, but the prized cutting horse from Texas was too much for her. Mandy could relate, but she wondered why Ty had chosen this spot for their picnic.

He’d already tied Paddy to a tree limb and was unbuckling the straps that secured the picnic basket and blanket, his large fingers working the knots.

She’d been surprised when he’d suggested a picnic dinner and even more surprised that Mrs. Jenkins had apparently known about it since, when they arrived home, fried chicken, biscuits, and corn on the cob were already packed in a hamper. Ty had pulled out a bottle of wine from the fridge, and they had set off.

It had seemed romantic of Ty and out of character. But this place, of all places?

Ty lost no time in setting up while Mandy secured Willow to one of the trees. The sun was low in the sky but still above the mountain peaks in the distance, flooding the bank with afternoon light. Ty was laying the Navajo-style blanket under a tree opposite to where the horses were secured.

“Didn’t beat me this time, did you?” he said, grinning up at her as he knelt on the ground, smoothing the fabric.

“Paddy proved too much—today. Never know about tomorrow.”

He looked at her from under his hat brim and nodded. “I brought bug spray,” he said as he rose and held up a plastic bottle.

“You had this all planned,” she said, feeling complimented by his efforts. He’d gone to some trouble to get her here. “I’m just surprised at your choice of location.”

He came over to her and rested his large hands on her shoulders. His touch was warm and heavy, and he seemed to take up the whole landscape as he stood before her.

“I thought it appropriate.”

She wanted to ask him why it was appropriate, since it had been the sight of her greatest humiliation, but he slid his hand up to her face and grazed a thumb across her cheek, and all thought vanished as a pleasant little shiver cascaded through her. He did this to her every time they were together. Made her want him. What would happen in a few weeks when he walked away?

She pushed that thought from her mind. She’d surely be pregnant by then, considering how frequently they made love. She’d have a child. He’d be in her life. Though that had once been a negative, his being in her life now sat squarely in the positive column, at least for the moment. Only she wondered how long it would be positive. What would happen when he took up with another woman and brought her to their child’s birthday party?

She’d fantasized about raising her child, and he’d always been in the picture—as her husband. He was all the things she shouldn’t want—arrogant, by the book, a loner—but he’d also been surprisingly tender and caring and protective. He’d been generous with his time, his knowledge, and his contacts. He’d respected her knowledge of the industry and had backed her decisions, even if he didn’t agree with them. He’d been a talented lover—and a good friend. She’d fallen in love with him, and she wasn’t sure she could take his leaving. It seemed, one way or another, the men in her life left her, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

“Let’s eat first, and then we should talk.” He cupped her chin and lightly kissed her on the mouth.

The pit of her stomach felt funny.

Isn’t that what guys said when they had something bad to tell you?

He took her hand and pulled her toward the blanket. Sitting down, she opened the latch of the basket and lifted the lid. The smell of fried chicken filled her nostrils as she peered at a tangle of plastic plates, linen napkins, a wineglass and bottle, a water bottle, plasticware, and lidded tubs filled with food. She began unpacking as Ty grabbed the wine and poured it into a glass.

She was aware when he took a sip of wine, when he settled on his knees, when he reached in and pulled open the tub with the corn. She took out the still-warm tub with the fried chicken and set it on the blanket. At the bottom of the basket were salt and pepper shakers. Mrs. Jenkins and Ty had thought of everything.

She settled on her rump and tucked her legs under her. The top of the basket made a small table, and Mandy began setting it. She’d been aware of Ty watching her even as he placed an ear of corn on each of their plates. He opened the larger tub that contained the chicken and placed a golden-fried breast next to each ear of corn. He took the bag with the biscuits and set one next to the chicken. He was playing host, and she wondered if he had a part in mind for her—beyond guest.

“Time to eat,” he said, looking at his plate. “I’m starved.”

She took her lead from him. As they ate, she listened to the water tumbling over the rocks, the birds tweeting among the trees, and her own breathing. The chicken was the perfect blend of crispy on the outside and moist on the inside, and the biscuit was tasty.

It seemed perfect and romantic, and she couldn’t fathom what Ty wanted to talk about that wouldn’t ruin the mood. She took a sip of bottled water and wished she could have had wine to suppress the anxious feeling filling her. But she might be pregnant, and she wasn’t about to take a chance.

“We’re having a school in next week. Promise me you won’t be tempted to ride a bull again?” she asked. He was working his way down the ear of corn, getting a kernel or two on his lower cheek. Ty had a hearty appetite—for many things.

“Little ibuprofen and I’m as good as new,” he said when he came to the end of the row of kernels.

“You had me worried there for a second.” More like several seconds. Or a minute. It had taken her some time to erase the image of him in a heap from her mind.

Ty shook his head. “I now get how addictive that rush of adrenaline is. If I was younger, I just might compete. On broncs, though, not bulls.”

“Well then, I’m glad you are older and wiser.” She took an ear of corn and bit into it, enjoying the sweet kernels.

“I am older. Not sure about wiser.” He chuckled and took another sip of wine. More like a gulp. He grabbed the bottle and poured some more, topping off his glass. One thing about riding a horse after drinking, if you weren’t drunk enough to fall off, the horse would likely get you home in one piece. But she had to wonder why Ty was drinking so quickly.

Stripping her ear of kernels and having made a solid attempt to finish her chicken breast, she began to pack up the remnants while Ty finished off another breast. Clearly her appetite wasn’t that of a pregnant woman, but it would be a few weeks before her next cycle, before she would know for sure. There was still time. She needn’t panic—yet.