The Maverick Meets His Match

by Anne Carrole

  A shudder went through him. What the hell had his niece had to endure these last four years as a child of a drug addict? He didn’t want to imagine.

  “Hey, ladies,” Ty said, bending down on his haunches so he was eye level with them both. “What a pretty baby you have, Miss Delanie.”

  “Thank you. But you mustn’t touch her. She’s afraid of you.”

  Ty felt his heart squeeze. He shot a look at Mandy. Questions filled her eyes. Questions to which he didn’t have the answers. “Is she now? Well, she’s not afraid of her uncle, is she?”

  She looked so cute and innocent as she stood with her head to the side, thinking. “What’s an uncle?”

  “An uncle is someone who is related to you, a brother to your daddy. And someone who protects you from harm, just like a daddy does.”

  “Daddies protect you?”

  “Yes, darling, they do. Does your baby have a daddy?”

  She shook her head. “But maybe someday we’ll find one for her and visit him.”

  “Then he’ll protect her. And she won’t have to be afraid of anyone or anything.”

  He sensed rather than saw Trace enter the room as Delanie shifted her line of sight.

  “You have a daddy, Delanie, don’t you?” he continued.

  She nodded a solemn nod.

  “Your daddy is my brother. That makes me your uncle. All three of us are family.” Then he remembered Mandy. “And Mandy is my wife, so she’s your aunt, and that makes her family too. And aunts and uncles and daddies, they all look out for the children in the family. You’re the only child in our family.” She looked so vulnerable as she glanced from Ty’s face to Mandy’s face up to Trace’s face as if she was silently questioning the truth of that statement.

  “And my mommy. She looks out for me too, right?”

  God, he hoped so.

  “Yes, when she’s here. But when she’s not, your daddy looks out for you. That’s how it works.” That’s how it had worked, however imperfectly, in his life too. “When your daddy was a lot bigger than you, he lost his mother. And his father had to take care of him.”

  “Really, Daddy?” she looked up, hope overflowing in her eyes, but it didn’t quite hide the wariness that also resided there.

  “Yes, Delanie.”

  “But baby doesn’t have a daddy. Just me, her mommy. So I’ll be looking out for her.”

  “Why don’t you go wash up, Delanie? And we’ll have something to eat with your uncle Ty and aunt Mandy.” Trace stepped forward, careful not to crowd his daughter. It must be hell, walking on eggshells. “You two will stay for a little bite? One of the neighbors sent over a lasagna. She’s been helping me out when she can.”

  “That okay with you, Mandy?” Ty asked. He hadn’t planned on staying long. He was tired and was sure she was, but Trace sounded uncharacteristically needy for some company. He imagined his brother must feel at sea with all this. But at least he was stepping up and doing what was right, what he had to do for his little girl.

  Mandy nodded.

  “Can baby eat with us, Daddy?” Delanie asked.

  “Sure, honey.”

  “And Buddy?” She nodded at the stuffed dog in her arm.

  “As always.” Trace sounded almost jovial.

  “Okay. I’ll take baby, and we’ll all wash up.” Delanie held out one arm to receive the doll from Mandy and then toddled off toward the bathroom, Buddy in the crook of one arm, the baby doll in the other.

  “Shall I go and help her?” Mandy said, rising.

  Trace shook his head. “No need. She’s an independent sort. I guess she’s used to fending for herself.”

  Ty felt a sudden sadness at that. Robbed of some of her childhood, it seemed. Maybe now she’d have a chance to get it back. Ty would certainly do his part.

  Mandy brushed her hands down her jeans, dusting herself off. Watching her simple movements, it struck him like a hammer strikes a nail. She was standing in his house, the house he grew up in. And she didn’t look out of place, even though he felt like an alien after all this time.

  She raised her head, her expression quizzical. He had a lot to tell her, for sure. Perhaps sensing now was not the time to ask questions, she turned toward Trace.

  “Can I help in the kitchen then? Set the table or something?”

  “That would be fine, Mandy,” Trace said. “Sorry to hear about your grandfather. And sorry I didn’t get a chance to say welcome to the family.”

  With an acknowledging nod, Mandy followed Trace into the kitchen.

  He liked that about Mandy. She was always ready to pitch in. She didn’t shirk work or responsibility or just plain helping out. And seeing her playing down on the floor with Delanie brought a whole new dimension to her many facets.

  She’d make some guy a wonderful wife.

  * * *

  “I’m almost afraid to know, but what is Delanie’s story?” Mandy asked as the car sped down the road away from Ty’s boyhood home.

  Ty let go a sigh. He was drained. Seeing his brother after all these years had felt more like a confrontation than a visit. And he didn’t kid himself that anything had changed between the two of them. Their issues ran deep, starting with the circumstances surrounding the death of their mother right through the loan Ty would be providing and included a few detours down Trace’s alcoholic alleys. And now there was Delaine added to the mix. He wasn’t going to allow his brother, however, to shut him out of his niece’s life. Ty had never been around kids much, but something about that little girl tugged at him.

  “I don’t know the details. Neither does Trace, which is eating at him. But I’ll tell you what I do know.” Ty proceeded to fill Mandy in on the convicted drug-addict mother, Delanie’s obvious distrust of men, even Trace’s bout with alcoholism. He skipped over the part where he had found his brother passed out in a back alley after learning Trace had mortgaged the ranch to fund his recklessness, and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. As well as the fact that he had thrown his brother into rehab with the threat of turning him over to the authorities if he didn’t shape up. Ty had stepped in to cosign so the ranch wouldn’t be lost to creditors. The worst investment he’d ever made in terms of payback, but then he didn’t do it for a return on his investment. Fact was, he didn’t know quite why he had done it. Maybe Delanie would prove the real return.

  “At least Trace is being honest with Delanie about her mother. He’s told the child that her mother has broken some rules and she has to go someplace to relearn them so she can do better when she gets out. I hope Delanie gives him a chance, because even if that woman gets out before her fifteen years is up, Trace isn’t going to give up his daughter to her. Not now that he knows he has one.”

  “She’s a sweet child, Ty. But chatty one minute and so somber the next. Like she’s swaying between being a child and an adult. Can we help her, help them both? The ranch doesn’t seem all that prosperous.”

  A quick glance at her showed tears welling in her pretty green eyes. She’d said can we help. That surprised him.

  “He’s asked for help. I’m giving it. I know his asking wasn’t easy.”

  “You’re not close?”

  “That’s an understatement.” Ty shifted gears. His relationship with Trace wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. It was too complicated. Hell, he didn’t even understand it.

  “Well, maybe we can have them over or something. Or we could give him a break and take Delanie with us to a rodeo.” Ty could see the wheels in her mind turning.

  “Given her trust issues, I don’t know if taking her away would be the right thing, but we’ll stay involved.” He turned to her. “I appreciate your support in this, Mandy. Given our situation, can’t say I expected you to care much about Trace or Delanie.”

  “Of course I care. Trace may be a little taciturn, like you—”

  “I am nothing like my brother.” Ty was surprised at how much he rebelled against that idea.

  “Oh, on the contrary. I see a lot
of similarities. You both are lone wolves, for one. Neither of you exactly wears your heart on your sleeve. And despite your tough facade, you both are putty in that little girl’s hand. I have to say I was pleasantly surprised at how well you handled that whole ‘daddies look out for their children’ theme.”

  “Not that I made any progress.”

  Her smile glowed in the half light. “You never know with kids. It may take some time, but I think you planted a really strong seed in her mind. She was definitely thinking on it. And she seemed pretty relaxed with Trace at dinner. It was kind of cute to see this big cowboy cutting up her meat, fetching her milk. She let him dab her face with the napkin.”

  “He did look kind of comfortable in father mode. Like he was actually enjoying it.” Ty had been amazed at the smiles that little girl could pull from his brother.

  “So did you.”

  Chapter 13

  After a few miles of silence, Mandy had given in to exhaustion and slept the rest of the way back to the hotel. Now, as she stood in the hotel room fresh from her shower, clothed in an oversized T-shirt and facing a bare-chested, jean-clad Ty, who had stretched out on the king-sized bed, she felt a tug of desire and an overwhelming need for closeness. Resisting him these last days had required mental discipline and physical restraint.

  Here she was only a week in and her resolve was waning. What did that say about her character?

  What it said was that her grandfather had purposely rigged the outcome by making them cohabitate in the same bedroom. It was easier, though still hard enough, when they had separate beds. But here she was, in a hotel room with that gigantic king bed containing a lounging Playgirl fantasy man.

  A man who was so much more complex than she realized. A man whose life had been more difficult than she knew. A man she found herself far more attracted to than she had counted on.

  Perfectly relaxed stretched out on the bed, he thumbed through his phone screens, his powerful shoulders resting against the tufted headboard, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his legs hugged by denim pants, and his bare feet crossed casually. And all she wanted to do was snuggle up against all that muscle and let him kiss her senseless.

  He lifted his head, and she was caught in the crosshairs of a pair of shining dark eyes. It felt like some internal cyclone was propelling her toward him as his gaze dropped from her eyes to her neck, then to her breasts covered by cotton fabric, where he lingered an extra heartbeat before moving down past the hem to the length of her legs in a slow appraisal that pulled a trail of heat with it.

  “You left the seat up, again.” It was easier focusing on the toilet seat than on the man sending lust beams from his spot on the bed. She’d found the toilet seat up a few times during their time together, and having a brother, she was used to it. But if they were going to be together for six months, she figured he should at least try to remember.

  “Sorry. I’m not accustomed to living with anyone. I’ll be more careful.” Ty patted the spot next to him. “I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

  Feeling like she was walking on a cliff’s edge, she moved toward the bed and settled her bottom on the far side from where he lounged. The cool, shimmery sheets sent a warning shiver through her.

  “It was nice to meet Trace. And little Delanie. And see the ranch.” Normal conversation, that’s all they were having tonight. She hoped she could keep that promise to herself.

  “Ranch isn’t quite up to Prescott’s standards, is it? And the drought has really decimated his herd. He needs to rebuild it, and soon.”

  She tucked that information away. “At least he’s trying. Does that ranch date back before your father?” Seeing where he’d been raised, meeting his brother, had increased her curiosity, made her want to know more.

  “My mother’s parents owned it.”

  Mandy turned toward him, stretching out the length of the bed. “Speaking of parents, it must have been tough on you and Trace, losing your mother so young. What did she die from again?”

  A car accident had taken Mandy’s father. There’d been no time to prepare, no warning that hugging him before he left for that meeting would be the last time she’d ever hug him. She’d often wondered if it was harder or easier knowing the end was near, and she had come to the conclusion that it was rough all the same.

  “She killed herself.” The deep voice that spoke those words was flat, emotionless. And only added to Mandy’s shock.

  She remembered he had lost his mother. That was what had her feeling a connection with him way back when. But it hadn’t been suicide. She would have remembered that.

  He turned toward her. Shadows played across his stoic expression, making him look more rugged, tougher. But it was his eyes, glistening in the low lamp light, that made her feel like she’d just opened a forbidden closet.

  “I only found out a few years ago…when I was bailing Trace out of a jam caused by the alcohol.” Ty turned his line of sight toward the bedroom door, away from her. “Funny thing is, he thought I knew or at least suspected. I didn’t. She’d been staying in bed a lot. I thought that was because she was sick and my daddy hadn’t wanted to tell us. She’d cry sometimes. I’d hear her. But I thought that was because she knew she wasn’t well and was worried about us. Little did I know she wasn’t worried about leaving us at all. She was planning on it.”

  The pain wasn’t covered by the toneless recitation of facts. It was amplified by it.

  Mandy thought back to her father’s death, so unexpected. The toxicology reports had indicated her father had been drinking that evening. And though her father had never had a drinking problem that she knew of, it had taken a long time for her to forgive him for imbibing that night at the stockowners’ association meeting. How long would it have taken her to forgive her father for something like suicide? Forever.

  Without thought, she reached across and rested her palm on his denim-clad thigh. She felt the muscle flex beneath, but she didn’t remove her hand. Even if he didn’t want the connection, she did.

  “I’m so sorry, Ty,” she finally said when she trusted herself to speak. “I know how hard it is to lose a parent regardless of the circumstances, but to learn later it was suicide…that’s tough to bear, harder to make sense out of it all.”

  “I’m not asking for anyone’s pity.” His tone had sharpened.

  “And I’m not offering pity. I got too much of that when my own father passed away. But depression is a disease, Ty. It’s an illness. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “She was thinking straight enough to take a whole lot of pills.” The bitterness in his voice had the stinging effect of lemon juice on a cut. “As Trace tells it, my daddy found her in the bedroom, passed out. By the time he got her to the hospital, it was too late. She was pronounced dead. All the while I thought she was sick and the doctors just couldn’t save her—I thought she had a weak heart. No one told me different.”

  “Trace knew though?”

  “He’s four years older. He knew. We never talked about it. My father never said a thing. But knowing it now, I should have seen signs, done something.”

  Guilt was a heavy burden to carry. Especially when it warred with anger at the very person you felt guilty about. She knew because she had watched JM suffer through it. He’d blamed himself for not going with his son that night. He would have been driving most likely, if he had.

  “There’s nothing a child can do to save a parent in a state like that, Ty. Even your father couldn’t save her. He probably didn’t even understand what was happening.”

  “He took it to his grave. If Trace hadn’t slipped, I’d never have known. Part of me wishes I’d never found out that I’d been such a disappointment to both my parents.”

  “I’m sure that you weren’t a disappointment to either of them.”

  “No? My mother couldn’t face being my mother, and my father pretty much cut me out of his life after I took that scholarship. Barely spoke to me.” He shifted on the bed. �
��But I didn’t do so bad for myself. Thanks to JM.”

  “Thanks to your abilities.”

  Ty was wealthy, independent, self-reliant. Still, she couldn’t get the thought of him struggling to understand the actions of a mother bent on leaving him permanently. Or what it must have felt like when he found out the truth.

  It was like a damp winter wind had blown over her, over them both. She wanted to hold him, comfort him, wrap her arms around him in a hug, but she settled for resting her hand on his leg to reinforce the fragile bond she felt arcing between them. They had both lost a parent. They had both felt abandoned, felt anger…and betrayal.

  She tried to imagine what it must have been like for Ty growing up with a cold father and a distant brother. She’d never been alone in her troubles. She’d always had family around to support her. For all of Ty’s lone-wolf nature, he probably could have used some support. Maybe her grandfather knew that. Maybe that was why he’d watched out for Ty.

  For the first time, she realized Ty was probably as devastated by the loss of her grandfather as she was and maybe he needed a little support too, given her grandfather had thrown him the same curveball he had thrown her. They were, for better or worse, in this together.

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, felt the stubble of his five o’clock shadow. She’d meant it to be just a light caress, but he twisted his face until his mouth met hers. His hand cupped the back of her neck, and his lips swooped over hers. There was nothing light about this kiss. In a heartbeat he was feeding her kisses, and she was returning them, taking them deeper.

  Feeling like she was sinking in shifting quicksand, she grabbed his shoulders and hung on. Soft denim brushed against her legs, bare flesh rubbed against her tee shirt. His warm, surprisingly work-roughened fingers brushed up her arm, as if he was checking to make sure she was real. His warm touch brought tingles to her skin.

  Ty raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I’ve wanted you since I first spied you striding through the barn in jeans and a tight pink T-shirt.”