The Rancher's Surrender

by Jill Shalvis

  He'd had enough of that. It was a gamble, a huge one, and if he lost, he'd lose everything. But he couldn't stand back and not take the chance.

  "Ty—"

  "Zip it for a moment, Zoe." Tense, he took the off-road path outside his ranch, the path intended for horses only. He knew exactly how far he could take the truck, knew exactly where he was going, and nothing was going to stop him.

  Five minutes later he pulled off the trail into a small clearing. He got out of the truck, reached in and grabbed a small blanket, which he tucked under one arm. With the other, he pulled out Zoe, who came very reluctantly.

  "Ty, please. I—"

  "Come on." Tugging her not all that kindly, he led the way. They were minutes away from the deepest canyon on the North American continent, surrounded by the most amazing, spectacular scenery in the world, but Ty was blind to everything but the stubborn woman beside him. The path quickly became single-tracked, but he didn't let go of her hand, providing support when the nearly nonexistent path climbed sharply.

  He heard Zoe huffing behind him and he smiled grimly. Good. An out-of-breath Zoe couldn't talk. Or complain.

  Ten minutes later the terrain suddenly evened out. They were standing on a plateau.

  "This is ridiculous," she grumbled. "I have a thousand things to do—"

  "Look around you." Grimly he dropped the blanket and turned her, his hands firm on her shoulders when she would have jerked away. "Look, dammit. Look and then tell me what you see."

  The glance she shot him was full of daggers, but she didn't waste any more breath. She looked.

  And gasped.

  Then raced to the edge of the cliff they stood on and let out a soft sigh. "Oh. Oh, it's beautiful."

  Far below them was the valley where their ranches lay. Beyond that, greens meshed with golds, which meshed with more green. The view was spectacular. Oregon, Washington, Montana and Idaho, all four states visible in all their mind-boggling glory.

  Awe-inspiring.

  And, Ty hoped, irresistible. "What do you see?" he repeated.

  She bit her lip and stared. Looking as if a good wind could knock her over. He backed off for a moment and spread out the blanket. "Come here."

  She sank to the blanket beside him, her eyes riveted to the view. A huge, soul-shattering sigh escaped her.

  "Well?"

  "I see … a place I wanted to be mine. But it's not, not really." She hesitated, closing her eyes, hiding. "I wanted it be home, Ty. I wanted that so much."

  "You still haven't figured out the truth. It's right before your eyes and you won't even see it."

  "I don't know what you're talking about." She seemed to fold into herself, shoulders hunched as she knelt on the blanket as far from him as she could get.

  It hurt, watching her hurt. "It's simple," he told her. "Open your eyes, Zoe, and face it." Unable to hold back, he grabbed her shoulders and made her do just that. "Look, dammit, and face the fact that you are home." He added a little shake for good measure, then whipped her around so he could see her pale face. "God, Zoe, get a clue. It doesn't matter whose name is on the deed of Triple M. It doesn't matter what your birth certificate says your last name is."

  "Doesn't matter?" She tried to shove him away, but he wasn't going to budge. "Maybe to you, a man from nowhere and no one, it doesn't matter. You don't care about who and what your parents were, but I—"

  "I never said I didn't care. My mother was a whore, and when she wasn't having men over behind my father's back she liked to drink. My father hated being tied down by his kids. He liked to use his belt to prove the point. He got himself killed in prison on his tenth visit and I was glad. Glad, Zoe. I lived in the streets with my brother for more years than I want to remember, starving and fighting and stealing to survive, so don't you ever tell me I don't care where I came from."

  She'd stopped shoving at him at his first words, so it surprised him when he tried to pull away and she reversed their roles, gripping his shirt in two tight fists. "Ty—God, I'm sorry."

  "I care where I came from, Zoe. It's molded me, maybe even dictated who I am today. But I don't use it as an excuse to waste away the life that was given to me. And it makes me sick to watch you do that very thing."

  She held on to him with voracious strength, even when he tried again to pull away. Surprising him, she dropped her forehead to his chest and shook her head. "I feel so stupid when you put it like that."

  "Not stupid." He caved in, wrapping his arms around her slight figure as he'd wanted to do for so long. "Mule-headed, most definitely."

  With a little laugh, she snuggled closer, tucking her head beneath his chin as if she belonged there. As if she'd always belonged there. His heart surged in his chest so painfully he couldn't speak.

  "I'm sorry, Ty."

  "You scared me this week," he said when he could, his voice husky with emotion. "So stoic. I was unprepared for that, for what it would feel like to watch you calmly nod at the destruction of your dreams. To watch you refuse to talk about it, watch you continue to work, so silently destroyed."

  Her arms tightened around his neck.

  "I was so desperate I nearly begged Delia and Maddie to sell me the land just so I could give it to you."

  She froze, then lifted her head. "That's crazy."

  "Well, Slim, that's what I am. Crazy."

  "For me." She stared at him, startled. "Why? I can't figure that out."

  "Neither can I most of the time."

  He was teasing her, and she didn't seem to know how to take that. So he dragged her onto his lap. "It's not really a logical thing, Zoe. It's more like a heart thing. A 'just because' thing. Because I can no longer picture my life without you. I love the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking back. Because I love the way you love your sisters with everything you've got, even though you doubt and mistrust that very love. And I think you're the smartest, sweetest, most passionate woman I've ever known." He paused. "Should I go on?"

  She was baffled, touched, frightened. "I don't know what to do with you."

  That deflated him a bit, for it seemed obvious to him. "Do whatever feels right," he finally said, weary.

  "Anything?" She looked up at him, bit her lower lip, so unsure she shook with it. She hated this, this self-consciousness that would not go away. But he'd bared his soul; the least she could do was try to show him how she felt in return.

  He was looking at her with that dark, hungry look that always made her so weak. She knelt up before him, nearly losing her courage. "Anything at all?"

  "Yes."

  Slowly she pulled her T-shirt over her head, then at the look of shock on his face, she balled it up and pressed it to her breasts. "I—I'm sorry. I just wanted to show you how I felt— Forget it, I'm really bad at this." Fumbling, she tried to right her shirt again.

  His hand covered hers, and when she could force herself to look at him, his stormy eyes were clear. And hot. His voice shook. "Let me get this straight. You wanted to show me how you felt because you couldn't tell me?"

  Miserable and ashamed, she nodded.

  "And to show me how you felt, you wanted to make love with me?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  His smile was slow and sexy. "Then what are you waiting for?" He brought her fisted hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Slid the wrinkled shirt out from between her fingers and tossed it aside. "Show me how you feel, then, Zoe. Show me before I die of wondering, of wanting and yearning."

  Tears were in her eyes when she kicked off her boots and wrapped her arms around his neck. No one understood her as this man did, and some of the pain of the past week began to fade.

  "Show me some more," he said in a raspy whisper, his mouth blazing a trail up her jaw to nibble on her ear, his hands sliding up her bare back. With that encouragement, she wriggled out of her jeans, kneeling before him in nothing other than her white lacy bra and matching panties.

  He traced the valley between her breasts with a finger, swall
owing visibly at the sight of her body trembling for his. "I've been dying," he murmured. "Dying watching you push me away over and over again. Tell me you won't do it anymore, Zoe. Tell me that you're trying to show me how much you care in the only way you know how."

  She wanted to, but the promises stuck in her throat. She wasn't sure she could ever tell him, even now. "I—" His hands, those wonderfully talented hands, skimmed down her sides, teasing, making her burn. Closing her eyes, she groaned. "I'm trying, Ty. Trying to show you what I can't tell you."

  He was up on his knees now, sweeping her off hers, wrapping her legs around his waist and then sinking with her back down to the blanket.

  Towering above her, he looked into her face. "Someday," he told her, sliding his hips slowly over the wisp of silk between her legs, making her arch up and gasp, "you're going to tell me instead of show me." And he moved on her again.

  "Someday," she agreed mindlessly, nearly coming undone when he removed her bra and just looked down at her for a long moment. He let out a long, shaky breath as he admired what he'd uncovered, finally dipping his head down to slide his mouth over her. A finger hooked in her panties, drawing them slowly down, and he groaned at the sight spread out before him.

  Her senses were swimming, her heart drumming. And she wanted him as she'd never wanted another. "Ty … one of us is overdressed. Way overdressed."

  He got out of his clothes in five seconds flat, both of them laughing breathlessly when a chipmunk scolded them, startling Ty into swearing. Then the laughter was gone and his powerful body was stretching out over hers as he linked their fingers. "Just the beginning," he vowed, then bent over her, taking her mouth as he plunged into her.

  She arched up into his thrust, whimpering shamelessly for more. "Ty—"

  "I'm here, Zoe." His voice was rough, his words low and thick with passion. He held her hips in his big hands, lifting her to meet him. "I'm right here."

  She gasped his name again as he surged against her in a hard, even rhythm. Over and over.

  "You've got me. All of me." Faster and faster. "Always," he assured her.

  They soared together beneath the sun and the wide-open sky. And when it was over, when they were tangled together in a damp pile of trembling limbs and pounding pulses, their misty gazes met and held, each of them shattered apart by emotion, yet whole in a way they'd never been before.

  * * *

  Ty had meant to spend the entire day at his own ranch, working on some desperately needed chores. Instead he found himself riding to Triple M.

  He had to see Zoe. See if yesterday in the woods had been a fluke. Hell, maybe she'd just had an itch and he'd been handy to scratch it.

  Some scratch.

  What had happened between him and Zoe was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. He knew that now, and knew he could never walk away, not from her.

  His pensive mood vanished when he came over the ridge and looked ahead. Zoe and two of the ranch hands were painting the last of the cottages, though Zoe seemed to have more paint on her than the window edging she was working on.

  He dismounted and moved close to Zoe, making sure no one was within hearing range. "Morning," he said, his voice unintentionally husky and full of promise.

  She gave a little jump. Her nose was sunburned. So was her neck, and he wondered what other parts they'd sunburned yesterday. "How are you?"

  "Um…" She glanced around, as if making sure no one could hear. "I'm fine."

  He laughed. "There's nothing indecent about being fine, you know. No one is going to take one look at your face and realize you did it outside while screaming my name—"

  She slapped a hand over his mouth and looked horrified. "Shh! Someone will hear you! I said I was fine! Fine! Fine! Fine!"

  Fine. Great, she was fine and he was dying. He decided to go for the direct route. What the hell, he didn't have a doubt in his head. They belonged together, and as he saw it, she was just putting off the inevitable. "I love you, Zoe. Stay with me tonight."

  "You … tonight?"

  She looked so shocked. So unsure. He nodded but felt the sudden heaviness in his heart. "What's the matter? You turn into a pumpkin if you make love in a bed?"

  Crossing her arms in that stubborn gesture he recognized all too well, she shook her head. "I … don't think it's a good idea to rush this."

  "Rush this?" He laughed, but it was hollow. "Zoe, I fell for you the first day I saw you. It's too late to be rushed now."

  Her face crumpled then and so did her composure. Her eyes, her huge, beautiful eyes, nearly killed him. "I need a little more time, Ty."

  "Time," he repeated dully.

  "Yes."

  "You get naked with me, twice now, but you can't come over and sleep in my arms?"

  She closed her eyes.

  How was it that he was completely bowled over by what they had between them and she could still pretend it didn't exist? He turned away, needing distance if he was going to come up with any patience at all. He mounted his horse and was nearly out of earshot when she called after him.

  Reluctantly he stopped, knowing everything he was, everything he felt, was on his face. So exposed, he thought with a grimace, but he couldn't help it, couldn't hold back what he felt, not even for her.

  Slowly, he turned.

  She stared at him, misty-eyed. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her words carrying on the breeze. Her hand rubbed absently at her heart, as if it hurt. "I'm so sorry."

  That made two of them.

  Everything he wanted, everything he thought about … his entire future stood there looking at him with eyes that proclaimed a love she couldn't admit to.

  It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he had to let her go. Had to give her the space she needed.

  Heart aching, he turned away and rode toward the harsh mountains. He needed to be alone, and high on the peaks was the only place to go to do that.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  « ^ »

  Zoe felt as though she paced for two days. Two days, and not a word from Ty.

  While he was gone doing only God knew what in those unforgiving mountains that she stared at a thousand times a day, Triple M received another reservation request for fall. And several for the following spring.

  Their modest, hopeful success felt good.

  And for Zoe, it also felt empty.

  It was amazing that people wanted to come from all over and help run their ranch, and pay for the privilege. It was exciting to share with her sisters, to have a real future for the first time in her life.

  But she wanted Ty. Wanted to see him, and tell him she knew she was home. Wanted to laugh with him and race their horses over their land. Wanted to spar with him and then make up.

  She wanted to make love with him.

  But he didn't come back, and she had no one to blame but herself.

  On the third night Zoe went to bed early. There was a package there, lying on her quilt, wrapped in the familiar plain brown paper bag that signified her mysterious gift giver. Her throat tightened as she sank to the bed.

  Delia had done so much for her over the years and somehow she always just knew when Zoe needed her the most.

  She opened the bag, and a delicate gold bracelet fell into her hand. It was small, dainty, and her heart nearly burst at its beauty. It was the bracelet from town, the one she'd admired so many weeks ago. And now it was hers.

  "Oh, my God," she breathed, because Delia hadn't known about the bracelet. No one knew how she'd coveted the beautiful gold chain.

  No one but Ty.

  Clearly he'd remembered how she'd yearned for it … but it meant so much more than that. It meant that all along it had been Ty leaving her the presents. The gloves, the boots, the adding machine. "Oh, Ty," she whispered, covering her mouth with shaking fingers as memories flashed.

  Ty frowning over her cut fingers, and then the gloves mysteriously appearing. Ty pointing at her tennis shoes and demanding she better protect her feet, then the
new boots that had shown up only days later. Ty telling her she worked too hard, that she needed help, and then the adding machine had appeared and had been such a welcome addition to her office.

  Ty had done all of it.

  As Zoe sat there alone on the bed, frightened sick about the man she couldn't stop thinking about, her heart warmed, really warmed, as maybe it never had before.

  "Oh, Ty," she whispered, aching. "Where are you?"

  She'd chased him away. He would come back eventually, sooner than later, because he'd have to for his horses, but things wouldn't be the same. Not when he'd declared his feelings for her and she'd cruelly pushed them away.

  Zoe moaned, dropped her head into her hands. Ty had been through so much in his lifetime, and still he'd managed to recognize love when he felt it. He hadn't been afraid.

  And neither should she. She'd been so terrified, so sure that keeping herself blocked off was the only way. She'd hidden behind her past to do it when she should have been looking to the future.

  She'd gotten hurt, anyway, and it had been of her own doing. It couldn't be too late. Ty was gone, and she could only hope he came back soon, but there were other ways to express this newfound surging of hope and joy and … yes, love.

  It didn't matter how late it was, this couldn't wait. Giddy, she dashed down the hail and flicked on the light in Delia's room.

  With a string of impressive swearwords, the now-rudely awoken Delia covered her eyes. "You'd better be male, gorgeous and built to please," she declared in a voice rough with sleep.

  Zoe laughed. "Sorry. Female, short and—"

  Delia's pillow hit her in the mouth with deadly accuracy, and Zoe happily leaped on the bed to retaliate, but she was quickly pinned beneath her taller, stronger sister.

  "You're dead," Delia swore, sitting on her, but before she could meet that threat, there was a gasp at the door.

  Maddie stood there in a nightie holding Socks, eyes sleepy … and shocked as she gaped at her two wrestling sisters. "What are you two fighting about?"

  "We're not fighting," Zoe managed to say breathlessly, squirming to get free to no avail.