The Rancher's Surrender Read online

  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