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“The poor bastard,” he said softly. “He’s in love!”
Damian grinned back at him. “And another one bites the dust,” he said, and waved the bartender over for celebratory shots of Grey Goose.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALYSSA was not in a very good mood.
Even that assessment was generous.
She was in a miserable, horrible, don’t-even-talk-to-me mood, and there was no good reason for it.
Life was definitely on the upswing.
The bank and the tax collector were off her back. El Rancho Grande was hers. She’d wasted all of two minutes debating whether or not to let the Reyes deal go through and accept the deed from the Spanish prince.
Her mouth thinned as she slipped the bridle over Bebé’s massive black head.
Two minutes had been too long.
Felix Reyes had agreed to buy El Rancho Grande; Aloysius had agreed to sell it. The arrangement had been legitimate enough except for the ridiculous marriage clause. There were times she still felt as if she’d been the victim of a tasteless joke but so what?
In the end, the Spanish prince had at least done one decent thing.
Damned right, he had.
The land was hers. It would always have been hers if Aloysius hadn’t lied to her all her life and never mind all that nonsense Felix had spouted about Aloysius wanting the best for her.
This was the best for her. The ranch, George and Davey working it with her, the half a dozen horses she’d taken in to board and train…
Not the Spanish prince.
Never him.
Bebé snorted and tossed his head. Alyssa smiled and stroked the stallion’s arched neck.
“Of course,” she told him. “You’re what’s best for me, too.”
Yes, life was definitely good and getting better, and if she could just stop thinking about the miserable, arrogant Spanish prince and all the things she should have said to him and hadn’t, she’d be in a much better mood.
She certainly didn’t think about him for any other reason.
“What’s the matter with Alyssa?” she’d overheard Davey whisper to George the other day.
She’d heard the thwack of George’s tobacco juice hitting the dirt and then he’d said, well, he weren’t sure but mebbe it had somethin’ to do with her missing the Spanish guy.
“I do not miss the Spanish guy,” she’d said, stepping into view, “and don’t you two have anything better to do than gossip?”
Later, she’d apologized by making apple pie for dessert because it wasn’t George’s fault, thinking she missed Lucas. He had no way of knowing she hated Lucas. Despised him. That she never, ever wanted to see him again…
Alyssa’s throat tightened. She blinked; her eyes were suddenly damp. A cold. A damned cold coming on, that was what it was. Just what she needed, with two more horses due this afternoon.
She led Bebé into the August morning for their usual early ride before things got busy—6:00 a.m. and it was already hot. Well, that was Texas, she thought as she swung onto the stallion’s back.
It was night now at the Monroy ranch. At the estate in Marbella, too. It would be warm but the breezes would be cool, one from the lush trees, the other from the sea.
And who gave a damn?
Heat or no heat, she preferred Texas.
