Red's Hot Cowboy

by Carolyn Brown

  “He married my friend.”

  “Luck of the Irish,” the cowboy said as he filled out the card.

  “What?” Pearl asked.

  He pulled the card across the countertop toward him and laid down a bill. “I don’t use credit cards. If Digger makes a mess in your precious room, I’ll pay for it in cash. I said the luck of the Irish, and I was talkin’ about Rye. Man had to be lucky to get a woman like that.”

  Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, darlin’. I’m at Kayla’s party and I don’t see you here. I miss you. Are you sick?” Tyler asked.

  She shut her eyes briefly and saw him… tall, blond, dimples, and damn, but he could kiss good. She sighed as she rang up the money.

  “I’m working. I’ve moved to Henrietta and I’m running a motel. No party for me tonight,” she said.

  “Ah, sugar, that stinks,” he said. “I’ll call later in the week. Maybe we can meet up in Dallas for a weekend?”

  “Don’t hold your breath. Tell Kayla hello for me.” Pearl handed the cowboy a key to room one and a nickel in change and watched him fill out the card. His sexier-than-hell eyes were topped with black brows and set off by ultra-thick black lashes. His high cheekbones and black shaggy hair left no doubt that there was some Native American blood in his gene pool. His angular face was softened by a lopsided dimple on the left side when he took time away from the card to smile at his dog.

  Yes, the whole bad boy package down to the smile, which reminded her too damn much of Vince, and that was one place she was not going on Christmas Eve.

  A man who likes dogs can’t be all bad, and dammit he’s hot, her heart said.

  His dimple deepened. “So you got to work instead of play. Too bad. You look like someone who’d rather be at a party.”

  “That’s called eavesdropping,” she said.

  “I wasn’t listening in on your conversation. Couldn’t help but hear a man who’s yelling above the crowd when he talks.”

  She shot him a go-to-hell look, which worked the reverse when she realized just how sexy his eyes were.

  What in the hell is the matter with me? Probably the fact that I haven’t had a date in weeks, haven’t been to dinner or a movie. Hell, I haven’t even been to the ice cream store with a man in forever. No one told me being an entrepreneur in a little bitty town took away every chance for a date. I want a date with a hot cowboy that looks like this for my Christmas present. The thought startled her so bad that she almost blushed.

  “You stay away from that man,” her mother’s voice said so close that Pearl looked over her shoulder to see if she’d snuck into the lobby through the back door.

  She willed herself to think about all the cleaning she’d have to do the next day to get the thoughts and her mother’s voice out of her head.

  “So when did Pearlita hire you? Last time I was here she was still runnin’ the place by herself,” the cowboy asked as he signed his name to the bottom of the card.

  “Pearlita was my aunt. She passed away and I inherited the place,” Pearl said.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said softly.

  “Thank you,” she said as she reached under the counter and flipped the light switch to add the word NO to VACANCY. “Sleep well. I’ll lock up behind you.”

  “Good night, Red,” he said with a wicked grin as she shut the door.

  She shook her fist and gave him her best drop-graveyard-dead look.

  “Who is he anyway?” she asked as she made her way back to the counter and picked up the card.

  Wil Marshall. One l on the first name, two on the second.

  “Wil Marshall.” The name rolled off her tongue and created a warm spot low in her belly. “Hell, it even sounds like a bad boy name, and I’m not getting tangled up with another bad boy. I learned my lesson the first time, and as bad as I hate to admit it, Momma was right about bad boys.”

  His address was a rural route, phone number still out of Henrietta. He drove a spanking new Chevrolet Silverado truck with Texas plates. And he had a grin that was part sexy and the other part pure wicked.

  “Wil Marshall, you sleep well and then get the hell out of my motel. I don’t need the heat that sexy grin of yours brings on,” she said.

  She slipped through the door into her living quarters and found Delilah sitting on the coffee table licking her paws as if cleaning all that horrid dog smell from her claws.

  “Poor baby,” Pearl crooned as she stroked the cat’s long fur. “Guess you showed that miserable slobbering dog who was boss, didn’t you? If his master ever calls me Red again I will turn you loose to show him he’s not the boss either.”

  She slumped down into the sofa, glad that she’d decided to keep the comfortable old furniture. She’d started to donate all of it to a charity but then decided at the last minute to put hers in storage until she could figure out just what improvements she intended to make to the motel. The gold velvet sofa was ugly as sin on Sunday morning but comfortable; the old chrome dining room table and four red padded chairs to match were old as God but serviceable; the bedroom suite that had belonged to Pearlita’s mother and an oak desk bought at an estate auction the year the motel opened were still usable. When she was a little girl, Pearl had wondered whether Moses or Noah had built that desk. Now she knew it predated both of them.

  It was her first night to be truly full since she’d reopened after being closed a week when her great-aunt died a month before. Pearlita’s lawyer read her the will that left everything to her—the motel and all the that. Pearl jumped on the opportunity, used her vacation time as notice, and became a businesswoman overnight.

  She and her long-time friend, Austin, had had a memorial for Pearlita on the Texas side of the Red River across the bridge from Terral. Austin said it was the same setup as she’d had for her grandmother back around Easter time, and that’s where Pearlita had gotten the idea of a no-nonsense send-off.

  She and Austin had stood on the river that foggy day, dumped her aunt’s ashes into the river, waited until they floated away in the cold clay-colored water, and then went to lunch at the Peach Orchard over in Terral. It didn’t seem right or proper to watch something as vital as Aunt Pearlita get washed down the river. She wasn’t even sure it was legal and hoped her aunt didn’t wind up in the belly of an Angus bull that drank from the river.

  That evening Pearl had gone to the Longhorn Inn and set up business. Five rooms a night was a busy night. Once she had seven customers and she and Delilah had shared a bottle of beer in celebration. But slow business had allowed her time to work on a couple of online hospitality courses, and she’d already written down dozens of new ideas that she’d gleaned from the courses. She was just about ready to take on the remodeling job but first she had to decide exactly what she wanted the place to look like and what kind of feel she wanted it to have.

  Quaint and romantic. The new phrase ran though her mind as she stroked the cat’s fur, and she liked it better than all the modern ideas she’d come up with. In the spring she’d make a final decision, but right then she tried to come up with a sign to replace old doofus cowboy with his bowlegs and flashing neon sign.

  “Hell, girl, tomorrow after we clean all the rooms, we may break out a whole six-pack of Coors.” Pearl pulled her kinky red hair up into a ponytail in preparation for a shower. “You get all those nasty old dog germs off you and I’ll go get my shower. We’ll get a good night’s sleep, and as soon as they all check out we’ll start cleaning in the morning.”

  A long mournful howl stopped her in her tracks as she made her way from the living room toward the bathroom. She’d only heard noises like that in scary movies when a dog was sitting on top of a grave. Mercy, this was Christmas Eve and not Halloween. Was the motel haunted? Was Aunt Pearlita punishing her for all the hell she’d given her through the years?

  “Damn dog!” She swore when she realized it was Digger in room one and not a ghost dog sent by her late aun
t.

  The phone rang. She hurried to the bedroom where the second line from the motel lobby was located. She grabbed it on the third ring and started to carry it back to the living room, but the whole phone came crashing down from the end table. Aunt Pearlita hadn’t seen the need to invest in a cordless when the old blue desk type phone worked just fine.

  “Longhorn Inn, may I help you?”

  Wil Marshall’s deep drawl answered. “Would you please ask those folks in the next room to lighten up on the noise? The headboard is banging against the wall, and she’s wailing and moaning like a banshee. Sounds like his Christmas present is a helluva lot better than mine.”

  “They are newlyweds. And they were here before you,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “They’re upsetting Digger and if I can hear them, then you can probably hear him,” Wil said.

  “I can.” She heard another mournful howl loud and clear. “I’ll tell them to keep it down.”

  “Thank you!”

  She could’ve sworn she heard him whisper “Red” at the end of the last sentence, but it could have been something he said to his dog. Still it aggravated her enough to set her off in a swearing tirade that lasted all of thirty seconds before the phone rang again.

  “I told you I’d call,” she said shortly.

  “Call who? This is Allie Green in room three and that’s no way for you to answer your business phone, young lady. There’s a terrible fight going on in the room next door and I think they’ve got a dog in there because every so often I hear something howling like a dog. I don’t cotton to people beating dogs or women. You need to tell them to keep down the noise,” she said.

  “They are newlyweds,” Pearl said.

  “Dear God, I’m glad I didn’t put my grandchildren in this room. Their sweet innocent ears sure don’t need to hear such goings on. Make them be quiet. I can hear them above the television set. Did I hear you say there would be breakfast in the lobby in the morning?”

  “No, ma’am. We do not serve breakfast.”

  That was something on her list for the new updated motel; maybe starting with coffee, juice, and an assortment of donuts, but even that was going to take some major remodeling.

  “Well, that’s a shame. A few donuts and a cup of coffee wouldn’t break you. This ain’t much of a room anyway. Not having breakfast sure doesn’t make up for it.”

  “But it does have electricity and heat,” Pearl said.

  “Don’t argue with me. You take care of those people in room two. People shouldn’t carry on like that even if it is their honeymoon. What is this world comin’ to? I swear, sex on television, sex in ads, sex in magazines, and now I have to listen to it next door in a motel. It’s disgraceful, I tell you. Do something about it right now.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Good-bye,” Pearl said.

  Chaos!

  Aunt Pearlita had been a prophet!

  She pushed the number for the newlywed’s room and on the fifth ring a woman answered with a breathless giggle.

  “I’m sorry to call you on your honeymoon, but I’ve got complaints about the noise on both sides of you,” Pearl said.

  “We’ll hold it down,” the girl giggled. “Would you please call whoever is in room one and tell them to shut that howling dog up? He’s making more noise than we are. And the old lady in room three has been pounding on the wall with something. You’re probably going to find holes in the sheetrock tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,” Pearl said.

  She sighed as she hung up. Did all those businesspeople with bright shining eyes who sat across from her loan desk in the bank have days and nights like this? If they did, it was a wonder they didn’t throw in the towel and tell her to foreclose on their businesses. The dog set up another bone chilling howl. Delilah shot behind the sofa like a lightning streak and the phone rang again.

  “Front desk,” she said.

  “This is room five. My grandmother rented three rooms, remember. We’ve only got four towels and there are three of us in here and we all have to wash our hair and we need more towels,” a teenage girl said.

  “Come on down to the lobby and I’ll get some more ready,” Pearl said.

  “Oh, no! We can’t leave the room or Granny will get really mad. She looked out the window and saw that cowboy going into room one and said if we left our room we’d be sorry. Besides, we are already undressed and in our pajamas and it is freezing out there. You bring them to us,” she said.

  “I’ll be right down.” Pearl sighed.

  She gathered up half a dozen towels in case the girls all needed to primp again the next morning, put on her jacket, and braced against the bitter sting of sleet when it hit her face. Digger barked from the other side of the door in room one. Giggles and laughter came from room two. In the next room she heard nagging tones with a bit of pure old bitching thrown in. By the time she got to room five her nose was frozen and there was a fine layer of sleet on top of the stack of towels.

  She knocked on the door, yelled “room service,” and grumbled as she waited a full minute before kicking the door with her boot and yelling again.

  A teenage girl swung open the door. “It’s the towels,” she singsonged to her cousins.

  The oldest one looked up from the middle of the bed and then went back to texting on her cell phone. “Well, shit! I thought it might be that cowboy!”

  Pearl laid the towels on the bed. “I brought a few extra in case you need them in the morning.”

  “Thanks,” the older one said without taking her eyes from her cell phone where her thumbs were working so fast they were a blur.

  “Good night, ladies.” Pearl backed out of the room.

  She kept her head down against the blowing sleet and hurried back toward the lobby. If she had to go out again that night she was putting on a heavier jacket, for sure. She didn’t see the boots until she was face-to-face with the cowboy from room one. She came to a halt so fast that it made her woozy. When she looked up into his eyes, she just got dizzier.

  “You need to watch where you are going. You came close to plowin’ right into me,” he said.

  “You could have stepped to one side and let me keep going rather than stopping me in the middle of a sleet storm,” she snapped.

  “I tried calling the office but you weren’t answering. I was on my way to beat on the door. Those little girls in four are calling my room every five minutes. They’re giggling and saying that they think cowboys are sexy. They said if I’d bring beer we’d have a party,” he growled.

  “You got a cell phone?” she asked gruffly. Christmas Eve was supposed to be fun and magical, not crazy.

  He nodded.

  “Then simply unplug the motel phone from the wall and no one can pester you,” she said.

  He folded his arms across his chest. The woman was pretty with the sleet sticking to her red hair, but she looked like she had one of them hot tempers to go with her red hair.

  The wind was chilling to the bone and the tank top he wore with his flannel pajama bottoms did little to keep out the cold, but he wasn’t about to lose the battle of the stare-down with the pretty motel owner.

  “People ought to keep a better handle on their kids. That’s the way trouble starts.”

  “You’d better get back inside before you get frostbite.” She let her eyes roam over his broad chest and hunky biceps.

  You are one to talk about trouble, cowboy. It oozes out of your pores like sweat on a hot summer day.

  He dropped his arms but didn’t look away from her eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do. I can take care of myself.”

  Pearl popped her hands on her hips. “Don’t look like you’re doin’ too good a job to me. You’re going to have pneumonia in the morning if you don’t get inside where it’s warm. Even your stupid dog has enough sense to stay in out of this weather and he’s got a fur coat.”

  He stepped into his room and slammed the door with a loud bang.

  The
phone was ringing when she opened the lobby door. Delilah was sitting on the sofa staring at it as if with her evil yellow-eyed glare she could send the noisy thing into room one with that other horrible creature who’d barked at her.

  Pearl grabbed it and said, “Longhorn Inn, may I help you?”

  “This is Georgiana over in room twenty-three. There’s a spider in my bathroom and I’m terrified of spiders. Send someone to kill it,” she whimpered.

  Pearl rolled her eyes and wondered if old Digger would be interested in killing a big, mean spider. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “The door is unlocked. I’m standing in the middle of the bed. I won’t get down until that thing is dead, so come on in,” Georgiana said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pearl said and hung up.

  Pearl picked up a can of bug spray and a flyswat and grumbled the whole way across the parking lot as she made her way between cars and trucks. The sleet had gotten serious. A thin layer covered the parking lot and stuck to the vehicle windshields. She knocked on the door, announced herself as pest control, and opened it to find Georgiana right where she said she’d be.

  The woman had to top six feet because her head was almost touching the ceiling when she stood in the middle of the bed hugging a pillow like a shield. She wore a flimsy red lace teddy and shivered like she’d been snow skiing in that getup. She had a shoulder span that would rival a Dallas Cowboy linebacker and hair so big they’d have had to order her a special helmet if she’d played for them. “You’ve got to kill it and flush it down the potty because I’m afraid of dead ones too. I thought you’d send your husband to do this kind of work.”

  For a split second Pearl wondered if the red teddy and the fear was in hopes that a man would rush to her aid and she’d repay him for his chivalry in ways that would blow the bottom out of that commandment about adultery.

  “No husband. Just me, but I’m armed and dangerous.” Pearl held up the bug spray and the swat.

  And chaos truly does rule tonight, Pearl thought on her way to the bathroom. It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of spiders. A mouse would be a different thing altogether. If it had been one of those varmints you’d be standing on the bed until you starved to death or until you talked Santa Claus into chasin’ it down for you.