by Marin Thomas
FROM PLAYBOY COWBOY TO...DADDY?
Bronc rider Gunner Hardell never plans past the next stop on the rodeo. When he’s home in Stampede, Texas, he’s part-time manager of the run-down Moonlight Motel, to get his crotchety grandpa off his back. Then he meets interior designer Lydia Canter—hired to renovate the motel—and suddenly the gig gets a whole lot more appealing...
Lydia is looking for love, but there’s nothing wrong with some Mr. Right Now while she waits for Mr. Right. But one steamy night with Gunner has unexpected consequences. And she would rather raise their baby alone than give the good-time cowboy a chance to break her heart. When Gunner learns he’s going to be a daddy, he’s determined to prove to Lydia he really is her Mr. Right!
“The right man for you isn’t on a dating site.”
“How do you know?” Lydia retorted.
“I know because...” The tender expression in Gunner’s eyes rocked her back on her heels. “You’re a special lady in a category all by herself.”
After all the teasing and mocking, Lydia wasn’t sure she believed him.
“And,” he continued, “if you open yourself up to new experiences, you might discover that what you thought you wanted in a man isn’t what you want after all.”
“What kinds of new experiences are you talking about?”
“Ever had a fling?”
She sucked in a quick breath. “No.”
The air sizzled between them. Gunner Hardell wasn’t her type—wasn’t even close to the guys she’d been paired with on savvymatch.com—but there was no denying they were attracted to each other.
His gaze warmed and he tilted his head to the side so the brim of his cowboy hat didn’t bump her in the face.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she said, hoping like crazy that he hadn’t heard her.
Dear Reader,
I’ve never tried an online dating site but I have friends and relatives who’ve joined them and found their perfect match. Those who didn’t... Well, their dating stories would make great fodder for a book! As humans, we are always searching for perfection, for that one person who possesses characteristics and qualities we believe are a perfect match for us.
Needless to say, Gunner Hardell doesn’t come close to the perfect match Lydia Canter is looking for in a husband. And Lydia’s not the kind of woman laid-back cowboy Gunner is looking to have a long-term relationship with. Lydia and Gunner have their lives all mapped out until a night of fun leaves them grappling with an unplanned pregnancy.
I hope you enjoy watching Lydia and Gunner struggle to do what they believe is in the best interests of their child, only to discover that what they think they want isn’t what they really need.
For more information on me and my books, I invite you to visit marinthomas.com. You can keep up-to-date on my current releases and promotional giveaways by signing up for my newsletter at bit.ly/marinthomasupdates.
Happy reading,
Marin
THE COWBOY’S
ACCIDENTAL BABY
Marin Thomas
Marin Thomas grew up in the Midwest, then attended college at the U of A in Tucson, Arizona, where she earned a BA in radio-TV and played basketball for the Lady Wildcats. Following graduation, she married her college sweetheart in the historic Little Chapel of the West in Las Vegas, Nevada. Recent empty-nesters Marin and her husband now live in Texas, where cattle is king, cowboys are plentiful and pickups rule the road. Visit her on the web at marinthomas.com.
Books by Marin Thomas
Harlequin American Romance
Cowboys of the Rio Grande
A Cowboy’s Redemption
The Surgeon’s Christmas Baby
A Cowboy’s Claim
Rodeo Rebels
Rodeo Daddy
The Bull Rider’s Secret
A Rodeo Man’s Promise
Arizona Cowboy
A Cowboy’s Duty
No Ordinary Cowboy
The Cash Brothers
The Cowboy Next Door
Twins Under the Christmas Tree
Her Secret Cowboy
The Cowboy’s Destiny
True Blue Cowboy
A Cowboy of Her Own
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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To all of my readers *waves* who can’t get enough of my cowboy stories, which is a good thing since I really like writing them.
#Stampede #Texas #CowboysofStampedeTexas #LongLiveCowboys #Cowgirl #Cowboy #Boots #CountryMusic #Rodeo #BroncBusting #BullRiding #Romance #HappyEverAfter
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Excerpt from The Cowboy Upstairs by Tanya Michaels
Chapter One
“You ever seen a cowboy ride a bull, sweetheart?” Gunner Hardell winked at the sassy redhead he was flirting with Saturday afternoon in the Gold Buckle Bar—the best cowboy saloon in Mesquite, Texas.
“No.” Eyes as big as the Lone Star State and brown as the muddy Rio Grande blinked at Gunner.
“Well, Pa...” Dang, what was her name? Patricia... Patsy... Pamela? “You’re in for a real treat because—”
“Hardell, I got ten bucks that says you won’t make it to eight.”
The redhead forgotten, Gunner spun and grinned at the cowboy striding his way. “Watch and weep, Johnson.” He crossed the squishy mat and made a big production of circling Diablo, the infamous bucking machine. The bar had purchased the mechanical bull a while ago, but Gunner had yet to test it out.
“Be careful!” Redhead whatever-her-name-was called out.
Johnson mimicked the buckle bunny and male chuckles erupted, but Gunner paid no mind. His competition was just jealous that the prettiest, sexiest girls gravitated toward him. While his buddies practiced their macho swaggering walks and sulky expressions, Gunner smiled and treated the barflies like ladies, endearing himself to the opposite sex. The young women competed to be Gunner’s one and only, but none had convinced him to trade in his bachelorhood for a pair of matching wedding bands.
Gunner eyed the bucking machine. After he’d entered the bar earlier, he’d hidden in the shadows and watched the big shots take turns on the ride. The bull was a far cry from a real one, but it snorted smoke and challenged the most athletic cowboys with three riding levels—easy, medium and insane. The GoPro camera that came with the machine displayed each ride on the high-definition video screens throughout the bar and Gunner couldn’t wait to see how good he looked on TV.
“What’ll it be, Hardell? Easy or insane?”
“You have to ask, Tex?”
The machine operator spoke into the microphone. “Gather round, folks, ’cause Gunner Hardell picked insane!”
The onlookers chanted, “Insane! Insane! Insane!”
Cowboys—the real ones and the wannabes—circled the mat and money exchanged hands.
Gunner swung his leg over the cowhide-covered machine. Bull riding wasn’t his specialty. His almost-six-foot frame preferred broncs. He slid on a riding glove, then wrapped the rope around his hand before sliding forward and finding his center of gravity. He glanced at the redhead, whose hands were clasped together, and she seemed to be praying as if she were in church and not a cowboy honky-tonk.
Deep breath. Take another. Gunner closed his eyes and imagined the ride. As soon as he raised his hand and signaled that he was ready, Tex would flip the switch to Insane and the bull would do three things in rapid succession: rise up, pitch forward at a ninety-degree angle and swing left. The motion would then repeat in the opposite direction and launch its victim into the air.
If he had his way, Gunner would be the first that afternoon to go the distance.
He took one last deep breath and then raised his left hand. A moment later the machine jerked, and his stomach muscles tightened as he blocked out the noise of the crowd. The echo of his harsh breathing and the angry, high-pitched snorts from the machine were the only sounds reaching his ears.
He kept his seat during the first rotation and ticked off the seconds in his head. He reached five when Diablo pitched forward instead of spinning left like he’d anticipated. Gunner had no time to react as he suddenly flew forward and did a face-plant in the mat. Grinning, he got to his feet, picked up his hat and bowed to the ladies, who, bless their hearts, were cheering as if he’d won a gold buckle.
“You owe me ten bucks, Hardell,” Johnson said.
“Yeah, yeah.” When Gunner stepped off the mat, a waitress handed him a bottle of beer with a piece of paper shoved inside the neck.
“Compliments of Mac.” Mac managed the bar. “The note’s from your grandfather.”
This couldn’t be good. He fished out the folded paper. Get your blasted backside home. We got trouble.
Now what? Grandpa Emmett was always bellyaching about something. Gunner looked longingly at the beer before setting the bottle on the table. He turned to leave, but the redhead blocked his path. Her mouth puckered in a sexy pout. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Sorry, sweet thing. Duty calls.”
“Duty?”
He leaned in and whispered, “Grandpa Hardell is having one of his fits and he needs me.”
Her eyes grew misty. “It’s so sweet that you take care of your grandfather.”
“Us Hardells are like that. Family comes first.” In reality Gunner gave his eldest brother and grandfather a wide berth because both men were always in a bad mood. “Take care of yourself, sugar.” He kissed the redhead’s cheek because women went nuts when he did that. Ninety-nine percent of the time, a kiss on the cheek won him an invitation to accompany the lady home. Thanks to Gramps, he was flying solo today.
He stepped outside and squinted against the bright sunlight. It was the end of May and the temps were already inching toward ninety—another long, hot summer in South Texas.
Gunner climbed into his Chevy pickup and cranked the air-conditioning. The last time he’d checked in with his grandfather had been a week ago and the old man had been his usual grumpy self. Maybe Logan had done something to piss him off, which was a long shot, because Gunner’s sainted older brother never did anything wrong.
He headed north on I-35. After fifteen miles the gas indicator light popped on. He took the next exit off the highway and pulled into a Valero gas station. A blue Honda Civic with Wisconsin plates sat parked at the pump in front of him. He felt bad for all the cheeseheads who had to suffer through the notoriously frigid dairyland winters.
He slid his credit card into the reader, then stuck the nozzle into the neck of the gas tank. While he waited, a pretty blonde stepped out of the convenience mart. A gust of wind blew her long hair in her face and she swatted the strands from her eyes. She was a few inches shorter than his six-foot frame, but her strides ate up the pavement—the lady was in a hurry to get to somewhere.
As she strolled past his pickup—without glancing his way—a sense of déjà vu hit him, but he couldn’t recall where he might have met her. The gray slacks and silky blouse buttoned to her collarbone insisted she was all work and no play. Not his usual type.
She got into her car and drove off. As he watched the Civic head south, he contemplated following her—just to see if he could coax a smile from her. With his luck, Miss Badger State would have mace in her car and spray his face with it.
His phone beeped with a text message from Logan.
Grandpa’s birthday’s tomorrow. Buy him something from us.
K. Why does he want me to come home?
IDK He’s been pissy since Amelia Rinehart stopped by.
The old woman was poking her nose into his grandfather’s business again.
Be home soon.
Gunner stuffed the phone into his pants pocket and returned the gas nozzle to the holder, then went into the store and examined the souvenirs on display by the drink machine.
The options for birthday gifts were limited to bags of pecans, a faux-leather wallet with an image of the Texas state flag stamped on it, an Alamo snow globe, a wooden rattlesnake and an armadillo key chain. The rattler won—it fit his grandfather’s personality.
“Eight dollars and sixty-six cents,” the clerk said after Gunner set the snake and his fountain drink on the counter.
“Throw a pack of Marlboro on there.” Gramps had quit smoking years ago but lit up on special occasions. Maybe the lung darts would settle the old man down.
Back in the pickup, he flipped on the radio and Johnny Cash’s voice came through the speakers. The town of Stampede was only ten minutes up the highway. Three songs later he moved over to the shoulder, then turned onto the dirt road that led to Paradise Ranch, a.k.a. Ornery Acres. Gunner and his siblings had nicknamed the homestead after their grandfather’s sunny disposition.
Grandpa Emmett had always been cantankerous, but he’d grown crabbier after Grandma Sara had passed away from cancer and then five years later Gunner’s father had been struck by a car and killed while changing a flat tire on the side of the road. From that day on, Gramps had become almost impossible to live with.
Since Gunner and his brothers didn’t have a mother—they had one, but she’d taken off before Grandma Sara had died—their father and then grandfather had been saddled with riding herd over three rowdy boys and Gramps had never been good at herding.
After he parked in front of the sprawling one-story wood-and-stone ranch house, he entered through the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Shuffling sounds came from the hallway and he quickly stuffed the bag with the cigarettes and wooden snake in it beneath the kitchen sink. Seconds later his grandfather walked into the room.
“The last time you looked that angry, I broke the handle on the upstairs toilet,” Gunner said.
Gramps hitched his pants. “That woman’s determined to shove me off the wagon.”
Grandpa Emmett was an alcoholic—Gunner’s father had been one, too. So far he and his brothers hadn’t followed in the family tradition and Gunner planned on keeping it that way. Hoping to cajole his grandfather out of his bad mood, he said, “You want to eat out tomorrow for your birthday?”
“I’m too damned old to celebrate birthdays.”
“Eighty-five is hardly old,” Gunner teased. “You’re practically a spring chicken.”
“My private parts ain’t sprung in years, boy.”
“They’ve got little blue pills for that, Gramps. I can call Doc Jones and have him write you a prescription.” His suggestion earned him another glare.
“What has Amelia Rinehart done this time to get your dander up?” The old woman had been best friends with Gunner’s grandmother, but she rubbed Gramps the wrong way and no one knew why.
“That wackadoodle gets an idea in her head and she can’t le
t it go.”
“What idea?”
“She says the town needs a makeover.”
“What kind of makeover?”
“She wants to spruce up the Moonlight Motel—” the old man’s pointer finger wagged in front of Gunner’s face “—because you’ve let it fall into disrepair.”
“It doesn’t make sense to give it a face-lift.” Tourists had quit visiting Stampede years ago, instead bypassing the town and spending their money in nearby Mesquite and Rocky Point.
“If you ran the motel better, Amelia wouldn’t be sticking her nose into our affairs.”
Gunner admitted that his management skills could use a little work, but flirting with buckle bunnies, singing karaoke and riding Diablo were a heck of a lot more fun than babysitting a dumpy motel while waiting for a wayward traveler to rent a room. “Amelia can think it needs fixing up all she wants, but you own the property, so you can tell her to bug off and pester someone else.”
“No, I can’t.”
Gunner started at the serious tone in the old man’s voice. “Why not?”
“I never paid back the money I borrowed from Amelia to buy the motel for your grandmother.”
“I thought the bank loaned you the money.”
“The bank wouldn’t give me a second loan.”
“Second loan? What was the first?”
Gramps waved his hand in the air. “Never mind that. I owe Amelia $130,000 for the motel and I don’t have the money to pay her. She says she’ll forgive the loan if I let her fix it up.”
“Who’s footing the bill for the improvements?”
“She is.”
“A waste of cash if you ask me,” Gunner said.
“There’s nothing I can do to stop her.” His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “And you’re going to help her.”
“Help Amelia how?”
“Not Amelia. You’re helping her niece renovate the motel. The sooner you get it fixed up, the sooner that old woman quits pestering me.”
“What about my rodeo schedule?”
