by Marin Thomas
“You can chase the girls after you finish with the motel.”
Gunner raised his hands in the air. “Why does everyone think I rodeo for the buckle bunnies and not for the broncs?”
“Maybe because you don’t make any money at it.”
He ignored his grandfather’s quip and asked, “Which niece am I helping?” Amelia Rinehart had three nieces close to Gunner and his brothers’ ages.
“Lydia Canter.”
His memory recalled the unfriendly blonde at the gas station with Wisconsin plates on her car. No wonder he’d felt a sense of déjà vu at the Valero. He’d seen Lydia in church at her uncle’s funeral years ago. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but her hair had been the same pale blond and just as long.
Suddenly Gunner was thinking that the Moonlight Motel might need a face-lift after all.
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s been nine years since I last visited Stampede.” Lydia sat on the front porch of her great-aunt’s brick Victorian. The home looked out of place in a town comprised mostly of single-story brick homes.
“A funeral is hardly considered a visit, dear.”
Lydia’s smile dimmed as she studied her grandmother’s eldest sister. “Are you lonely, Aunt Amelia?”
“Sometimes, but Robert and I had fifty-two years together. More than many couples get these days.”
“Mom sends her love,” Lydia said.
“How is your mother?”
“Busy with work.” Lydia’s mother was always busy. Her career came first before family. Every once in a while Lydia suspected her mother was disappointed that her only child hadn’t followed in her footsteps and become a lawyer, instead choosing a career in interior design.
Aunt Amelia was the eldest of the four Westin daughters and the only one living. Her three sisters had passed away in their seventies, each leaving behind an only child—a daughter. Lydia and her cousins, Scarlett and Sadie, had been named after their grandmothers. Aunt Amelia had never had children and Lydia thought it was sad that her great-aunt didn’t have a granddaughter named after her.
Lydia reached inside her purse for a tissue and her aunt asked, “Are you feeling any better?”
“A little.” When her aunt had phoned to summon Lydia to Texas, Lydia had just gotten home from a doctor’s appointment, where she’d been diagnosed with an ear and sinus infection. The last thing she’d wanted to do was board a plane all stuffed up, but she hadn’t had the heart to turn down her aunt’s request—not after the generous check Amelia had sent Lydia for her college graduation. The money had paid off more than half her student-loan debt. Rather than risk her head exploding on the airplane, Lydia had driven from Wisconsin to Texas.
“The doctor put me on an antibiotic.” She’d been prescribed two weeks’ worth of heavy-duty meds, and although Lydia was feeling much better, she’d been told to take all of the pills until they were gone.
“Did you ever get rid of those antique school desks?” Lydia remembered playing with her cousins in the attic when their families visited Stampede together in the summers.
“I have them. I wish Sadie would bring her boys to visit. They’d love playing on the third floor.”
“Being a single parent is tough. Sadie spends most of her free time shuffling Tommy and Tyler to and from their activities.”
“How often do you get together with your cousins?”
“We try to have a girls’ night out once a month. And Scarlett and I trade off attending the twins’ extracurricular activities.”
“I’m glad you three are close. I have fond memories of growing up with my sisters.” Amelia smiled. “We caused our fair share of trouble.”
“Grandma said you were the ringleader.”
Amelia laughed. “Sometimes, but not always. Your grandmother hogged the bathroom every morning and made us late for school most days.”
“I’m glad you kept this house after Uncle Robert passed away.”
“I’ll never forget the first time I met him,” Amelia said. “I was sweaty, dusty, and my hair windblown after chasing our hound dog all the way into town. Barney was an escape artist and Father threatened to get rid of him if we couldn’t keep him in the yard.” Amelia poked Lydia’s shoulder. “Your grandmother was supposed to watch him that day, but she’d snuck off with a girlfriend. Thank goodness I happened to step outside right when Barney chewed through his leash and ran off.”
Lydia had heard this story before from her grandmother but kept quiet so her great-aunt could spin her tale. “I looked like a rag doll by the time I found Robert sharing an ice-cream cone with Barney in front of the Woolworth building. I was about to call out for the dog when Robert glanced up and our gazes connected.”
“What did you think when you first saw Uncle Robert?”
“I’d never seen a more handsome, well-dressed man in my entire life.”
Lydia’s mother had told her that Uncle Robert had been an up-and-coming executive for Shell Oil when he’d passed through Stampede and had swept eighteen-year-old Amelia off her feet.
“I thanked him for entertaining Barney and went on my way. It wasn’t until later that I heard about an oilman checking out the area and learned that man was the one who’d caught Barney.” Amelia stared into space as if reliving the past, then blinked and smiled at Lydia. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your boyfriend, Ryan.”
It had been over a year since the relationship had ended and Lydia was ready to move on. “I joined an online dating service.” She’d paid for the subscription a week before her aunt requested her help. Lydia had only had time to create her profile before packing her suitcase and driving south.
“The internet isn’t safe. A young girl as pretty as you should be able to find a man without the help of a computer.”
Lydia’s fingers curled into her palms. “It’s difficult to socialize and meet people when you’re on a tight budget and trying to get a business off the ground.”
“I don’t understand why you left the company you were working for. What was the name of that place? Design...”
“Design Logistics. I quit because I wanted control over my work.” What she’d really wanted was credit for her designs. Lydia’s boss, Ellen, hadn’t allowed her to meet with clients. It was by accident that she’d discovered Ellen had been taking credit for Lydia’s ideas. When she requested a raise and was turned down, she’d struck out on her own and learned the hard way that it wasn’t easy winning new clients when you had no references.
“What about meeting eligible bachelors through Sadie’s and Scarlett’s friends?” her aunt asked.
“It’s not easy finding someone you’re compatible with.”
“All this talk about compatibility is ridiculous. Your uncle and I were raised very differently, but we made it work.”
“I work out of my apartment, which makes it even more challenging to meet new people.” And to add salt to the wound, Lydia’s friends from college were all married and starting families. She was the odd woman out, resulting in awkward get-togethers when talk turned to babies, mortgages and the cost of day care.
“What kind of man interests you?”
“Aunt Amelia, I’d rather not talk about my dismal dating life.” She flashed a halfhearted smile. “Can we discuss why I’m here?” What she really needed to be doing was focusing her time and energy on building her client base.
Amelia pointed to the MacBook Air sitting on Lydia’s lap. “I have a business proposition for you.”
“You want to be one of my clients?”
Her aunt nodded.
Lydia glanced around the porch. “Are you thinking of updating the house?”
“No, I’d like you to renovate the old motel on the outskirts of town.”
“The Moonlight Motel?�
�� The janky dump had seen its best years five decades ago. “I thought that place had shut down.”
“It’s still open...when the manager feels like flipping on the vacancy sign.” Amelia snorted. “Stampede is falling apart right before my eyes.”
Lydia’s grandmother had always wished her sister would leave “that godforsaken dusty hideaway for die-hard wranglers and has-been cowboys.”
“Stampede is losing tourist dollars to our neighbors in Rocky Point and Mesquite all because our mayor isn’t willing to put a little money and elbow grease into sprucing up the town.”
“Why the motel?”
“It’s the only place people can stay when they visit Stampede.”
“What shape is the building in?”
“The rooms haven’t been updated since the ’70s.”
“Do you have the approval of the owner to fix it up?”
“I do. And Emmett Hardell’s grandson will be helping you.”
“Which grandson?”
“Gunner manages the motel when he’s not off pretending he’s a rodeo cowboy.”
Lydia recalled the hot look Gunner had sent her in church during her uncle’s funeral. Later that day she’d overheard her mother and Aunt Amelia chatting about the Hardell boys. Her aunt had blamed their wild ways on the lack of a female influence in their lives. The boys’ mother had abandoned the family, and then a few years later their grandmother had passed away, leaving their “tomcatting” father and “irritable” grandfather—Aunt Amelia’s words—to raise the boys.
“How old is Gunner?”
“A year older than you, I believe.”
“As far as renovating the motel,” Lydia said, “you’re just looking to freshen up the paint colors and change the furniture and decor?”
“That’s right. And I’ll pay you for your work.”
“You don’t have to do that, Aunt Amelia.”
“Of course I do.”
Lydia breathed a sigh of relief, happy she wouldn’t have to dig into her dismal savings to cover the bills next month. “I should be able to handle the task.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you to take on this project if I didn’t believe you had the talent and skill to pull it off.”
“Let’s visit the motel in the morning and come up with a design plan.”
“You’ll have to go by yourself, dear. I have choir practice after church services.”
Lydia had forgotten that tomorrow was Sunday.
“As far as decorating ideas, I’m leaving that in your capable hands.”
“What’s my budget?”
“There is no budget. Do what needs to be done to turn the motel into a place people will drive out of their way to spend the night.”
“Are you covering the entire bill for this renovation?”
Her aunt nodded. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, Lydia.”
That was the truth. Everyone in the family knew that Uncle Robert had left Aunt Amelia millions of dollars in stocks and oil investments. “I don’t have many years left on this earth, and before I meet my Maker, I want Stampede to return to its glory days.”
Her aunt would have better odds buying lottery tickets because there was no guarantee that all the beautification in the world would bring tourists back to this hidey-hole-in-the-wall.
“How will I get into the motel rooms to take a look around?”
Her aunt reached into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a key. “This will open the front office and the room keys are hanging on a pegboard behind the counter.”
The motel rooms still used keys? “I’ll have a better idea of the cost of the makeover once I see the place.”
“If the mayor shows up while you’re looking around, just ignore him.”
“Who’s the mayor?”
“I thought you knew.”
Lydia shook her head.
“Emmett Hardell is the mayor.”
“Grandma claimed you were sweet on Emmett when you were in high school. How come you two didn’t end up together?”
“Because the man’s dumb as a rock when it comes to women.” Amelia waved a hand before her face. “He married my best friend, Sara Pritchett. She was a sweet girl.”
Lydia wondered if the mayor had any idea what he was up against, taking on Aunt Amelia. If he didn’t, he was about to find out.
Chapter Two
Sunday morning Lydia woke up and stared into her open suitcase. She wanted to make a good first impression with the Moonlight Motel manager—even if he was just a country boy. If she wanted Gunner Hardell to take her seriously, then she’d better dress as a professional. She picked out a black maxi skirt and a short-sleeved white poppy-print blouse, then headed for the shower.
A half hour later with her wet hair secured in a bun at the back of her head, she walked into an empty kitchen. Her aunt had left a note on the table. Good luck today. After washing her antibiotic down with a glass of orange juice, she took her bowl of bran flakes outside and ate breakfast on the front porch swing.
Her aunt’s home sat on the corner of Buckaroo Avenue and Vaquero Lane. A yellow butterfly vine in full bloom covered the wrought iron fence enclosing the front yard. A large magnolia tree shaded the porch and smaller crepe myrtle trees lined the driveway, their pink blooms scattered across the black asphalt. Boston ferns hung from ornate vintage hooks along the porch overhang and a pot of daisies sat on the table between a pair of white rockers at the end of the porch.
Aunt Amelia took pride in her home and Lydia wasn’t surprised that she wanted to tidy up the town. All of her neighbors kept their properties neatly landscaped—even the yard of the home with a for-sale sign out front had been mowed recently.
Lydia swallowed the last bite of cereal and returned inside to brush her teeth and put on lip gloss. With her computer in hand, she grabbed her purse and left the house. She drove through town at a snail’s pace—not much had changed since she’d last visited Stampede.
Three blocks of businesses formed Chuck Wagon Drive, the main thoroughfare. The brick buildings dated back to the late 1800s and early 1900s—the National Bank and Trust still remained a bank. The old Woolworth had closed its doors decades ago and now the building housed the Cattle Drive Café on the main floor, the town library in the basement and Statewide Insurance on the third level. The feedstore built circa the 1870s took up an entire block, the doors and windows boarded over. Years of baking in the hot sun had bleached the wood gray. For Sale had been spray-painted on the side of the building.
There were no stop signs in Stampede, just slow signs posted along the side streets. The third block along the main thoroughfare consisted of newer brick storefronts, but the Saddle Up Saloon’s window had a huge crack through it and the sign for the Crazy Curl Hair Salon hung crooked. An out-of-business poster had been taped to the window of the Buckets of Suds coin-operated laundry. Right next door a rocking chair and overturned milk can sat in the display window of Millie’s Antiques & Resale—Open Saturdays had been painted across the window.
The old Amoco filling station on the corner had been converted into a farmers’ market. Empty vegetable and fruit crates littered the back of the lot next to a dilapidated snow-cone stand. The Corner Market sat at the end of the block—Lydia remembered walking there as a kid and buying five-cent candy.
There was no landscaping in front of the businesses, no benches to sit on or flowerpots to admire—nothing but bare sidewalks with weeds growing through the cracks in the cement. No wonder Aunt Amelia was frustrated with the mayor’s lack of interest in beautifying the town. Stampede was aptly named—it looked as if a herd of renegade bovines had trampled the life out of it.
After the last block Lydia hit the gas. A half mile up the highway, the sign for Moonlight Motel came into view—a ful
l moon sitting on top of a forty-foot pole. When the sign was turned on, the moon glowed white and spun in a slow circle. No Vacancy was spelled out across the moon, and depending on whether or not the motel was full, the letters in the Vacancy or No Vacancy glowed blue against the white backdrop of the moon.
She pulled into the parking lot of the six-room tan brick motel and parked by the office. Weeds and trash littered the empty lot. A person would have to be desperate for shelter to rent a room here, which played in Lydia’s favor. Anything she did to the place would be an improvement.
The motel was shaped like a capital L. The rooms were numbered sequentially—starting with 1 next to the office. The once-royal-blue trim and doors had faded to baby blue. There was no pool or recreation area for families to picnic or relax and the office with its peeling window tint gave the impression the place had closed down.
She locked the car door, then used the key her aunt had given her to let herself into the office. The dim interior smelled musty like a suitcase that hadn’t been opened in decades. A chair with an inch of dust coating the leather seat sat in the corner next to a table covered in old tourist brochures. She set the key on the counter, then glanced through the leaflets advertising cave tours and shopping outlets.
“If it isn’t the dairyland princess.”
Lydia spun and came face-to-face with Gunner Hardell.
He removed his cowboy hat. “We bumped into each other at the Valero yesterday.”
“We did?”
“You walked right past me without looking my way.”
Embarrassed she hadn’t noticed him, she said, “I’m sorry. I was in a hurry.”
“You grew up real nice, Lydia Canter.”
So had Gunner. His grin widened, drawing her eyes to his sexy mouth. Handsome wasn’t the right word to describe the dark-haired cowboy. H-O-T with a dozen exclamation points fit better. Too bad none of the men on the dating site she’d joined looked like Gunner.
Her attention shifted to his hands. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Gunner cleared his throat and she looked away, mortified that he’d caught her studying him. “I understand you’re the manager of the Moonlight Motel.”
