by Marin Thomas
“Wanna bet he’ll be last, Maisy?” The brunette spoke to her friend.
“Has Gunner asked you out yet?” Maisy asked.
Lydia’s ears perked when she heard the motel manager’s name.
“No, but he will.”
“That cowboy will never let a woman rein him in, Chantilly.”
Chantilly?
“Gunner says he’s a confirmed bachelor, but I’ll change his mind.”
Oh, brother. The women made Gunner sound like some kind of cowboy god. Then again, Lydia conceded the man was better looking than any of the guys who’d pinged her profile on the dating site.
“Ladies and gents, welcome to the fifteenth annual Rocky Point Rodeo.” Announcer Bob cleared his throat, then continued in a monotone voice better suited for a PBS broadcast. “Up first is the saddle-bronc competition.” The handful of spectators in the stands applauded.
Lydia turned her attention to the bucking chute, searching for Gunner among the milling cowboys. The men were dressed the same—jeans, dark shirts and hats pulled low over their faces. She couldn’t tell them apart.
“There he is.” Maisy pointed to a lone cowboy. “Gunner’s putting on his spurs.”
Lydia’s gaze latched onto him.
“We’ve got five cowboys ready to tame broncs today, so let’s get on with the show.” The applause died down. “First out of the chute on Storm Chaser is John Pennington. This cowboy hails from New Mexico and he’s new to the circuit. Let’s see if he can make it to the buzzer.”
Lydia had been to a rodeo as a kid but hadn’t paid attention to the events. She’d been more interested in the clowns who jumped in and out of the barrels. There were no clowns at this rodeo, only cowboys who stood inside the arena near the chute ready to help if needed.
The gate opened and Storm Chaser bolted into the dirt circle. Cowboy John lasted one buck before sliding off the back end of the horse and landing on the ground.
“Looks like Pennington is gonna need a little more practice before he makes it to eight.”
Three more rides followed—resulting in the same outcome. The fans grew restless and the applause disappeared until Gunner stepped up to the chute.
“Our final contestant late this morning lives down the road in Stampede. Gunner Hardell doesn’t have any wins on his résumé. Let’s see if he shows Spin Demon a thing or two. This bronc is from the Shady Acres Ranch outside of Midland.”
Lydia leaned forward, her gaze glued to the chute as Spin Demon sprang into action. Gunner gripped the rope with his left hand, keeping his right arm high in the air next to his head. After the third buck his hat flew off and his dark hair whipped around his head.
Spin Demon did everything in his power to toss his rider and Lydia marveled at Gunner’s pure athleticism as he hung on. Go, Gunner, go. When the buzzer sounded, she stuck two fingers into her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.
Chantilly and Maisy spun on their bench, but Lydia ignored their stares and watched Gunner’s dismount—more of a fall than a leap to the ground. The bronc trotted out of the circle and Gunner swiped his hat off the dirt, then waved it at the stands. His smile froze when he spotted Lydia.
“Looks like Gunner Hardell finally made it to eight. How about another round of applause for the cowboy.”
Instead of returning to the chute area, Gunner walked across the dirt and stopped in front of the bleachers. “Lydia!” he shouted and then flung his hat. She snatched it as it sailed between Chantilly and Maisy’s heads.
“Nice catch.” He winked, then walked back to the chutes, where the other cowboys congratulated him with backslapping and fist pumping.
“Who are you?” Chantilly asked.
“Lydia Canter.” She beamed, proud of herself for catching Gunner’s hat—not that she cared about impressing the women.
“We’ve never seen you at a rodeo before,” Maisy said.
“I’m visiting from Wisconsin.”
“Wisconsin?” Chantilly grimaced. “How do you know Gunner?”
“He works for me.”
“Doing what?” Maisy asked.
“Anything I ask him to.” She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing when their mouths dropped open. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a chat with my employee.”
Lydia pulled up short when a tall, brawny man stepped into her path.
“Ma’am, you ain’t allowed behind the chutes.”
“She’s with me, Rawlins.” Gunner strolled toward Lydia, wearing his usual grin. It was impossible to stay mad at a man who smiled all the time.
“Congratulations.” She handed him the Stetson.
He plopped it on his head. “Thanks.” He removed his spurs, then stuffed them into the duffel bag along with his rope and bronc saddle. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy.” He didn’t need to know it had been eons since she’d attended one.
“Maybe I pegged you wrong.”
“How did you peg me?”
“Boring. All work and no play.”
Ouch. A couple of cowboys wandered closer to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“About what?”
“The motel.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“So?”
“It’s the weekend.” When she stared at him, he said, “You know, the two days a week most people don’t work.”
“And the same two days tourists travel and book rooms in motels.”
“Not the Moonlight Motel.”
“Maybe if the Vacancy sign was turned on, you’d get a few customers.”
“Why are you here, Lydia?”
“You locked me out of the motel.”
“What happened to your key?” he asked.
She watched a cowboy climb onto a bull in the chute. “I think I left it on the counter Sunday when I stopped by the motel.”
“So I didn’t really lock you out, then,” he said.
Touché.
“What do you say we grab a bite to eat?” he asked.
She held out her hand. “How about you give me the key, and I’ll return to the motel and do my job?”
His smile vanished, then slid back into place when Maisy and Chantilly approached them.
“Hey, Gunner.” Chantilly batted her eyelashes. “Nice ride.”
“You looked real good out there,” Maisy added.
“Thank you, ladies.”
Ladies? That was a bit of a stretch.
“We’re driving over to the Singing Swine.” Chantilly inched closer to Gunner. “You up for beer and karaoke?”
Lydia spoke without thinking. “Gunner and I were just about to head there to celebrate his win.”
“I don’t think the Singing Swine is your kind of place,” Maisy said.
She expected Gunner to come to her rescue, but he just stood there grinning. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Maisy shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
After the pair walked off, Gunner spoke. “When was the last time you were in a bar?”
“A month ago,” she fibbed. “For a friend’s birthday.” She’d ordered a glass of wine at TGI Fridays.
“I’ll meet you there,” he said. “The bar’s a mile west of town. Look for the pole with a spinning pink pig.”
Spinning pig? Why had she allowed Maisy and Chantilly to provoke her? Lydia shouldn’t be wasting her time in some bar. The sooner she began the motel renovations, the sooner she could return to Wisconsin and focus on her design business and finding Mr. Perfect.
Chapter Four
“I’ll be damned.” Gunner had thought for sure that Lydia would change her mind about meet
ing him at the Singing Swine, but her blue Civic stood out like a sore thumb among all the pickups in the lot. He parked next to her car, then caught himself checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. He brushed a smudge of dirt from his cheek and reached into the glove compartment for the stick of deodorant and bottle of aftershave he kept for emergencies.
If there had been any other woman waiting inside for him, he would have skipped sprucing up and gone into the bar smelling like a hardworking cowboy. But Lydia Canter was a different breed of lady from his usual hookups and for some stupid reason he cared about her opinion of him.
When he walked inside, he paused until his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The place wasn’t crowded and he found Lydia alone at the bar, chatting with Zeke—the bald bartender with more tattoos than Route 66 had road signs. Gunner was halfway across the room when Lydia tilted her head back and laughed. The sound of her throaty chuckle sent his thoughts racing into the bedroom.
He shook off the image of him and Lydia messing up the sheets and slid onto the empty stool next to her. He nodded to her water glass.
“Why am I not surprised you don’t drink?”
“Actually, I love a good glass of red wine, but I’m taking an antibiotic for a sinus infection right now.”
Zeke set a longneck in front of Gunner. “Thanks for calling both games Thursday night.”
“Anyone heard how long Bill’s going to be out?”
“Doc predicted four weeks,” Zeke said.
“That hernia pull must have been worse than anyone thought.” Gunner looked at Lydia. “I umpire Little League baseball and Bill’s our first-base ump.” Gunner took a swig of beer. “Kevin had a great hit to center field.”
“We’ve been going to the batting cages in Mesquite,” Zeke said.
“Do you need me to call an extra game next week?”
“We’ve got a sub for Tuesday’s game, but I’ll let you know if we need you the following week.” Zeke moved off to fill another drink order.
“What?” Gunner asked when Lydia continued to stare at him.
“I’m just surprised a guy like you would take the time to help teenagers.”
“What do you mean, a guy like me?”
“You said you only care about having a good time.”
“That’s not all I care about. I love baseball. I played Little League when I was a kid.”
“Okay, so you like being around boys who play baseball, but you don’t want kids yourself.”
Gunner shook his head. “Nope.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” she said.
“Sure it does. I get to have fun with other people’s kids, but I don’t have to raise them.” Gunner took a swig of beer. “What do you think of the Singing Swine?”
“The pig on the pole outside is unique.” Her gaze dropped to his waist, then returned to his face. “Did you get a buckle for winning today?”
“Rocky Point doesn’t hand out buckles.” He didn’t care about the hardware—he was just glad to have an excuse not to have to sit at the motel all day and watch cars drive by on the highway.
“How much money did you win?” she asked.
“Enough to fill the gas tank.”
“I honestly don’t see what all the hype is about,” she said. “If it’s the adrenaline rush you’re after, there are others ways to achieve that without risking injury.”
Sex gave him an adrenaline rush, but he doubted that was what Lydia was referring to. “What do you do for kicks?”
She sipped her water, drawing his attention to her mouth. “I like to browse flea markets and vintage shops when I’m not working, which isn’t often.”
“It sounds like you work too much.”
“It’s called being an adult.”
“Adults are entitled to have fun.”
“Agreed,” she said. “But keeping up with your responsibilities doesn’t leave much time to goof off.”
“You’re envious of me, aren’t you?” he said.
Her mouth dropped open and he tapped his finger beneath her chin until her jaw closed. “I bet your computer is the first thing you check when you wake up and the last thing before you go to sleep.” He moved his hand away from her face.
“What’s the last thing you look at?” she asked.
“If it’s not a woman’s face, then it’s the TV.” He leaned closer. “Wouldn’t you rather stare at a pair of brown eyes in the morning instead of a computer screen?”
“You certainly have a healthy ego.”
“When’s the last time you woke up with a man in your bed?”
She choked on a sip of water and coughed into her napkin. “That’s your pickup line?”
He took a swig of beer. “If I was trying to pick you up...what would your comeback be?”
“I don’t date freeloaders.”
She made him sound like a teenager, not an adult. He could fix that impression by showing her the part of him that was feeling anything but adolescent. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
“Why you had to join a dating site.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why’s that?”
“It’s not because you aren’t pretty enough or sexy enough to find a man on your own, that’s for sure.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
He thought she was a lot sexy, but he played it cool. “You need to show a guy you know how to have fun.”
“I don’t have time for fun. I’m busy keeping my business afloat. Besides, I’m twenty-six. I’m not about to date a man whose only goal in life is to have a good time. I’d like to marry and have a family.”
“Why the rush?”
“My college friends are all married now and three of them have had a baby already. I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”
Babies. Gunner shook his head. Squalling infants were expensive and a lot of work. He’d listened to the married cowboys on the circuit complain that when they returned home from the road, all they wanted was to rest their injuries and spend long hours in the bedroom with their wives. Most had to settle for a nap while the kids watched TV and a quickie with the wife before one of the babies needed to be fed.
“If I let myself have fun and forget about the future—” she rolled her eyes “—I’ll wake up forty and still single.”
“That’s my plan,” he said.
“Are your brothers married?” she asked.
“Logan was, but he and his wife divorced. Reid’s never been married—at least, I don’t think he has.”
“You don’t know if your brother ever married or not?”
“Reid hasn’t come home since he got out of the military.”
“Why?”
“He took our father’s death pretty hard and my best guess is that the ranch reminds him of our dad, so he stays away.”
“I’m sorry about your father. Aunt Amelia said he was struck by a car.”
“Yeah. Gramps fell apart.” Gunner and his brothers felt bad, but none of them had been close to their father.
“He’s lucky you and your brothers were there for him.”
“What about you? Any siblings?”
She shook her head. “I’m an only child.”
“That explains why you’re so serious. You had to entertain yourself. You didn’t have any siblings to get into trouble with.” Gunner stared into her eyes. “I bet I know why you’re having a problem finding the right guy.”
“Really?” She fussed with the collar of her blouse, then smoothed a hand down her slacks.
“If I was on a dating site and came across your profile, I’d think—” he ticked off his fingers “—she’s pretty. And she’s probably pretty smart if she’s running her own business.”
“But...?”
He dropped his hand. “You didn’t list any fun facts about yourself or what your hobbies are.”
“How long were you looking over my shoulder at the Cattle Drive Café?”
“A few minutes.”
She jutted her chin. “I have hobbies.”
“Name one.”
“I like to read.”
“What do you read?”
“Design magazines.”
“That’s for work, not pleasure.”
“Maybe if you read a how-to-run-a-motel magazine, you’d have more customers paying to spend the night there,” she said.
“You might be right.” He tapped the neck of his bottle against her water glass, then drained the contents.
“It’s not easy finding a perfect match.”
“A perfect match?” He grimaced. “That only happens in movies and books.”
“Maybe, but I want to get as close to perfect as possible. I want to be with a man who works as hard as I do. It’s expensive raising kids these days. I’ve watched my cousin Sadie struggle to make ends meet when her sons’ father misses one of his child-support payments.”
“Money won’t make you happy.” When his mother had walked out on their family, the Paradise Ranch had been running in the black. But no amount of money or level of financial security could make up for a drunken, cheating husband.
“Having enough money to pay bills removes a lot of stress from a marriage,” she said. “Both my parents work and I can’t even remember a time when they argued over anything but a legal case.”
“So you want what your parents have?”
“They’ve been happily married for over thirty years.”
“How’d they meet?”
“Law school.”
“You didn’t meet any guys in your college accessorizing classes?” he asked.
“Ha-ha.”
“Okay,” he said, “so you’re looking for a guy with your habits, but what if once you get to know Mr. Perfect, you discover he’s not so perfect in bed?”
“Sex is important, but it’s not the most important part of a relationship.”
He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure it is the most important thing.”
“If having fun is your only requirement for happiness, then why aren’t you with Chantilly or Maisy? All they want is a good time.”
