by Marin Thomas
Because even the fun girls got tired of their cowboys and it would be only a matter of time before they wandered off the same way as Gunner’s mother. “I think we’ve done enough talking. Ready to sing?”
“I don’t sing.”
“Then you sit here and enjoy the show.” He waved at Zeke. “Time for karaoke.” He leaned in and whispered next to Lydia’s ear. “Watch and learn, sweetheart. This is how you do fun.”
* * *
LYDIA’S GAZE FOLLOWED Gunner as he zigzagged through the tables and then stepped onto the dance floor. She couldn’t care less that he believed she didn’t know the first thing about having a good time—she was just grateful she could finally take a deep breath without his heady scent distracting her.
No man—not even Ryan, her first love and the guy she’d believed was her soul mate—had knocked sensible, determined Lydia off balance the way Gunner did with a simple smile. Except for his good looks, the cowboy was everything she didn’t want in a life partner, yet when he spoke, her ears perked and it didn’t seem to matter what baloney spewed from his mouth. She attributed her physical reaction to Gunner to the fact that she hadn’t been intimate with a man since she’d ended things with Ryan over a year ago. She was young, healthy and...okay, maybe a little horny and that worried her because she couldn’t help thinking Gunner might be right and she did need more fun in her life—fun as in a one-night stand with a sexy cowboy.
The door opened and Chantilly and Maisy waltzed into the bar strutting their curvy hips, big hair and flashy rhinestone shirts. They waved at Zeke, their gazes skipping over Lydia.
“The usual?” Zeke called out.
The women nodded, then sat in front of the stage. Zeke delivered two beers to their table.
“Afternoon, folks,” Gunner said into the microphone. He winked at the glitter queens. “Ladies.”
Chantilly blew a kiss. “Sing me a love song, Gunner.”
“‘I Swear’ by John Michael Montgomery.” Maisy ran her tongue over her cherry-painted lips.
Jealousy propelled Lydia off the bar stool and across the room. She couldn’t carry a tune, but that was the least of her cares. Right now she wanted to make sure the buckle bunnies didn’t sink their claws into the good-time cowboy, a.k.a. her motel manager.
Lydia pasted a smile on her face when Gunner spotted her. “Mind if I join the fun?” She stood in front of him, blocking Maisy’s and Chantilly’s view.
“You want to sing?” he asked.
“How about a duet?” she said.
“Sure.” He held out his hand and helped her onto the stage.
“Think you can handle ‘You’re the One That I Want’ by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John?”
He shook off her suggestion. “‘Jackson’ by Johnny Cash and June Carter?”
“Never heard of it.”
He chuckled, then spoke into the microphone. “Zeke, pull up the soundtrack from Grease, would you?”
A screen lowered from the ceiling. Then music blared from speakers mounted on the walls. Gunner put his arm around Lydia’s back and coaxed her closer to the microphone stand. The song lyrics scrolled up the screen and Gunner sang first, his deep voice echoing through the bar.
Holy crap. The cowboy could carry a tune.
And Lydia couldn’t. Panic paralyzed her. Then Gunner pressed his fingers into her lower back, the heat from his touch searing the skin beneath her shirt. She sucked in a quick breath, then belted out her verse. Maisy and Chantilly clasped their hands over their ears and grimaced. Even Zeke looked as if he could use a stiff drink. Gunner took over the chorus, drowning her out as she eyed the exit. When her verse came, he twirled her in a circle while she sang, distracting the handful of listeners.
After the song ended, Gunner kissed her. Not a romantic kiss on the lips. Not a hey-that-was-fun-we-should-do-it-again peck on the mouth. But a quick brush against her cheek—the kind of kiss you’d give your eighty-five-year-old aunt. Maisy’s and Chantilly’s laughter set Lydia’s cheeks on fire.
Do it. A voice in her head spoke up.
Why not? Nothing about today had gone as planned.
Lydia grabbed a fistful of Gunner’s shirt and pulled him toward her, then rolled up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. The instant their lips touched, a shiver raced through her body.
One more second... Then she’d stop. But one second turned into two, then three, and then Gunner snuck his tongue between her lips. Whistles and catcalls echoed around them, but the only sound Lydia heard was Gunner’s throaty groan and the echo of her answering moan.
Lydia didn’t know which one of them finally ended the kiss, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t her. She hid her embarrassment behind an exaggerated bow for their audience, then strutted back to her stool.
Gunner sang a country song by Garth Brooks and Maisy and Chantilly danced together, the men cheering them on.
“You got some voice, lady.” Zeke refilled her water glass.
“I don’t sing very often.”
“Sing?” He shook his head. “You sounded like a braying donkey.”
She laughed, wishing the tension would leave her body. “Does Gunner perform here often?”
“Every couple of weeks he drops by. He’s good for business. The ladies like him.”
Another pair of cowgirls walked into the bar and joined Maisy and Chantilly at their table. She studied Gunner’s fan club, thinking he could have his pick of females. What type of woman would it take to convince the confirmed bachelor to give up his wild ways? Before she figured out the answer, he left the stage and claimed the stool next to her.
“You’re good,” she said.
“I know.”
“To your ego.” She raised her water glass and he tapped his empty beer bottle against the rim.
“To your guts,” he said.
“Don’t you mean foolishness?”
He shook his head. “You know you have a terrible voice, but you sang anyway. That takes courage.”
“Thanks for letting me down easy.”
“I’d take bravery in a woman over a pretty singing voice any day.”
As far as compliments went, Gunner’s had to be at the bottom of her top-ten list. Joking and fun aside, the day was wasting away and she had work to do before her aunt’s return to Stampede tomorrow. “I better get going. I need access to the motel rooms to finalize my decorating designs.” She held out her hand. “Can I have your office key?”
Gunner pulled out his wallet. “You still plan on using that crazy movie-theme idea?”
Why did he care how the rooms were decorated? She wiggled her fingers under his nose. “Give me the key to the office or you can come back to the motel with me and I’ll put you to work.”
He tossed a five-dollar bill onto the bar. “I’ll follow you.”
Surprised, Lydia was momentarily speechless. Once they stepped outside, she found her voice. “Seriously, you should stay here and celebrate your victory.” He’d be a huge distraction, especially after they’d kissed. She’d be lucky to keep her mind on her driving, never mind her tasks once they got back to the motel. She hurried to her car, Gunner dogging her heels.
“There’s a burger joint down the road. You hungry?”
“Not really.”
He reached in front of her and opened the driver-side door. “You sure I can’t talk you into stopping somewhere for lunch? My treat.”
She shook her head and he laughed as he walked around the hood of his pickup and slid behind the wheel.
They’d driven three miles when Gunner signaled and turned into a gas station. She pulled in behind him, then cursed when he parked at a gas pump. She should have driven on, but like an idiot she waited for him to fill up. Afterward he went into the store, then stepped outside a few m
inutes later carrying two Slurpees. He walked over to her car and she lowered the window.
“Root beer,” he said, handing her the cup.
If she argued that she didn’t want a Slurpee, they’d waste even more time. She set the drink in her cup holder. “Thank you.”
Gunner returned to his truck and they pulled onto the highway. Twenty minutes later they arrived at the motel and discovered a minivan near room 6. Hector and Maybelle must have left Red in the barn this time. She parked next to Gunner’s pickup in front of the office, and as soon as they got out of their vehicles, the motel room door opened and an older couple stepped into view.
Gunner waved and the pair returned the gesture before hopping into the van and driving off.
“Who was that?”
“The Sanderses. They live in Mesquite.”
“Don’t tell me they have an extra key to the room, also.”
“Yep,” he said. “The Sanderses had their first—” he waggled his eyebrows “—encounter at the motel and once a month they like to take a stroll down memory lane.”
She followed Gunner into the office. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. Dark places and Gunner didn’t bode well for her, so she flipped on the switch and bright light flooded the room. “How many couples have a key to one of the rooms?”
“Just the Sanderses and Maybelle and Hector.” He stepped behind the counter.
“Are you charging the Sanderses for the use of the room?”
“They leave cash on the dresser—whatever they can afford.”
“Who changes the bedsheets?” she asked.
“They bring their own. It’s part of the deal.”
“This is no way to run a business.”
“I like to think of it as good customer service.”
“I’m surprised none of the rooms have been broken into and vandalized by delinquents looking for a place to party.”
“City kids party in motels, but country boys and girls like to do their drinking and whatever in cornfields and haylofts.”
“You need to tell the regulars that room 6 is off-limits until after the renovations.”
“I don’t need to tell them anything. I’m the manager of the place—you’re just the decorator.”
Lydia hadn’t meant to come off sounding condescending. “Look, Gunner. I don’t have any hidden agenda. I’m here as a favor to my aunt, whom I love dearly. I want to complete the remodel as quickly as possible and then return to Wisconsin.”
“And back to dating cheeseheads.”
“My social life is none of your concern.”
“You mean love life.”
“My love life is fine.”
He stepped from behind the counter and stood in front of her, the pearl snaps on his dark blue shirt inches from her nose. “If your love life is fine, then you wouldn’t have joined an online dating site.”
She opened her mouth, but the rebuttal caught in her throat.
“The right man for you isn’t on a dating site.”
“How do you know?”
“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 said, “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.”
“I sang karaoke with you. What other kinds of new experiences are you talking about?”
“Ever had a fling?”
She sucked in a quick breath. “No.” Never. Not even close. She’d dated Ryan for almost six months before they’d slept together.
“How many guys have you been with?”
“None of your business.” They were supposed to be talking about paint colors and contractors, not sex.
He raised his hand and spread his fingers. “Five?” When she remained silent, he lowered a finger. “Four?” He lowered another finger. “Three?” The peace sign stared her in the face and she nodded.
“You’re fibbing,” he said. “A beautiful woman like you would have more than a handful of men knocking at her door.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. I had my first relationship when I was a sophomore in college and it lasted three years.”
“And the second one?”
“A year.”
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.
His lips spread into a grin as he lowered his head. Then his mouth grazed hers before returning a second time to deepen the kiss. When his hands cupped her face and he nuzzled her neck, Lydia knew she was about to have a one-afternoon stand with Gunner Hardell.
Chapter Five
Gunner reached for a room key, his heart pounding harder now than when he climbed onto the back of a rank bronc. He expected Lydia to change her mind, because sex in the middle of the afternoon wasn’t her MO, but she just stood there looking at him, face glowing with anticipation.
“Having second thoughts?” she asked.
“I don’t want to pressure you.” He could deny it all he wanted, but if anyone was feeling under the gun, he was. Lydia rattled him. How was it that a pretty, mature, educated twenty-six-year-old had been with only two men?
Pull yourself together, Gunner.
He took her hand and led her outside and down the sidewalk to room 2, where he then slid the key into the lock.
“I’m having keycard readers installed on the doors,” she said.
Gunner made a mental note to keep Lydia’s mouth too busy to talk business. He motioned for her to enter the room first, then he followed and hit the light switch. The lamp between the double beds flickered on, casting a warm glow across the beds.
“All the light fixtures will need to be updated.” Lydia’s gaze traveled around the space, skipping over Gunner.
Was she having second thoughts?
He’d have to bring his A game to keep her focus on him and not the renovations. He flipped the dead bolt, the loud click sealing their fate. He reeled her closer until her breasts bumped his chest. Then he spun her and walked her backward until he had her pinned against the door. He trailed his fingers along her throat, around her neck and up into her hair, where he pulled the pins from her bun.
“The only time I’ve seen your hair down was at the Valero the first day you arrived in Stampede.” He tugged the blond strands until they fell over her shoulders. “It’s pretty.” And soft. He rubbed his nose against the side of her head. “Smells nice, too.” He felt her heart pound hard against his chest. “One request.” He lifted his head and stared into her eyes.
She licked her lips. “What’s that?”
“We don’t talk about the motel.” He nuzzled the corner of her mouth. “The only words I want escaping from your sweet lips are ‘Oh, Gunner, I love what you do to me.’” He smiled against her throat when she punched his shoulder.
With their mouths firmly locked, he two-stepped her toward the bed, pulled the spread off and then followed her down to the mattress.
There was no turning back now. Hands collided as they fumbled with buttons, zippers and buckles until only bare skin remained between them. He removed a condom from his wallet and placed it on the nightstand, then turned his attention to pleasuring Lydia.
He caressed her body, slow and easy, then fast and hard when her breathing gr
ew shaky. She wiggled a leg between his thighs, wedging herself tighter against him until he didn’t know where her body ended and his began. The sting of her nails biting into his back and hips and along his thighs drew a groan from deep inside him.
He pinned her hands to the mattress, then explored her body with his mouth until her squirming threatened to snap his control. He stroked his thumb across her swollen lips and gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure?”
Her tongue snaked out and licked his finger. “Very sure.”
There was no turning back now.
* * *
THE SOUND OF snoring woke Lydia from a dead sleep. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She hated popcorn ceilings. At least the one over her head appeared as if it had never been painted, which would make it easier to scrape off.
“You’re hell on a man’s ego, Lydia Canter.”
The words tickled her belly and she glanced at the dark head resting below her breasts. She didn’t dare admit that she’d purposefully tried to focus on anything but the crazy wonderful feeling Gunner’s lovemaking had stirred in her.
He lifted himself off her and leaned on his elbow. A sweet warmth spread through her body at the sight of his tussled hair and sleepy grin. He’d been such a considerate lover and she was embarrassed to admit she’d lost track of the number of times she’d whispered, “Do that again, Gunner.”
He smoothed his palm over her belly, then cupped her breast. “Did my prowess live up to your expectations?”
She wiggled lower on the bed and kissed him. “You exceeded them.”
“So I can safely assume I’ve taken over first place?”
She laughed. “Your notch on my bedpost is now at the top.”
“What’s the name of the guy below me?”
“I haven’t asked about the women you’ve slept with.” She brushed her mouth over his, then swung her legs off the side of the bed. He caught her wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“I thought we were—”
“Done?” He scowled. “Seriously?” He tugged her back to the mattress and snuggled her against him.
