by Marin Thomas
“I need to get some work done today.” She traced the brown freckle on the side of his neck.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said.
“My favorite number is five.”
“Mine’s seven.”
“What’s your favorite color?” she asked.
“Brown.”
“Boring brown.” Lydia pinched his chest. “Mine’s lavender.”
“Favorite seafood?” he asked.
“None. Seafood makes me sick. What about you?”
“I love crawfish.”
“Yuck.”
His fingers tangled in her hair and he closed his eyes. “My mother and I were the only ones in our family who ate crawfish.”
“Tell me about your mom.”
“I was closest to her. Out of us three boys I resembled her most—at least, that’s what Dad always said. She taught me how to catch crawfish with a net and no bait.”
“How did she prepare them?”
“We used a propane stove in the backyard. Mom poached them so the meat would soak up the spices in the water.”
“When’s the last time you ate crawfish?”
“The night before my mother left us.” He shifted beneath Lydia as if he tried to escape the memory, but she tightened her arms around him.
“Mom signed me out of school that afternoon and took me crawfish hunting. I didn’t think much of it because she was always doing crazy stuff like that.”
“Like what?”
“Letting us boys skip school and watch cartoons all day. Eat cereal and ice cream for supper. She let us build a tree house and sleep in it during a thunderstorm.” He chuckled. “We got soaked that night from the leaky roof, but it was a blast.”
“Your mom sounds like she was a lot of fun.”
“She loved to goof off.”
Maybe that was why having a good time was important to Gunner—it reminded him of his mother before she’d divorced his father.
Sensing they needed to change the subject, Lydia said, “I need to begin my search for contractors.” She made a second attempt to get out of bed, but Gunner tugged her back into his arms and rolled her beneath him.
“I’ll let you work as soon as we finish this project.” He opened his wallet on the nightstand and removed another condom and set it on the pillow next to Lydia’s head. “If I remember right, you liked it when I did this...” He moved his head lower and suddenly Lydia couldn’t care less if she got any work done today.
* * *
GUNNER TOOK SMALL, shallow breaths, afraid to wake Lydia, who slept curled against his side. Strands of her hair were caught in his whiskers, but he refused to move his head. Instead he tightened his arms around her and imagined what it would be like to wake next to her in bed every morning for the rest of his life—a shocker to say the least. Usually his first thought upon waking tangled up with a woman was how soon he could escape.
After making love with Lydia, he needed to redefine his “type” and come up with a new definition. Not that he was looking to get serious with her—she’d made it clear he wasn’t her type.
Lydia was looking for Mr. Perfect—a man with a college degree and a 401(k). A guy who put on a suit in the morning and went to the golf course, not a rodeo, on the weekend. A guy who enjoyed sipping fine wine, not singing in karaoke bars. A guy who wanted to get married and a have family, not one who wanted to remain a bachelor.
But he was pretty sure if he were all those things Lydia was looking for and not a have-fun-today-and-worry-about-tomorrow-tomorrow kind of guy, then Lydia would consider him her perfect match.
* * *
IT WAS DARK inside room 2 the second time Lydia opened her eyes. She held her breath, listening for the sound of Gunner’s breathing, but only silence filled her ears.
Any other woman might be heartbroken or miffed to wake up alone in a motel after making love with a man, but not her. She went into the bathroom to rinse off in the shower and found a note on the towel rack. Got called in to umpire a Little League game.
For a guy who didn’t want kids, he sure jumped at the chance to be around them.
Relieved she’d been spared the awkwardness of facing Gunner after they’d spent hours in bed together, she dressed, then left the room. The sun had dipped low in the sky, reminding her that she’d skipped lunch and dinner.
She got into her car and drove to her aunt’s house, then took a proper shower. Dressed in yoga pants and a comfy T-shirt, she perused the contents of the refrigerator. Aunt Amelia ate like a bird—Greek yogurt, applesauce, strawberries and cheese.
Resigning herself to another bowl of cereal, Lydia sat at the kitchen table and checked her email. Her social-worker cousin, Scarlett, asked how long Lydia thought she would be in Stampede. Her other cousin, Sadie, must have forgotten she’d left town, because her email reminded Lydia about Tommy and Tyler’s upcoming soccer game. Sadie enrolled the boys in too many supervised activities, but she needed somewhere for them to go after preschool because she worked full-time and her ex always had an excuse for not helping out.
Lydia responded to Sadie, reminding her that she was in Stampede, then sent a message to Scarlett saying she hoped to be back in a couple of weeks. Next she moved on to her work email. A Mrs. Pendergraff wanted to discuss decorating the sunroom in her house. Lydia asked to meet with her at the end of the month—in case it took longer than a few weeks to finish the motel updates.
After she’d taken care of her email, Lydia opened SavvyMatch.com and perused the men who had visited her profile page. She clicked on Mike1211. Not bad looking. Another engineer. Likes golf, enjoys wine-tasting events and is a Bears football fan. Mike lived in Wisconsin, so why wasn’t he a Packers fan? Traitor. She moved on.
LoverBoy10. He didn’t look like much of a lover boy with his thick glasses and receding hairline. She might have been able to get past his appearance, but not the colored socks he wore with khaki shorts and open-toed sandals. Next.
JustThe1ForU. In your dreams, buddy. Next.
TallManLover. He was too tall. She’d break her neck looking up at him. Next.
NiceGuy1978. Too old. And none of the men were as good-looking as Gunner.
She logged off the site and opened her designer software program, then studied the plans for the motel rooms, making notes on areas she needed the help of professionals. Afterward, she Googled contractors and wrote down their phone numbers. When she finished, it was eight thirty.
And Gunner still hadn’t called or texted her. Was that a good thing or bad thing?
No. No. No. She refused to analyze their tryst at the motel.
She went back to her designs for the rooms and mulled over which one would get which movie makeover. Twenty minutes later her phone beeped with a text message and Lydia’s heart almost pushed through her chest.
Hope you accomplished a lot today. XXOO Aunt Amelia
Lydia’s heart dropped back into place. She’d accomplished a lot of lovemaking, but that was about it. She texted back.
Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Lydia left the table and made a cup of tea. Whether she went to bed or stayed up, there would be no sleep for her tonight.
* * *
Meet me at the motel in twenty minutes.
GUNNER STARED AT the blurry text, then rolled onto his back in room 1. He’d expected Lydia to sleep in this morning after their romp between the sheets late yesterday afternoon, but apparently his studliness hadn’t worn her out if she was up and ready to work by 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning.
He rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom to take a lukewarm shower. Coffee was next on his to-do list. If he wasn’t fully awake, he might pound a hole through his hand instead of the wall.
He returned to the of
fice, flipping the sign from Closed to Open. Five minutes later the smell of brewing coffee filled the air and Lydia’s blue Civic pulled into the parking lot. The sight of her sent a surge of blood to the part of his body that should have had an out-of-order sign hanging off it. But as soon as the top of her head emerged from the car, he wanted her. Again.
His attraction to Lydia confounded him. He would definitely have looked twice at her if they’d bumped into each other on the street, but he still would have kept on walking. Even though she was pretty, her serious demeanor would have raised red flags in his head. He knew it bugged Lydia that he didn’t take managing the motel seriously, but the rodeo lifestyle was safe for a guy who wanted only a good time, not forever. However, since he’d already sampled the forbidden fruit, he might as well gorge himself on it as long as he could.
She stepped inside the office and smiled at him. “I’ll take a cup of that coffee, please.”
It took his brain a moment to process her request. Then he poured a cup of diesel fuel and handed it to her. “I hope you like it strong.”
“Perfect.” She opened her laptop and tapped the screen, then flipped it toward him. “Here’s the game plan for today. I reached out to a few contractors, but there are several things we can do while we wait to hear back from them.”
We meaning him.
“I need you to scrape off the popcorn ceiling, tear out the carpet and remove the bathroom countertop in the rooms.”
Gunner couldn’t believe Lydia was talking work after they’d gotten naked with each other yesterday. Hadn’t she obsessed over him like he had over her? “Maybe we should wait for the contractor bids to come in.”
“It could be a while and we don’t have time to waste.”
“But it’s Sunday.”
“And Sunday is demo day.” She squeezed his biceps. “I want to see what else these muscles can do besides...” She glanced away, her cheeks turning red.
“Besides holding you close and—”
“Where are your tools?” she asked.
He glanced down at the front of his jeans, then back at Lydia.
“Construction tools.” She laughed. “Where do you keep the shovels, paint scrapers and hammers?”
“There’s a screwdriver and a wrench in the back room, but that’s it.” He nodded to the laptop. “Write out a list of stuff you want done and I’ll make a trip to one of the home-improvement stores in San Antonio and buy all of the supplies.”
“I was hoping to complete the demolition sooner rather than later. I ordered the new carpet for the rooms and it’s being delivered in two weeks.”
“Whoa.” Lydia was moving too fast. If he didn’t slow her down, she’d return to Wisconsin before the end of June and his plans for a summer fling would fly right out the window. “I’ve got a ride in Laredo this Thursday.”
She set her coffee down and paced across the room. “Don’t you want to do your part to help Stampede get back on its feet again?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the town the way it is.” Except that it was boring as hell, which was another reason Gunner stuck with rodeo even though he didn’t make much money at it—it allowed him to socialize with people his age.
“If more tourists visit,” she said, “the motel might become busy enough that you could afford to hire a couple of employees to cover for you when you rodeo.”
It was difficult to reconcile the no-nonsense Lydia Canter standing before him with the sexy, naked woman he’d held in his arms just hours ago. “Fixing up one business in this town isn’t going to bring all of the tourists back.”
“The motel is a good place to start.” She pressed her lips together and he sensed she’d argue her case with him all day if he let her.
“I’ll help as much as my schedule allows,” he said.
“Fine.” She took her coffee and sat in the chair in the corner.
“What are you doing?”
“Making the to-do list like you asked for.”
“How long before you’re finished?” His stomach growled. “I thought I’d grab breakfast at the café.”
“You could take off now and get something to eat at a drive-through. Then by the time you reach San Antonio, I’ll have texted you the list.”
Lydia was definitely back to her old self—all business and no fun.
He nodded to the pot. “Help yourself to another cup.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Figures he’d get only one cup this morning. He left the office and walked to his pickup. As far as morning-afters went, his and Lydia’s was about as exciting as a baked potato.
* * *
AS SOON AS Gunner’s pickup disappeared down the highway, Lydia allowed herself to relax. She’d been worried that he’d want to discuss their one-night stand and that was the last thing she cared to do. Spending several hours with Gunner in a motel room had been so out of character for her that the only way she could make sense of her behavior was to categorize it as temporary insanity.
She locked the office door and got into her car, then returned to her aunt’s house to change clothes. She wasn’t going to let the day go to waste. She’d confiscate a few tools from the flower shed in the backyard and begin the demolition work herself. Hopefully the hard labor would take her mind off Gunner.
A half hour later, wearing her black yoga pants and a cotton tank top, Lydia stowed a shovel, rake, hammer, paint scraper and small toolbox in the trunk of her car. When she returned to the motel, she went into the office and got the key to room 5. The logical side of her insisted they start with room 1 and work their way down the line, but she wasn’t ready to enter room 2 so soon after she and Gunner had messed up the bed in there. And until Gunner informed the couples who rendezvoused in room 6 that they’d need to search for a different place, she didn’t want them dropping by while she was working.
Lydia parked in front of room 5, then propped the door open with a chair. She hadn’t been able to bring the ladder in the Civic, but she’d left it on her aunt’s front porch and then had texted Gunner asking him to fetch it when he returned to town. First things first—she stripped the linens off the bed, gagging at the yellow stains on the mattress.
By the time she’d dragged the mattress and box spring out of the room by herself, sweat poured off her face and dampened her tank top. A fabric headboard had been bolted to the wall and she used a crowbar to pry it off, taking a huge chunk of plasterboard with it—another repair to add to the to-do list.
She removed the furniture from the room, except for the nightstand, which she used as a stool so she could reach the ceiling. After she tore off a section of bedsheet, she tied the small square of material over her nose and mouth so she wouldn’t inhale the dust, then slid on a pair of safety goggles and climbed onto the nightstand.
The table wobbled when she pushed the scraper across the ceiling, but not enough to stop her from working. By the time a horn honked outside the room, she’d scraped half the ceiling clean.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Gunner grasped her around the waist and set her on the ground. “You could have fallen and injured yourself.”
“I’m not one of your buckle bunnies in constant need of rescuing.”
“What did you say?” He tugged off her makeshift mask.
“I said, I’m fine. Did you get the supplies?”
“I did.” His gaze skipped around. “It looks like you vandalized the place.”
“What took you so long?”
“I ran into a friend I haven’t seen in months and we stopped for a beer.”
She ignored the urge to ask if the friend was female or male—she didn’t want him thinking it mattered to her. “Did you bring the ladder from my aunt’s house?”
“Yep.” He took her hand and led her outside. “I also br
ought you lupper.”
“What’s lupper?”
“The meal between lunch and supper.”
On cue her stomach made noise. She followed him into the office, where takeout containers of Chinese food sat on the counter. His thoughtfulness surprised her.
“It’ll only take a minute to heat the food,” he said. “There’s a microwave in the hall storage closet.” A minute later Gunner returned to the front desk and offered her a plastic fork. “We’ll have to share cooties, because I forgot to ask for plates.”
Lydia almost reminded him that they’d shared more than a few cooties in room 2. She sampled the chicken fried rice. “This is good.”
“Your aunt called me on the way back to town,” he said.
“Really?”
“Amelia tried reaching you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
Lydia hadn’t heard the ringer over the scraping noise as she’d worked on the ceiling. “What did she want?”
“She’s staying in Boerne another day. Said she’d be home tomorrow night.”
It was probably best that her aunt didn’t know what a dismal start this project had gotten off to. Lydia traded containers with Gunner and sampled the orange chicken. “Thank you for bringing the food.”
“Anything to keep the demolition princess happy.” The gleam in his eyes said he’d do more than fetch her tools and meals.
She was tempted to let him have his way with her again, but things could get complicated and she didn’t need anything getting in the way of her plans to find Mr. Perfect when she returned to Wisconsin.
Chapter Six
“Done.” Gunner descended the ladder, then shook his numb arms until the feeling returned to his fingertips. He glanced around the room. “Lydia?” No answer. He poked his head into the bathroom. Empty. She must have snuck out when he had his back to the door.
He guzzled the bottle of water she’d brought him over an hour ago and admired his handiwork. It was a toss-up as to which job was tougher—riding a bronc or scraping popcorn off a ceiling. Although his arms ached and he had a kink in his neck from tilting his head back for two hours, at least he could cross off the ceilings of rooms 4 and 5 from Lydia’s to-do list.
