by Marin Thomas
If their grandfather found out he was wasting time with Lydia instead of working on the renovations, the geezer would threaten to remove him as the manager. Gunner liked his current living arrangement and didn’t want to bunk at the ranch and put up with his brother’s bad moods.
“What kind of advice do you want?” Logan asked.
“When you met Beth, was she seeing other guys?”
Logan dropped his gaze and Gunner regretted bringing up his brother’s ex-wife, but he had to get his head on straight where Lydia was concerned.
“Neither of us was dating anyone else when we met. Why?”
“Lydia’s using one of those online dating sites.”
“Dating around is one thing—sleeping around is another.”
Exactly. Lydia wasn’t sleeping with any of her supposed perfect matches—yet. So why did it bother Gunner that she was considering contacting WorldTraveler5?
“I get it now,” Logan said.
“What?”
“You’re jealous of the guys on the dating site.” Logan chuckled. “This must be a first for you.” He snapped his fingers. “Or...”
“What?”
“You’re upset because Lydia isn’t into you as much as you’re into her.”
“She’s into me.” If she wasn’t, then she put on a good act in bed. “She’s on the dating site because she’s ready to settle down.”
“And you aren’t. So it shouldn’t matter to you that she’s looking at potential husbands as long as it’s not you, right?”
A couple of weeks ago Gunner would have agreed with his brother.
“Look,” Logan said, “you’ve always insisted you don’t want to get married, and to be honest, that’s probably pretty smart of you, since you suck at being a rodeo cowboy and a motel manager.”
“Once the motel is fixed up, I’ll have to stick around more if tourists return to Stampede.”
Logan shook his head. “Fresh paint and new bedspreads aren’t going to bring people back to town when there’s nothing for them to do once they get here.”
“If the motel doesn’t stay busy, then I’ll go back to busting broncs.”
“Didn’t you hear the part where I said you suck at rodeo?”
“I’ll work harder at it.”
“You’re twenty-seven. If you haven’t won a buckle yet, chances are you won’t.”
“So I’m supposed to quit rodeo like you quit on your marriage?” Gunner held his breath when Logan’s face turned crimson. His brother hadn’t contested his divorce when Beth served him papers. Hadn’t even insisted on marriage counseling.
“You can try all you want, Gunner, but you’ll eventually learn you can’t outrun who you are.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re too laid-back to ever put 110 percent into anything you do. Some people are just meant to coast through life and you’re one of them.”
This wasn’t the helpful advice he’d hoped to receive from his brother. “Thanks a lot for the pep talk.”
“Gunner?”
He paused at the back door. “What?”
“It isn’t always the hardworking guys—” meaning Logan “—who finish last. Sometimes the charmers do, too.”
Chapter Seven
C’mon, pick up. Lydia sat in the Cattle Drive Café Thursday morning, waiting to meet Aunt Amelia for breakfast. Her call went to Gunner’s voice mail—for the third time in thirty minutes. When his sexy voice invited her to leave her name and number, she hung up.
“You’re frowning.” Her aunt tossed her purse onto the seat across from Lydia, then slid into the booth. “What’s the matter?”
“We’re halfway through the first week in June and Gunner’s AWOL and the contractors I reached out to aren’t returning my messages.”
Dolly headed toward their table with a coffeepot and glasses of water, saving Lydia from confessing that little progress had been made on the renovations since Gunner had scraped the ceilings in rooms 4 and 5 and torn out the carpet.
“You’re looking lovely as ever, Amelia.” Dolly filled the white mug, then topped off Lydia’s cup. “Yellow is definitely your color.”
“Thank you, Dolly. What’s Bud working on now?”
“A TV stand for a young couple in Mesquite.”
“He should open a shop in Stampede.” Amelia nodded to Lydia. “Bud’s a talented woodworker. He made the hutch in my dining room.”
“If you succeed in bringing tourists back to this town, he might consider renting space in one of the vacant stores.”
“Once the Moonlight Motel is renovated, I have another idea I’m working on to entice people to visit Stampede,” Amelia said.
“Emmett’s been telling everyone who’ll listen that the rest of the town is off-limits to you.”
Amelia winked. “We’ll see about that.”
“You should run for mayor the next election. Emmett’s held the office for too long,” Dolly said.
“Don’t worry about Emmett. He’ll see the light eventually.”
“I hope you’re right. The café is barely breaking even.” Dolly tugged a pencil from behind her ear and flipped open her order pad. “The usual?”
Amelia nodded, then Dolly looked at Lydia. “You having oatmeal and a banana, too?”
“That sounds fine.”
After Dolly left, Lydia opened her prescription bottle.
“You’re still taking medicine for your sinus infection?”
After swallowing the pill, she said, “That was the last one.”
“Are you getting enough rest, dear? You look tired.”
Tossing and turning in bed thinking about Gunner had robbed her of sleep the past couple of nights. If her aunt had heard through the grapevine that Lydia had spent time in Gunner’s motel room, she didn’t mention it. “The remodel is taking longer than necessary because Gunner isn’t the most reliable worker.”
And when he is in town, he’s preoccupied. With me.
“You haven’t had any luck with contractors?”
Lydia shook her head. “I can’t find a work crew willing to make the drive out here.” She sipped her water. “If we’re stuck with Gunner’s help, fixing up the motel will take the entire summer.” And Lydia couldn’t stay that long—not only because her design business would suffer, but because if she and Gunner slept together more than a handful of times, it would no longer be a fling but a relationship. And she wanted her next relationship to be with a potential perfect match from the dating site.
“Here you go, ladies.” Dolly set their food on the table. “Anything else I can get for you?”
“No, thank you. This looks wonderful,” Amelia said.
“Holler if you need refills on the coffee.”
After Dolly walked off, Lydia said, “The people here are so friendly. It’s not always like that in a large city.”
“Don’t let this small town fool you. We have a few unfriendlies here, too.”
“You mean Gunner’s grandfather?”
“Emmett wasn’t always cantankerous.”
“I don’t mean to pry...” Lydia smiled. “Yes, I do.” Her aunt laughed. “Why do I get the sense that there’s more between you and the mayor than butting heads over Stampede?”
“There has always been more between us—we’ve just never discussed it.” Her aunt’s gaze shifted to the windows.
“Did you and Emmett do more than date when you were in high school?”
“Heavens, no.”
Lydia grasped her aunt’s hand. “Do you regret that?”
Amelia’s smile shook around the edges. “Maybe a little.” She shrugged. “Sara was a better match for Emmett’s temperament.”
“Was Em
mett happily married to her?”
Amelia pushed the oatmeal around in her bowl. “It took him a little time, but eventually he realized Sara was a great catch.”
“And you were happy with Uncle Robert?”
“We were well suited for each other.”
Lydia ate her oatmeal in silence. Suited didn’t sound very romantic. Was that what she was searching for in a husband—a man who suited her? She shoved the thought away and said, “If we don’t find a contractor, I don’t see how we’ll get the renovations done anytime soon.”
Her aunt pulled out her cell phone and made a call. “Sylvie, does your nephew still do plumbing on the side? I see. Okay, thank you.”
Lydia sat quietly, eating her banana while Amelia made phone calls. Fifteen minutes and more than a few conversations later, her aunt set the phone aside.
“No luck?” Lydia asked.
Amelia shook her head. “Finish your breakfast. Then we’ll take a drive out to Paradise Ranch and pay Emmett a visit.”
Amelia left twenty dollars on the table, then put her banana in her purse and took a sip of coffee before vacating the booth and marching out the door. Lydia drove them to the ranch in the Civic and parked behind Emmett’s rust-bucket pickup sitting in front of the rambling wood-and-stone one-story.
“Every time I see this house, I become angry.” Amelia released her seat belt. “Sara had this front yard looking so beautiful before she got sick.” Amelia pointed out the windshield. “The crepe myrtle trees barely bloom anymore because the boys haven’t cut them back in years. That area over there—” Amelia’s finger swung in the opposite direction “—the knockout rose bushes barely bloom because they’ve been neglected so badly. And who knows what they did with the porch swing that Sara loved sitting on at the end of the day. This used to be a home that welcomed people. Sara would be hurt if she knew how badly Emmett and her grandsons have neglected it.”
“I don’t have a green thumb, but Sadie does. She’s in charge of selecting the plants and flowers for her apartment complex and works with the association on the gardens.”
“I need to take a trip north, don’t I? It’s been a couple of years since I last saw Tommy and Tyler.”
“The boys run circles around Sadie.” Lydia followed her aunt, but they both stopped at the porch steps when the front door opened and Emmett walked outside.
“Little early for a social call,” he said.
“Don’t give me that.” Amelia climbed the steps. “You haven’t slept past dawn since you got married.”
“How would you know?”
“Sara told me.”
“What else did Sara say about me?”
“Plenty.” Amelia paused on the top step. “Invite us in for coffee.”
“If I don’t?”
“I’m not leaving until you hear me out, stubborn old man.”
Emmett’s eyes gleamed as if he looked forward to bickering with Amelia. “Guess I better put a pot of coffee on, then.” He returned inside, leaving the door open.
Lydia and her aunt walked down a narrow hallway toward the back of the house, Lydia peeking inside each room they passed by. The wood moldings and large windows were beautiful, but the mismatched furniture, outdated drapes and clutter in every room begged for a woman’s touch.
Aunt Amelia sat at the oak table in the middle of the kitchen and Lydia joined her. The room looked as tired as the rest of the house—gray Formica countertops, black appliances covered in fingerprints and linoleum floor with black scuff marks from a decade’s worth of cowboy boots stomping across it. The one bright spot in the room was the red ceramic rooster sitting on the counter next to the coffeemaker.
Emmett flipped the switch on the machine, then removed three mugs from the cupboard before leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”
“We’re having trouble finding contractors willing to drive this far to do a job.”
“I’ve called everyone within an hour’s drive of Stampede,” Lydia said, “but none of them are returning my calls.”
“Isn’t Gunner helping?” Emmett glanced between Lydia and her aunt.
“Yes, Gunner’s helping, but I need electrical and plumbing contractors. We have to make sure the work is up to code.”
The timer on the coffeemaker dinged. Emmett poured the brew, then set the mugs on the table and took a seat. “What do you want me to do? Round up a bunch of contractors at gunpoint?”
“I want you to use your charismatic personality and find someone who will help us,” Amelia said.
Emmett’s gaze slid over Amelia and there was no mistaking the appreciation in his eyes. Lydia bet Gunner’s grandfather had a crush on her aunt.
“Apparently our local contractors, Mr. Peterson, Mr. Kimble and Mr. Andrew, aren’t available to help with the renovations because they’re busy with other projects.” Amelia tapped a fingernail on the table. “I don’t know of anyone else around here who has experience in construction.”
Emmett squinted as he blew on his hot coffee. “You ever consider no one’s available to help because they’re trying to avoid you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amelia asked.
“Only that you stick your nose into everyone’s business.”
“I’m trying to help this town, which is more than you’ve done since becoming mayor.”
“Stampede doesn’t need help. It’s fine the way it is.”
“I’m not going to get into that argument with you again, Emmett. I came out here to ask for your help.”
“You have help. You should be thanking me for letting your niece have Gunner.”
The sip of coffee in Lydia’s mouth took a detour down her throat and ended up in her lungs, sending her into a coughing fit. Emmett and Amelia ignored her.
“Gunner means well, but he doesn’t have the dedication to see this project through,” Amelia said.
Emmett’s gaze swung to Lydia. “Never heard a woman yet complain about his dedication.”
Lydia ignored the innuendo and said, “I tried reaching Gunner today, but he’s not answering his phone.”
“Think he went to a rodeo in Laredo,” Emmett said.
Amelia slapped her palm on the table and Lydia jumped. “If we can’t count on Gunner’s help, then it’s your responsibility to hire someone else.”
He set his mug down with way too much care. “Don’t forget who owns that motel.”
“And if you want to keep it, then you’ll cooperate,” Amelia said.
The air in the room evaporated when the older couple locked gazes.
Amelia rose from her chair. “If I were you, I’d advise Gunner to put his rodeo career on hold until you find a contractor to replace him.” She slid her mug toward Emmett. “And for goodness’ sake, learn how to make a decent cup of coffee.”
“Got too much kick-ass for you, Amelia?”
“There’s only one person in this room that needs an ass-kicking.”
Lydia held her breath, afraid Emmett would unleash his furor at her aunt, but instead he chuckled at Amelia’s retreating back.
* * *
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, next up on this sweltering Saturday afternoon is the saddle-bronc competition. Gunner Hardell from Stampede, Texas, is the first cowboy out of the chute.”
The mediocre round of applause echoing through the stands of the fairgrounds might have depressed Gunner if not for the feminine catcalls from the buckle bunnies camped next to the chutes. He could always count on the lovelies to feed his ego.
He climbed the rails, then tipped his hat to the handful of onlookers. The ladies whistled, and when his eyes landed on a blonde in the group, for a split second he thought Lydia had come to watch him. The woman was pretty—most of them were. But her
mouth didn’t turn up at the corners when she smiled like Lydia’s did. Her face was more round than oval and her chin didn’t have that stubborn tilt to it like Lydia’s.
He slid a leg over Reckless and settled on the bronc’s back. Not a muscle in the horse twitched and Gunner’s adrenaline kicked up a notch. He preferred a fidgety bronc in the chute—a foe he could count on to bust out on all four cylinders. The quiet ones were too hard to read and he didn’t like surprises when the gate opened.
Lydia’s face flashed before his eyes. He hadn’t returned any of her calls since sneaking out of town on Thursday. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was purposefully putting the brakes on the renovation to try to keep her in Stampede.
Stop thinking about Lydia and pay attention to what you’re doing or this beast will stomp your head.
“Heard Reckless likes to spin before he bucks.” Ernie Jones balanced himself on the rails next to Gunner.
Gunner’s and Ernie’s careers mirrored each other—they’d begun rodeoing around the same time and neither of them had been very successful.
“What’s the matter?” Ernie asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
He nodded at Gunner’s gloved hand, which rested on the rail. “You gonna grab the rope or ride with both hands in the air?”
Jeez. Gunner wound the rope around his gloved hand. If he didn’t find a way to shut Lydia out of his thoughts, he might as well not even leave the chute.
“Good luck, man.” Ernie dropped to the ground.
Gunner closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. He opened his eyes and gave a curt nod to the gateman. Everything went downhill from there.
Reckless sprang from the chute and spun right, the action twisting Gunner’s spine and throwing his hips off balance. He could blame the horse’s inherent nastiness for catching him unawares, but it was the memory of Lydia’s soft smile as she lay beneath him when he...
Gunner went flying off the back of the bronc—him in one direction, his hat in the other. The feeling of weightlessness lasted only a second before the hard dirt knocked the air from his chest. Instinct kicked in and he rolled away from the vibrations in the ground—putting as much distance between him and the pounding hooves as he could. The rodeo helpers caught the horse’s rein and the animal trotted like royalty out of the arena.
