by Marin Thomas
Gunner crawled to his feet and swiped his hat off the ground. His shoulder was numb, but he managed to wave at the crowd as he strolled back to the cowboy ready area, where Ernie waited. “What the hell happened, man? You lasted two seconds before Reckless kicked your ass.”
“Got distracted.” Gunner removed his spurs and tossed them into his gear bag. A rodeo worker returned his saddle and rope. “Thanks, man.”
Ernie kept talking, but Gunner didn’t hear a word. His thoughts had drifted to Lydia—again. He’d missed her the past two days. She wasn’t as flashy as the buckle bunnies he usually dated but just as sexy—maybe even more so because she didn’t flaunt her finer attributes. When a man looked at Lydia, he had to really look—study her to see her sexy curves, the slope of her neck...the gentle swell of her buttocks. Like a soft feather bed, Lydia had the kind of body a man could sink into and never find his way out of.
“Earth to Gunner,” Ernie said.
He shook his head. “What were you saying?”
“You gotta keep your head on straight or the next time you’ll get hurt. Reckless came this close—” the cowboy pinched his fingers together “—to stomping your skull.”
Ernie was right. If Gunner couldn’t keep his head in the game, then he shouldn’t be riding. And as long as Lydia was in Stampede working on the motel, he didn’t stand a chance of succeeding at rodeo. “I guess I need to take a break.”
“What do you mean?”
“A vacation from rodeo.”
“Since when has rodeoing ever been work?”
“Since I got something better waiting for me in Stampede.”
“When you coming back?”
“End of the summer.” When Lydia returned to Wisconsin.
“You lucky son of a gun.” Ernie glanced at the buckle bunnies. “Which one?”
“She’s not one of them.” What did it matter if he told his buddy about Lydia? It wasn’t like he’d run into her. “Her name’s Lydia and she’s renovating the motel in Stampede.”
“I thought you liked the motel just the way it is—a dump.”
“I did...still do, but this is my grandfather’s doing.”
Ernie grinned. “You don’t like the renovations, but you like the renovator.”
“It’s nothing serious.”
“Nothing with you is ever serious. Maybe I’ll stop by and check out your new digs.”
“You do and I’ll punch your face.”
Ernie’s laughter echoed through Gunner’s brain long after the cowboy walked off. He’d snuck out of Stampede early Thursday morning after he’d woken in a cold sweat from a dream where he’d been looking at engagement rings in a jewelry store.
Marriage wasn’t in his plans—especially to a woman like Lydia. She was too serious. Too...together. It was okay to like her, admire her talents and her generosity toward her great-aunt. But anything more would lead him down the path to a broken heart. He might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but he was smart enough to know a woman like Lydia would never pick a guy like him to be her forever man.
The only thing Gunner was certain about right now was that if he didn’t want a broken neck, rodeo would have to wait until Lydia left Stampede.
Chapter Eight
Lydia turned off the wallpaper steamer in room 3 and checked the time on her phone. “It’s five thirty.” She smiled at Karl, the contractor Emmett had found to help her with the motel renovations. “You were supposed to quit at five.”
“I wanted to finish tearing out the carpet in room 6. Is there anything else you need me to do before I take off?”
“Nope. You were a huge help today.”
He shifted from one work boot to the other, his gaze skipping over Lydia. “I appreciate you letting me bring the girls along.”
Karl Schmidt lived in Mesquite and was a divorced father of two daughters, ages seven and nine, and Lydia guessed he was around thirty-five years old. He was average looking but had kind eyes and worked his tail off—unlike a certain cowboy who’d rather rodeo than help her. “Nicole and Gaby are sweet girls. I feel bad that you worked during your weekend with them.”
“They did the same thing here that they do at my house.”
The sisters had played school in the motel office after Lydia’s aunt had dropped off coloring books and craft supplies earlier in the day.
Karl offered a shy smile. He seemed like a good father who might not be opposed to having more children, but a man like him was Lydia’s backup plan. She really wanted to find a guy who hadn’t ever been married and preferably had no children. If that didn’t happen by the time she was thirty, then she’d consider becoming part of a blended family.
“The girls’ mother is picking them up at seven.” Karl organized his toolbox.
“What are you doing here, Schmidt?”
“Hey, Gunner.” Karl offered his hand. “Your grandfather asked me to pitch in and help with the remodeling.”
Gunner walked farther into the room, his eyes shifting between Karl and Lydia. “I thought I heard you’d moved to Mesquite after your divorce.”
“I did.” Karl edged toward the door. “Stacy settled there after she remarried and it’s easier to share custody of our daughters if we live in the same town.” He looked at Lydia. “I better get the girls.”
“I’ll go with you and say goodbye to them.” Lydia followed Karl, her shoulder brushing against Gunner’s chest when he didn’t give her room to pass by him. She caught a hint of his familiar aftershave and breathed deeply through her nose. He always smelled so good. She expected him to follow, but he remained behind in the room.
She gave the girls a hug and thanked them for being good, then waved until Karl’s truck disappeared down the highway. When she turned back to the motel, she spotted Gunner wielding the wallpaper steamer through the open door. She hurried across the parking lot, worried he’d ruin her progress. “I’ll take over,” she said when she entered room 3.
“I’ve got it.” He stepped sideways, blocking her when she made a grab for the machine.
“Aren’t you tired after a long day rodeoing?”
“Eight seconds is hardly a long day.”
“So you didn’t get bucked off in Laredo?” she asked.
He flashed his white-toothed grin. “As a matter of fact, I did.” He set the steam wand aside and peeled off a sheet of brown, orange and gold-flecked wallpaper. “That was my last rodeo for the summer.”
“Why?”
“I’m committed to helping you with the motel.”
Now that she had a professional contractor, the last thing Lydia needed was Gunner hanging around getting in the way. “That’s not necessary. You go ahead and rodeo. Karl and I have things under control here.”
“Three hands are better than two, right?”
She hadn’t meant to make it sound as if she preferred Karl’s help to Gunner’s—even if she did. Besides, it hadn’t been very nice of him to take off without telling her when he’d be back. They weren’t in a relationship, but they’d slept together and she deserved a little consideration.
He turned off the steamer and headed for the door. “I’ll remove the carpet in the rest of the rooms.”
“Karl took care of it. But you could arrange to have the Dumpster emptied again.”
“Okay, sure.”
A half hour later, Lydia finished removing all of the wallpaper in the room and was just about to go in search of Gunner when he appeared in the doorway. “They’re coming tomorrow to empty the Dumpster. What else can I do?”
“Remove the carpet in room 1.” She hadn’t let Karl into Gunner’s private quarters.
“My room is off-limits,” he said. “I noticed the popcorn has been removed from all the ceilings.”
“Excep
t yours.”
Gunner ignored her and said, “Should I start on the bathroom tile tomorrow?”
“I changed my mind about new tile for the bathrooms. I think it will be fine if Karl replaces the cracked ones in each bathroom and then we’ll clean the grout really well.”
“So there’s nothing left for me to do?”
The teasing glint Lydia was accustomed to seeing in Gunner’s eyes fizzled out. “I thought you’d be happy that we hired Karl,” she said. “The sooner I’m finished, the sooner I’m out of your way.” And out of your bed.
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I don’t care if you hired Karl.”
Then why was he so agitated? “Did something happen at the rodeo?”
“No.”
The one-syllable answer sounded like a cussword as he reached behind him and closed the door. The snick of the dead bolt echoed in her ears. Gunner moved toward her, tugging at the snaps of his Western shirt, then letting it drop to the floor behind him.
She picked up the steamer wand and pointed it at his muscled chest. “Don’t take another step.”
He stopped in front of her, the wand pushing into his chest when he lowered his mouth toward hers. “Kiss me, Lydia.”
She dropped the wand to the floor and wound her arms around his neck, then did exactly as he asked.
* * *
GUNNER’S NOT YOUR TYPE.
How many times had Lydia told herself that, then as soon as he so much as looked sideways at her, she fell into his arms.
She pressed her hand to her stomach as a sudden wave of nausea hit her. Great. She’d finally kicked the ear infection only to come down with the flu. Or maybe it was a slight case of food poisoning after eating the chicken enchiladas Gunner had fetched for them last night from the Cattle Drive Café.
A full week had passed since he’d promised to quit rodeo until the motel update was completed. She appreciated his offer to help, but now that Karl was working on the project, Gunner was at loose ends. Lydia did her best to run interference between the two men and assign Gunner tasks that wouldn’t interfere with Karl’s work, but Gunner still managed to get in the contractor’s way.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Aunt Amelia carried the mail into the kitchen Saturday afternoon. “You look befuddled.”
She was confused—mostly about her feelings for Gunner. None of the men on the dating site who’d been matched with her had the cowboy’s good looks or sexy grin. “I can’t decide if we should use a neutral color in the rooms or go with custom paint shades,” Lydia said.
Amelia sat at the table. “If you’re worried about money, don’t be.”
“It’s not the money,” Lydia said. “I keep thinking a bold color would detract from the movie-scene wallpaper in the room.”
“You’re probably right. What are the choices for neutral colors?”
Lydia clicked on the paint samples and several colors popped up on the laptop screen. “How about that one?” Amelia tapped her nail against a sample with pink undertones.
“The decorations and bed linens will be on the cooler side, so we need to keep the paint undertones in the purple, blue and green category.” Lydia pointed to the third row of swatches. “Do you like any of these?”
“That one looks nice.” Amelia indicated the white with blue undertones.
“I like it, too.” Lydia made a note in the file to order Decorator White from the home-improvement store. When she finished, she found her aunt studying her. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind already?”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a member of the Stampede Women’s League.”
It took Lydia a moment to switch her train of thought.
“Ruby called this morning. She saw you and Gunner kissing yesterday when she drove past the motel.”
Lydia ducked her head, willing her cheeks not to turn red. What rotten timing. Ruby must have caught the thank-you kiss she’d given Gunner when she’d opened the room door and found him holding their supper.
She forced herself to meet her aunt’s gaze. “Gunner and I... It’s... He’s...” Lydia’s forehead broke out in a sweat.
“I may be old, dear, but I remember what it was like to be young and swept away by passion.” Amelia’s expression softened, the wrinkles around her mouth relaxing. “Gunner’s a handsome man and you’re a very pretty woman. Of course you two would be attracted to each other.”
“You’re not upset?”
“Should I be?”
“You don’t like Gunner’s grandfather.”
“I like Emmett just fine when he stays out of my way.” She winked. “There’s nothing wrong in enjoying yourself while you’re in town.”
Lydia sensed a but coming.
“As long as you’re careful. Gunner’s a sweet-talker, but he’s irresponsible and I doubt the young man will ever settle down.”
“I know. Men like Gunner can’t be counted on for anything but a good time.”
Amelia frowned. “You’ve looked pale the past few mornings.”
She had?
As if on cue, Lydia’s stomach lurched into her throat and she sprang from the chair. Luckily, her aunt’s home had a half bath in the hallway outside the kitchen. She stumbled into the tiny room and offered up her stomach contents to the porcelain god.
After retching for the third time, Lydia flushed the toilet, then sat on the lid and waited for her head to stop spinning.
“Here.” Aunt Amelia held out a damp washcloth.
Lydia pressed it against her eyes. “I think I have food poisoning.”
“Is it coming out the other end, too?”
“Not yet.” Lydia laughed. “Don’t worry—I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”
“What else could it be?”
Her aunt’s gray eyebrows drew together. “There’s no chance you’re pregnant?”
“We used protection.” Every single time.
“You or Gunner used protection?”
“Gunner.”
“Condoms aren’t foolproof, dear.”
Aunt Amelia’s sympathetic smile made Lydia’s eyes water and the tears she’d tried holding at bay spilled down her cheeks. “You don’t think it’s food poisoning?”
“Do you?”
She wished with all her heart it was, but her gut insisted otherwise. Lydia’s lip wobbled. “No.” Why did this have to happen with Gunner? Why couldn’t it have been with a man who was mature, ready to settle down and wanting a family?
Her aunt stroked Lydia’s hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
How? She was pregnant. Single. And no man in his right mind would choose to date a pregnant woman. She wrapped her arms around her aunt and blubbered. “I was finally ready to start looking for Mr. Right.”
“A baby won’t stop you from finding a man to build a life with.”
Yeah, right. All she had to do was look at Sadie, her divorced cousin and a mother of two boys, to know most men ran the opposite way when they found out a woman had kids. After Sadie told her dates she was a mom to twins, they never asked her out again.
“There’s no need to get worked up until you know for sure. Your ear infection or the stress of the motel renovations might have caused your cycle to be late.”
Lydia wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. “I’ll drive into Mesquite and buy a test kit.” She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until she had an answer.
“There’s a Walmart on the outskirts of town,” her aunt said.
“Be back shortly.” Lydia climbed into her car and turned on the radio, hoping the music would drown out the panicked voices in her head. A half hour later she parked in front of the store and went inside. Just her luck that a young man was stockin
g the test kits in the pharmacy.
“Can I help you find something?” he asked.
“I’m looking for one of those.” Lydia pointed to the First Response pregnancy test he held in his hand. She expected him to become embarrassed and move out of her way. Instead he said, “Clearblue is another popular brand.” He pointed to the box on the shelf.
“Thanks, but—” Lydia gestured to the one he held “—that will be fine.” He gave it to her and she made a beeline for the front of the store. The self-checkout registers were closed, so she stood in line behind a woman who’d bought a week’s worth of groceries. Almost ten minutes passed before there was room to set her purchase on the counter. She opened her wallet and pulled out her debit card.
“Lydia?”
Had someone said her name? She turned and came face-to-face with... “Chantilly?”
The woman fluffed her dark curls. “I thought you’d have gone back to Wisconsin by now.”
Lydia shifted sideways, trying to block the test kit from view. “The motel renovation will be done soon—then I’m heading home.”
“I heard Gunner wasn’t riding again until the motel reopened.”
“Ma’am?” the checkout clerk said.
Lydia spun around, expecting the woman to tell her the total, but instead she held up the pregnancy kit and asked, “Do you want to use the coupon taped to the box for this purchase?”
Chantilly’s gasp echoed in Lydia’s ear.
“No.” The clerk raised an eyebrow, so Lydia said, “Sure, go ahead.”
“Is that for you?” Chantilly pointed to the plastic bag the checker had dropped the kit into.
It was on the tip of her tongue to lie, but the smug look on Chantilly’s face changed her mind. “As a matter of fact, it is.” Lydia walked out of the Walmart with her head held high. She waited until after she got into her car and returned to the highway before blubbering.
By the time she reached her aunt’s Victorian, her tears had dried. “I’ll be upstairs, Aunt Amelia.”
“Take your time, dear.”
