Читать книгу The Cowboy's Accidental Baby - Marin Thomas - Страница 10
Оглавление“You ever seen a cowboy ride a bull, sweetheart?” Gunner Hardell winked at the sassy redhead he was flirting with Saturday afternoon in the Gold Buckle Bar—the best cowboy saloon in Mesquite, Texas.
“No.” Eyes as big as the Lone Star State and brown as the muddy Rio Grande blinked at Gunner.
“Well, Pa...” Dang, what was her name? Patricia... Patsy... Pamela? “You’re in for a real treat because—”
“Hardell, I got ten bucks that says you won’t make it to eight.”
The redhead forgotten, Gunner spun and grinned at the cowboy striding his way. “Watch and weep, Johnson.” He crossed the squishy mat and made a big production of circling Diablo, the infamous bucking machine. The bar had purchased the mechanical bull a while ago, but Gunner had yet to test it out.
“Be careful!” Redhead whatever-her-name-was called out.
Johnson mimicked the buckle bunny and male chuckles erupted, but Gunner paid no mind. His competition was just jealous that the prettiest, sexiest girls gravitated toward him. While his buddies practiced their macho swaggering walks and sulky expressions, Gunner smiled and treated the barflies like ladies, endearing himself to the opposite sex. The young women competed to be Gunner’s one and only, but none had convinced him to trade in his bachelorhood for a pair of matching wedding bands.
Gunner eyed the bucking machine. After he’d entered the bar earlier, he’d hidden in the shadows and watched the big shots take turns on the ride. The bull was a far cry from a real one, but it snorted smoke and challenged the most athletic cowboys with three riding levels—easy, medium and insane. The GoPro camera that came with the machine displayed each ride on the high-definition video screens throughout the bar and Gunner couldn’t wait to see how good he looked on TV.
“What’ll it be, Hardell? Easy or insane?”
“You have to ask, Tex?”
The machine operator spoke into the microphone. “Gather round, folks, ’cause Gunner Hardell picked insane!”
The onlookers chanted, “Insane! Insane! Insane!”
Cowboys—the real ones and the wannabes—circled the mat and money exchanged hands.
Gunner swung his leg over the cowhide-covered machine. Bull riding wasn’t his specialty. His almost-six-foot frame preferred broncs. He slid on a riding glove, then wrapped the rope around his hand before sliding forward and finding his center of gravity. He glanced at the redhead, whose hands were clasped together, and she seemed to be praying as if she were in church and not a cowboy honky-tonk.
Deep breath. Take another. Gunner closed his eyes and imagined the ride. As soon as he raised his hand and signaled that he was ready, Tex would flip the switch to Insane and the bull would do three things in rapid succession: rise up, pitch forward at a ninety-degree angle and swing left. The motion would then repeat in the opposite direction and launch its victim into the air.
If he had his way, Gunner would be the first that afternoon to go the distance.
He took one last deep breath and then raised his left hand. A moment later the machine jerked, and his stomach muscles tightened as he blocked out the noise of the crowd. The echo of his harsh breathing and the angry, high-pitched snorts from the machine were the only sounds reaching his ears.
He kept his seat during the first rotation and ticked off the seconds in his head. He reached five when Diablo pitched forward instead of spinning left like he’d anticipated. Gunner had no time to react as he suddenly flew forward and did a face-plant in the mat. Grinning, he got to his feet, picked up his hat and bowed to the ladies, who, bless their hearts, were cheering as if he’d won a gold buckle.
“You owe me ten bucks, Hardell,” Johnson said.
“Yeah, yeah.” When Gunner stepped off the mat, a waitress handed him a bottle of beer with a piece of paper shoved inside the neck.
“Compliments of Mac.” Mac managed the bar. “The note’s from your grandfather.”
This couldn’t be good. He fished out the folded paper. Get your blasted backside home. We got trouble.
Now what? Grandpa Emmett was always bellyaching about something. Gunner looked longingly at the beer before setting the bottle on the table. He turned to leave, but the redhead blocked his path. Her mouth puckered in a sexy pout. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Sorry, sweet thing. Duty calls.”
“Duty?”
He leaned in and whispered, “Grandpa Hardell is having one of his fits and he needs me.”
Her eyes grew misty. “It’s so sweet that you take care of your grandfather.”
“Us Hardells are like that. Family comes first.” In reality Gunner gave his eldest brother and grandfather a wide berth because both men were always in a bad mood. “Take care of yourself, sugar.” He kissed the redhead’s cheek because women went nuts when he did that. Ninety-nine percent of the time, a kiss on the cheek won him an invitation to accompany the lady home. Thanks to Gramps, he was flying solo today.
He stepped outside and squinted against the bright sunlight. It was the end of May and the temps were already inching toward ninety—another long, hot summer in South Texas.
Gunner climbed into his Chevy pickup and cranked the air-conditioning. The last time he’d checked in with his grandfather had been a week ago and the old man had been his usual grumpy self. Maybe Logan had done something to piss him off, which was a long shot, because Gunner’s sainted older brother never did anything wrong.
He headed north on I-35. After fifteen miles the gas indicator light popped on. He took the next exit off the highway and pulled into a Valero gas station. A blue Honda Civic with Wisconsin plates sat parked at the pump in front of him. He felt bad for all the cheeseheads who had to suffer through the notoriously frigid dairyland winters.
He slid his credit card into the reader, then stuck the nozzle into the neck of the gas tank. While he waited, a pretty blonde stepped out of the convenience mart. A gust of wind blew her long hair in her face and she swatted the strands from her eyes. She was a few inches shorter than his six-foot frame, but her strides ate up the pavement—the lady was in a hurry to get to somewhere.
As she strolled past his pickup—without glancing his way—a sense of déjà vu hit him, but he couldn’t recall where he might have met her. The gray slacks and silky blouse buttoned to her collarbone insisted she was all work and no play. Not his usual type.
She got into her car and drove off. As he watched the Civic head south, he contemplated following her—just to see if he could coax a smile from her. With his luck, Miss Badger State would have mace in her car and spray his face with it.
His phone beeped with a text message from Logan.
Grandpa’s birthday’s tomorrow. Buy him something from us.
K. Why does he want me to come home?
IDK He’s been pissy since Amelia Rinehart stopped by.
The old woman was poking her nose into his grandfather’s business again.
Be home soon.
Gunner stuffed the phone into his pants pocket and returned the gas nozzle to the holder, then went into the store and examined the souvenirs on display by the drink machine.
The options for birthday gifts were limited to bags of pecans, a faux-leather wallet with an image of the Texas state flag stamped on it, an Alamo snow globe, a wooden rattlesnake and an armadillo key chain. The rattler won—it fit his grandfather’s personality.
“Eight dollars and sixty-six cents,” the clerk said after Gunner set the snake and his fountain drink on the counter.
“Throw a pack of Marlboro on there.” Gramps had quit smoking years ago but lit up on special occasions. Maybe the lung darts would settle the old man down.
Back in the pickup, he flipped on the radio and Johnny Cash’s voice came through the speakers. The town of Stampede was only ten minutes up the highway. Three songs later he moved over to the shoulder, then turned onto the dirt road that led to Paradise Ranch, a.k.a. Ornery Acres. Gunner and his siblings had nicknamed the homestead after their grandfather’s sunny disposition.
Grandpa Emmett had always been cantankerous, but he’d grown crabbier after Grandma Sara had passed away from cancer and then five years later Gunner’s father had been struck by a car and killed while changing a flat tire on the side of the road. From that day on, Gramps had become almost impossible to live with.
Since Gunner and his brothers didn’t have a mother—they had one, but she’d taken off before Grandma Sara had died—their father and then grandfather had been saddled with riding herd over three rowdy boys and Gramps had never been good at herding.
After he parked in front of the sprawling one-story wood-and-stone ranch house, he entered through the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Shuffling sounds came from the hallway and he quickly stuffed the bag with the cigarettes and wooden snake in it beneath the kitchen sink. Seconds later his grandfather walked into the room.
“The last time you looked that angry, I broke the handle on the upstairs toilet,” Gunner said.
Gramps hitched his pants. “That woman’s determined to shove me off the wagon.”
Grandpa Emmett was an alcoholic—Gunner’s father had been one, too. So far he and his brothers hadn’t followed in the family tradition and Gunner planned on keeping it that way. Hoping to cajole his grandfather out of his bad mood, he said, “You want to eat out tomorrow for your birthday?”
“I’m too damned old to celebrate birthdays.”
“Eighty-five is hardly old,” Gunner teased. “You’re practically a spring chicken.”
“My private parts ain’t sprung in years, boy.”
“They’ve got little blue pills for that, Gramps. I can call Doc Jones and have him write you a prescription.” His suggestion earned him another glare.
“What has Amelia Rinehart done this time to get your dander up?” The old woman had been best friends with Gunner’s grandmother, but she rubbed Gramps the wrong way and no one knew why.
“That wackadoodle gets an idea in her head and she can’t let it go.”
“What idea?”
“She says the town needs a makeover.”
“What kind of makeover?”
“She wants to spruce up the Moonlight Motel—” the old man’s pointer finger wagged in front of Gunner’s face “—because you’ve let it fall into disrepair.”
“It doesn’t make sense to give it a face-lift.” Tourists had quit visiting Stampede years ago, instead bypassing the town and spending their money in nearby Mesquite and Rocky Point.
“If you ran the motel better, Amelia wouldn’t be sticking her nose into our affairs.”
Gunner admitted that his management skills could use a little work, but flirting with buckle bunnies, singing karaoke and riding Diablo were a heck of a lot more fun than babysitting a dumpy motel while waiting for a wayward traveler to rent a room. “Amelia can think it needs fixing up all she wants, but you own the property, so you can tell her to bug off and pester someone else.”
“No, I can’t.”
Gunner started at the serious tone in the old man’s voice. “Why not?”
“I never paid back the money I borrowed from Amelia to buy the motel for your grandmother.”
“I thought the bank loaned you the money.”
“The bank wouldn’t give me a second loan.”
“Second loan? What was the first?”
Gramps waved his hand in the air. “Never mind that. I owe Amelia $130,000 for the motel and I don’t have the money to pay her. She says she’ll forgive the loan if I let her fix it up.”
“Who’s footing the bill for the improvements?”
“She is.”
“A waste of cash if you ask me,” Gunner said.
“There’s nothing I can do to stop her.” His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “And you’re going to help her.”
“Help Amelia how?”
“Not Amelia. You’re helping her niece renovate the motel. The sooner you get it fixed up, the sooner that old woman quits pestering me.”
“What about my rodeo schedule?”
“You can chase the girls after you finish with the motel.”
Gunner raised his hands in the air. “Why does everyone think I rodeo for the buckle bunnies and not for the broncs?”
“Maybe because you don’t make any money at it.”
He ignored his grandfather’s quip and asked, “Which niece am I helping?” Amelia Rinehart had three nieces close to Gunner and his brothers’ ages.
“Lydia Canter.”
His memory recalled the unfriendly blonde at the gas station with Wisconsin plates on her car. No wonder he’d felt a sense of déjà vu at the Valero. He’d seen Lydia in church at her uncle’s funeral years ago. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but her hair had been the same pale blond and just as long.
Suddenly Gunner was thinking that the Moonlight Motel might need a face-lift after all.
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s been nine years since I last visited Stampede.” Lydia sat on the front porch of her great-aunt’s brick Victorian. The home looked out of place in a town comprised mostly of single-story brick homes.
“A funeral is hardly considered a visit, dear.”
Lydia’s smile dimmed as she studied her grandmother’s eldest sister. “Are you lonely, Aunt Amelia?”
“Sometimes, but Robert and I had fifty-two years together. More than many couples get these days.”
“Mom sends her love,” Lydia said.
“How is your mother?”
“Busy with work.” Lydia’s mother was always busy. Her career came first before family. Every once in a while Lydia suspected her mother was disappointed that her only child hadn’t followed in her footsteps and become a lawyer, instead choosing a career in interior design.
Aunt Amelia was the eldest of the four Westin daughters and the only one living. Her three sisters had passed away in their seventies, each leaving behind an only child—a daughter. Lydia and her cousins, Scarlett and Sadie, had been named after their grandmothers. Aunt Amelia had never had children and Lydia thought it was sad that her great-aunt didn’t have a granddaughter named after her.
Lydia reached inside her purse for a tissue and her aunt asked, “Are you feeling any better?”
“A little.” When her aunt had phoned to summon Lydia to Texas, Lydia had just gotten home from a doctor’s appointment, where she’d been diagnosed with an ear and sinus infection. The last thing she’d wanted to do was board a plane all stuffed up, but she hadn’t had the heart to turn down her aunt’s request—not after the generous check Amelia had sent Lydia for her college graduation. The money had paid off more than half her student-loan debt. Rather than risk her head exploding on the airplane, Lydia had driven from Wisconsin to Texas.
“The doctor put me on an antibiotic.” She’d been prescribed two weeks’ worth of heavy-duty meds, and although Lydia was feeling much better, she’d been told to take all of the pills until they were gone.
“Did you ever get rid of those antique school desks?” Lydia remembered playing with her cousins in the attic when their families visited Stampede together in the summers.
“I have them. I wish Sadie would bring her boys to visit. They’d love playing on the third floor.”
“Being a single parent is tough. Sadie spends most of her free time shuffling Tommy and Tyler to and from their activities.”
“How often do you get together with your cousins?”
“We try to have a girls’ night out once a month. And Scarlett and I trade off attending the twins’ extracurricular activities.”
“I’m glad you three are close. I have fond memories of growing up with my sisters.” Amelia smiled. “We caused our fair share of trouble.”
“Grandma said you were the ringleader.”
Amelia laughed. “Sometimes, but not always. Your grandmother hogged the bathroom every morning and made us late for school most days.”
“I’m glad you kept this house after Uncle Robert passed away.”
“I’ll never forget the first time I met him,” Amelia said. “I was sweaty, dusty, and my hair windblown after chasing our hound dog all the way into town. Barney was an escape artist and Father threatened to get rid of him if we couldn’t keep him in the yard.” Amelia poked Lydia’s shoulder. “Your grandmother was supposed to watch him that day, but she’d snuck off with a girlfriend. Thank goodness I happened to step outside right when Barney chewed through his leash and ran off.”
Lydia had heard this story before from her grandmother but kept quiet so her great-aunt could spin her tale. “I looked like a rag doll by the time I found Robert sharing an ice-cream cone with Barney in front of the Woolworth building. I was about to call out for the dog when Robert glanced up and our gazes connected.”
“What did you think when you first saw Uncle Robert?”
“I’d never seen a more handsome, well-dressed man in my entire life.”
Lydia’s mother had told her that Uncle Robert had been an up-and-coming executive for Shell Oil when he’d passed through Stampede and had swept eighteen-year-old Amelia off her feet.
“I thanked him for entertaining Barney and went on my way. It wasn’t until later that I heard about an oilman checking out the area and learned that man was the one who’d caught Barney.” Amelia stared into space as if reliving the past, then blinked and smiled at Lydia. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with your boyfriend, Ryan.”
It had been over a year since the relationship had ended and Lydia was ready to move on. “I joined an online dating service.” She’d paid for the subscription a week before her aunt requested her help. Lydia had only had time to create her profile before packing her suitcase and driving south.
“The internet isn’t safe. A young girl as pretty as you should be able to find a man without the help of a computer.”
Lydia’s fingers curled into her palms. “It’s difficult to socialize and meet people when you’re on a tight budget and trying to get a business off the ground.”
“I don’t understand why you left the company you were working for. What was the name of that place? Design...”
“Design Logistics. I quit because I wanted control over my work.” What she’d really wanted was credit for her designs. Lydia’s boss, Ellen, hadn’t allowed her to meet with clients. It was by accident that she’d discovered Ellen had been taking credit for Lydia’s ideas. When she requested a raise and was turned down, she’d struck out on her own and learned the hard way that it wasn’t easy winning new clients when you had no references.
“What about meeting eligible bachelors through Sadie’s and Scarlett’s friends?” her aunt asked.
“It’s not easy finding someone you’re compatible with.”
“All this talk about compatibility is ridiculous. Your uncle and I were raised very differently, but we made it work.”
“I work out of my apartment, which makes it even more challenging to meet new people.” And to add salt to the wound, Lydia’s friends from college were all married and starting families. She was the odd woman out, resulting in awkward get-togethers when talk turned to babies, mortgages and the cost of day care.
“What kind of man interests you?”
“Aunt Amelia, I’d rather not talk about my dismal dating life.” She flashed a halfhearted smile. “Can we discuss why I’m here?” What she really needed to be doing was focusing her time and energy on building her client base.
Amelia pointed to the MacBook Air sitting on Lydia’s lap. “I have a business proposition for you.”
“You want to be one of my clients?”
Her aunt nodded.
Lydia glanced around the porch. “Are you thinking of updating the house?”
“No, I’d like you to renovate the old motel on the outskirts of town.”
“The Moonlight Motel?” The janky dump had seen its best years five decades ago. “I thought that place had shut down.”
“It’s still open...when the manager feels like flipping on the vacancy sign.” Amelia snorted. “Stampede is falling apart right before my eyes.”
Lydia’s grandmother had always wished her sister would leave “that godforsaken dusty hideaway for die-hard wranglers and has-been cowboys.”
“Stampede is losing tourist dollars to our neighbors in Rocky Point and Mesquite all because our mayor isn’t willing to put a little money and elbow grease into sprucing up the town.”
“Why the motel?”
“It’s the only place people can stay when they visit Stampede.”
“What shape is the building in?”
“The rooms haven’t been updated since the ’70s.”
“Do you have the approval of the owner to fix it up?”
“I do. And Emmett Hardell’s grandson will be helping you.”
“Which grandson?”
“Gunner manages the motel when he’s not off pretending he’s a rodeo cowboy.”
Lydia recalled the hot look Gunner had sent her in church during her uncle’s funeral. Later that day she’d overheard her mother and Aunt Amelia chatting about the Hardell boys. Her aunt had blamed their wild ways on the lack of a female influence in their lives. The boys’ mother had abandoned the family, and then a few years later their grandmother had passed away, leaving their “tomcatting” father and “irritable” grandfather—Aunt Amelia’s words—to raise the boys.
“How old is Gunner?”
“A year older than you, I believe.”
“As far as renovating the motel,” Lydia said, “you’re just looking to freshen up the paint colors and change the furniture and decor?”
“That’s right. And I’ll pay you for your work.”
“You don’t have to do that, Aunt Amelia.”
“Of course I do.”
Lydia breathed a sigh of relief, happy she wouldn’t have to dig into her dismal savings to cover the bills next month. “I should be able to handle the task.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you to take on this project if I didn’t believe you had the talent and skill to pull it off.”
“Let’s visit the motel in the morning and come up with a design plan.”
“You’ll have to go by yourself, dear. I have choir practice after church services.”
Lydia had forgotten that tomorrow was Sunday.
“As far as decorating ideas, I’m leaving that in your capable hands.”
“What’s my budget?”
“There is no budget. Do what needs to be done to turn the motel into a place people will drive out of their way to spend the night.”
“Are you covering the entire bill for this renovation?”
Her aunt nodded. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, Lydia.”
That was the truth. Everyone in the family knew that Uncle Robert had left Aunt Amelia millions of dollars in stocks and oil investments. “I don’t have many years left on this earth, and before I meet my Maker, I want Stampede to return to its glory days.”
Her aunt would have better odds buying lottery tickets because there was no guarantee that all the beautification in the world would bring tourists back to this hidey-hole-in-the-wall.
“How will I get into the motel rooms to take a look around?”
Her aunt reached into the pocket of her slacks and pulled out a key. “This will open the front office and the room keys are hanging on a pegboard behind the counter.”
The motel rooms still used keys? “I’ll have a better idea of the cost of the makeover once I see the place.”
“If the mayor shows up while you’re looking around, just ignore him.”
“Who’s the mayor?”
“I thought you knew.”
Lydia shook her head.
“Emmett Hardell is the mayor.”
“Grandma claimed you were sweet on Emmett when you were in high school. How come you two didn’t end up together?”
“Because the man’s dumb as a rock when it comes to women.” Amelia waved a hand before her face. “He married my best friend, Sara Pritchett. She was a sweet girl.”
Lydia wondered if the mayor had any idea what he was up against, taking on Aunt Amelia. If he didn’t, he was about to find out.
