Chapter Six
Dane appreciated quality construction, but if he had to drive a woman and a pregnant dog over cross-country terrain, he would prefer modern controls and quality shocks. Setting an easy pace in the old truck, he turned the vehicle and followed the road back to the highway.
A small mammal ran across the road.
He slowed. “What will you name her?”
“I’m not keeping her,” Kada said.
Risking a glance, he found her staring out the window and looking as stoic and disciplined as his mother leading weekend detention. “You’ll take her to Animal Control?”
Her lip quivered, and she nodded.
Backtracking fast, he cleared his throat and focused on the road. “Kada’s a pretty name. Unusual. How’d you come by it?”
“My parents,” she said. “They liked cicadas.”
Every few years, periodic cicada broods made the news, but the East Coast musicians usually skipped Palm Springs. Hall had mentioned his daughter moved to Wyoming and started a family, but Dane had no idea whether cicadas made their home there. He worked through a childhood named after a bug and figured Kada’s parents might have spent too much time in the sun. “Did your mom spend a lot of time on the East Coast?”
“No, but we took a lot of day trips to Horsetooth Reservoir. It’s near Fort Collins, Colorado. My parents love that place.”
Nodding, he replayed his trip to the Four Corners region in the southwest. As majestic as he found the area, he had plenty of rocks in his fields back home. If the reservoir she mentioned hosted vacationing Wyomingites, it probably had crystal-clear water, sandy shores, and a few rental cabins. He could see the appeal.
“When Mom was pregnant with me, she said the first day she felt me kick, the cicadas chirped at Horsetooth Reservoir. When she returned home, she said I kept my kicks to myself, and the silence bugged her. The day the obstetrician confirmed everything was fine, she heard a cicada buzzing outside her bedroom window.”
“I can’t imagine carrying a kid. That kind of vulnerability amazes me.” Settling into an easy downhill section of the road, he risked a glance at her expression. The truck’s gauges illuminated her face, and the soft light gave her hair an inky depth he wanted to explore, but he kept his hands to himself.
She stroked the dog’s head. “I know. My mom and dad poured so much love into me. Sometimes, I feel like I can’t repay them. How can you ever be ready for that kind of commitment?”
The dog huffed.
Out of his venue, he focused on the road.
She cleared her throat. “Hearing the cicadas is one thing, but actually seeing them in Laramie is a challenge. As soon as you get close, the little bugs hush up. They move around and make themselves indistinguishable from foliage. I don’t know why Mom thought she could find one. What would she do? Pin it in my baby book?”
He laughed and gripped the wheel with both hands. “I don’t think cicadas bite or sting, so there’s no harm in trying. Although if you found yourself surrounded by a million of the little critters, the constant buzzing might annoy a person.”
“You like your solitude?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Don’t tell my mom, but on my tenth birthday, I found one sitting in the sagebrush. I let it go.”
“Good call.” Most bugs had a mission, and occupying a collection jar didn’t make the cut. The talk of bugs and puppies worried him. He barely had time to eat, much less take on a pet, but he spent ninety minutes rambling through the valley to satisfy a pretty woman’s whim. How quickly would she let him go?
In a short mile, he would return to his obligations. His mother’s New Year’s Eve itinerary started with calisthenics and ended with a headache. Kada had a motel to run. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You shouldn’t mess with your namesake.”
“Is that why you carry dates in your saddlebags?”
Kada’s little quips made life interesting, and he wanted to spend more time with her. “Maybe I like the way dates taste.” Turning onto the highway, he cruised the short distance back to the Starlight Motel and turned into the parking lot, where a dusty collection of cars waited beneath the stars and a retro sign advertising the motel. Insects fluttered in the yellow haze, but the sign’s bare bulbs made it shine like an invitation to a pink-themed casino. Instead of fast-paced gaming tables, the motel’s guests would find a welcoming haven, a cool pool, and a talented proprietor he had no business mooning over.
She pointed toward the covered spot where the truck sat parked earlier in the evening. Past the spot, a silver recreational vehicle with Midwestern plates occupied a small campsite. “Just park the truck in the same place.”
He slowed for pedestrians and glanced at both passengers.
The dog raised her head.
He braked, put the truck in Park, and shifted on the seat. “Can she walk?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” She slipped the animal another piece of jerky. “I think she’ll be okay. I’m not the one who carried her like the queen of the desert.”
“You’re right. You almost threw out your back stumbling to the cab.”
She snorted. “See if you get any jerky.”
Laughing, he unbuckled the seat belt, gripped the keys, and stepped out of the cab’s quiet intimacy. Turned his face to the stars, he inhaled. The wind slipped across his face and reminded him how much he loved the desert and all his occupants. He might have complained about Kada’s floodlights, but while he struggled to sleep late at night, he appreciated her unintentional company.
No matter how late he went to bed, he awoke around one in the morning. Wide awake, his mind raced with new ideas and unending tasks. Instead of sitting in bed for hours, he often moved to the front porch and let the night sky’s slowly moving stars focus his thoughts.
Watching Kada’s shadow move between the far-off casitas , he knew her name by reputation, but he wondered, if like him, she needed a strong cup of coffee to start her day. I doubt she wants to know how much I think about her or her property. His family had been trying to buy the motel for seventy years. Fighting a grin and putting that option out of his mind, he faced the intriguing woman.
“I owe you one.” Standing by the truck, she rested her weight against the metal frame.
Reaching inside the cab, he pulled his hat from the dash. “Don’t mention it.”
She eased the dog to the cement.
He waited to see if the animal could walk.
Wrinkling her nose, the dog ambled toward the motel.
She feigned a dramatic, Hollywood gasp and clasped her hands to her cheeks. “She can walk! It’s a miracle.”
He laughed. “I think you have a few more days before the puppies arrive. If the cantina smells don’t keep her close to the motel, nothing will.”
Silently clapping her hands, she turned. “Do you want a drink? Dinner? Naming rights?”
He wanted a kiss and her telephone number. “I have a better idea…”
Scratching her scalp, she tilted her head and waited.
With her back to the road, and the sign shining overhead, she almost had a halo. If rescuing the stray had softened her abrupt efficiency, then he would buy the dog a truckload of bones. Kada wasn’t exactly an ice queen, but she was so damn confident he wondered if her life had room for a rough-and-tumble romance. Given her success with the motel, her smooth complexion, and her lustrous hair, she deserved more than a spot as some man’s tittering eye candy. He reconsidered his normal approach. Kicking the dirt, he mumbled a pleasantry.
“Come again?”
The dog had waited patiently at the edge of the parking lot.
He scratched his hair. “Kada, you did good with the dog. She probably would have eaten me for lunch. You have a way.” He cleared his throat. “Animals can tell when someone cares.”
She wrapped an arm around his middle, squeezed, and smiled.
The beautiful sight tripped his heartbeat. Keeping his hands to himself, he slipped out of her embrace before he embarrassed himself. “Nice night.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Are we seriously talking about the weather?”
He grinned at the temptation and crossed his arms over his chest. He would be happy to talk about her beauty or her alluring ass, but he didn’t want to spoil the moment. Something had changed between them, and she wasn’t bristling or rushing off to appease a guest. He reached toward her hair drifting in the wind.
She brushed away his hand and raised an eyebrow. “I can’t get a read on you.”
“Moth.” He wet his lips. The small hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. “What do you want to talk about?” His voice deepened. He was a man of a few words, and he imagined flipping her around, pressing her against the hot car, and gorging himself on her smooth skin and fevered moans. If she could read the direction of his filthy thoughts, she would leave him speechless in the parking lot.
“Talking wasn’t high on my list.” Her pupils dilated, and she chewed her bottom lip.
He knew she wasn’t immune to him, but he wasn’t exactly the type of man who specialized in fancy poetry or slow seductions. He researched the things he wanted, and he made them happen. Having stumbled into her life, he doubted he had the time to put together the pieces and find out what made her tick, but he wanted her hot and restless in his arms. He looked toward a shadowed corner and considered throwing her over his shoulder, but he suspected her outrage would wake the entire motel.
A semi raced past the motel, and the driver laid on the truck’s horn.
Blinking off his frustrated daze, he watched the trailer’s red taillights recede.
“Thank you for coming with me,” she said. “I could have done it alone, but I felt a lot better having you along for the ride.”
People usually reduced his brother to a muscled meathead. Frowning, he wondered how to assert his interest without throwing her over his shoulder and taking her back up the mountain. For the first time in a long time, the possibility intrigued him. He knew he was in deep, but he didn’t know what to do about the notion. “Um, no problem.”
At that moment, Walter pulled the truck and the horse trailer into the parking lot.
The truck’s adaptive headlights flooded the parking lot and blinded him. Working his jaw, he hoped his best friend realized how much improvement his timing needed. Dropping a hand from his eyes, he raised it in greeting. “Company’s here.”
Parking the truck, Walter cut the big diesel engine and hopped out. “Dane, your mom is fit to be tied! She thought you’d be back an hour ago.”
“Well”—he jerked a thumb toward the motel—“she’s responsible for this fool’s errand.”
Kada waved to Walter and turned back. “I’ll take care of the dog. Thanks again for the help. Good luck with Smoky.” She backed up. “Really, thanks again, guys. Tell Mariah thanks for the bread. Happy New Year!”
He gave her space to retreat. In the blue truck’s quiet intimacy, he thought he and she had something going. At least, he thought they might be friends. Under the motel’s pink, neon sign and Walter’s chaperoning smile, he felt like an unwanted neighbor. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Women, like horses, could be fickle. “Sure, any time.”
The mother and father from the silver trailer approached her in the parking lot.
The pair looked like Midwestern adventurers, but their arms moved with the agitated frequency of peeved guests. If Kada saw them coming, he could understand why she beat a hasty retreat. Maybe it wasn’t me . He grinned.
Unbolting the horse trailer’s rear door, Walter lowered the ramp. “Where is that feisty old horse?”
He watched the trio.
The man stood back, but the woman invaded Kada’s personal space.
Lumbering to her feet, the dog waddled back toward Kada, sat, and tilted her head.
“I’ll get Smoky in a minute.” He crouched and rubbed at a mark on the trailer tire, but he kept his gaze on Kada.
“I thought you and Kada Ritchie had something going,” Walter said. “I made myself scarce for a reason, you dense idiot.”
“Hmm.” Ignoring the good-natured ribbing, he scanned the horse trailer and looked for a way to help prep the space and remain nearby. Walter would probably shoo him out of the way and insist on doing the work himself. Walter loved the horses as much as he loved running the farm. He excelled at both, too, but Dane had a stake in the outcomes.
Given an excuse to ride out with his friend and skip his family’s shenanigans, he would have ridden clear across the local range to catch a falling star and would have enjoyed the fool’s errand. Instead, he had landed in Kada’s backyard, and now he was about to miss his chance to make something of his first impression. Shaking his head, he banged a boot against a tire and knocked off the dust. “So did I.”
“So, why aren’t you going after her?”
Looking up, he exhaled. “I don’t know what I want, and she doesn’t seem that interested.” The lie rolled off his tongue. He caught her curious glances, but she looked like a woman with a lot going on, and he didn’t want to add to her stress.
“What are the choices?”
“Dinner.” He picked up an errant piece of hay and rubbed it between his fingers. He knew a few grumpy, reclusive locals who had refused to fall for the friend next door. The thought of who had fallen summed a smile. But Kada wasn’t a childhood friend, and he wasn’t in denial. “If dinner doesn’t work out, I’ll settle for three kids and a vacation house.”
He made the joke because friends expected it, but he had no idea how to make room in his life for more responsibility. Of all people, Walter knew him best, but the stubborn man hadn’t settled down, either.
Laughing, Walter slapped the trailer’s metal frame. “Well, unless you do something to narrow the outcomes, you’re about to find yourself with holiday cookies and nothing else.”
“Great.”
The dog barked.
Looking up, he found the dog standing between Kada and the Midwestern couple.
The strange woman moved to pet the animal, but the dog bared her teeth.
He grinned. Well, at least the dog has a protective streak.
Kada gripped the dog’s scruff, said something to the motel guests, and walked toward the casitas .
He could give her space, or he could go after her. Making up his mind, he squared his shoulders. “I’ll get Smoky.”
“Yes, you will,” Walter said. “Idiot.”
Having already dropped his weight onto the travel writer’s foot, he shook his head and jogged after Kada. Her wants mattered as much as his interest, but she had a head start, and he needed to catch her. “Hold up.”
She turned.
Slowing, he looked over his shoulder. “The dog doesn’t like motel guests?”
“Um.” She lowered her voice. “Not those in particular.”
Dismissing the couple, he fell into the step. “Why’s that?”
“Their trailer isn’t pumping water. They think the motel is the problem. Maybe we lost water pressure.” She sighed. “After I get the dog settled, I’ll check the taps.”
“She needs a name,” he said.
“Lucky.”
In step, neither of them needed clarification.
Lucky waddled between them.
“I think you should keep her for a few days,” he said.
She nodded.
“Give her time to recover.”
“Sure.” Her voice wavered.
He cupped her arm. “Hey, are you okay with all this?”
“Sure.” She swallowed. “I’ll adjust to the pressure.”
He didn’t think they were talking about water pressure anymore, and he recognized a person who might buckle. Running a customer-focused business could drive a person insane, but she handled the motel’s whirlwinds with grace and warmth. If the hot-pink palm wreaths, candy cane pool floats, and festive lobby decorations said anything about her efforts, she excelled at the job, too. Even he could see the guests and the grounds looked festive. “I haven’t had a dog in a while, but they’re pretty self-sufficient. Let nature take its course.”
“Yeah. Come to the Starlight Motel, leave with a puppy.” She exhaled. “What will I do with all the puppies?”
If she collapsed in his arms, he wouldn’t mind two bits. Instead, he toed the line between friendly neighbor and helpful peer. He would like to skip the friend zone and jump straight to dinner, but her vulnerability gave him pause. “Lucky is a good-looking dog, and I’m sure the puppies will be cute. You have enough staff with connections in town. You’ll find the puppies homes.”
She tilted her head. “Are you taking one?”
Lucky sat and mimicked Kada’s gesture.
Faced with two inquiring females, he raised his palms and backed up. “I don’t have enough spare time to raise a puppy. They need love and”—he thought hard—“puppy pads.”
“That’s what I thought.” Shaking her head, she walked along the path. “Everyone will have an excuse. I’m about to have a pack of dogs, aren’t I?”
Lucky stretched and waddled into step. Her belly swayed.
“I have a lot of staff, too.” He raised his voice. Standing in the parking lot, he wanted to start with steak and a good-night kiss, but the path was about to detour, and he didn’t have his bearings. “Take pictures. I’ll help you circulate them around town. Call the pups late Christmas presents.”
She shook her head and continued walking.
His offer felt as shallow and spontaneous as an online dating profile. Good call. Giving someone an unexpected puppy is a terrible idea . Loosening his collar, he hurried to catch up and cleared his throat. “Kada, I want to help.”
“Find some old tennis balls. I have a feeling I’ll need them.”
He cleared his throat and tried again. “I meant I want to spend time with you. If I’d met you in town, I would have asked you to dinner, and I would have spent the evening listening to your stories. Doesn’t that interest count?”
Stopping, she turned and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Maybe. That’s a thoughtful approach to a date.”
His life lacked glitz and glamor, but he could work with thoughtful. He cocked his head. “Another time?”
She nodded.
Relief pushed the air from his chest, and he covered his response with a cough. “Okay. Anywhere in town, my treat.”
Lucky yawned.
Frowning, Kada stared and turned back to the path. “I don’t need you to pick up the tab for dinner. I need you to take a puppy home to Mariah and tie a big red bow around its neck!”
His progress toward a date eroded like a shifting dune. If he wasn’t careful, he would land on his battered backside and have a prickly cactus for a dinner companion. “Fine, you pay for your meal.”
His joke diminished her worries for a brief second, and he felt like he got something right.
Laughing, she opened the white gate. “Fifty-fifty.”
“Deal!”
The old man slept in the rocking chair on Kada’s porch.
Smoky scratched his neck against a post. Turning, he approached the gate and head-butted Dane.
He checked his teeth for suspicious plants. “Your favorite human’s here.”
Walter’s ear-splitting whistle cut through the quiet night.
Walking out the gate, Smoky headed for the parking lot.
“Shouldn’t you lead him?” Kada asked.
He scratched his head. “He seems to have the right idea.”
Chris wrinkled his nose and sat. “Where’s the pretty bay horse?”
“Headed home.” Kada opened the casita’s front door. “But I brought you a new friend.”
Sniffing the porch, Lucky raised her head.
“I don’t do dogs,” Chris said.
Lucky walked past him and headed for the warmth of Kada’s living room.
Dane envied the dog, but he stood outside the gate where he belonged.
Leaving open the front door, Kada settled Lucky in the casita .
He smiled at Chris. “Nice evening.”
“You might have to wait for them, but they’re worth the trouble.”
Rocking back on his heels, he wondered if the man spoke of quiet evenings or strong women.
Walking out of the casita , Kada checked the water bucket and offered Chris her arm. “Well, if you don’t do dogs, let’s make sure you get dinner. You’ve earned it.”
“What’s on the menu?” Chris asked. “Hall made a mean steak.”
“Is that how you lived to a ripe old age?” She closed the gate and smiled. “Steak?”
Keeping to the side, Dane watched her fall into management mode like a pro leading a horse to water, letting it drink, and convincing the beast it was his idea all along. Admiring her skills, he hated to interrupt, but she left him behind like her new pet. “Do you mind if I grab my gear?”
She waved a hand over her head and kept walking.
“Chocolate and steak. Where could you go wrong?” Chris asked.
Laughing, she led Chris toward the main building.
Arms full of tack, Dane let himself out of the gate and navigated the path through the palms. He had worried about her in the parking lot, but seeing her in her element confirmed his interest. Who wouldn’t be worried about rehoming puppies? Who wouldn’t want an easy night before the holidays? Who… Looking up, he found himself standing in a weathered field of asphalt beneath a bright sign, and he questioned how he arrived there.
Two children clustered around Smoky. They stroked his sides, played with his mane, and pumped Walter for information.
“How old is he?” the taller kid asked. Two red braids swung down her back.
“What does she eat?” the shorter kid asked.
The boy looked suspiciously like a child who spent too little time outdoors. Glasses rested on his nose, and his arms looked strong enough to carry only books.
Dane wore glasses for reading, but his childhood started with toy tractors and ended with real ones. Despite the kid’s arms, anyone brave enough to approach a towering horse stood a chance in life. He dropped the saddle, blanket, and bags onto a trailer rack. The temperature had dropped, and he kept his jacket over his arm.
Smoky kept his hooves clear of the ramp.
“Grass,” Walter said. “Horses love grass. It’s their natural food, and it’s great for their digestive system.”
Dane kept his mouth shut. Walter would have checked the casita ’s grass for clover before setting Smoky loose in the enclosure. Every year, he walked the beds surrounding the horse barn, and he annihilated everything except Mariah’s decorative, pre-approved planting.
“But this is the desert,” the boy said.
“They like hay, too.” Walter ran a hand along Smoky’s back. “Hay keeps a horse full and keeps them regular.”
“He means it makes them poop,” the girl said.
The younger boy stuck out his tongue. “I know what he means.”
Making eye contact with Walter, Dane jerked his head toward the ranch. “We should load up Smoky and get going.”
Walter nodded, but he refocused on the kids. “Over at Palmer Farms, we make sure the horses have the right mix of foods. You and your family could come visit after the holidays.”
The girl shook her head. “My dad has an i-tin-er-ary.”
The boy widened his gaze and nodded.
Dane kept his laughter to himself.
“Okay,” Walter said. “The next time you guys come through the Coachella Valley, we’ll be here. Come on by and say hello to sweet Smoky.”
“Neat!” The boy fist-pumped the air. “We’ll do it!”
Sneaking in a last pet against Smoky’s warm neck, the girl turned back to the silver trailer.
The boy followed and hung his head.
Left with two familiar admirers, Smoky walked up the ramp and politely waited for Walter to close the door.
Easing it closed, Walter checked the locks, turned, and dusted his hands. “You ask out Kada Ritchie on a date?”
“Kinda.” Shrugging into his jacket, he counted two burned-out bulbs on the motel sign. Kada probably didn’t have a ladder tall enough to reach the sign, but he had a fruit picker or an extension ladder and two steady arms.
The hydraulic picker was probably overkill. For the pleasure of watching her climb the rungs, he would come by next week and hold the ladder. Once she started climbing, and he had a chance to admire the view, he would offer to change the bulbs himself.
“Kinda?” Walter asked. “When’s the last time you kinda did anything?”
He exhaled. “Can you let me do this my way?”
“Only if I want to see you single for the next decade or two.” Walter hitched up his jeans. “Always have been too stubborn for your own good.”
He considered channeling the younger kid and sticking out his tongue. Instead, he rounded the trailer and opened the passenger seat. Invoices waited.
“Wait!” Kada said.
Turning, he spotted her weaving between cars to get from the main building to where he stood. In her hand, she held a slip of paper.
“You forgot my number.”
His cheeks warmed against the wind.
Walter slapped his thigh. “I’ll be…”
Taking the slip of paper, he cleared his throat. “Thanks. I figured Mom had it.”
“Probably.” She smiled and shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”
He grinned.
Walter clicked on the truck’s flashers and walked up. “With all the commotion, I missed dinner.”
The man took an hour longer than necessary to return with the trailer. If Dane were a betting man, he’d guess Walter sat to a plate of ribs and shot the breeze with his parents and anyone else who listened to his stories. “Is that so?”
“Starving,” Walter said.
He narrowed his gaze. “Liar.”
Walter shrugged. “I can eat.”
“But Smoky?” Kada asked.
“She’ll be fine.” Walking toward the main building, Walter looked over his shoulder. “Are you two coming?”
Dane offered her his arm. “Do you have room?”
She smiled and took his arm. “We always have room at the Starlight Motel.”
Strolling through the parking lot with her at his side, he understood why guests returned to the motel year after year. Light glowed from the windows, palms swayed in the breeze, and the Ritchie family made everyone on-site feel like guests in a well-run home.