Chapter Seven
Dane slowed his pace, but Kada relished the chance to take a deep breath and enjoy his steady rhythm. He was easy on the eyes and easy to like, but she sensed intensity beneath his smiles. Given the circumstances, she second-guessed writing down her phone number and carrying it through the parking lot like a schoolgirl with a crush, but he had mentioned a date. She wouldn’t give him an excuse to back out.
Walter stopped at the front door and knocked his boots against a potted plant.
Pulling free before someone in the motel got the wrong idea about her special guests, she opened the main building’s front door.
A woman screamed.
A man shouted. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Plates shattered.
Gaze wide, she blew past her two new friends and rushed inside the lobby.
Stephanie pranced and jabbed in front of Gustavo. She patted a wet cloth against his embroidered shirt and pulled back. Each jerky swipe left a wet spot on the white shirt, and the movements made zero impact on the large, red stain.
“Enough!” Gustavo held up his hands and warded off her attack.
Benito stood outside the cantina’s kitchen. Broken plates lay at his feet.
Kada rushed toward Stephanie and Gustavo, pulled back the server, and shifted her back toward Benito. “I’m so sorry!” she said to Gustavo. “What happened?”
“Your waitress spilled a bowl of salsa all over my new shirt. My mother made this shirt.” Gustavo swiped at the red stain. “My mother!”
“It’s beautiful.” She exhaled. Of all the things that could have happened and led to big drama, she could deal with a salsa stain on a beautiful, homemade shirt. Hopefully, Gustavo could deal with it, too. “We have a washing machine on-site. Let’s get out the stain before it sets. Can you change and bring back the shirt? I’ll take care of it. It’ll be as good as new.”
Shaking his head, Gustavo walked to the front door and stopped in front of Dane and Walter. “What are you two looking at?”
The men stepped aside.
She tried not to laugh. I don’t think menacing cowboys will make the revamped promotional materials. Shaking her head, she checked on Stephanie and Benito. The pair walked toward the kitchen. Benito’s arm kept Stephanie close to his side. The kitchen might slow down for a few minutes, but the dinner rush could linger over appetizers.
Counting guests, she found Chris sitting by the fire in deep conversation with a famed vocalist named Inés. In front of the flames, their cheerful silhouettes cast long shadows. They laughed and swapped stories like old friends. Families made plans for the next day and reviewed outings. A couple stared into each other’s gazes like honeymooning lovebirds. She wouldn’t disturb any of them.
Picking a table close to the patio where Dane and Walter could listen for Smoky, she pulled out a chair and gestured toward the seat. “Come on. I hear you’re hungry.”
Dane remained standing.
“Walter?” she asked.
He took the offered chair.
She pulled out a second chair and dipped her head toward the seat.
Shaking his head, Dane crossed his arms. “You sit.”
“I’m working,” she said. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
“When does your day end?”
She pondered the question. “When I turn off the lights?”
Shaking his head, he sat and drummed his fingers on the table. “If I were you, I would throw that ridiculous man’s shirt in the washer, peek in on Lucky, check on your staff, and gulp a glass of water when nobody’s looking. Walter and I might as well go back to the farm.”
“If you had my job, you’d tear down the motel and plant five acres of crops.”
He tried not to smile, but he failed miserably.
Randi walked up and set a bowl of hot chips in front of the men. “Well, if it is not Uncle Walter and his grumpy boss, Dane Palmer.”
Kada stared. “You know these two?”
Setting down a salsa bowl, Randi toyed with a hoop earring. “More or less.”
Walter stabbed a chip into the salsa bowl. “You know, when I was a kid, I had chores. I had responsibilities. I had…”
Randi shook her head. “Save it, old man.”
“I’m forty-three! You’re…” He jabbed the chip toward her, paused, and ate the chip. “Spoiled. Look at those nails. How do you get anything done?”
Laughing, Randi leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Forty-three is young in Palm Springs.”
Walter laughed. “I know it.”
Kada had hired Randi after a quick interview, but she should have asked more pointed questions. Like, when Randi wasn’t decamping to parties on North Indian Canyon Drive, was she decamping to Palmer Farms? Was she spying on the Starlight Motel? She narrowed her gaze, looked at Dane, and wondered if his flirtations had less to do with her and more to do with buying the motel. She raised her eyebrows.
Looking between Walter and Randi, he shrugged.
The man couldn’t look more innocent. His family wanted to buy the motel and turn it into acres of cropland, but their intentions didn’t mean he arrived on horseback to undermine her operations and look good doing it. Maybe it did. She shook off the thought. “Right, well, you three enjoy a little chat. I’ll scrub salsa out of Gustavo’s shirt.”
“Use a toothbrush,” Randi said.
“Give him the toothbrush.” Dane pushed back from the table, and his chair scraped along the tiles. “Better yet, give him the toothbrush and a mop. What an…”
She held up her hand and wondered when she started accepting applications for assistant managers. Randi spoke her mind, but she also rolled silverware. So far, Dane was more eye candy than institutional asset. “That’s not how we treat our guests at the Starlight Motel.”
He leaned back in his chair. “That’s how my mother treated me.”
She tilted her head. “And look how you turned out.”
He worked his jaw.
Walter laughed.
Leaving Randi with the guests, she kept her gaze on the floor and looked for spilled salsa. The last thing she needed was a guest slipping on wet tile. She caught her reflection in the window and straightened. She could handle these little hiccups. At least, she would have stories to tell her friends about her first holiday season running the Starlight Motel.
The woman from the aluminum recreational vehicle poked her head into the lobby. Her name was Sue, and her husband’s name was Mack. Kada had a hard time separating the pair. Mack and Sue. Mack and Sue. Where one went, the other followed, and two rambunctious kids trailed their parents.
“Did you check the water pressure?” Sue asked. “My kids can’t shower without water.”
She cleared her throat and smiled. “Just a sec.”
Gustavo returned, wearing a yellow T-shirt. He nodded toward Sue, thrust the stained shirt into Kada’s arms, and cocked his head. “I’m getting my dog from the patio, and then I’m going to bed. I’ll look for the shirt in the morning. Happy New Year.”
His curt nod said everything, and she gripped the shirt. “I’ll check on Lucky.”
He frowned. “My dog’s name is Esmeralda. She’s a Xolo. My ancestors believed her line possesses healing powers, and like Chihuahuas, they guide the dead through the afterlife. She’s attentive, courageous, and the perfect family dog.” He sighed. “Alas, she has only me.”
Tilting her head, she heard the yearning in his voice and wondered if travel writing and exotic vacations deprived him of the thing we wanted most from life—a vibrant family and unconditional love. She loosened her grip on the stained laundry. “I’ve always wanted a pet, but I’ve never felt ready for the responsibility. Tonight, I found a sweet dog who needs a home.”
Cupping his elbow and his chin, he considered his words. “Rescues make the best pets.”
She leaned forward. He was right. He could trash the Starlight Motel in his review, but she would remember this moment and her realization Lucky had a new home. “My dog’s name is Lucky.”
“Good for you.” He stared.
She felt like he weighed her life in his hands. Blinking, she processed her statement and felt the ramifications of letting Lucky stay. A pet would keep her company at night while she painted, but seven pets might be a bit too much. Maybe she could start one of those cat cafes…with dogs. She struggled to imagine Lucky padding around the motel with a litter of puppies. What would the health board say?
“Well, animals are wonderful companions.” Gustavo dropped his chin. Still gripping his elbow, he circled his palm to encompass the lobby. “You should have dog treats on the cantina menu. All the great boutique hotels play up their pet services.”
Shaking off her thoughts, she refocused. The Starlight Motel catered to people on their way to somewhere else or in need of space. If the motel guests wanted a boutique hotel, they should drive to Palm Springs. “I’m sorry the motel has disappointed you so far, but we’re trying our best. Until recently, my grandfather ran the motel.” She swallowed past the lump rising in her throat. “He died.”
He shuffled his feet. “How long have you been in charge?”
“Almost a year.” She forced a smile. “Pops was the best.”
“I’m so sorry.” He held out a hand. “Family is the most wonderful blessing.”
She gripped his hand and squeezed. “It is, is it not?” Smiling, she released his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the salsa stain out of your shirt. You can wear the garment for our holiday breakfast.”
“I have a few more.” He blushed. “No rush.”
She laughed. “Okay.” Thinking through her task list, she froze and turned back. “Can I ask a favor?”
He narrowed his gaze.
“Can I borrow some dog food? I’ll replace it, I promise.”
Rolling his eyes, he released an exaggerated sigh. “I guess.”
Fearing she overstepped, she raised her hand. “If it’s too much to ask…”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I have an extra bag in my car. I’ll bring it to the reception area. Take what you need.”
She nodded her thanks and wondered where she heard the phrase.
“Excuse me?” Sue asked. “Water pressure?”
“Right! On it!” Walking past the pair, she left the main building, turned the corner, and opened the door to the room reserved for laundry, extra supplies, and tool storage. A deep enamel sink, a metal chair, and concrete floors attested to the building’s age, but the facilities held up.
A commercial washer and drier let her do laundry, but the cleaning crew also used the relatively modern appliances to clean rags and mops heads without waking guests or setting off local seismographs.
In the morning, the ladies from the Palm Springs Cleaning Company would descend on the motel and replace linens, vacuum floors, and replenish toiletries. The soiled linens went to a local service that provided fresh sheets, pressed napkins, and starched uniforms. She wondered how the motel would operate without the infrastructure. Pops had certainly never washed twenty sets of sheets and hung them out to dry.
Spraying Gustavo’s embroidered shirt with a light, homemade detergent, she opened the washer’s lid and started a delicate cycle. The machine bumped and rattled, but the tub remained dry. Bracing her hands on the cold, white metal, she exhaled. Maybe the drain line’s blocked. Maybe Sue’s right, and we’re going dry.
Checking the drain line and the filter for blockages, she found them clear and wondered what else could be wrong with the machine. If it had a faulty internal component, such as the motor or the control board, she would need a professional with a multimeter and a wealth of experience. Gustavo would downgrade the motel to one star.She might as well burn his shirt.
Shaking off her spiraling thoughts, she replayed Mac and Sue’s complaints. They struggled with water pressure, and the washing machine wouldn’t fill with water. If she had a site problem, she could call the water company. If she had a blocked line, she could check the hoses. Gripping both sides of the machine, she pulled it forward.
The door opened, but she had better things to do than shoo off a curious guest.
“You want some help?” Dane asked.
“Not really.” Relaxed enough to leave the farmer with a view of her backside, she grunted and levied her weight. “I can’t always rely on handsome strangers showing up to help me.”
“I don’t know why you insist on doing everything yourself.”
“Because”—she inhaled and shifted her stance—“I’m in charge around here.”
The washing machine slid forward on the smooth concrete.
Exhaling, she released her grip and hung her head. “Before I took over this motel, my biggest problems were hormonal teenagers and sidewalk hecklers.”
“I can stand in the doorway and run commentary,” he said.
She smiled. From his viewpoint, he had a good sightline on two industrial machines, a shelf full of cleaning products, and her backside. She could imagine his commentary, but she doubted she could fix the washing machine and listen at the same time. “Good to know.”
Turning the machine, she checked the water hoses. Pops had mentioned the hoses sometimes kinked from frequent use or accumulated blockages. All she had to do was to check the lines and to reposition them for free-flowing water. “Right.”
She ran her hands along the lines, made a tight fist, and wanted to scream when she found them smooth and free of bulges. Instead, she counted to ten. “The lines feel fine. What on earth is wrong with this machine?”
“Beats me,” he said.
“Well, aren’t you helpful?”
“I grow food.”
Turning, she opened her mouth to sass him, but he came to find her in the workroom, and his presence counted for something. “Thanks for checking on me.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I should have come sooner.”
The heat in his voice captivated her, but her livelihood and inheritance demanded her attention. Facing the machine, she pulled open drawers, peered into compartments, and hoped the manufacturer included a friendly QR code for remote diagnosis. No such luck. Wiping the back of a hand across her forehead, she popped open the side panel.
Wires and control boards leered.
“Great. I need an electrical engineering degree to fix this heap.”
“Maybe there’s a reset button,” he said. “Where’s the manual?”
“The what?” She popped up and hit her head on a low-lying shelf. Rubbing away the pain, she reached for a basket stacked with manuals from every appliance on the property. “If Pops saved the booklet, it’s probably in this basket.”
Dane pulled out a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket and slid them on his nose.
She stared. He wore boots, jeans, and a leather coat, but the glasses caught her by surprise. They brightened his sun-kissed hair, shadowed his golden eyes, and balanced his square jaw. When he rode down the hill on a majestic bay horse, she thought him handsome, but the glasses undid her. “You wear glasses.”
“Farsighted.” He thumbed through a white, paper manual. “It’s a pain.”
“It’s hot.”
He looked up and furrowed his brow.
She fanned herself. “Sorry, the room’s so small.”
“You want me to go back to the cantina and give you some space?”
“No!” She cleared her throat. She needed a lot of things from the man, but she doubted space should be at the top of the list. If he lived a hundred miles farther from the motel, then she would be a hundred percent happier about his interest. Watching him plow under the motel for a field of dates was the last thing she would do. “I mean, I appreciate the help, but let’s keep things simple. Does the manual say anything about a reset button?”
He checked the index.
She rubbed her brow. Of all the nights to meet Dane Palmer, he had to arrive two days before her grant deadline when everything she managed felt ready to implode. His apathy toward Christmas bothered her, but his helpful, solicitous presence unnerved her. Half the time, she relied on instincts and training to complete her murals. The other half of the time, she studied photographs and searched for inconsistencies. She had a hunch Dane could see them, too, and she needed to hold on to the magic that fueled her.
“No mention of reset switches.” He flipped through the manual. “Try unplugging it. Most new washing machines come with a reset feature to restart the machine after it experiences an error code or a fault. This behemoth might be a few years short of that feature, but unplugging it and plugging it back in could serve the same function.”
She chewed her lip. He looked so handsome in his glasses and leather jacket that she had a hard time focusing on her problems. I don’t have time for this kind of indulgence. She shook her head. “That trick only works with computers.”
He laughed and tossed the manual back in the basket. “You won’t know unless you try.”
Tilting her head, she examined the machine’s circuitry. She could unplug the washer, call a repair technician, or tell Gustavo to eat his shirt. Despite the travel writer’s quirks, she respected his trade and his pet ownership. Plus, if she refused to unplug the washer, and the technician did it for her, she might never hear the end of the story from Dane. “Fine.”
“Good call.”
Shaking her head, she reached behind the machine, gripped the plug, and tugged. Closing her eyes, she plugged the prongs back into the outlet and exhaled.
The motor spun, and the dial lit.
Releasing the power cord, she pressed the wash button and waited.
The machine filled with water.
“Wouldn’t you know?” So pleased she could cry, she dropped Gustavo’s shirt into the drum, closed the lid, turned, and grinned.
Dane stared.
The intensity of his wide-eyed gaze made her mouth go dry. She backed into the cold, vibrating machine. On second thought, he looked handsome without the glasses. If the room felt smaller, she blamed his shoulders. They blocked far too much light for easy breathing. “We should go back to the cantina.”
Gripping her hips, he raised her atop the washing machine lid. “Are you sure about that?”
The cold, metal machine contrasted with the heat radiating from his large, warm hands. She was sure she could push him away, but instead of pointing out the indignity of being lifted off her feet, she swallowed. “I can’t think of anything else I have to do out here.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” He dragged his hands down her thighs and jerked his head toward the main building. “You have your hands full. Take a break.”
She gripped his bicep and steadied herself. The muscles felt as solid as she imagined, but they flexed beneath her touch. “I can’t take a break. This place depends on me.”
He smiled. “I know the feeling.”
Her skin warmed from the heat of his palms. “I can’t afford to sit around the laundry room and gossip with the guests.”
“Trust me, Kada, I’m not here to gossip.”
“You’re ready to pitch in on odd jobs? You’re being a good neighbor.” She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. She had a three-date rule, but if she never started the first date, did the rule apply? “Thanks for helping with Lucky.”
“Any time.” He tipped up her chin. “Are you sure that’s where you want to stop? You brought me your number and rode out into the desert with me, but now you’re skittish?”
Her throat felt parched, but she wanted to lean forward and test his intent. Instead, she kicked her feet against the machine’s vibrating drum. “I’m not skittish, but I’m not into quick romps on a washing machine.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t suggesting a quick romp.”
She wanted to test the innuendo behind his offer, but the sequence felt out of order. Before she considered kissing the handsome farmer, she needed dinner, candlelight, and time to breathe.
Her body offered a different opinion. Clearing her throat, she hopped off the washing machine, ducked under his arm, and ran her tongue along her teeth. In the tiny room, his skin smelled like fresh lime, warm spices, and a hint of honey, but his shirt held the leathery undertones from a hard day’s work. He looked handsome, and she wanted to taste his kiss, but she needed a different setup. “Or long romps.”
Nodding, he stepped back and gave her space.
She stretched wide her arms. “Plus, I smell like dirty horses, dusty dogs, and stale laundry.”
He narrowed his gaze and rubbed his lip. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. You put in a hard day’s work.”
“Imagine the online reviews.”
He dropped his hand. “Travel blogs were the last thing on my mind. How about you let me kiss you and I write a glowing review of your equine facilities?”
“I think paid reviews are illegal.”
He chewed his bottom lip. “I’ll take the risk.”
“Noted.” Suppressing a smile, she turned and rooted through a closet for a drying rack. Setting aside the metal frame, she then climbed a stepladder to retrieve an iron. In the morning, she would have a steady head to greet her parents, time to implement her exit strategy, and a better handle on her attraction to Dane. If she walked out on him, she doubted she would get a wink of sleep, but at least she would know where she stood.