The Starlight Motel

Chapter Seventeen

In front of The Desert Empire Café, polished, chrome-drenched cars cruised a divided street. The whir of traffic, music spilling from open windows, and pedestrian chatter made Kada long for the motel’s quiet mornings.

Locking Pops’ truck, she gauged the traffic flow and felt like she and Dane crossed a threshold. Her mistake in Los Angeles mattered, but her work drove her passions, and she had a plan. Now, she and the handsome farmer could consider an intriguing future.

A café worker wiped a sold-out special from a black chalkboard, waved, and retreated inside the busy establishment.

She waved back. Restaurants rolled out new dishes for the holiday, and the community’s pride shone from festive windows, decorated streetlights, and subtle advertisements for locally made gifts.

Volunteers from the gardening club had spruced up the busy street’s median. Looking at it from the far side of the road, she spied a faded red bow adorning a barrel cactus. Prickly pears sprouted hot-pink fruit. Hung with faded ornaments, a stand of cholla cacti looked deceivingly cute. Even the rocks around a patch of aloe vera looked freshly raked. Mariah was right. This place sinks into your skin.

A large sign in the median advertised the garden club’s contact information and directed questions, comments, and membership inquiries to a local phone number. Taking care of the desert island couldn’t be simple, but the median looked beautiful, and the club deserved recognition. Thinking of the work required to keep up the motel, she cleared her throat and focused on her outing with Dane. “Are you ready?”

“The crosswalk is half a block away,” Dane said.

A traffic break left room to run.

“Details.” Taking his hand, she sprinted toward the median and the festive plants.

A car honked.

She waved.

Dane lengthened his stride and pulled her onto the median.

Laughing in the bright sunlight, she dodged the prickly plants and gauged the next lanes of traffic. Avoiding municipal workers fixing a water leak, cars changed lanes with sporadic, jerking movements. She had no idea where the cars were headed, but she had her heart set on a salad from the café and sharing a meal with Dane. She shaded her gaze and looked at him. “As long as we don’t blink, we’ll cross the street without incident.”

He placed a hand on her lower back. “I’ll follow you. Pick a gap that feels comfortable. I’ve seen sixth graders run faster.”

She snorted. “Is that so? I’m great with still lives, but lousy with objects in motion.”

Rubbing a small circle along her lower back, he shifted closer. “You look good out here, Kada. The motel suits you, but so does the city. I’m glad we cleared the air, and I’m happy to see you smile. I don’t want you to feel sad.”

“Sad?” She spun and faced him. “When have I been sad?”

Pulling in his chin, he stared. “Your art? The failed fundraising campaign?”

Ignoring the buzzing traffic, she replayed the conversation about Los Angeles. She wasn’t moping about the desert like the ghost of Christmas past. Couldn’t he see her finding her footing and gathering her courage for another shot?

She made fists at her sides, squeezed shut her eyes, and blocked out the traffic whizzing on both sides of the median. “I’m not sad. I’m furious! Why do I have to fundraise for students to express themselves and beautify their community? Pride and quality of life outweigh the cost of art supplies.” Dropping her hands, she stared at the shortsighted man standing in front of her. His kisses couldn’t make up for his density. She threw up her hands. “Let them paint. Let everyone paint!”

Raising his hands in front of his chest, he stepped back. “You’re not sad?”

“Absolutely not! Do I look sad? It might be my internalized frustration. I tamp it down so I don’t look like a plotting lunatic.”

His lips ticked up. “I get frustration.”

She exhaled.

“You made a mistake with the fundraising approach. It’s trendy, but without a huge social media following, it’s ineffective. You’re right. A grant would have been better.”

Now, he had advice? Gaze wide, she wondered if she had completely misread his reserved demeanor. Yes, she should have written a grant, but she didn’t need him pointing out her error from his high horse.

Emotion made beautiful art, but arguments killed its potential. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the conversation’s core. “I wrote a grant.”

He crossed his arms and grinned. “I know a few people who could help you review it before you submit the forms.”

Review it? Pursing her lips, she debated playing coy or laying into his arrogance. He rode onto her property with a beautiful horse and a wicked grin, but she didn’t need a cynical, rangy cowboy to point out her missteps. He could take his helpful suggestion and shove it where the sun didn’t shine. “Is that so?”

He rubbed his chin.

Cars whooshed by in both directions.

“My mother could help you,” he said.

“Your mother? Brilliant!” Rolling her eyes, she pivoted and moved to cross the busy street. Before she stepped off the median, she turned and looked over her shoulder. “Your mother and I are friends. What do you think she and I have been doing at the motel?”

He caught her elbow. “I have no idea. Contriving to get me on-site? Coming up with a way to rope me into donating to your cause and falling for your beautiful brown eyes?”

“Donating?” She stared. “I don’t want your money!”

“What do you want?”

“Respect. Art. Opportunity! I have the grant, and now you’re here, and I don’t know what to do with my life.” Wrenching free, she saw a break in traffic and pushed off the curb.

A driver made an un-signaled turn and slammed on the car’s brakes.

Lunging forward, Dane grabbed her around the waist, pulled her against his chest, and fell backward onto the garden club’s prized, spiky specimens.

The fall knocked her breath from her body. Sprawled across his chest, she turned, raised her head, and braced her weight against the bedding rocks. Her breaths came in shallow pants. “Thank you for saving me.” She swallowed. “But I still don’t want your money.”

He groaned.

“I’m not rich, but I know art.” She raised a hand and traced the buttons on his shirt. “The neighborhood where I painted isn’t one of the world’s greatest communities, but the people matter, and they deserve the best art. I have to go back.”

He closed his eyes. “I believe you.”

Drawing a deep breath, she looked at the cactus sporting a red ribbon and regretted her explosion. The plants growing in the Coachella Valley were drought-tolerant and could withstand temperature extremes, but they weren’t robots. Before she reentered the art world, she could use a little more fortitude and a little more patience. Dane wouldn’t be the last person to offer helpful suggestions. Rolling her shoulders, she shifted her weight. “Good, I’m glad you believe me.”

“I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Huh?” She pulled back and puzzled over his clenched jaw.

“Kada, darling, get off me before I pass out.”

Scrambling to all fours, she pulled back. “Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Rolling over, he revealed a flattened cholla cactus.

Locals knew the teddy bear cactus for its needle-like spines that jumped off the cactus and lodged themselves in unsuspecting victims. The plant’s fuzzy appearance looked cute, but its defenses were far from cuddly, and Dane must be in a world of pain. Covering her mouth, she stood and offered him a hand.

Grimacing, he took it and stood. “I hate the holiday season.”

“What do the holidays have to do with it? I’m the idiot who stepped out into traffic.”

Reaching behind his head, he withdrew a flattened Christmas ornament. Blood smeared his hand. “Impaling myself on the cactus is one thing, but slicing open my scalp on broken glass is a whole other type of disaster.”

She walked around him and gasped. Blood dripped down his neck from a small cut, cactus spines protruded from his back, and a bevy of helpful onlookers stood in front of the café digging through their purses. They looked ready to charge across the road and render assistance with wadded up tissues and antiseptic wipes, but she feared Dane needed more than a lollipop and an adhesive bandage.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

She walked around him and chewed the inside of her cheek. “You might want to spike your champagne—”

He winced.

“—with gin.”

He glanced at her lips. “Only if you’ll join me.”

She took the compliment and smiled, but she focused on her choices. Taking him back to the motel would be an excruciating ride. The onlookers across the street might create a fuss, but the locals might also know a few things about removing cactus spines. “Let’s get you inside the café and figure out what comes next.”

Nodding, he stood, cupped his back, and came back with spines embedded in his fingers. “That was stupid.”

She tried not to laugh. “Well, at least they’re no longer in your back.”

“Aren’t you the optimist?”

She smiled. “You have no idea.” Waving off the helpful hoards, she waited for a break in traffic and led him across the street. Shame reddened her cheeks, but she would apologize to Dane in private.

“Is he okay?” a customer asked.

A server shook his head. “That car was so close to hitting you.”

“What a hero!” An older woman fanned herself.

Kada looked at Dane and expected a grimace. Instead, she found him resolute. If he were mad, then she should amplify her regrets. “I’m sorry. I, just, uh, know you were trying to help. You must be so frustrated. It has to hurt and you’re…”

He raised his eyebrows. “You want to see frustrated? Leave me on this blazing sidewalk like an abandoned pincushion. Instead of tripping over an apology, help me get this shit out of my back.”

Biting back a laugh, she imagined him giving orders to a green-hand amid a field of wilting bell peppers. Everyone made mistakes. She led him through the front door and settled him in a wooden chair next to a table. When she noticed he didn’t lean back, she scanned the café for inspiration.

The building’s stucco walls housed a café offering dishes built from local vegetables, fish, chicken, tempeh, and seitan. A large green-and-white kaleidoscope painting stood behind the counter, and white pendant lights hung over a cold case filled with colorful sides. For a desert outpost, the plants inside the café rivaled the Amazon. Scanning the menu board, she debated whether to ask for a sandwich or a pair of tweezers.

“Oh, honey, why don’t you take off your shirt so we can see how bad it is?” an older woman said to Dane.

Kada turned from the menu board in time to see his gaze flare.

A second woman hovered near the first.

The pair looked like active Rotary Members with a passion for town gossip, pedal pushers, and weekly salon appointments.

“Oh, yes,” the second woman said. “You should definitely strip.”

“Not a chance.” Dane bit his lip.

The women cackled.

She wouldn’t mind seeing him bare-chested, too, but if the cactus needles punctured his skin, she would have a hard time focusing on his pectoral muscles. She jerked her head toward the front door and wordlessly asked if he wanted to leave.

He sighed. “No, but I’m starting to sympathize with the animals at the livestock auction.”

She grinned and appreciated his retained sense of humor. Most people would be pitching a fit and holding their cell phone cameras over their shoulders to document the damage. Dane looked like he might dust off his sunglasses. The tightness in his jaw was his only outward sign of distress, but he had to be in pain.

The busybodies returned to their table.

Choosing two sandwiches from the menu, she ordered waters, coffees, and a hearty date shake. “Also, can I borrow a pair of tweezers from your first aid kit?”

The cashier paled. “Is he that bad? The blood looks intense. Maybe you should take him to the emergency room.”

Talk about a frustrating experience. She had a hunch Dane would saw off his right leg before he set foot in an emergency room. “Do you have a few butterfly stitches and some gauze in the kit? I’ll take him to the bathroom and clean him up before the food arrives. Don’t worry. We’ll replace everything we use.”

Sliding the first aid kid across the counter, the cashier pointed toward a long hallway leading toward the restroom. “Just, um, tell me if you need help.”

The poor kid looked like he would faint from a scraped knee. She smiled. “We’ll be fine.” Swinging the kit from her fingers, she beckoned Dane.

He stood, winced, and followed her to the bathroom.

Opening the bathroom door, she found it empty and set the kit on the vanity. “Okay, now you can strip.”

Crossing his arms, he raised an eyebrow.

She smiled. “It was worth a try.”

He braced his arms on the vanity and drew a deep breath. “Kada, you want to get naked? Pick a date for dinner, and I’m all yours.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she wondered what it would be like to flirt with him over candlelight and anticipate the pleasure of losing herself in his arms. Instead of fantasying about romance, she focused on the reason for their current predicament. The spines in his back hurt less than a vehicular collision, but she hadn’t asked him to take on her pain. He took charge of the situation like he managed everything else that needed his attention. When life calmed down, she would find a way to turn the tables on him and take away some of his responsibility. He needed freedom and pleasure as much as anyone. “Noted, but right now, let me take care of you.”

He nodded and dropped his head.

Opening the first aid kit, she inventoried the supplies. Pulling out tweezers, she washed the pair under hot water and located a butterfly strip. Head wounds bled a lot, but as long as the broken glass stayed out of his flesh, he would barely have a scar. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves. The material snapped.

“Be quick, okay?” he asked.

She wiped away as much blood as she could manage and applied the butterfly strip. “I can see how you’re not a fan of ornaments.”

He grunted.

Picking up the tweezers, she pulled the first needle from his shirt and his skin. The spine wasn’t completely buried, and a single straight motion liberated it. When it popped free, she exhaled.

His heavy-duty shirt kept the spikes from lodging too deeply, and she felt like this small favor might repay him for his kindness. After all, he misconstrued her emotions, but he wanted to help. Pulling out spine after spine, she dropped them on a folded paper towel. A few spines drew drops of blood.

The silence unnerved her. Surrounded by a crowd, she felt at home. “I guess I could order a few shots of tequila, but I need to focus to remove the needles. If you want the stiff drink, I wouldn’t judge you. Those needles have to hurt.” She was rambling, and she didn’t care. Pulling out a deeply embedded spine, she squeezed shut her eyes until she felt the spine release. “Maybe you can save the shot for later when we’re sure I don’t have to bring you to urgent care. Then again, tequila might get you into the doctor’s office.” She risked a glance at his face.

He kept his eyes closed and his muscles tensed.

She exhaled. If he could weather this injury without complaint, then she could remove the source of his pain. “I understand why you thought I was sad.” She pulled out another spine. “When Pops passed away, I was sad, but sadness comes from losing something that supports self-identity. He was brilliant, rugged, and kind, but he wasn’t me.”

Dane cleared his throat. “He was kind.”

“Sadness hurts because it’s like losing a limb. You can feel the absence. I can’t feel the absent mural. Maybe the students can. They can be sad. I’m frustrated.”

“You and Mom wrote a grant.” He exhaled. “Good. She’s the queen of educational grants. I’m glad you two found each other. Are you painting murals at the local schools?”

“Think bigger.” She pulled out another spine.

“Colleges?”

“It’s a multi-year program. I can’t manage the motel fulltime and complete the program. I have until December thirty-first to accept the offer.”

“Oh.” Looking up, he made eye contact in the mirror.

His lined forehead and flat expression reinforced his pain. She decided not to mention the small dots of blood speckling his back. If he could stand the process, then she could stand removing the reminders of her mistake. Looking away, she pulled out the last spine, laid down the tweezers, and pulled off the gloves. “You’re all done.”

He turned, rolled his shoulders, and sighed. “I think you got them all.”

“No tiny glochids? Pops once recommended using rubber cement or something similar to remove the nasty spines.” More specifically, his easy drawl told her to spread on the glue as thick as chili paste, cover the area with gauze, and run her mouth while she yanked off the strip. Running her mouth wouldn’t be the problem. The small room felt crowded and thick with relief and tension. She ran her hands along her arms. “You think waxing hurts? Imagine ripping off rubber cement.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Is that so?”

“I mean, it must…”

He wrapped a hand around her waist, drew her close, and dropped his lips an inch above hers. “Kada, I’m frustrated, too. There’s this woman in town who keeps me on my feet and keeps surprising me. I thought she was a people pleaser, but she’s tougher than she looks. You might like her.”

“Is that so?” Her voice came out bubbly and light. Spending time with him brought out the best in her. His measured confidence and easy swagger gave her room to make mistakes and know he would catch her, but she couldn’t drag him around the country like a security blanket. “Maybe the spines set off an allergic reaction. You might be rambling. Someone might knock on the door at any minute.” She glanced at the lock.

“Thank you for not dumping me at urgent care.” His teeth grazed her bottom lip.

Turning to meet his kiss, she wanted more than a teasing graze. Pressing up, she claimed his lips and kissed his back. The rush of primal, fulfilling pleasure and the deep, sinking yielding that came from his touch compelled her to shift closer. She could get lost in his arms and still find room to breathe, but she feared losing her directive. Too lost in his kiss to care if it left her limp and aimless, she let life’s minor pains and annoyances fade away and gripped his biceps hard.

He bent her back across his arm, took control of the momentum, and kissed her with a fierce possessiveness that made her cling like a carnival rider desperate for a thrill. His insistent mouth parted her lips, sent wild tremors along her sunbaked nerves, and promised cool relief at the end of a long, hot day.

She felt like a lightning flash arching through the sky, but the rumble of thunder settled in her core and demanded release. She would need days with Dane to get the need under control, but she didn’t have time for wild, passionate love and sheet-tangled daydreams. Pulling free of the kiss, she reached for the doorknob.

“Why do I feel like you’re running away?”

Mouth agape, she stared. “Because I am?”

Taking a hand, he pulled her close and planted another long, lingering kiss on her lips.

She could sink into a hot bath with this man and emerge a new woman, but the café restroom left little leeway for romance.

Settling his hands above her ass, he raised his head. “You’re so beautiful and fierce. If I’d known who cast long shadows past midnight, I would have walked down the mountain and come to you the first day. We would have had time.” He cupped her face. “If you want to run from me, then I won’t stop you, but I wish you would stay.”

“I’m here now,” she said.

One hand slipped up her back to raise her shirt, and the other went to the nape of her neck and loosened her hair. He kissed his way across her collarbone and removed her clothes one garment at a time. “I’m beginning to like the holidays.”

Smiling, she angled for more pressure. She could have fled, asked for better accommodations, or demanded praise, but standing in his arms felt as luxurious as strong sunlight after a cold swim. Shivering, she pressed closer to his warmth.

“I dreamed about you last night,” he said.

“And when you were hip-deep in mud this morning fixing the pump?”

His mouth hovered near her nipple, but he glanced up. “I wanted to burn it down.”

She stepped out of her shoes and cupped him. “Don’t be hasty.”

“Like I have a choice.” He dropped to his knees and tasted his way from the inside of her calf, past her belly button, and back to her breasts.

He skipped the one thing she wanted most, but she was so ready to feel him she indulged his meandering path. When his kisses skimming her jaw and his fingers running through her hair began to frustrate her more than they pleased her, she grabbed his shoulders and summoned the words she needed.

His lips slid to the soft spot right below her ear. “Going to bite me again?”

Cradled in his arms, she wasn’t sure how long the café patrons would let them monopolize the bathroom, but she wanted to push the limits and float in his arms. “Maybe.”

He laughed. “I liked it.” Turning her toward the vanity, he positioned her arms on the edge of the porcelain and ran a hand along her back.

She looked over her shoulder and saw him fish a condom from his wallet and toss his jeans to the floor. “Came prepared?”

“Hopeful.” Parting her folds, he dipped one finger inside her and spread her heat along her lips. “Kada?”

Arching her hips, she met his gaze in the mirror. “Dane.” She wanted him so much she gripped the vanity and presented herself for his taking, but she wanted every inch of his possession. He surged inside her with one ravaging thrust, and he was so thick and virile he filled her to bursting before his long, lusty strokes set a heady rhythm.

She dropped her head to the side and exposed her neck.

Kissing the smooth skin, planted deep, he ground against her, and his fingers dug into her hips.

She reveled in the possession and rocked her hips within his grasp.

“You feel so good, Kada.” He loosened his grip and pulled back on her right hip.

Unwilling to lose the heady pressure of their connection, she rocked against him until the heat between their bodies and heady arousal of their joined flesh set a punishing pace.

He picked up his pace, and with every thrust, he peppered small swats against her ass.

The swift sting and rushing blood surprised her, but as his hand wrapped around her waist and stroked her sensitized clit, she melted against the onslaught and let him carry her toward satisfaction. Heat liquefied her insides, and every body-jarring impact brought her closer to the edge. When she felt him withdraw, she cried out for more.

Again, he sank his shaft. “I have you.”

Her back pressed against his chest, her bottom bouncing off his groin, she closed her eyes and savored his control.

“Tell me you’ll come on my dick.” He followed his hoarse whisper with a deeper thrust and stroked her clit. “Tell me you’ll ache for me.”

“I will.” She moaned.

He changed the angle.

The pressure building in her core threatened to detonate inside of her. He took her to the edge of her release and pulled back.

At the loss of connection, she groaned and tried to control her heaving chest. She met his gaze in the mirror. “I wasn’t expecting to get my kicks in the bathroom.”

His nostrils flared. “Neither was I.”

Dropping her head to the side, she savored the building tension and her labored breaths. Reaching for him, she grasped his length and stroked him.

His breath came in short gasps. “I wanted to wait, and then I couldn’t.”

She gripped him. “Don’t wait.”

Diverting a hand, he dropped it to her clit and stroked her as he slid in and out of her heat.

Slowed down, the flames simmered and built into a raging heat. She no longer felt like a spectator, but a participant in her heady pleasure. A man who could make her feel this good and do it repeatedly was dangerous. He could make every day worthwhile, and she would forget how much she wanted to accomplish.

His pace quickened, she dropped a hand, and she doubted she could utter his name. Gripping the vanity and panting for breath seemed like the only things she could do. Her passion melted into a blinding bliss. As he shuddered behind her, his larger-than-life frame held her, and his arm locked her against his chest. Together, they panted for breath, and he nuzzled his lips against her neck until the ripples of pleasure faded and left nothing but this moment.

“Good?”

His voice, pressed deep against her shoulder, vibrated. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder. “No.”

Raising his head, he looked into her eyes.

“Amazing,” she whispered the praise.

Keeping eye contact, he intensified the pace.

Locked to him and craving more, she raised her lips for another kiss and shattered in his arms. She barely felt his lips, but his arms gripped her, his cock throbbed deep inside her, and his scent surrounded her. Spent, she tipped her head back to his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Tightening his hold, he held tight.

Her heartbeat slowed. Pleasure left her limbs tingling, but sex only delayed her concerns. Opening her eyes, she dropped her head and stared at the floor tiled with penny rounds. She anticipated the pain of walking away from the desert and a man she could grow to love, but for a few seconds more, she didn’t have to move.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Looking up, she blinked away her worries and focused on his commanding presence. Her cheek felt the effects of his beard, and her limbs ached to pull him close, but the moment he climbed down from his tall horse, she knew he would come in and out of her life like an unexpected breeze.

“You’re not still worried about the cactus? It’s a little pain, Kada. I can take it.”

Swallowing, she tested the words before she uttered them. The fear of failure tasted as bitter as dandelion greens. “I’m worried if I can take it. This is a big change, and I’ve already failed once. If I change my mind or fail again, what happens next?”

“You regroup, dust off your ass, and try again.”

Before he carried her past her limits, she pulled back and drew a breath. In another minute, the café and the waiting sandwiches would be distant concerns. She inhaled. “They all know we’re in here.”

“Good.” He lowered his head for another kiss. “Maybe they won’t interrupt.”

“Next week.”

Drawing up short, he stared. “Pardon?”

“Take me out to dinner the first week in January.” Issuing the command, she looked away from his swollen lips and replayed the kiss. Her decision-making skills might need a little work, or telling him to stop might be the stupidest thing she had ever done. In his arms, life could be easy and pleasurable, and she ached for another pulse-pounding ride. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “I can’t confuse how I feel about you with my grant decision. We should go back to the table.”

“I don’t want a sandwich, but I hear you.” He stroked her cheek. “I will take you to dinner, and how far we go will be entirely up to you. None of the university fools you’ve kissed could steal your breath, could they?”

“Dane…”

“All that frustration? You’ll make your art. In the meantime, work out your frustrations on me.” He straightened. “I’m strong enough to take it, and when you walk away, you’ll still be strong, too.”

Pulling out his arms before she took him up on his offer in the tiny bathroom, she hurried into her rumpled clothes, pushed open the bathroom door, and gulped the chilled air. Her heart beat a mile a minute, and her body ached, but she put one foot in front of the other foot. Afraid to meet his gaze, she counted her steps and aimed for the table where two sandwiches sat.

“All good?” the older woman asked with a wink in her eye.

She swallowed and struggled to form words.

“A tiny scratch. You can’t sneak up on a farmer any sooner than you can catch a weasel asleep.” Dane thrust the first aid kit into the cashier’s arms. “Isn’t that right, Kada?”

She downed her water and wondered if she had ever seen a weasel in the valley. “Whatever you say, cowboy.”

Laughing, he dropped into his chair.

Picking up her sandwich, she paused and made eye contact. He played a tough game, but the cactus spines must have hurt, and everyone in the restaurant saw the blood spotting his shirt. If he couldn’t accept a humbling fall, how could he weather life’s challenges and reclaim solid ground?