“Have you met Samantha Dunsbury? She’s our event planner,” Nate said.
Sam stuck out her hand. “Delighted to meet you.”
Sandy ignored the hand and pressed by her. “Where’s your office?”
“Let’s take this into the conference room.” Nate didn’t want them stepping foot in his office.
He signaled for them to take seats at the big table and Sam offered them soft drinks from the mini bar.
“Let’s cut to the chase here,” Sandy said. “It’s our understanding that you’ve gotten that Matthews woman to turn the place into a restaurant.”
“Yeah, well, you understood wrong,” Nate said, and Sam looked at him like she thought he was being rude, which he was, because the Addisons bugged the crap out of him.
“Well, we have it on excellent authority,” Sandy said, and Nate could’ve sworn the 3-D bear on her shirt nodded. “It’s all over town that you’re running a restaurant on the side. You don’t have permits for that and we’ll shut you down.”
“Go for it,” Nate dared, and started to get up to walk away.
Sam cleared her throat and beckoned him with her eyes to stay put. For whatever reason he followed her lead. The woman sure was bossy.
“You’ve gotten bad information, Sandy,” Sam said. “We’ve hired Emily to prepare breakfasts and late afternoon snacks for our guests. It’s included in their room rate. We are not serving meals to anyone who is not staying here, unless you include members of the staff, who eat for free.”
“That’s not at all what we’ve heard,” Sandy insisted. “We heard you’re running a restaurant.”
“We can’t help what you heard,” Nate said. “What Sam said is the truth. As for permits, we’re perfectly within our rights to serve food to our guests, since we are a bed and breakfast.” He emphasized “breakfast.”
Sandy started to say something, but Nate cut her off. “We’re done. Good luck with your bear pool.” And with that he walked out, not wanting to give the Addisons any more of his time.
A little while later, Sam found him in his office catching up on a pile of paperwork. “
Good luck with your bear pool
? You really had to throw that in?”
“Just keeping it classy,” he said, and turned his focus back to the work he’d been doing. When Sam didn’t leave, he asked, “You need something?”
“No. Just checking in. Checking in . . . get it? Hotel humor.”
He lifted his head slightly. “You’re weird. Now go away.”
On her way out, Nate got a nice view of her awesome ass . . . and he really needed to stop doing that. What he needed was to spend more time in San Francisco and date women he didn’t work with, didn’t live next door to, and who didn’t make bad hotel jokes.
Checking in.
He rolled his eyes and laughed.
Chapter 11
“S
o this it, huh?” Sam walked around Lucky’s property, watching a crew of men erect a row of pipe corrals. They were closing in on mid-May and he still planned to open by summer.
“What do you think?” Lucky asked.
To Sam it looked like there was still a lot of work to be done, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “It’s . . . it’s getting there.”
“You didn’t see it before,” Lucky said. “But I’m making progress. Come check out the lodge.”
When Sam had first driven up, she’d seen the large stack-stone and log structure. What made it particularly impressive was the roofline—a series of staggered peaks that rose to the sky like majestic wooden tepees.
“This is it,” Lucky said, taking her inside the lodge’s massive double doors. “You ever see
Dirty Dancing
?”
“Of course,” she said, trailing behind him, stopping to take in the interesting architecture—Native American meets Frank Lloyd Wright’s prairie style. “Patrick Swayze. Jennifer Grey. They spend the summer at a resort in the Catskills. I’m surprised you’ve seen it. Isn’t it considered a chick film?”
Lucky grinned. “I’ve been known to see chick flicks every now and again. This place sort of reminds me of that.”
Not so much to Sam. But it was something all right. Sam took in the knotty-pine pitched ceilings, the mammoth picture windows and the tongue-and-groove plank floors. She walked in little circles until her gaze fell on the stone fireplace in the corner. “This place is beyond spectacular.”
“Ain’t it though?” Lucky stared up at the ceiling as if he was seeing it for the first time. “I used to work here summers. This is where they served the chow. I’m just planning to clean it up, knock down the cobwebs and polish up the wood. But nothing else. I’m envisioning long wooden tables and benches. Maybe a stage over there for bands in the evenings for dancing.” He pointed to a spot in the corner and moved his finger to the other side of the room. “And a bar over there.”
She nodded, liking his plan. “I can totally see that. Maybe some fun country-and-western neon signs.”
“Yep,” he said. “I like it. We could hang old rodeo memorabilia too.”
“Absolutely.” She couldn’t believe how clearly she saw his vision, given that she’d never been to a cowboy camp or a dude ranch in her life. But somehow she could feel the Western vibe perfectly and supposed that her nearly five-month stay in Nugget had given her the required esthetic.
He walked her back to an industrial kitchen. It lacked the charm of the Lumber Baron’s newly remodeled one, but it looked like it could efficiently accommodate a sizable crowd. Lots of stainless steel and bulky appliances.
“There are six outbuildings, including a couple of dormitories,” Lucky said. “I was thinking the dormitories would make good bunkhouses. One of the buildings I’m converting into my digs and an office.” He’d told her that he’d been getting by in a single-wide trailer.
Sam walked out onto the porch and scanned the lushly forested property. In the distance she could hear the Feather River and smell the warm spring air. She looked for Lucky, who’d hung back, presumably giving her space to get the lay of the land.
When she went back inside he asked, “What do you think?” His voice echoed through the empty hall.
“I think it’s extraordinary.” She could visualize the room filled with people, a live band and line dancing.
“Let me hear your ideas.” Lucky was definitely a man of action.
“All right. Should we talk in here? Or would you rather go into town and get drinks?”
“I’m always in favor of drinks.” Lucky looked around the lodge and at Samantha’s white blouse. “And it’s a little dusty here. So I vote for the Ponderosa. My treat.”
“I’ll follow you in the car.” Griff had put on her new tire. Just in time too, because her chauffeur, Nate, had gone to San Francisco for a few days. He’d been gone barely a day and already she missed his overbearingness.
Unfortunately, she got the sinking feeling that he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
They got a booth in the far corner of the Ponderosa. Lucky called it the cowboy seat, because he could see the whole room in case of trouble.
“You expecting trouble, Lucky?” she teased.
“Not if I can help it.” He really was a charming man. And handsome. “But I can handle it.”
She bet he could. For the life of her she didn’t know why Nate didn’t like him. A server came and took their drink orders. Sam also asked for a bowl of pretzel mix.
As soon as the waitress left, Lucky said, “Let’s get to it. I’m dying to hear your ideas.”
“So this is the thing,” she started. “The hospitality industry in Nugget is bad in winter. The Lumber Baron drops on average seventy percent in revenue during the cold months. And it will be worse for you, given that the cowboy camp is built around outdoor activities. What I suggest is that we work together to organize packages—special joint events that will bring tourists or even locals during the snowiest time of the year.”
“I’m with you so far,” Lucky said. “But what about summer?”
“Summer is the easy season. That’s why I’m saving it for last. For winter, I’ve come up with a few ideas. I want you to be open-minded about this because I know you see the cowboy camp as a manlier alternative to the dude ranch. But I’ve been looking at dude ranches in Jackson Hole and other cold places to see what they do in winter and this is what I’ve come up with . . .”
She’d already lost him. Instead of listening to her plan, he was staring across the dining room at a perky little blonde. “Uh, hello.” Sam waved her hand in his face. “Earth to Lucky.”
He pulled his eyes away from the woman. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then went right back to watching the woman.
Granted, she was pretty in that cheerleader kind of way, with big dimples and puppy- dog eyes, but please . . .
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, clearly picking up on her annoyance. “We used to know each other.”
“Do you want to go say hi?” Their drinks had just arrived and Sam took a big gulp of her margarita. “Go ahead.”
“No, that’s okay. The last time we saw each other didn’t end well.”
“How long ago was that?” Sam asked.
“A decade.”
“What happened?”
“Uh, let’s just say it was a misunderstanding.” And Sam knew that was his polite way of telling her he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He turned back to her, all eyes now. “So about the winter months and us doing a joint operation, you were saying?”
“I was thinking that we . . .”
For the next half hour, Lucky barely heard a word coming out of Sam’s mouth.
Raylene looked good. Thinner than he remembered, but her breasts seemed larger. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gotten a boob job in Denver. She’d always complained about how they were too small, how they weren’t round enough, blah, blah, blah. Sometimes he didn’t get women, because Raylene’s breasts had been fine just the way they were—large enough to fit into his hands, not too big to spill over. What did they say: More than a mouthful is a waste.
He covertly watched her lift her French fries to her mouth and suck off the ketchup from the tips, the same way she ate them when she was seventeen. It used to drive him crazy. She hadn’t noticed him or she was pretending not to. Didn’t she know he was a world champion bull rider and that he’d broken more records than Silvano Alves?
He supposed she’d find out soon enough. The gossip pipeline in Nugget worked overtime and his mama sure liked to sing Lucky’s praises to anyone who listened.
He craned his neck, trying to get a gander at the other woman Raylene was with, but Lucky didn’t recognize her. Possibly a friend from Denver. Hopefully not the one her husband had left her for. From what he’d heard, the breakup had been brutal. Raylene had gone as far as to push her unfaithful husband’s SUV into the swimming pool. A brand-new Escalade. A little flashy for Lucky’s choice of wheels, but it had probably set the guy back a wad of cash.
Raylene had always been what you would call vindictive. But he supposed under the circumstances, who could blame her?
The dude had cheated with her best friend, for Christ’s sake.
Cheating was bad all the way around. But even for dirtbags, best friends were completely off limits. To add insult to injury, Raylene had allegedly caught the two of them together. The way he’d heard the story was that Raylene had come home from lunch to find Butch and the broad going at it in the shower.
While he looked over at Raylene’s table again, Sam moved on to something about sleigh rides in the snow, hot cocoa and square dancing. The truth was, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on a full sentence.
Sam leaned over the table to get his attention. “And strippers, we could hire strippers.”
“Huh?” he said.
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?”
“No, ma’am.”
She smiled at him in commiseration. Lucky thought she was a fine-looking woman. If she wasn’t hooked up with Nate, he might’ve asked her out. It would be good to have someone to get his mind off Raylene.
“What do you say we adjourn this meeting until you can focus?” Sam said.
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“No need to apologize.” She nudged her head at Raylene. “Clearly, it’s not your fault.”
He had to get his head on straight if he wanted to open by summer, which meant he didn’t need any disruptions. “What do you say we do this tomorrow?”
“That would be good. I’d like to have something on paper by the time Nate gets back.”
“How long you two been an item?” Lucky asked.
She looked surprised by the question. “We’re not an item.”
Now it was Lucky’s turn to be surprised. “Could have fooled me. You two have combustible chemistry.”
“No, we don’t,” she said, and cocked her head.
He decided it was best not to argue with the lady, but couldn’t help smirking.
“Really? You think we have chemistry?”
“Yeah. So much so that I thought the two of you were hitched up. Does this mean you’re available?”
Sam looked over at Raylene’s table again. “What does it matter, since you’re clearly not.” She grinned at him like she was enjoying herself. “I’ve got to get going, Lucky. Want to come by the inn tomorrow about two? This time we’ll meet in my office. No distractions.”
“Sounds good. And again, my apologies. I’m usually more focused.” Hell, no one made it to the eight-second bell as many times as Lucky had without being single-minded. But Raylene always had messed with his head.
Sam reached inside her purse, pulled out a wallet, and laid a couple of bills on the table.
“Hey,” Lucky said. “What are you doing? I’ve got this.” He stuffed the money back into her purse.
“Thanks, Lucky.” She scooted out of the booth. “You planning to stick around?”
“Let me pay and I’ll walk you out.” Raylene would see him, but it was just a matter of time before she knew he was back in town anyway. The way the rumor mill worked in Nugget, he’d be surprised if she didn’t know already. At least when she saw him now, he’d be leaving the restaurant with a beautiful redhead on his arm.
He flagged the waitress over and gave her his credit card. Sam and he were getting ready to leave when two young towheaded boys approached their table.
“Are you Lucky Rodriguez?” the older one asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can I get your autograph?”
“Sure,” Lucky said. “You got something for me to write it on?”
The boy patted his pockets, looking for anything he could come up with, while the other one ran back to his table, returning a few moments later with a couple of scraps of paper his mama had obviously fished out of her handbag.
“Will this work?” The kid was missing his front tooth and had a lisp. Lucky got a kick out of the boy.
“I don’t see why not.” He took the scraps of paper and borrowed a pen from Sam. “What’re your names?” They told him and he wrote a quick acknowledgment to each one, ending with his John Hancock. “There you go.”
They thanked him and ran off, reading their autographs.
“You get that a lot?” Sam asked.
“Yep.” He wasn’t boasting. Professional bull riders didn’t get the same recognition as other athletes, but he had enough high-profile endorsements to get his face out there. He was especially popular in rural America.
“Does it bother you, having people invade your privacy like that?”
It wasn’t like they were going through his trash. Most of the time it was kids and die-hard adult fans. Sometimes buckle bunnies who wanted more than an autograph. “Not really. Everyone is usually polite about it. Truth be told, I kind of like it.”
Sam’s lips quirked up. “That’s sweet.”
“Don’t let it get around.” He chuckled. “It could hurt my badass reputation.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Lucky put his hand at the small of Sam’s back as they left the Ponderosa together. He couldn’t tell whether Raylene had caught sight of them.
When they got outside, Sam said, “She saw.”
He shrugged, like he couldn’t care less, but Sam was on to him. They walked to Sam’s car, waved goodbye, and Lucky got in his truck. He didn’t feel like going home to the tin can he temporarily called his house. The stove top in the single-wide was busted and Lucky craved a home-cooked meal, so he headed to the place where the food was always good.
His mom’s house smelled like fresh tortillas and lemon Pledge. For most of her adult life Cecilia Rodriguez had kept house at the Rock and River Ranch. Now she only kept her own. And it was always immaculate.
“Mijo
.
”
She kissed him “You hungry?”
“Starved,” he said, and she ushered him into the kitchen, a big open space with all the latest appliances and gadgets. Lucky’s mother enjoyed cooking and feeding people and he’d wanted her to have the best.