Lydia's Twin Temptation

LYDIA’S TWIN TEMPTATION

Divine Creek Ranch 8

Heather Rainier

MENAGE EVERLASTING

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of
Lydia’s Twin Temptation
by Heather Rainier from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Heather Rainier’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Rainier’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my wonderful husband, who presents me regularly with enough temptation for two women. Thanks for brainstorming with me, for being my inspiration, and for loving to cook. You’ve made sacrifices so I could write and I’ll always be grateful to you.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to all my readers and the fans who send email and interact with me on Facebook. I love every minute of the time I spend visiting with you.

I’d like to thank my tireless cheerleaders: Christi, Jennifer, and Tonya.

Thank you, Dawn Gore Meador, for your abilities as a beta-reader and for helping me to stay organized. Thank you to my friends and fellow Siren authors Corinne Davies, for critiquing Lydia’s story, and Sophie Oak, whose friendship and encouragement have meant the world to me.

Special thanks to Luna for villainous inspiration. I hope I did you proud. Thanks also for the beautiful banners and other graphic art you’ve done for my Facebook pages and my website.

For giving me encouragement, love, and support when I needed it, thank you to the Righteous Perverts. A girl couldn’t ask for more creative, unique, naughty, and totally supportive friends. Their rampaging rants are especially inspiring.

I offer my sincerest gratitude and respect to my publisher, Diana DeBalko of Siren Publishing. Your encouragement and direction have meant the world to me.

Thanks also to my editors and the staff of Siren Publishing. Without their tireless efforts and creativity the Divine Creek Ranch would not exist as it does today.

Fort Stockton, Texas, in early July…

Lydia Webster trudged up the stairs, her footsteps echoing faintly on the metal steps. She’d hoped to be out of this shabby West Texas motel by now. It had been the best she could afford when she realized she might be stranded in Fort Stockton for a while.

The perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades, even though the sun had set hours before. The heat was like a suffocating blanket, and the news she’d just gotten about her 1973 Karmann Ghia only added to her misery. The mechanic had promised he could get her car fixed and running well enough for her to make it out of Fort Stockton, once she got together the money for the repair. He told her the car might run a while longer for short trips to work and home but it wouldn’t last forever as it was.

She’d been saving the money to start over again somewhere else and had almost enough to strike out from Fort Stockton when her little red car had begun making a strange noise and smell. Her boss, Ruben Cortez, had suggested she run it by his cousin’s shop to have it looked at. She didn’t know any other mechanics in town, so she had done as he’d suggested and had been mortified at how much it would cost. The mechanic had told her that she might be able to drive it the way it was a while longer but risked permanent damage if she did.

The repair would wipe out most of the money she’d saved so she’d have to start all over again. That would be hard enough without the threat of poor little Gunther, as she’d nicknamed the car years before, breaking down permanently hanging over her head. She had no idea what she’d do if that happened, but she knew she couldn’t put the decision off. She was either broke
again
or walking to work every day.

Well, actually she did know what she’d do. But she was determined to make it on her own without help from her brothers, who’d taken it upon themselves to be her personal mother hens. She knew if she made a phone call right now, they’d be there in a matter of hours with a trailer to haul her and all her stuff out of this mess she found herself in.

After her parents had passed away, her mom from cancer and her father from heart failure a few weeks later, she’d moved to Austin from San Angelo to attend the culinary institute. Her mom had instilled in Lydia a love for cooking and her brothers had wanted to help make her and her mother’s dream a reality. Ace and Kemp had set her up in an apartment and even handled the rent for her so she could focus on her schooling.

She’d found a roommate to help cut down the cost, but the situation had never sat right with her, even though they insisted they didn’t mind. It didn’t escape her that during that time she’d felt accountable to them for her grades and progress at the institute. They’d also felt free to share their thoughts on anyone she dated while there.

Hoping to avoid a conflict with them, she’d never questioned
how
it was that they always seemed to know who she was dating when they were way out in San Angelo. The answer would have pissed her off too much.
Private-stinking-investigator-buttinski-brothers.

Thinking of her big brothers, she had to fight the urge to smile because she knew their interference came from their hearts, despite how aggravating she found it. More often than not, they’d been right about the guys she’d dated not being good enough for her. Most of them had proved they were after only one thing.

Whenever her brothers had called, she’d glossed over the pertinent details, managing to sound like everything was fine and she was happy with where she currently was. She was up a creek without a paddle if they ever paid a surprise visit.

Lydia walked along the balcony outside the row of doors until she reached her own. Tilting her head back to ease the tired, sore muscles in her neck, she was about to insert the key in the lock when she noticed the door was ajar. Her heart lurched in her chest.

Oh, what now!

Cautiously pushing the door of her small hotel room open, she gasped at what she found. She listened for any trace of movement, but the room was deserted. The tiny bathroom was visible from the door, and when she saw that it, too, was empty she entered the room.

Everything was gone. Stripped bare. Just…
gone
. She looked again at the room number screwed to the door to make sure she had the right one. The pleasant scent of lavender still filled the air, masking some of the musty odor of the old motel room, verifying that it was indeed her room.

The last time Chance Carlisle had visited the Oasis Café he’d brought her a gift of lavender aromatherapy products and a beautiful silver bracelet. In light of her unfortunate isolation in Fort Stockton, the gift had made her feel special. She could still remember the hopeful look on Chance’s handsome smile when she’d tried the bracelet on.

Her heart froze in her chest and cold chills spread over her skin as she slammed the door and rushed to the bed frame.

“No, no, no, please no!”

Lydia knelt and looked under the bed, reaching inside the box-spring for the plastic bag she kept her tips and that special piece of jewelry hidden in.

She searched more diligently, thinking perhaps she’d placed it in a different spot after putting yesterday’s tips in it. No. It was gone.

Frustration-induced tears prickled in her eyes. Crouching there in her faded tan waitress uniform, she cried wearily for a minute, wondering what to do next. Tears were useless and wouldn’t get her out of this mess.

Lydia got to her feet, lifted the queen mattress, and tilted it off the bed against the wall. Her search had been frantic and she might have inadvertently knocked the bag from its normal resting place. She lifted the box-spring from the metal frame and closely inspected the underside. Since the cloth covering was already torn, she didn’t feel too bad about ripping it back a little farther. A glint of something caught her eye and she reached inside. Her lip quivered when her fingers came into contact with the cool, metallic object.

More tears slipped down her cheeks when she realized she hadn’t lost everything. The plastic bag containing her money was definitely gone but the intricately crafted sterling silver bracelet Chance Carlisle had given her rested in her hand. Even though it was foolish of her to think it, she wished that he was with her right now. Being around that good-hearted cowboy made her happy, and she felt safe around him. Right now she didn’t feel safe at all.

Lydia called the police and reported the robbery then returned the bed to order. She checked the motel room door, noting that the lock had not been forced. Whoever had broken in either had access to keys or tools that could unlock her door. It could’ve been anyone.

There were no security cameras in the motel, and so there would be very little the police would be able to do to help her, but she at least went through the motions. Already resigned to it, she nodded when they sympathetically told her there was not much to go on in her case. They dusted the outside of the door and surfaces in the room for fingerprints and then left her to figure out what to do next.

She was grateful at least that her rent was paid up for another two weeks. There would be time to earn the money she’d need for rent before it was due again, but it would mean eating peanut butter and crackers at mealtimes again.

The thief had even taken her dirty clothes and her laundry basket, and Lydia couldn't understand why. She shouldered her purse and trudged to the door, thankful that today had been a good day for tips because she had to go to the store across the street and get some basics. They’d even stolen her lavender body wash and shampoo.

At five o’clock the next morning, she woke to the musical alarm of her cell phone and made quick work of getting ready. She avoided thinking about the days, weeks, and months of drudgery that lay ahead of her. She’d cried herself to sleep the night before when it finally sank in that she was back at square one. She’d worn Chance’s bracelet to bed, taking comfort from the memory of its thoughtful giver.

Chance had been thoughtful and kind to her on her very first day working at the Oasis Café. It must’ve been obvious to him that she’d had a long day, and she clearly remembered how much her feet had ached afterward. She’d waited on him and his companion as efficiently as she could, and after they’d left she’d discovered a one hundred dollar bill beneath his plate. The very next day she’d gone out and bought herself a decent pair of work shoes and blessed his name as she paid for them with the tip he’d left her.

Whenever he rolled through town on a cattle run, with his identical twin brother Clayton along for the trip occasionally, it always brightened her day. The gifts he sometimes brought had been a complete surprise but didn’t mean near as much as his sincere kindness and the playful twinkle in his piercing blue eyes.

Even though she’d done her best to be a realist, she’d found herself looking forward more and more to his visits. The last time he’d bid her good-bye she’d wished she could go with him. Watching him saunter out of the door had made her heart ache a bit.

It was pathetic to think that way because she was on her own in getting out of this situation, just like she was on her own in getting into it. Her brothers had told her of a chef’s position that was open in the little town they lived in, but she’d turned them down, needing a little space in which to forge her own destiny. She certainly had all the space she needed now.

Praying as she walked out into the predawn darkness, Lydia made her way down the poorly lit stairs to her little Karmann Ghia in the parking lot. Gunther sat there waiting for her faithfully and she had to smile. Her brothers had rebuilt the engine and painted it for her, after picking the car up at an auction five years ago. Despite their overprotectiveness, she liked the reminder of them that Gunther represented.

After unlocking the car, she plopped into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition, wondering what felt “off” about Gunther this morning.

Turning the key, all she heard was,
“Errrrt.”

“Don’t say that Gunther, baby.” Sometimes it helped to sweet-talk him a little.

With the sinking feeling that something was really wrong, she turned the key in the ignition once more.

“Errrrt.”

“Oh, no. Come on
Gooonther
,” she begged, drawing his name out like a porn star. “Give it up for me, baby.”

“Er–er,”
he replied negatively. She pulled the key out of the ignition and lifted herself from the seat, suddenly realizing what was wrong. In the dark, she hadn't noticed. This day was going to hell already.

She gasped in dismay when she saw the damage done during the night. Her tires had been slashed. Going around the car, she could see all four of them were gutted.

Now she wasn’t even at square one anymore. Less than zero. She felt like fate was determined to keep her in this town. She balled up her hands and stomped her feet angrily.

“Motherfucker,” she growled to herself.

Something went,
“tsk,”
beneath the engine door at the rear of the car.

She patted the engine door and said, “Not you, baby. It’s not your fault.” She looked around, wondering if anyone was watching her have a chat with her car. It was dark outside and all the motel room lights were still off.

Removing her phone from her purse, she dialed Mr. Cortez’s cell phone number. LuAnn’s biker boyfriend was in town, so she would be getting a ride to work on his Harley. Simone walked to work because she lived only a block away. The boss himself was her only solution.

“What!”

It didn’t surprise Lydia when the rude bastard answered his phone this way. She’d had to quickly adjust to his abrasive ways because the waitress position at the café he managed was the only job she could find.

“Mr. Cortez, I have a problem. My car has been vandalized.” She didn’t mention that the car also wouldn’t start because he’d probably just yell at her for not having his cousin start the work yesterday when she’d had the chance. He’d probably throw in that it wouldn’t have gotten vandalized either.

Grudgingly he said, “I’ll be over in a minute. Be outside. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Yes, sir.” She stuck her tongue out at the phone after he hung up on her and then slipped it into her purse. She locked up Gunther and then leaned against him to wait. The temptation to call her brothers was almost more than she could bear.

Rubbing her hand over her arm in self-consoling gesture, she wondered why someone would slash her tires. Fort Stockton had not been the easiest place to live, but she didn’t think she’d made any enemies. Her only real friends were the two waitresses she worked with and the café’s cook, LaMont. She also wondered if the robbery of her motel room and vandalism of her car were somehow connected.

After rubbing her hand over the silver bracelet, Lydia reluctantly removed it. Mr. Cortez did not like them wearing jewelry to work. On top of that, he’d been affronted when Chance Carlisle had dared to have her open the gift containing the bracelet while she waited on him at the café counter.

Mr. Cortez stared at Chance whenever he came in. Lydia thought that was very peculiar but had reasoned that he was a crotchety old man and maybe his gout or his hemorrhoids were bothering him. In either case, the job at the Oasis Café was her only way out of Fort Stockton, so she’d better play by the rules.

Unlike a lot of people she knew, she’d come to appreciate the beauty of the West Texas landscape. She’d done a little exploring on her few days off and had found some beautiful areas away from town and the interstate that almost made her stint in this part of West Texas bearable.