For nearly a decade, Hank had done little more than work, eat and sleep, his patterns following that of his cattle as spring calving gave way to fall roundup in the same way that the sun rose and the sun set, and the next thing he’d known, his early twenties were gone and he was pushing thirty.
He’d never minded the long hours, the extreme weather, the backbreaking and sometimes heartbreaking life on the ranch. At the time, he’d believed he was working toward something—50 percent ownership of the Rolling Hills spread, the equal share his father had once owned with Hank’s uncle.
But the years of long-term care for his father had taken their toll. A proud man, his father had sold some of his shares to his brother to pay for the in-home assistance he required. After his father’s passing, Hank had tried to buy back those shares only to be told by his uncle that they weren’t for sale.
Hank had mourned the loss of his father, but he had seen that coming as his father’s health had slowly deteriorated. The blow his uncle had landed had blindsided Hank, leaving him reeling as his world was pulled out from beneath him.
Doesn’t matter how hard you work or what you think you have to offer. Rolling Hills will never be yours.
So Hank had done what he never thought he would—he sold his uncle what was left of his holdings in the family ranch and walked away. His mother, who had tired of ranch life, had moved with him to Bozeman and settled into a small active adult community. That was about the time when he met Anne, and for a while he’d believed life could be different. After they married, he took his share of the money from selling the ranch and moved to Rust Creek Falls. He bought the Bar H, Janie was born and the three of them were a family.
But just like Rolling Hills, no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he thought he had to offer, that family wasn’t his either. And since the divorce, he’d fallen back into the long hours, pushing himself the way he had when he was in his teens, and ignoring the aches and pains that were his body’s way of reminding him that he wasn’t a kid anymore.
Ah, hell, one thing he knew for sure was that he was too old for the way his heart was pounding in his chest and his palms were sweating at the thought of seeing Gemma Chapman again. This was a mistake, no doubt about it.
Turning around at the dead end in the hallway, Hank heard the squeak of wheels and spotted a hotel employee pushing a dinner cart his way.
“Excuse me,” he said to the young woman. “I’m looking for one of your guests.”
The tiny woman’s shoulders straightened as she tightened her grip on the handle. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s against hotel policy to divulge any of our guests’ room numbers.”
Yep, no doubt about it. He was definitely giving off some kind of stalker vibe.
“Sorry—what I meant was that I’m looking for suite 103.”
Somehow, knowing Gemma’s room number didn’t seem to help his cause. The woman drew the cart closer to her as if she thought he was going to abscond with it. He glanced down at the white linen-covered cart decked out with a fancy champagne bottle, two paper-thin crystal flutes, glistening oysters on a bed of ice and a decadent heart-shaped arrangement of chocolate-covered strawberries.
Even if he hadn’t been a cattle rancher, Hank would always consider himself a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Just the idea of swallowing the slimy shellfish had his stomach turning. And if he ever actually tried... Well, he was pretty sure something equally disgusting would come back up.
“Suite 103?” she echoed. “The honeymoon suite?”
“The honey—what?”
The word caught in Hank’s throat as he once again locked in on the over-the-top romantic spread on the cart. This time, though, he caught sight of something he’d missed. A square envelope propped against the ice bucket. The word congratulations was written in bright red script across the front. Along with the names of the happy couple...
Gemma and Chad.
Who the hell is Chad?
Even as the question ricocheted around Hank’s head, the answer was obvious.
“Yes, sir,” the server acknowledged. “Suite 103 is the honeymoon suite. Perhaps you’ve made a mistake.”
There was no perhaps about it. Hank didn’t know what Gemma Chapman’s game was, but he wasn’t up for playing the fool.
Chapter Three
“Ms. Chapman?”
Gemma looked up from the scrambled eggs she’d been pushing around her plate to see a tall, good-looking man standing by her table. Unlike just about every guy she’d seen since stepping foot in Rust Creek Falls, this one wore dark trousers and a pale blue button-down shirt, far more business casual than country cowboy.
“Yes?”
“I’m Nate Crawford, the owner here at Maverick Manor.”
“Oh.” After shaking his hand, she said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have a wonderful hotel. It’s everything the website promised.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your stay. I, um...” A hint of discomfort crossed his handsome features as he gestured to the empty chair across from her. “Do you mind if I join you for a moment?”
“Please have a seat.” Gemma knew small towns had the reputation for providing a personal touch, but something in Nate Crawford’s expression told her this wasn’t simply part of the Rust Creek Falls welcome committee. “Is something wrong?”
“Actually, I was going to ask you that question. Or if everything is all right... If you’re comfortable staying in the suite.”
“Ah, you mean in the honeymoon suite when I’m technically not on my honeymoon?” Gemma supposed it wasn’t that much of a surprise that word had gotten back to Nate that the bride had checked in sans groom. Hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, she reached for her orange juice and took a swallow of the tart citrus, half wishing she’d ordered it mixed with champagne. Or better yet, vodka.
Shifting in the chair, Nate Crawford looked almost as uncomfortable as Gemma felt. “If I had known... We do have guests checking out this afternoon if you would prefer to switch suites. We could have your luggage moved by this evening.”
For a split second, Gemma considered making the change before she shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m fine where I am.” After all, she had booked the honeymoon suite months ago, and even though the room was being charged to Chad’s credit card, Gemma felt she had more than paid for it.
As he pushed back from the table, Nate Crawford said, “If you change your mind...”
“I won’t,” Gemma vowed. She was going to hold her head high despite the humiliation of discovering her fiancé had been cheating...as well as being stood up for dinner the night before.
A look of respect entered Nate’s green eyes as he gave a short nod. “If there’s anything you need during your stay, please let me know.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine by myself.”
All by myself.
Gemma knew Janie had somewhat twisted Hank’s arm into offering to take her out for dinner, but she never considered that he might not show. On the contrary, nerves had danced in her stomach as she readied for the date. She’d blow-dried her hair using a large-barreled brush to ensure the long dark locks had the perfect shine and played up her green eyes with a smoky mix of brown shadow and two coats of mascara.
Though she had planned this Montana vacation, Gemma didn’t have any Western wear. Instead she’d dressed in her NYC finest—a halter-style little black dress with a skirt that ended just above the knee and a pair of strappy heels.
Anticipation had thrummed through her veins as she waited and waited and waited...
It had taken a ridiculously long amount of time before she finally accepted Hank wasn’t coming. Perhaps because she’d been so sure he was the type of old-fashioned gentleman she’d given up on finding in New York...or anywhere, for that matter. That he was a real cowboy at heart—t
he kind who was honest and heroic and trustworthy.
But Gemma’s taste when it came to men was anything but trustworthy. Clearly she’d misjudged Hank Harlow as badly as she had her former fiancé.
And as if the night couldn’t get worse, room service had delivered a romantic offering of chilled oysters on the half shell, strawberries and champagne—an unneeded reminder of the wedding that wasn’t. No doubt Wilson Montgomery had placed the order after she met with him months ago and had simply forgotten to cancel.
Wilson was her biggest client—and an old Chapman family friend. It wasn’t the first time he had sent her a gift basket of some kind, and Gemma had heard the not-so-secretive whispers behind her back. How her stepfather’s connections had gotten Gemma the job and how friends like the Montgomerys, rather than the long nights and weekends she worked, were the only reason why she was being considered for promotion.
As the evening grew later, Gemma had been tempted to pop open the champagne bottle and finish it off herself. But she’d refrained. She had, however, devoured the dark chocolate she’d peeled off the strawberries and unceremoniously dumped the oysters—which Chad loved and she hated—into the garbage.
The idea of going to the Ace in the Hole by herself held no appeal, but she’d be damned if she’d let any man—not her cheating ex and not her nonexistent dinner date—ruin this trip for her! So she’d headed to the hotel restaurant, half expecting to see Hank there, wining and dining another woman. After all, wasn’t that par for her course lately? But if he had found a better offer, he hadn’t taken her to Maverick Manor’s dining room.
Afterward she’d returned to her suite and turned in early, her first night on her honeymoon for one as miserable as her friends had warned her it would be...even if not for the reason they would have expected.
Refusing to stay in such a funk, she’d brought her tablet down to the dining room that morning. Of course she couldn’t scroll through a single website without finding some reference to trail rides and enjoying the scenic views on horseback. Which meant she couldn’t stop thinking about Hank and how excited she’d been at the idea of learning to ride from a genuine Montana cowboy.
It’s a state chock-full of cowboys, Gem, she scolded herself. You can hire any one of them.
It wouldn’t be the same, though, as having Hank teach her.
But even if horseback riding was off the agenda, Gemma had her list of things to do, and nowhere on it was “feel sorry for yourself.” Finishing up her breakfast of scrambled eggs and yogurt topped with fresh berries and crunchy granola, she signed the check and pushed away from the table. She draped the strap of her Louis Vuitton bag over her shoulder and was headed from the dining room and into the lobby when she heard Janie call out her name.
Gemma cringed. As much as she’d enjoyed the young girl’s company the day before, wherever Janie was, her father was sure to be close by. Forcing a smile, she turned to see the preteen rushing toward her. Dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt, the girl looked exactly how Gemma imagined a Montana rancher’s daughter should. But unlike the day before, when a huge smile lit Janie’s face, today her blond brows were pulled together in a frown.
Refusing to look over her shoulder to see if her father stood nearby, Gemma focused on Janie. “Hi, Janie. How are you doing this morning?”
“Oh, I’m much better than last night. My headache’s totally gone. It’s—it’s kinda like I never had one in the first place,” she all but muttered beneath her breath.
“Headache?” Gemma echoed.
Janie nodded. “Yeah, I told my dad he should still go to dinner with you, but he said he wouldn’t have had any fun knowing I was back in the room by myself.”
Okay...so a sick kid was certainly a good enough reason for canceling dinner, but why hadn’t Hank called to tell her? And why did Janie seem to think Gemma already knew that she hadn’t felt well the night before?
“So last night, you and your dad...”
Janie sighed. “Ordered room service and watched a movie. What did you do? Did you end up going to the Ace?”
“I...” Wasted a ridiculous amount of time getting ready for a date that never happened. But of course she couldn’t say that. “I came down here for dinner and then went back to my room for an early night.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to go to the Ace.”
“Yes, so am I.” Sorry and confused and entirely unable to keep her gaze on Janie as Hank walked up behind his daughter.
After standing her up last night, Gemma would have liked to believe that Hank Harlow wasn’t as good-looking as she remembered. That sun exposure or jet lag or, heck, an overdose of clean mountain air had all conspired against her, making her think the man was better looking than he really was.
If anything, the opposite proved true.
Dressed in well-worn jeans that hugged his thighs and a checkered Western-style shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, he looked like a cowgirl’s dream. Or more precisely a city girl’s fantasy, as Gemma couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away.
Glancing over her shoulder at her father, Janie said, “Hey, Dad, I was just telling Gemma how we had dinner in our room and watched TV last night.”
“Were you?” he asked, his deep voice sending unwarranted—and unwanted—chills down Gemma’s spine.
“Uh-huh. You should see our room, Gemma. It’s so cool.”
“I’m sure Gemma’s room is plenty cool,” Hank stated flatly. “Probably the fanciest suite in the place.”
Gemma lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it is the...”
Honeymoon suite.
She didn’t say the words, but she could see in Hank’s somber gaze that he already knew. Knew and thought what exactly? Did he honestly believe she would make plans with another man while she was on her own honeymoon? Even Chad hadn’t done something as sleazy as that...though since she’d called off the wedding before the honeymoon, perhaps she’d simply robbed him of the opportunity.
A wave of anger washed over her like molten lava, hot enough to burn away the icy layer of indifference she’d submerged herself in since she’d walked in on Chad and her supposed best friend. She hadn’t yelled. She hadn’t screamed. A part of her had felt as though she’d flipped on the television to some cheesy reality show about cheating spouses, one where she didn’t know—or care—enough about the characters for the on-screen drama to matter.
But it wasn’t television; it was her life. Her fiancé. Her best friend. And she should have cared what was happening because it was happening to her! How had everything gotten so screwed up that instead of being devastated by her broken engagement, she’d felt...relieved?
But heartbroken or not, she’d still been humiliated. As she’d taken on the painful task of phoning the guests, canceling the venue, the caterer and the cake, and returning the gaily wrapped presents sent in advance, she couldn’t help wondering... How many of Chad’s friends, and how many of her friends, had known he was cheating before she did?
So maybe her heart hadn’t been broken, but her trust had been—her trust in her fiancé, in her friends, even in her own judgment. How was she supposed to believe in someone else when she no longer believed in herself?
But she’d believed Hank. From the moment they met, she’d sensed he was someone she could trust, a man she could count on. That the cowboy charm and old-fashioned manners were as much a part of him as his gorgeous blue eyes.
And for him to think so little of her... That hurt. Far more than Gemma wanted to admit.
“Janie, can you give me a second to talk to your dad?”
Clearly not picking up on the tension between the two adults, the girl’s eyes lit. “Sure! I need to check in at the concierge for today’s nature walk anyway, right, Dad?”
“Right, Janie. Come back here when you’re done.”
“Okay, and maybe you guys can t
alk about going riding,” she suggested as she walked backward through the lobby. “Remember, you promised to teach Gemma!”
Without Janie as a buffer, that tension only increased until Gemma felt as though the air between them was practically crackling. The moment his daughter was out of earshot, Hank mumbled, “I’m sure you have better things to do than going riding.”
“Oh, you’re sure, are you?” Gemma crossed her arms over her chest as she met his discomforted gaze with a full-on stare down. “Like what, Hank? What better things could I possibly have to do while I’m on my, oh, I don’t know, honeymoon?”
He glanced around as her voice rose, looking even more pained than he had the day before when she and Janie had started singing. “Look, Gemma—”
“No, you look! Yes, I am staying in the honeymoon suite, but I am not married, and I am not engaged, and you, Hank Harlow, have been watching too much television if you think that just because I’m from the city I’m interested in some kind of kinky, three-way sex!”
Gemma did have the wherewithal to lower her voice as she hissed that final accusation, but she still had the satisfaction of watching a dull flush color his sculpted cheekbones. Hank opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again.
Finally he said, “I’m not real sure what watching television has to do with anything. Can’t tell you the last time I watched much TV other than movies with Janie, but—”
“Hey, Dad!”
Looking grateful for the interruption, Hank turned as Janie rushed back over to them. “What’s up?”
“Davey’s mom and dad got food poisoning last night.” Janie wrinkled her nose. “They were supposed to help chaperone today, so the hotel guide is looking for someone else to volunteer.”
“Sure thing, kiddo. I can do that,” Hank said.
Gemma ground her back teeth together. And of course he would do something like make a dozen or so kids’ day! Why’d he have to go and be such a...such a nice guy at a time when Gemma was still trying so hard to be mad at him?
The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart Page 4