The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart

by Stacy Connelly

Keeping with the simplest answer, Gemma said, “Rust Creek Falls was my father’s hometown. He was born here.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “Yes. His name was Daryl Reems.”

  She waited with bated breath as Hank paused for a moment before he shook his head. “Don’t recognize the name.”

  What had she expected after so many years? But she turned back to Lightning, so Hank wouldn’t see the disappointment in her face. “Well, that would have been almost sixty years ago. And he moved around a lot during his life.”

  That was what Diane had always told her, and thanks to the box in her mother’s closet, Gemma knew at least that much was true. Along with the photographs from her childhood, she found postcards her father had sent. Images of the Grand Canyon, Utah’s national parks, a Hatch Chili Festival in New Mexico and Mount Rushmore. Dozens of places and rarely the same state more than twice. Thanks to the postmarks, she’d been able to trace his routes over the first three and a half years of her life, including the times when his travels had taken him to New York.

  Turning back to Hank with a bright smile, she said, “I just hoped I might have inherited some of his natural ability when it came to riding.”

  “Hey, you can’t expect to be an expert horsewoman after one ride.”

  An expert, no. But she’d hoped for some kind of natural ability. Something that would prove she was not just her mother’s daughter, but her father’s as well.

  “And in my experience, natural ability only takes you so far. The rest is all hard work and determination.”

  “And let me guess,” she said, trying to ignore the hurt. “As a city girl, you don’t think I’m capable of either.”

  He let out a laugh. “Sweetheart, I think you’ve got more grit and determination than any woman I’ve ever met!”

  The unexpected compliment took Gemma completely by surprise. Knowing Hank saw something in her—something worth admiring, something worth keeping—was almost as much of a gift as finding that old box of photos and postcards had been.

  Reaching up on tiptoes, Gemma placed her hands on Hank’s broad shoulders. She aimed a kiss at his cheek, but at the last second, he moved. Their lips met and clung. The intimate contact should have taken her by surprise, but how could it when she’d been wondering for days what it would be like to be kissed by a cowboy? Not just any cowboy, but this cowboy.

  And could he kiss!

  Like the man himself, Hank’s kiss was an intoxicating mix of tenderness and strength. His lips were soft against hers, but there was no hesitation in his touch, no uncertainty in his claim. He kissed like a man who knew what he wanted, and oh, how Gemma wanted!

  So much so that it was her own desire, her own unexpected need, that had her breaking the kiss. Breathless, Gemma gazed up at him. “Okay, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  Despite the desire darkening his gaze and his own unsteady breathing, Hank’s mouth kicked up in a grin. “You accidentally kissed me?”

  “I meant to kiss you on the cheek.”

  “You missed.”

  “You moved.” The echo of their conversation on the nature walk had Gemma fighting a smile. Beneath the teasing, though, desire simmered just below the surface. No longer wondering what if but knowing and now wondering what next. A kiss that amazing, that magical, certainly couldn’t be a onetime thing. Not when every brush of Hank’s lips against hers and every seductive stroke of his tongue had her straining for more.

  As if reading her mind, Hank grinned, his smile sexy enough to make Gemma long to grab him again. Only, next time she’d make sure there would be no mistaking her intentions!

  * * *

  After a half hour or so of walking through the calf-high grasses, spotting a cluster of wildflowers here and there, Hank led the way back to the tied horses. He’d told her he wanted to give the animals a chance to rest, but Gemma had the feeling he was thinking more about giving her backside a break.

  The afternoon was so peaceful, with only the sound of the rushing waterfall and the chirp of a bird or a buzzing insect. They walked side by side, close enough that their arms occasionally brushed, the innocent touches enough to strike sparks of awareness along Gemma’s skin. When she stumbled on a rock hidden in the grass, he caught her hand to help her regain her balance and then didn’t let go.

  “We should probably head back,” he said finally, and Gemma hoped she wasn’t imagining the reluctance in his voice. “I want to be at the hotel when Janie’s finished with her kids’ outing.”

  Gemma stopped short, giving his hand a sudden tug. “Oh, that reminds me! I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “About Janie’s master plan.”

  His hand slid from hers as he asked, “Janie has a master plan?”

  “Yep, and talk about grit and determination...”

  By the time Gemma finished telling Hank about his daughter’s plan to find him a wife, he looked twice as shocked as she’d been and ten times more embarrassed. He stripped off his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “I can’t believe she actually thought of doing something like that! I remember when Zach ran those ads. From what I heard, the newspaper office was buried with letters from women all looking to become Mrs. Dalton.” He swore again beneath his breath. “Hell, I don’t know what would be worse. Getting all those letters—or not getting any.”

  A man like Hank advertising for a wife? The mail room would be snowed under with responses from eager-and-willing women!

  “And despite the stunt he pulled with the wedding punch, Homer really is harmless...but still. I guess I should be glad she wasn’t old enough to come up with her master plan during the Gal Rush.”

  “The what?” Gemma asked with a startled laugh.

  “After the flood several years ago, we had a minor population boom with workers and volunteers who came to help with repairs. Word got out that Rust Creek Falls had its fair share of single cowboys and that led to a rush of women coming to town.”

  “Really?” Lissa Roarke’s blog posts about the way the whole town pulled together after the disaster had captured Gemma’s imagination. But she hadn’t read anything about a Gal Rush.

  “Yep, enough to form some kind of Newcomers Club. Of course just about all of them have gotten married by now.”

  “So the Newcomers Club turned into the Newlywed Club?”

  Hank managed a chuckle as he settled his hat back in place. “Not sure if they formed an official club, but Rust Creek Falls had its share of weddings then, and even recently.”

  “And none of those single, new-to-town women snapped you up?” Gemma blurted out, remembering too late that his ex-wife was one of those recent newlyweds.

  Hank lowered his head, the brim of his cowboy hat hiding his face, but Gemma still sensed she’d embarrassed him. “I’m old enough to be their father.”

  “Oh, come on! I don’t believe that!”

  “Okay, maybe I just feel that old. I haven’t been out on a date in—he—heck—” he cleared his throat “—I don’t know how long.”

  Gemma fought a grin at the way he’d censored himself. All part of the gentlemanly package that made Hank Harlow such a catch, even if he didn’t seem to know it.

  “I probably shouldn’t be admitting that, should I? I’m no good at this.” He pinned her with a look that had Gemma’s heart skipping a beat.

  “You’re better than you know.”

  He snorted at that. “I’m as rusty as an old nail.”

  Gemma choked a little. If that kiss was any indication of Hank’s skill when he was rusty, then she could only imagine—in great and glorious detail—what he’d be capable of with some polish and practice.

  Talk about natural ability!

  And maybe Hank didn’t have all the smooth come-ons and easy charm of a ladies’ man, but as far a
s Gemma was concerned, he was all the more attractive for it.

  “Not that horses and cattle care much one way or the other, but Janie... When her—when Dan came back to town and got together with her mother, it took a while for Janie to get used to the sudden change in, well, all of our lives.”

  “Even though you were divorced, Janie was probably worried about another man trying to take your place.”

  Hank ducked his head until the shadowed brim of his hat hid his face. “She wasn’t the only one.”

  “You’re her father. Nothing’s going to change that.”

  Though she’d intended to ease the frown gathering across his forehead, at her words, tension drew his brows closer together. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hank...”

  He walked over to the horses and gathered their reins. “Anyway, we’ve worked things out, and Janie has accepted Dan. She can see how happy he makes her mother. Now she has it in her head that I need to find someone, too.”

  “It’s sweet that she worries about you.”

  “She’s a kid. I don’t want her worrying about anything. But all her talk about me finding someone, going out, has made me realize just how long it’s been.”

  He ran a palm along Hondo’s neck. His hands were wide and scarred. So strong and capable, he was not a man who would accept failure—especially not in something as important and fundamental as his marriage. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t gotten over the loss easily.

  Though she had no right to the emotion, Gemma couldn’t help feeling jealous of a woman who once had such a strong hold on Hank’s heart. She had no idea what it would be like to have a man so committed to her. Chad certainly hadn’t been.

  “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? It’s been too long since your divorce and not nearly long enough since my broken engagement.”

  Hank’s blue eyes narrowed. “So you and your ex—”

  Gemma shook her hair back with a toss of her head. “Over. Done. Believe me. But I’m nowhere near ready to get back into any kind of a serious relationship. I’m just here for a Wild West vacation and to have some fun. So, what do you think, cowboy? Is one week enough time to knock some of that rust off?”

  Chapter Six

  “Hey, kiddo!” Hank grinned as Janie streaked across the hotel lobby, a huge smile on her face. “How was camp today?”

  “It was so much fun! We went on another hike, then had lunch before we went fishing down by the creek. Dad, you wouldn’t believe it.” Giving a dramatic eye roll, she said, “Half the kids didn’t even know how to bait their own hook. Not even the boys!”

  Having grown up on a ranch, Janie could probably have shown the Maverick Manor guides a thing or two. Still, Hank pointed out, “Not everyone is lucky enough to live around here. This is new to a lot of kids.”

  Janie shrugged a slender shoulder. “Yeah, I know.” Some of her enthusiasm dimmed a little as she chewed on her lower lip, a sure sign she was holding something back. “There was this one kid...”

  “Oh, yeah?” Hank asked casually.

  “A boy.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Not so casually this time. “What boy?”

  “His name’s Bennett, and he’s from Chicago. I told him I could show him how to bait his hook, but he got mad and told me he could do it himself. But, Dad—” Janie looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and a little confused “—he really couldn’t.”

  “Well, Janie...” That’s because boys are idiots and you should stay far, far away from them until you’re at least thirty. Maybe thirty-five.

  Despite his instant switch into overprotective-dad mode, Hank managed to swallow the warning. “It can be hard for guys to admit they don’t know how to do something.”

  At least most guys. Unlike him. He’d managed to blurt out all of his own failings that afternoon with Gemma. He held back a groan as his own words rebounded back with all the force of a sonic boomerang.

  I’m no good at this.

  Geez, he must have sounded as awkward and immature as that worm-fearing boy in Janie’s kids’ camp. How was that for smooth? Telling the first woman to catch his eye in ages how out of practice he was. His own daughter thought he needed the help of Homer Gilmore’s spiked wedding punch!

  No wonder Gemma had rushed off as soon as they got back to the hotel. Oh, sure, she’d said she’d had a good time and then commented that she needed to take a shower. “I smell like horse,” she’d told him with a laugh.

  Hank thought she smelled like wildflowers and sunshine, but even he knew enough not to say that out loud. But it was Gemma’s words that had stuck in his mind, corralling his thoughts like one of his best cattle dogs.

  Is one week enough time to knock some of that rust off?

  His blood had headed due south when she issued that challenge. With his tongue stuck to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth, he hadn’t found the words to respond. Instead her offer had hung in the warm summer air too long, and the moment had drifted away like campfire smoke. And even though she’d changed the subject and they’d kept up a casual conversation on the ride back, her question lingered—a slow-burning ember that would only take a spark to ignite.

  If he was willing to take the risk of getting burned.

  Janie huffed out a sigh. “Boys can be so dumb sometimes.”

  Holding back a sigh of his own, Hank thought, You’ve sure got that right, Janie.

  “But what about you and Gemma? Did you have fun? What horse did she ride? Did she have fun? What are you doing for your next date?”

  “Okay, it wasn’t a date.”

  And, hell, he was probably making far too big of a deal out of the whole thing. Because it had been so long for him, everything about the idea of dating—everything about Gemma—seemed so new and fresh and appealing. As different as the two of them were, though, after another date or two some of that newness and shine would wear thin.

  They’d likely discover they had nothing in common, and before long Gemma would head back to her far more exciting life in New York. Her time in Rust Creek Falls—and whatever time she spent with him—would be like some cheesy souvenir from the hotel gift shop. A memory to bring out and smile over for a moment or two before sticking it in a closet or back on a shelf to gather dust.

  But until then...what would be the harm in showing Gemma around town, playing a part in that Wild West experience she was looking for and, yes, knocking some of that rust off?

  “Daaaad.” Janie’s exasperated sigh dragged on long enough for Hank to make up his mind.

  “I’ll give Gemma a call and see if she wants to have dinner with us tonight. What do you think about that, kiddo?”

  Janie’s eyes widened as something over his shoulder caught her eye. “I think she already has plans.”

  Hank turned and felt his jaw drop, right along with every other guy’s around, as Gemma glided through the lobby. She’d traded in the jeans and Western shirt she’d bought at Crawford’s General Store for an outfit that could only come from New York.

  Shimmering silver knit sparkled beneath the lobby’s antler chandelier, the wide neckline exposing her collarbones and shoulders, while the thin material hugged her breasts and skimmed her thighs. Hank knew little about women’s fashion, but he wasn’t even sure if the thing was supposed to be a long sweater or an incredibly short dress. Gemma did have leggings on beneath, but the black fabric only accentuated the long legs that ended in a pair of shiny black boots that were clearly not intended for horseback riding. She’d piled her dark hair high onto her head, adding an extra level of sophistication.

  A wet-behind-the-ears bellhop barely missed crashing a loaded luggage cart into the river-stone hearth of the immense fireplace as Gemma walked by, but Hank couldn’t blame the kid. His boots felt rooted to the floor, which was probably the only thing that kept him from tripping over his own two feet.

  It
was Gemma’s stride that faltered, though, as she first caught sight of them. But she smiled brightly as she walked over. “Hey, Janie, how was the nature walk?”

  “It was fun,” his daughter answered with far less enthusiasm than she’d shown when he asked the same question a few minutes earlier.

  Gemma’s smile wavered a bit at the lukewarm response. “Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  Janie’s eyes lit at that. “Tonight?” she asked hopefully.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. I can’t tonight.” Glancing his way, Gemma fingered one of the long silver tassel earrings that hung nearly to her naked shoulders. “Natalie called. She’s heading over to the Ace in the Hole and asked me to join her.”

  He should have known telling Natalie Crawford she couldn’t do something would be tantamount to waving a starting flag in front of her face. But that she would drag Gemma along with her...

  “Gemma.” His voice sounded rough to his own ears. “I meant what I said earlier. It really isn’t a good idea to go there by yourself.”

  “Well, I didn’t come all the way to Montana to sit in my suite alone, and I’m getting pretty good at going places by myself.” Giving him a pointed look, she added, “Even if I would rather have someone with me.”

  * * *

  “So, seriously, you’re here on your honeymoon alone?”

  A few days ago, Gemma would have cringed to be put so thoroughly on the spot. But the sheer respect written in Natalie Crawford’s expression, coupled with a few Montana Mules—the Ace in the Hole’s twist on the classic drink—had her grinning instead. Holding up her copper mug in a toast, she raised her voice over the loud country twang from the jukebox. “Yep, honeymoon for one, please!”

  Natalie clinked her glass against Gemma’s before she leaned back on her bar stool. “Oh, that is gutsy! I knew I liked you even before you took on Hank Harlow for trying to pay for your clothes.”

  “His heart was in the right place,” Gemma murmured into her mug.

  Natalie snorted before taking a swallow of margarita. “With most guys, I’d tell you heart has nothing to do with it, but with Hank... Yeah, you’re probably right. He’s one of the good guys.”