But he was proud of how Janie had held her head high despite the color in her cheeks. Speaking loudly enough for the girls to overhear, she said, “Gemma, did you know chess is considered the game of kings?”
“My grandpa told me that when he taught me to play.”
At the sound of the new voice, the three of them looked up. A young boy with hair long enough to flop over his left eye walked over to the table, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his skinny jeans. “It’s a cool game,” he added.
The girls who’d been laughing earlier stood with their mouths hanging open, but with nothing to say now.
“Yeah,” Janie said shyly. “It is.”
“I haven’t had anyone to play with since my grandpa moved away.”
“Well, why don’t you and Janie play?” Gemma had immediately suggested as she slid her chair over to make room—much to Hank’s dismay.
But when Janie turned to him with her eyes bright with hope and asked, “Can we, Dad?” he didn’t have time to figure out how to get her back to the Bar H and lock her into her room until she was thirty.
Their well-played matches had ended in a two-two tie, and considering his daughter’s competitive streak, Hank had no doubt the kid had beat Janie fair and square. They were setting up for the tiebreaker when one of the hotel employees stopped by to tell them about another movie night organized for all the teen and preteen guests at the hotel—this time a feature of the most recent superhero flick.
Once again Hank hadn’t figured out how to say no.
But that didn’t stop him from asking Gemma now, “And what kind of a name is Bennett anyway?”
Smothering a laugh, she said, “A perfectly nice name for what I am sure is a perfectly nice boy.”
As Hank grumbled, Gemma added, “And I’m not sure you have a boot to stand on, Hank Harlow, worrying about boys flirting with girls...not when you just asked me to take a walk with you in the woods!”
“Good point. I’m not letting Janie date until she’s at least forty-seven.”
Gemma laughed again, but she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm as if they were attending some fancy ball. “It’s not when you date, Hank,” she told him. “It’s who. And with you as an example, she’ll know the kind of man she should look for.”
With the full moon overhead, Hank could read the wistful expression on Gemma’s face. A kind of what if that must have followed her her whole life as she wondered about the father she never had the chance to know.
She might have come to Montana nursing a bruised heart from a broken engagement, but she’d been looking for more than a Wild West vacation. The chance to go horseback riding or to learn the two-step wouldn’t be enough to supply the missing pieces from her life. He had an idea of what might help, but that would have to wait until he could make some calls first. For now he could at least show her a Rust Creek Falls experience that was not to be missed.
“What is this?” Gemma asked as Hank led the way toward a moonlit clearing and a romantic picnic—complete with a red-and-black checkered blanket, a wicker basket and a small lantern adding a soft glow.
“You mentioned something about sleeping under the stars. And while I should tell you that spending the night on the hard ground isn’t nearly as glamorous as it sounds, I thought we could at least enjoy a moonlit picnic.”
“Hank, this is amazing.”
Hank gave a small laugh as they settled onto the blanket. “I have to give Maverick Manor credit for pulling out all the stops for its guests. All I had to do was mention wanting to go on a picnic, and the staff had this ready.”
“The staff didn’t plan this. That was all you. So, what’s in our picnic?”
“Hot chocolate and marshmallows.” Even as he pulled the thermos and bag of sugary treats from the basket, he recalled the elegant and romantic display room service had delivered to Gemma’s room that first night. Heat climbed up his neck as he said, “It’s not exactly champagne and oysters.”
“Thank goodness! I hate oysters.”
“Yeah,” Hank said with a smile. “Well, this basket is shellfish free.”
It turned out, though, that it was not romance free. Had he really thought marshmallows childish? He clearly hadn’t taken into consideration the ambience of the flickering flames from the small fire he had built. Or the way Gemma cupped the hot chocolate between her hands, breathing in the rich, fragrant steam with her eyes closed, a look of pure rapture on her face. And he certainly hadn’t counted on the sheer seduction of feeding her a perfectly roasted golden marshmallow and the mind-blowing experience of her licking the sticky, sweet treat from his fingers.
The knowing look in her eyes told him she was aware of exactly what she was doing to him, and with a low growl he caught her face in his hands and it was his turn to taste the flame-roasted marshmallow—right from Gemma’s lips.
Her mouth opened beneath his, and the combination of chocolate, marshmallow and Gemma ruined his sweet tooth for life. Nothing—nothing—would ever taste so decadent, so addicting, for the rest of his life.
The blood pounding through his veins felt thick and molten as he followed Gemma down on the checkered blanket. Her body was soft and supple beneath his own, her breasts pressing against his chest, her legs parting for his hips. She ran her hands through his hair, and he suddenly regretted getting it cut too short for her to fist her hands into.
He didn’t have that problem. Gemma’s long locks surrounded him as he rolled onto his back until the weight and warmth of her body draped over him, her hair forming a curtain as dark and mysterious as the night around them.
She gasped his name as he reached between them, his hands cupping her breasts through the thin sweater and bra, clothes separating them the last thing he wanted. He wanted nothing to separate them. Nothing.
But while the small meadow was off the beaten path, it was not entirely secluded. And what he’d said about sleeping on the hard ground went double for making love. He slid his hands to the slightly less seductive curve of Gemma’s hips as he murmured her name against her lips.
He gentled the kiss as he rolled them to their sides. He could see the flickering firelight reflected in Gemma’s eyes, and he’d never wanted a woman more. But he wanted complete privacy and total luxury—exactly like what Maverick Manor’s honeymoon suite offered.
“Janie and I are checking out of the hotel tomorrow. Anne and Dan will be coming by to pick her up.” His voice was rough to his own ears with desire and something he refused to define. The week he’d expected to drag on had skipped by in a heartbeat since he’d met Gemma, and now every dull thud in his chest seemed to count down the moments until her time in Rust Creek Falls was over.
“Time to go back to real life,” Gemma whispered, an echo of the words he’d spoken the first day they met.
But if the excitement and anticipation thrumming through his veins every time they were together wasn’t real, then how was it Hank felt more alive these past seven days than he had in the past seven years?
“I suppose you have to get back to the Bar H.”
For a brief second, Hank thought about taking the easy way out. Of cutting ties before he got in too deep. But as Gemma gazed at him—the longing and loneliness in his own heart reflected in her eyes—he couldn’t do it. The desire, the need to spend whatever time he could with her, was too great, and he wondered if it wasn’t already too late when instead of letting go, he wanted to reach out and hold on.
“Not tomorrow.” He watched as her eyes lit as he added, “I want to spend tomorrow with you.”
Chapter Nine
“I don’t wanna go home.”
Despite all her claims that she was grown-up, Janie could still put on a childish pout when the occasion fit. And standing in the Maverick Manor lobby with their suitcases at their sides, boy, did this occasion fit. But one of them needed to be the g
rown-up in the situation, and Hank figured it had to be him.
Even though he didn’t want to leave either.
It’s not goodbye, he reminded himself. Anne and Dan were picking up Janie from the hotel, but Hank wasn’t heading back to the Bar H. Not yet. He and Gemma had already made plans to spend the afternoon together, and he was a little nervous about how she would react to what he had in mind.
“Janie, we were here on vacation, and our reservation ends today. You know your mom and Dan have been missing you. She has all kinds of things planned for you, not to mention the two new puppies you’ll be taking care of.”
Anne had sent her daughter a text the day before. A litter of adorable mutts had been abandoned at the veterinarian clinic where Anne worked. Because the dogs were too young to be put up for adoption, the staff had all agreed to foster them until they were old enough to go to permanent homes. Anne and Dan had taken in a male and a female, and Janie was already thinking of names. Hank wouldn’t be surprised if the two pups ended up as permanent members of the family.
Janie’s pout lifted slightly. “The pictures of the puppies Mom sent are so cute! But...just because I go home doesn’t mean you couldn’t stay... You know, with Gemma.”
Stay at Maverick Manor with Gemma...
Hank knew his daughter didn’t mean that the way it sounded, but images of following Gemma into the honeymoon suite and following her down onto the enormous four-poster bed left him light-headed.
After last night’s kiss under the stars, Hank thought—hoped—their relationship might be headed in that direction. But he wanted Gemma to be sure. For all her brash city-girl talk, more than once Hank had caught a glimpse of the lost-and-lonely girl beneath the high-fashion exterior. The lost-and-lonely cowgirl who’d come to Rust Creek Falls because it was the place her father had once called home.
Seeming to take his silence as a sign that he was weakening, Janie pressed her point. “Gemma will be here all by herself, and for a whole nother week,” she added as if that was an eternity. And maybe to someone her age it was. But Hank knew that the time would pass in a blink, and then Gemma would be the one to say goodbye.
“Look! There she is!” As Janie rushed across the crowded lobby, Hank forced himself to follow at a slower pace. His daughter gave her a tight hug, and he could hear the tears in her voice as she said, “This has been the best vacation ever!”
“For me, too. I’m so glad I had the chance to meet you. And remember, this isn’t goodbye. You already have my cell number, and we’ll video chat once I’m back home.”
Hank knew Gemma’s heart was in the right place, but he figured that would change once she got back to New York, back to her real life. He had a hard time imagining a gorgeous woman like Gemma staying at home to video chat with his daughter when she could be out on the town, enjoying all the big city had to offer.
And as for him, he would not be calling Gemma’s cell or video chatting once she left. Those faint and distant connections would never be enough. Not when he wanted so much more.
* * *
Gemma waved back at Janie as Anne and Dan pulled out of Maverick Manor’s parking lot. “That is one amazing girl you have there, Hank Harlow.” She wasn’t surprised to feel the ache of tears in her throat as she tried to swallow. Janie had made her way into Gemma’s heart with her bright smile and sheer exuberance. And if watching the young girl drive away had been hard, Gemma could only imagine the heartache in store when the time came to say goodbye to Hank.
“Yeah,” he said, his own voice sounding a little rough. “She’s a great kid. And she’s never going to forget this vacation. I want to thank you for being such a big part of it.”
“It was my pleasure.” As much as she enjoyed sharing Hank with Janie during their time at Maverick Manor, she was glad to know she would at least have him all to herself today. “So, what do you have planned for this afternoon?”
“There are some people I’d like you to meet,” he told her as he led her toward his truck.
Gemma blinked. “Oh.” His words were so much the opposite of what she had been thinking, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’ve been thinking about that list of yours. It’s all about things you would have learned to do if you’d been brought up here, isn’t it? If you’d been raised as a cowgirl.”
If you’d known your father.
Hank didn’t say the words, but she could read them in the compassion in his gaze.
“I’d always wondered what if,” she confessed. “What if he hadn’t been killed when I was so young? What if he hadn’t walked out on my mother when she was pregnant? And then I found out that wasn’t even true. My mother lied. My father was a part of my life during those first years. It’s just a part I wasn’t old enough to remember.”
“Oh, Gem, sweetheart.”
“When I discovered he was from Rust Creek Falls, I wanted to come here. To try to imagine what life might have been like...”
From the hilltop location, Gemma had a perfect view of the town. At that distance, Rust Creek Falls looked postcard perfect—the place that had lived in her imagination since she first saw the name as her father’s place of birth. Now that she’d been there, she knew it wasn’t perfect. It was real. Filled with real people with real problems. The sense of community, the small charm, that was real, too.
“I can’t give you back those memories, Gemma, but maybe I can give you the next best thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I made some calls this morning. You remember Melba Strickland? The woman who owns the boardinghouse in town?”
“The one who thought she recognized me? Yes, I remember, but what—”
“The Stricklands have lived here for decades, and they know just about everyone in town.”
Gemma swallowed against a dry throat as she realized what Hank was saying. “Did they—did they know my father?”
“They recognized his name. They’re pretty sure his father, your grandfather, was a ranch hand for the Traubs. The Triple T has been in their family for generations. Ellie and Bob Traub are a big part of the community.”
“You shouldn’t have. I didn’t ask you to do this, Hank.” Faced with the idea of discovering something more about her father than a faded thirty-year-old photograph, she felt her heart start racing. And suddenly she wanted to run the thousands of miles back to New York. “You had no right!”
“Gemma.”
He reached for her, but she backed away from his touch.
“What are you afraid of?”
“I am not afraid!” So why was sheer terror filling her lungs and making it almost impossible to breathe? What if the pictures were the lie and what her mother had told her was the truth? What if her father had walked out of Gemma’s life, leaving her behind, only a few years later than when her mother had told her?
“No, not the girl who was ready to jump on a horse even though she doesn’t know how to ride. Not the girl who dove into the deep end of the pool even though she doesn’t know how to swim. Not the girl who said to hell with what anyone thinks and went on a honeymoon for one. No, that girl isn’t afraid of anything.”
Tears burned her eyes as she whispered, “What if I’m really not that girl?”
This time when Hank reached out, she went willingly into his arms. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she could hear the sure, steady pounding of his heartbeat. She breathed in the clean scent of fabric softener and soap as he held her tightly. Even though Gemma knew it wasn’t possible, she felt as though the simple connection had somehow imbued her with his confidence, his strength, his simple certainty in knowing who he was and where he belonged.
“That is exactly who you are. You might be a city girl on the outside, but on the inside you have the heart of a cowgirl. Don’t ever doubt it. And remember, no matter what we find out from the Traubs, it doesn’t change
who you are...or who you still can be.”
* * *
It doesn’t change who you are...or who you still can be.
Gemma clung to Hank’s words as his truck bumped along the road toward the Traub ranch. When she’d asked if they should call first, he’d reassured her that neighbors dropped in on neighbors all the time, and anyone who lived in Rust Creek Falls was considered a neighbor.
As if reading the nerves shaking her from head to toe, Hank reached over, entwined her fingers with his and drew her arm over so the back of her hand pressed against the solid muscle of his thigh.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured her.
It doesn’t change who you are...
As he drove toward the ranch house, he filled her in on the elder Traubs and their six sons.
“It’s been so long since my father would have lived here. Do you really think the Traubs will remember him?” Gemma asked him.
“One thing I’ve learned about small towns is that they have long memories. In fact, if your grandfather was a hand for the Traub ranch and if your father actually grew up here, then you’ll find yourself right in the middle of the Traub-Crawford feud.”
Enough teasing filled Hank’s voice that Gemma didn’t dare take him seriously. “There’s a feud?”
“Yep. One going back for generations. Although Natalie’s sister, Nina, did a lot to defuse the whole thing when she and the Traubs’ eldest son, Dallas, got married some years ago.”
“I bet that makes for an interesting holiday get-together.”
Hank’s low chuckle filled not just the interior of the cab but Gemma’s entire being. As he pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house, he asked, “Are you ready for this?”
Hank had stoked her curiosity about the Traubs and the feud and, most of all, her father’s possible connection to them, so she couldn’t turn away. But that didn’t stop her knees from shaking a few moments later as Hank knocked on the front door.
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