The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart

by Stacy Connelly

  “Gemma,” her mother sighed, “I would think by now you would know that love isn’t everything. Yes, your father loved you. He even said he loved me. But at the end of those four months, he’s the one who told me I should go back home. He didn’t love me—love us—enough to ask me to stay.”

  * * *

  After being away from the Bar H for over a week, Hank had expected coming home to feel like a relief. He should have walked in, dumped his dirty laundry into the basket, stowed his luggage away in the attic, where it would once again gather dust for the unforeseeable future, and breathed a huge sigh that he was finally home.

  Instead the once-comfortable space seemed too big, too...empty. He hadn’t felt so alone since Anne and Janie had first moved out, but that was crazy. He’d lived on his own at the Bar H for years now. He was used to being alone. He liked being alone on the ranch, which was his refuge.

  So why did every beat of his heart, every breath in his body, urge him to turn right around and head back to Maverick Manor?

  To Gemma.

  He still wasn’t sure how he forced himself out of the bed where Gemma had still been sleeping. She’d been lying on her side, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, her dark hair spread out against the pristine pillowcase.

  Never had he been so tempted to forget about the Bar H, about the work and responsibility waiting for him on the ranch, and that alone had spurred him into action.

  For far too long, other than his weekends with Janie, the ranch had been all he had. He’d reluctantly agreed to the weeklong vacation with Janie, but only after carefully planning for his absence and only because he would do anything to make her happy. He would do anything to make Gemma happy as well, but not once had she asked him to stay, which only reinforced how desperately he needed to go.

  But when he checked in with Carl after he’d spotted the foreman near the stables, he learned everything was running smoothly. Most of his employees had worked for him since the early days of the Bar H, so it was no wonder why the wheels had kept turning. No reason to think the day-to-day operations would grind to a halt just because he’d spent a week in town. No reason to think they wouldn’t keep running that way if he were gone a few days more.

  “Hey, boss.” Carl’s boots struck against the concrete floor of the stables. “Got some fences down in the east pasture. Are you ready to saddle up?”

  Settling his hat low on his forehead, he nodded. Ready or not, his vacation was over. “Time to get back to work.”

  Back to real life.

  Chapter Ten

  Gemma caught sight of Natalie Crawford waving to her from a back booth of the Gold Rush Diner. The scent of fried food carried over from the kitchen, and the ding of a bell and the call of “Order’s up!” filled the air. She’d been looking forward to lunch with the other woman, and that was before the phone call with her mother. With the conversation seeming to echo through every corner of the honeymoon suite, Gemma had showered and dressed quickly in her new Western wardrobe, eager to leave the room.

  Not that it helped her escape the thoughts careening through her head. As she’d driven through town, she kept trying to picture her mother there and couldn’t. It was like trying to picture the Chrysler Building on the corner of Sawmill Street and Broomtail Road. Gemma wasn’t sure which would have stood out more.

  Your life is in New York.

  Her mother’s life certainly was, but was Gemma’s? For so long she had followed the path her mother and stepfather had laid out for her. Prep school, college, her job at Carlston, Landry and Greer, and even her relationship with Chad. But were the long workweeks, the superficial relationships and the drive to succeed to prove her worth really living?

  It doesn’t change who you still can be.

  Hank believed that she could be something more, that she deserved something better. His faith in her was enough to do what nothing else had that morning—push her mother’s voice from her head and lift her spirits enough for her to greet Natalie with a smile.

  “Thanks for meeting me for lunch,” Natalie said as Gemma slid across the burgundy faux-leather booth.

  “I’m glad you were free.” Gemma managed a small laugh. “Sometimes I forget that not everyone is here on vacation.”

  Natalie wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’m scheduled at the store this whole week. I’ll probably see if I can pick up some of my sister’s shifts, too. Stupid car broke down—again. And the way things are going, it’s gonna take me forever to pay for the repairs. Forget ever getting a new car.”

  From the time Gemma had spent with the other woman, she’d already figured out that Natalie had some big dreams but no real plan on how to see any of them through. “I take it you don’t have a savings account.”

  Natalie rolled her eyes. “I’m more into spending than saving.”

  “I’m happy to help you set up a budget—one that would allow you to spend, but also to set aside some savings for emergency expenses or even for a down payment on that new car.”

  “I don’t know... Numbers really aren’t my thing. I can’t even tell you the last time I balanced my checkbook.”

  The number cruncher in Gemma cringed at the thought, but she insisted, “You don’t have to be good with numbers or even that good with money. The easiest thing to do would be to look at where you’re spending money, where you might be able to save some, and then set up an account to pull that money directly from your paycheck each week. And don’t think of it as a savings account. Think of it as your...new-BMW account.”

  Natalie snorted. “Yeah, right. Me driving around Rust Creek Falls in a Beemer.”

  “Okay, so bad vehicle example, but you get my point. If you know what you’re saving for, sometimes it’s easier to set the money aside.”

  “I would love one of those new Jeeps that are so cute.”

  “Okay, so there you go. Natalie’s Jeep Fund.”

  For the next hour or so over a turkey burger and fries, Gemma walked Natalie through her expenses. They came up with a budget that would mean cutting some corners on shopping and going out, but would make buying a new car an obtainable goal rather than some far-off dream.

  “Thanks for doing all of this,” Natalie said as they finished up their meal. She handed over her credit card to the waitress. “My treat as a thank-you for your hard work...and because it will probably be the last time I’ll be eating out for a while.”

  “I’m afraid that’s true,” she admitted. “And about all those credit cards...”

  Natalie groaned. “Enough about me and my poor credit karma. I’d rather hear about you striking gold with a guy like Hank Harlow.”

  “He is kind of incredible,” Gemma said softly. She had no doubt her cheeks were turning red, and while she had no intention of telling Natalie just how incredible, Gemma did explain how he’d introduced her to the Traubs and about her father’s connection to the Rust Creek Falls family.

  “I should have known!” Natalie slapped a hand down on the chipped Formica table. “I should have realized there was a reason why we hit it off so quickly.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following—you’re a Crawford, and considering my father grew up with the Traubs, doesn’t that mean we should be mortal enemies?”

  “Exactly!” Natalie stressed. “We should be.”

  Given the other woman’s wild-child reputation, Gemma gave a small laugh. “Let me guess. You aren’t one to do what people think you should.”

  “Now you’re catching on.” Lifting what was left of her diet cola, Natalie pronounced, “To the Rust Creek rebels!”

  No one had ever called Gemma a rebel. At least not until she’d made up her mind to go on a honeymoon for one. “To the rebels,” she echoed as she clinked her glass of iced tea against Natalie’s.

  “Speaking of which, as grateful as I am for your help, why are you here when you and Hank could be e
njoying some of Maverick Manor’s finest amenities? Like the enormous bed in the honeymoon suite?”

  Gemma took a sip of her watered-down iced tea, fiddling with the straw as she avoided her friend’s gaze. “Hank went back to the Bar H. His vacation ended yesterday.”

  “Yours didn’t.” Natalie snagged the pen the waitress had left behind and started writing on the back of the receipt.

  “What’s this?” Gemma asked when her friend handed over the piece of paper.

  “Directions to the Bar H,” the blonde said with a knowing smile.

  * * *

  Gemma clenched the steering wheel as she followed Natalie’s directions out of town. The tight grip did little to calm the nerves jumping in her belly. The last time she tried surprising a man in her life by showing up unannounced, things had ended badly. Not that she suspected even for an instant that she would walk in on Hank with another woman, but what if last night was a onetime thing?

  Following a man to his home after a night of sex had a certain stalker vibe, and she was about to turn back when the GPS on her phone alerted her that her destination was approaching on the right. She braked harder than necessary, something that might have caused an accident in city traffic, but she hadn’t seen a car for the last ten miles or so. A wrought-iron arch spanned a dirt road, a boldly scripted H with a prominent bar cutting through the letter at its center.

  Far too curious to turn back now, she spun the wheel. Loose gravel pinged along the car’s undercarriage, but Gemma barely noticed. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but certainly not the sight of a rambling stone-and-log house nestled in the foothills of rolling mountains and meadows. An enormous red barn stood to the right of the house, along with a split-rail corral.

  Despite Natalie’s directions, despite her GPS, Gemma would have sworn she was in the wrong place until she spotted a familiar horse in the corral. She wouldn’t claim to be any expert when it came to horseflesh, but she recognized the palomino. The unique jagged strike of white on Lightning’s forehead was too distinctive to belong to another horse.

  The closer she drove to the impressive house, the more confused she became. The driveway stretched out beyond the house to a multicar garage. The bay doors were open, and alongside Hank’s somewhat-ancient pickup, Gemma spotted a brand-new model—the Rolls-Royce of trucks if ever she’d seen one.

  Easing her rental to a stop, Gemma left the engine running. Maybe she’d misunderstood. Could it be that Hank worked on the Bar H? And if that were the case, then Gemma didn’t want to get him in trouble with his boss by showing up and bothering him at work.

  She had already shifted the car into Reverse, ready to back away, before Hank—or the owner of the Bar H—discovered her. Habit had her glancing over her shoulder, though what traffic she expected to find, Gemma didn’t know. But the sight of Hank stepping out of the barn stopped her faster than antilock brakes. He wore a frayed straw cowboy hat, the rattiest pair of jeans she’d ever seen, and had clearly been hard at work...if the sheen of sweat on his naked chest was anything to go by.

  He pushed his hat back on his forehead as he caught sight of her car. Surprise crossed his handsome face as he sauntered—there really was no other word for it—over to her car. A puzzled frown pulled at his eyebrows as she lowered the driver’s-side window, letting in the scent of hay and horses and sun-warmed male. “Gem? Everything okay?”

  He braced a hand on the roof of the car, bending slightly to look inside, and she suddenly forgot how to swallow. Or speak. Or breathe.

  “I, uh...” Shaking her head, she forced herself to snap out of the sensual daze. “I am so sorry. The last thing I want is to get you into trouble.”

  His chuckle set off Fourth of July sparklers in her stomach. “Not sure what kind of trouble you could get me into, but it might be interesting to try.”

  “Janie told me you were a rancher on the Bar H, but this can’t be your place, can it?”

  “Last I checked. You want a tour?”

  “Do I want...?” Still stunned, Gemma cut the engine as Hank opened the door. “Janie wasn’t exaggerating, was she? About the acres and horses and cows?”

  “Cattle,” he corrected, “and no. Janie knows almost as much about the Bar H as I do.”

  Feeling foolish, Gemma allowed him to help her from the car. She stared, slack jawed, as she looked around at the gorgeous house and the rolling green hills that stretched out in all directions. At the corrals and barn and other buildings in the distance. “She said you hadn’t been able to take time off in years.”

  “Well, that’s true, but I guess that’s more just because...there’s nowhere I want to go.”

  “And that you work from morning until night!”

  “Ranching’s hard work. Being successful doesn’t make the work any easier.”

  “And your truck—”

  At that, his eyes wrinkled up at the corners. “My dad and I fixed that old thing up decades ago. It’s a classic.”

  “You must think I’m such an idiot,” she muttered. “Volunteering to help you set some money aside—”

  “Hey.” He caught her hips in his wide hands, pulling her body into the cradle of his. “I think you are amazing to have made such a kind and generous offer. But like I told you, I’m good.”

  “Still don’t need me for my mind, huh?” Gemma tried to keep her expression teasing, but something of waking up alone that morning must have shown through.

  Hank stared down at her, a mix of regret and uncertainty shining through as his gaze roved over her face. “I’m sorry about leaving the way I did,” he said, “but my men were already expecting me back yesterday.”

  “Is that the only reason you left?” Gemma asked.

  “I—I guess I wasn’t sure what you expected after a night like that.”

  “I don’t know what I expected, considering I’ve never had a night like that before,” she confessed. Nerves clenched her stomach as she worried about blurting out too much, too soon. Trying to cover, she added, “But breakfast would have been nice.”

  “Okay,” he said with a slightly relieved-sounding laugh that turned suddenly husky as he promised, “Tomorrow morning, breakfast it is.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy,” she said, a giddy happiness filling her. “After all, there’s still tonight.”

  * * *

  Early morning sunlight streamed into the room. Not wanting to open her eyes, Gemma buried her face in the pillow. She reached blindly for the blankets, and her hand came into contact with muscle covered by warm denim. Her eyes opened instantly. She realized she wasn’t in her own bed in the honeymoon suite by the first blink. By the second she remembered where she was and every minute of the night before...with Hank.

  “Morning.”

  He was seated on the side of the bed, dressed only in a pair of well-worn jeans, and Gemma soaked in the sight of him as she rose up on an elbow. Realizing somewhat belatedly that he was doing the same, she reached for the covers but they were wrapped around her waist. Fighting the urge to cover her breasts and pretending like she wasn’t blushing, she replied, “Good morning.”

  He brushed her hair back from her forehead and tilted her head up for a long, arousing kiss. Gemma forgot all about wanting to cover her naked breasts. She forgot everything but the memory of his body moving over her, filling her, and she ran her hand down his chest.

  Hank caught her hand before it wandered too far and shot her a warning scowl. “None of that this morning. I’ve got work to do, but...” His words trailed off as he turned to the side and Gemma used the chance to tuck the sheet beneath her arms. “Not before I brought you this.”

  Gemma gasped as she saw the large metal tray and plates loaded with everything from bacon and eggs to toast and fresh fruit. “Breakfast in bed, as requested.”

  She laughed as he settled the tray with its mouthwatering
offering on her lap and reached for the glass of orange juice. “And I didn’t even say anything about the in-bed part.”

  “I aim to please.”

  “That you do,” Gemma murmured before taking a sip of the tart citrus. She was more than pleased with Hank. She was head over heels in love with the man.

  “And as much as I would love to join you, I have to go.” He gave her a quick kiss and finished pulling on a shirt and tucking it into his jeans. Just the sight of his hands on his belt buckle had Gemma melting inside. “There’s more coffee in the kitchen, so make yourself at home.”

  Make yourself at home. Oh, how Gemma liked the sound of that!

  Hank must have, too, as they had breakfast the morning after and the morning after that and the morning after that.

  Gemma spent those days getting to see a small part of the Bar H and the cattle operation Hank ran. She couldn’t help but be impressed, not by his success so much as the pride he took in running a first-class operation, the care he showed to the animals on the ranch, and the respect and admiration of his employees.

  She’d been spending more time at the Bar H than at Maverick Manor, which made it easier to forget that she was still on vacation and that her time in Montana was quickly coming to an end. But as she stood in Hank’s sunny kitchen, waiting for him to finish up some paperwork before they headed into town for pizza and wings, a notification bell sounded on her phone.

  Pulling the cell from her purse, she was startled to see an email from one of her coworkers. She’d worked at Carlston, Landry and Greer for almost ten years. How was it that less than two weeks away, her job—or was it her entire life in New York—felt as though it belonged to someone else?

  For a split second, Gemma thought about leaving the email unread or deleting it entirely, but she couldn’t bring herself to make that split-second swipe. Instead she opened the message and skimmed over the contents.

  “Everything okay?”

  She jumped at the sound of Hank’s voice, spinning to face him as he walked into the kitchen. She shoved the phone into her purse. “Yeah, fine. It’s nothing.” The moment she spoke, a sickening lump formed in her throat.