Marrying Dr. Maverick

by Karen Rose Smith

  “A woman like me?”

  “I’d think you’d have someone special back there.”

  She thought about Griff Wellington and the proposal he’d wanted to make and the proposal she’d avoided by breaking off their relationship. Her family had tried to convince her she should marry him, but something inside her had told her she’d known better. Griff had been hurt and she hated that. But she couldn’t tie them both to a relationship she’d known wasn’t right.

  Maybe it was Brooks’s easy way; maybe it was the interest in his eyes; maybe it was the way he listened, but she admitted, “No one special. In fact, I had a date tonight before I ended up here.”

  “Something about that doesn’t sound right. If you had a date, why isn’t he here with you?”

  “He’s a calf roper.”

  Brooks leaned a little closer to hear her above the music. His shoulder brushed hers and she felt heat other places besides there. “What does that have to do with your date?”

  “That was the date.”

  Brooks pushed his Stetson higher on his head with his forefinger. “What?”

  “Calf-roping. He thought it would be fun if he showed me how he did it. That would have been fine, but then he wanted me to do it. Yes, I ride. Yes, I love horses. But I’d never calf-roped before and so I tried it. There was mud all over the place and I slipped and fell and I was covered with mud from head to toe.”

  Brooks was laughing by then, a deep, hearty laugh that seemed to echo through her. She liked the fact she could make him laugh. Genially, she bumped his arm. “It wasn’t so funny when it was happening.”

  He gave her a crooked smile that said he was a little bit sorry he laughed, but not much. “Whatever gave him the impression you’d like to try that out?”

  “I have no clue, except I did tell him I like horses. I did try to be interested in what he did, and I asked him questions about it.”

  “This was a first date?” Brooks guessed.

  “It was the last date,” Jazzy responded.

  “Not the last date ever.”

  She sighed. “Probably not.”

  Was he thinking of asking her out? Or were they just flirting? With that twinkle in his eyes, she imagined he could flirt with the best of them if he really wanted to.

  “So you came here to meet a friend and hash out everything that’s happened,” he concluded.

  “My gosh, a guy who understands women!”

  He laughed again. “No, not so well.”

  She wondered what that meant. “When I’m at home, sometimes I talk it all out with my sisters.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “I have four sisters, a brother and parents who think they know what’s best for me.”

  “You’re lucky,” Brooks said.

  “Lucky?”

  “Yep. I’m the only one. And I lost my mom a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

  But something in his tone said that it wasn’t, so she asked, “Are you close to your dad?”

  “He’s the reason I stopped in here tonight.”

  “To meet him?”

  “Nope.” He hesitated, then added, “We had another argument.”

  “Another?”

  Brooks paused again before saying, “My dad’s not taking care of himself, and I can’t give him what he wants most.”

  In her family, Jazzy usually said what she thought, and most of the time, no one heard her. But now she asked, “And what’s that?”

  “He wants me to marry, and I’ll never do that.”

  Whoa! She wanted to ask that all-important question—why?—but they’d just officially met and she knew better than to probe too much. She hated when her family did that.

  Her questions must have led Brooks to think he could ask some of his own because he leaned toward her again. This time his face was very close to hers as he inquired, “So what was the job you left?”

  After a heavy sigh, she admitted, “I was a glorified secretary.”

  “A secretary,” he murmured, studying her. “How long are you staying in Rust Creek Falls?”

  “I’ve already been in town for a while, so I guess I’ll have to go back soon. I work for Thunder Canyon Resort. I’m in the pool of assistants who handle everything to do about skiing. I had a lot of vacation time built up but that’s gone now. I don’t want to use all my savings because I want to earn my degree. Someday I’m going to own a ranch and run a non-profit organization to rescue horses.”

  Brooks leaned away again and really assessed her as if he was trying to read every thought in her head, as if he was trying to decide if what she’d told him was really true. Of course it was true. A rescue ranch had been a burning goal for a while.

  “How did you get involved in rescuing horses?”

  “I help out a friend who does it.”

  Finally, Brooks took a few long swigs of his beer and then set down his glass. He looked at it and then grimaced. “I didn’t even offer to buy you a drink. What would you like?”

  “A beer would be fine.”

  Brooks waved down the bartender and soon Jazzy was rolling her finger around the foam on the rim of her glass. This felt like a date, though it wasn’t. This felt...nice.

  The music on the jukebox had stopped for the moment, and she listened to the chatter of voices, the clink of glasses and bang of a dish as a waitress set a burger in front of a cowboy.

  Finally, as if Brooks had come to some conclusion, he swiveled on his stool and faced her. “If you had a job in Rust Creek Falls, would you stay longer?”

  She had no idea where this was going since the town had few jobs to spare, but she told him the truth. “I might.”

  “How would you like to come work for me as my secretary and assistant?”

  “I don’t understand. You said you work for the vet practice in Kalispell.”

  “I made a decision tonight. There’s only one way to keep my father from running himself into the ground, and that’s to take some business away from him. If I open an office here in Rust Creek Falls, I can take the load off my father and show him at the same time that he can feel confident handing down his practice to me, whether I marry or not.”

  She admired what Brooks wanted to do for his father. Would working for him move her life forward? She could learn a lot from him.

  “Can I think about it, at least until tomorrow?”

  “Sure. In fact, take a couple of days. Why don’t you come along with me on my appointments to get a feel for my practice day after tomorrow? I’m going to have loose ends to tie up in Kalispell, but then you and I can spend the day together and you can see what my practice will involve.”

  When she looked into Brooks’s dark eyes, she felt something deep in her being. In that moment, the world seemed to drop away.

  They might have gazed into each other’s eyes like that all night except—

  Cecilia Clifton was suddenly standing beside Jazzy saying, “You should have come to the meeting. The town’s making plans for the holidays.” When her gaze fell on Brooks, she stopped and said a breathy “Hi.”

  Yes, Brooks could take a woman’s breath away. Jazzy thought again about his offer. “I’d like to shadow you for a day and see what you do.”

  Brooks smiled and so did she. She had a feeling the day after tomorrow was going to be a day to remember.

  Chapter Two

  Two days later, Brooks pulled his truck to a stop in front of Strickland’s Boarding House, a four-story ramshackle Victorian. Its once-purple paint had faded to a lavender-gray. Cowboys on the rodeo circuit had bunked here over the years, but right now, many of the folks from Thunder Canyon who had come to help were staying here. M
elba and Old Gene Strickland cared about their guests in an old-fashioned family way.

  He switched off his ignition, thinking he must have been crazy to ask Jazzy Cates to work for him. He really knew nothing about her except what she’d told him. He’d followed his gut instinct as he often did in his work. But that didn’t mean he was right. After all, he’d been all wrong about Lynnette. He’d thought she was the type of woman who understood fidelity and loyalty and standing by her man. But he’d been so wrong.

  He knew, however, he was right about opening the local practice and taking some of the workload from his father. After all, it was for the older man’s best interests. Still...asking Jazzy to become involved in that undertaking—

  She was so pretty with that blond hair and those blue eyes. When he’d looked into those eyes, he’d felt a stirring that had practically startled him. It had been a very long time since a woman caused that reaction. However, if he hired her on, he’d have to forget about her natural prettiness and any attraction zinging between them. He’d be her employer and he’d have to fix his mind on the fact that she was just a Girl Friday who was going to help him, maybe only temporarily. She might hightail it back to Thunder Canyon sooner than he expected. After all, Lynnette hadn’t wanted to live in a small town like Rust Creek Falls. How many women did?

  The wooden steps leading to the rambling porch creaked under his boots. He opened the front door with its glass panel and lace curtain and caught the scent of something sweet baking. Forgetting all about Melba’s well-deserved reputation as a terrific baker, he’d picked up donuts and coffee at Daisy’s Donuts, never thinking Jazzy might have had breakfast already.

  Jazzy had told him the number of her room—2D, on the second floor. He climbed the steps to the second floor and strode down the hall to her room. He gave a double knock on her door and waited. Maybe she’d forgotten all about going with him today. Maybe she wasn’t an early riser. Maybe she was down at breakfast. Maybe she’d decided going along with him today was tantamount to calf-roping!

  She opened the door before he could push aside the flap of his denim jacket and stuff one hand in his jeans’ pocket. She was wearing an outfit similar to what she’d had on the other night, a snap-button, long-sleeve blouse and skinny blue jeans that molded to her legs. He quickly brought his gaze up to her face.

  “I was running a little late,” she said breathlessly, “but I’m ready.”

  She’d tied her wavy blond hair in a ponytail. Her bangs straggled over her brow. Forgetting she was pretty might be a little hard to do. “I brought donuts and coffee from Daisy’s if you’re interested.”

  “Oh, I’m interested.”

  They couldn’t seem to look away from each other and her words seemed to have an underlying meaning. No. No underlying meaning. He just hadn’t dated a woman in a very long time. He was reading too much into cornflower-blue eyes that could make a man lose his focus.

  Brooks never lost his focus. Not since his mother had died. Not during his years at Colorado State. Not during his engagement. His focus was the reason his engagement had gone south.

  “Let’s get going, then. I have an appointment with Sam Findley at his ranch at seven-thirty to check on a couple of horses that almost drowned in the flood. One of them has PTSD and gets spooked real easy now.”

  “Were they hurt physically?” Jazzy closed and locked the door to her room, slipping the key into her hobo bag that hung from her shoulder.

  “Sparky had a few deep cuts that have taken their good time healing. I want to make sure he hasn’t opened them up again.”

  “Is most of your work with horses?”

  “Lots of it is with horses and cattle because of all the ranches around here. But I do my stint in the clinic, too. Or at least I did.”

  At the end of Jazzy’s hall, Brooks motioned for her to precede him down the steps. When she passed him, he caught a whiff of something flowery. Could be shampoo. Could be lotion. He didn’t think she’d wear perfume for this little jaunt, but what did he know? Women mystified him most of the time.

  Jazzy clambered down the steps in a way that told him she was high-energy. She went outside to the porch railing and stared up at the sky that was almost the same color as her eyes. She pointed up to the white clouds scuttling across the vista, hanging so low they looked as if a person could reach them.

  “Isn’t that beautiful? I never appreciated a day without rain as I do now.”

  She wasn’t just pretty. She was gorgeous. Not in a highfalutin-model kind of way, but in a prettiest-gal-in-town way. He crossed the distance between them and stood at the railing with her.

  “I know what you mean. I’ve never seen so much devastation. Half the town was affected. Thank God for our hills. The General Store, Daisy’s and Strickland’s were all on the higher side. The other side of Rust Creek is still recovering, and that’s where we’re headed.” Standing beside her like this, his arm brushing hers, talking about the sky and the flood, seemed a little too intimate somehow. Weird. He had to get his head on straight and do it fast.

  Jazzy gave him one of her quick smiles. He’d seen a few of those the other night at the Ace in the Hole. Then she headed for the steps. She was a woman who knew how to move. A woman with purpose.

  In his truck, he said, “You didn’t wear a jacket. Even though we’re having a bout of Indian summer, the morning’s a little cool. Want the heat on?”

  Glancing over at him, she motioned to the coffee in the holder. “If one of those is mine, that’s all I need.”

  “Donut now or later?”

  “One now wouldn’t hurt.”

  He chuckled and reached for the bag in the back. “Cream and sugar are in there, too.”

  He watched as she poured two of the little cream containers into her coffee and then added the whole pack of sugar. She wasn’t a straight caffeine kind of girl, which he supposed was all right.

  “Dig around in the bag until you find the one you want.”

  She came up with a chocolate glazed, took a bite, and gave him a wink. “Perfect.”

  Brooks found his body getting tight, his blood running faster, and he quickly reached for his black coffee. After a few swallows that scalded his tongue and throat, he swiped a cream-filled donut from the bag and bit into it. Halfway through, he noticed Jazzy watching him.

  “Daisy’s Donuts are the best,” she said a little breathlessly.

  He was feeling a little breathless himself. Enough with the donuts and coffee. Time to get to work. Focus was everything.

  Ten minutes later, Jazzy wondered if she’d said something wrong because Brooks had turned off the conversation spigot. He was acting as if the road was an enemy he was going to conquer. She supposed that was just as well. Eating donuts with him had gotten a little...sticky. She’d seen something in his eyes that had, well, excited her...excited her in a way that nothing Griff had ever done or said had. Downright silly. If she was going to be working for Brooks—

  She hadn’t decided yet.

  Veering to the left, Brooks drove down a rutted lane that had been filled in with gravel. Yet, like on many of the Rust Creek Falls streets, there were still a lot of potholes. Paving crews had been doing their best, but there was only so much money and only so much manpower. Lodgepole pine grew on much of the property. Larch, aspen and live oak were color-laden in October with gold and rust. A couple of early snows had stripped some of the leaves and there were still a bunch fluttering across the ground as they climbed out of the truck and headed for the large, white barn.

  “Does Mr. Findley run cattle?” Jazzy asked to soothe the awkwardness and start conversation between them once more.

  Brooks responded without hesitation. “No. No cattle. Sam’s livelihood didn’t get affected like some. He’s a wilderness guide. Hunters and tourists stay at the farmhouse, and he has two cabins ou
t back. He stays out there if he has women guests who would rather be alone in the house.”

  “Sounds like a gentleman.”

  Brooks shrugged. “It’s good business. A reputation goes a long way out here. But then you should know that. I imagine Thunder Canyon is the same.”

  “It is.”

  A tall, good-looking man with black hair and gray eyes came to meet them at the barn door. Brooks introduced Jazzy. “She’s one of the volunteers from Thunder Canyon, but she’s hanging with me today.”

  As Sam opened the barn door for Jazzy, he said, “Brooks has some kind of magic touch that I haven’t had with Sparky ever since the flood.” Sam shook his head. “I was the one who rescued him along with a couple of others, and maybe I hurt him without knowing it.”

  “Or maybe you just remind him of what happened,” Brooks said easily. “Horses remember, just like cats and dogs. It’s why a visit to the vet is so traumatic for some of them.”

  “He lets me feed him, but he won’t take a carrot or sugar cube like he used to,” Sam added regretfully. “And getting into his stall is a major undertaking. Are you used to being around horses?” Sam asked Jazzy, looking worried.

  “Yes, I am. A friend rescues them and I help her out. I promise I won’t go near Sparky if he doesn’t want me near him.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” Sam asked Brooks.

  “If you have things to do, and I’m sure you do, there’s no need. We’ll be fine.”

  Sam nodded, tipped his Stetson to Jazzy and headed back toward the house.

  She watched him thoughtfully. “For a small town filled with gossip, I never heard anything about his tours while I’ve been here.”

  “Sam keeps a low profile, mostly advertises on the internet, attracts a lot of tourists from back East.”

  “Is he from here?”

  “Nope, and nobody knows where he came from. He doesn’t talk about himself much.”

  “Are you friends?”

  Brooks thought about it. “We’re something between acquaintances and friends.”

  “So that means you talk about sports and livestock.”