But this? This he wanted with every ounce of his being.
“Well, how can a girl say no to freshly sliced watermelon?”
* * *
Shelby stepped inside her house and closed the kitchen door with a soft click, pausing to lean up against the cool wood for a moment. She couldn’t believe she’d done the exact opposite of what her head had told her to do.
She’d said yes.
For an evening that had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes just an hour ago, it had ended with Shelby agreeing to go on a picnic with a total stranger.
A stranger who’d already earned Rosey’s stamp of approval, saved her from a drunken cowboy, helped her clean up the bar and insisted on seeing her safely home after her car died.
A regular knight in shining armor.
Too bad Shelby no longer believed in fairy tales or happily-ever-afters, despite the princess mug.
“Are you okay, honey?”
Shelby turned at the voice, wondering how many times she’d been asked that question in her lifetime. “I’m fine, Mama.”
“When you replied to my text you said you’d be home any minute. What happened? And where’s your car?” Vivian Jenkins shuffled into her kitchen, tying the sash of her cotton bathroom tightly around her waist. “And who brought you home?”
“My car died.” She flipped the lock on the door, deciding to go with the short version of the night’s events. “That was Dean Pritchett. He was at the bar and nice enough to bring me home.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you are hooking up with another one of those cowboys.” Her mother’s tone switched from concerned to protective. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“Dean isn’t a cowboy. I think. I’m not really sure what he does for a living, but he’s part of the volunteer crew that came from Thunder Canyon to help with the repairs of the town.”
Her mother’s demeanor changed in an instant. For a woman who had fallen in love and married a cowboy within weeks of meeting him twenty-five years ago, she sure held a disdain for the species nowadays. “Oh. Well, that was very nice of him.”
“Yes, Dean Pritchett is a nice guy.” Shelby walked past her mother and out of the kitchen, waiting until she was in the hallway before dropping the next bomb. “Which is why I agreed to go out on a date with him.”
“Shelby Marie!”
“Shh!” Turning around, Shelby put her finger to her lips despite the partially closed door to her left. “I don’t want you to wake her.”
Her mother dismissed the request with the wave of her hand. “Oh, please. That child sleeps through a Montana thunderstorm. You know her.”
Yes, she did.
Shelby pushed open the door, the night-light bathing her daughter’s bedroom in a warm light. The entire room was decorated in princesses, from the bedding to the toys, but the most important princess of all lay asleep, a stuffed yellow bear held tight in her grasp.
Crossing the room, Shelby automatically picked up the stuffed toys that hadn’t been selected as bedtime companions and her daughter’s clothing, tossing each in their respective baskets. She perched gently on the edge of the twin-size mattress, marveling at how small Caitlin looked curled up in a ball in the center of the bed.
Brushing back the blond strands that matched her own, Shelby gazed at the little girl who changed her life five years ago. Caitlin was born on Shelby’s seventeenth birthday, a present ten days early.
And two weeks after the end of Shelby’s junior year in high school.
Two weeks after Caitlin’s father, football star Zach Shute, had graduated, still proclaiming the baby wasn’t his.
Shaking off the memories, Shelby leaned in and placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, taking a moment to breathe in that simple fragrance of bubblegum-scented shampoo and talcum powder.
“Did she give you any trouble with her bath tonight?” Shelby whispered, knowing her mother stood behind her.
“Are you kidding me?” Vivian laid a hand on Shelby’s shoulder. “She loved it. As long as I sang ‘Under the Sea’ over and over again. And then we had to read the book connected with that movie at least four times before she would settle down.”
Shelby smiled. Her daughter did love to read. A trait she’d picked up from both her grandparents. She didn’t have any idea where she or Caitlin would be today if it wasn’t for the love and support of her parents.
Telling them she was pregnant at the tender age of sixteen was the hardest thing she’d ever faced, but both her mom and her dad had been by her side from the very beginning.
Rising, Shelby motioned her mother from the room. She was suddenly very tired and she had to be up with Caitlin in the morning as her mother worked at the local beauty salon on Saturdays. Thank goodness her daughter tended to sleep in, but even an 8:00 a.m. wake-up was going to be tough to handle at this point.
“Good night, Mama.” Shelby gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek after they left Caitlin’s room. “I’m heading to bed.”
“So when is this date of yours?”
Shelby sighed. She should have known. “We’re going for a picnic Sunday afternoon. Is that okay? Are you and Caitlin still going to the movies in Kalispell?”
Her mother nodded. She’d insisted on special afternoons with her granddaughter even though she stepped in as babysitter while Shelby worked at the bar. “And we’re going out for junk food afterward.”
“Mama—”
“I know, but it’s my right as a grandmother. Healthy stuff here in the house, junk food during nana-and-me dates.”
She was too tired to argue about it now. “Okay.”
“Does this man you’re going out with know about Caitlin?”
No, he didn’t.
She’d thought about telling him she was a single mom to a five-year-old. Just to see how quickly he would backpedal from his invite, much like the last two guys did after finding out about Caitlin.
But the idea of spending a few hours up by the falls with another adult of the opposite sex, especially one as good-looking and well, nice, as Dean Pritchett, was too tempting to pass up.
Besides, she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Goodness knows she had enough seriousness in her life, especially now. Her plans to move away from Rust Creek Falls had implanted even more fully in her head after the school board’s rejection of her job application.
“Well, does he?” her mother asked.
“No. At least not yet.” Shelby had a feeling he would have mentioned Caitlin if someone else had already told him. “Don’t worry, Mama, Sunday afternoon is nothing more than a one-time thing.”
She closed her eyes to the seed of hope that was already rooting inside of her. The one that said maybe this was more than that.
Much more.
Chapter Four
Sunday was another glorious summer day.
Bright sunshine and an afternoon temperature that reached almost eighty degrees, even though it was a bit cooler up on the mountain. The day was a carbon copy of the weather they’d been blessed with for the past few weeks that allowed the steady rebuilding of the town.
Still, a chill raced through Shelby. Glad that she’d pulled on her jeans and boots while getting dressed for her date with Dean, she second-guessed the short sleeves of her T-shirt that left her arms bare and susceptible to a ridge of goose bumps that rose on her skin.
She stared at the spot where a simple wooden bridge used to cross this section of the creek.
The majestic upper falls were still two-thirds of the way to the summit of Falls Mountain, but here in these twin open fields, popular with so many of the townspeople for parties and picnics, the lower falls were a more gentle cascade of water over an outcropping of boulders and rocks.
A month ago the flowing water must have been anything but gentle.
“I can’t believe it’s gone.” She rubbed her arms to chase away the tingling. “The bridge had been here a long time.”
Dean dropped
to one knee, closely examining the broken sections of timber embedded into the ground, the only parts of the structure still there. “From what I heard, the rising water was more than enough to wash it clean away. How sturdy was the bridge?”
“Very. My daddy and his friends built it back when he and my mom were dating.” Unable to look at the empty space any longer, Shelby backed away. “He told me their crowd used to come here a lot when they were teenagers. Back when no one else used to. At the time there’d been just a big old log across the divide until the guys from the high school wood shop decided to make it easier to cross.”
Dean rose, gathering the backpack that carried their lunch, a small cooler and a well-loved quilt in his hands. He joined her again on the trail they’d been following for the past twenty minutes or so. “I wonder if it’s on the town’s master list of structures that need to be rebuilt or replaced.”
“Doubtful.” Shelby shrugged, working to add indifference to her tone as they walked. “With all the destruction down in the valley, I bet no one has even thought about the bridge.”
The truth was she didn’t want to care about the bridge anymore. It’d be one more thing that would make leaving harder when the time came.
Right up there with her mother.
As much as she’d tried to convince her mama that moving away from Rust Creek Falls was the best thing for her and Caitlin, the older woman refused to even think about going with them.
Even after Shelby had finally shared how she’d been turned down for a teaching position early this morning while Caitlin slept.
“I’ll check tomorrow at the weekly meeting.”
She stopped, Dean’s words cutting into her thoughts, and looked at him. “Why?”
“Because it’s important.” Dean stopped, too, his gaze serious. “Not as much compared to someone’s home or business, but that bridge is part of the town’s history. It’ll probably take a while. Heck, the calendar is so jammed it might not be until next spring, but that bridge should be—will be—rebuilt.”
The conviction in his voice warmed her deep inside, chasing away the chill from the sight of the splintered ruins.
Dean Pritchett continued to surprise her.
Like when she’d called Tyrone at the garage about her car yesterday morning only to find out Dean had already made arrangements to have the vehicle towed there. And again later that same night when she’d expected him to show up at the Ace, and she’d eyed the front door every time someone walked in.
Only he never did, even after she’d dawdled at closing time until Rosey hurried her along, agreeing to give Shelby a ride home.
Then today, he’d shown up looking impossibly gorgeous in jeans and a simple white T-shirt beneath an open plaid shirt in shades of green that matched his eyes.
He’d practically shoved a bouquet of daisies into her hand as if they were burning his fingers. He said he’d gotten them at Daisy’s Donuts. The owner always had bunches of her namesake flowers for sale, and when he’d stopped by to get dessert he thought she might like them.
She did. She loved them.
No one, other than her parents, had ever given her flowers before. She’d been so touched by the gesture that she’d almost invited Dean inside while she put them in a vase full of water. Thankfully, he’d already stepped off the back stairs, saying he’d wait in his truck for her.
“Shelby? Did you hear me?”
Realizing she’d missed what Dean had asked, she focused her attention and found he’d moved off the path to a shady area a few feet away at the base of a group of birch trees. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked if this was an okay place to lay out the blanket.” He pointed to the grass. “Or did you want to keep walking?”
She had planned to move farther up the winding path after stopping to see what was left of the bridge. Just in case anyone else in town had the same idea to come to the park for a picnic.
Not that she was ashamed to be seen with him. Just the opposite. The last thing she wanted was to run into someone like Darlene. There were others in town who felt the same way the cheerleader did about her. They might not be as straightforward nasty as her former teammate, but the insults and hurtful barbs did manage to hit their intended target every once in a while.
Then again, despite the beautiful day, there hadn’t been any cars in the lower parking lot and no one else was in sight now. Maybe she should be worried, not about someone ruining their date, but about being out here in an isolated area with a man she barely knew.
“Shelby?”
Realizing she’d once again drifted off, she forced a quick laugh from her suddenly tight throat. “There I go, spacing out on you. I’m so sorry. Yes, this spot is perfect.”
“Rough night at the bar?” Dean set the backpack and cooler at his feet and unfurled the quilt. “You do look a bit tired.”
“Don’t you know it’s impolite to tell a woman she looks anything but perfect?” Shelby knelt at the edge of the patchwork quilt and smoothed the material with her hands.
Dean mirrored her action, then reached across the blanket to take her hand. Surprised, she looked up and found concern in his gaze.
“I just meant if you want to cut this afternoon short—” he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze “—I’d understand.”
Refusing to allow anything, including her fears, to mess up this afternoon, Shelby knew at that moment there was no place else she’d rather be. She might not know much about Dean, but she was certain of one thing.
He was a good man.
And that scared her in every way possible.
She eased from his touch, using that same hand to tuck her hair behind one ear. “No, I don’t want to go home. Everything was fine last night at work. Like most nights.”
“I was planning to stop in, but I had to drive to Missoula to pick up supplies. I ended up running into a friend from high school, so I stayed overnight, crashing at his place.”
“Well, you didn’t miss much. What happened Friday night was...unusual.”
“Meaning Rosey doesn’t always play oldies music as a way to get customers to leave at closing time?” Dean sat, placing the backpack and the cooler between them.
Smiling, Shelby joined him but made sure to stay on her side of the blanket. “No, that she always does. Sometimes she even hurries their exit along by singing.”
“Not much of a voice?”
“Tone-deaf, but what she lacks in talent, she more than makes up for in effort and volume.”
Dean laughed as he removed a container from the bag that smelled heavenly, even with the sealed lid. Shelby opened the cooler and pulled out two icy-cold water bottles, wiping them down with one of the napkins. Next was the pasta salad in a separate bowl. He dished everything onto two plates and handed one to her along with a set of plastic flatware.
The silence between them as they ate was...well, nice.
It allowed the natural sounds of the forest to mix with the rushing waters of the creek. The deep greens and rustic browns of the trees stood out sharply against the famous blue Montana sky. It was amazing how quickly nature recovered from natural disasters, unlike the man-made structures in town.
Not wanting to think about the flood or the recovery efforts today, Shelby concentrated on the wonderful food. “Boy, you weren’t kidding. The chicken is wonderful.” She couldn’t resist licking the crumbs from her fingers. “Your mom must be proud to know you can cook her secret recipe so well.”
“My mother died about ten years ago.” Dean’s voice was soft. “I’d like to think she’d be happy to know we still use her recipes. She loved to cook and seeing people enjoy her creations made her very happy.”
He spoke the words with ease, but Shelby could see the sadness move across his face for a moment before it disappeared.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Though it did make for a tough freshman year at college.” He took another bite of salad, the only
thing left on his plate except for chicken bones. “At first I didn’t want to go. California seemed so far away from Thunder Canyon, but she’d been so excited when I got accepted at Berkeley. My father insisted I stick to the plan.”
Shelby wondered what it was like to attend such a respected university. She’d patched together her degree with a lot of day, night and online classes, taking them year-round in order to get it done in four years.
“Not that everything went according to plan,” Dean continued. “I ended up leaving school after my junior year because of financial issues. It took a couple more years to fully earn my degree.”
Well, maybe they weren’t so different after all. “So what is your degree in?”
“History. With a minor in structural engineering.”
Good-looking and smart. Somehow she’d known there was more to him than just a cowboy who worked construction. “Wow, I don’t think I would have ever put those two subjects together.”
“I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be a teacher or an engineer.”
Oh, how crazy would it be if Dean was a teacher like her? Not that she was a teacher; one needed an actual job to have that title, but still. It would also explain why he was free to help this summer. “So, what is it you do when you’re not volunteering your time for disaster victims? I guessing you must have a pretty understanding boss to let you have so much time off.”
“I do.” Dean set aside his plate and reached for the container of watermelon. Removing the lid, he gestured for her to take the first slice. “My old man. We have a working ranch back in Thunder Canyon, but the family business is fine woodworking and furniture-making.”
She never expected that. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I always knew I shared the family talent for carving and shaping wood, so I joined my father’s business when I returned from college. Still being there seven years later is a surprise to me sometimes when I think about it.” Dean paused for a moment. “But life doesn’t always go according to plan.”
The Maverick's Summer Love (Montana Mavericks: Rust Creek Cowboys) Page 5