A fact Shelby knew all too well. “So, I guess you’re using your engineering knowledge more at the moment than in your regular job.”
“Yeah, after doing some brushup work on my education when it comes to rebuilding homes, but I like it. I like Rust Creek Falls, as well.”
“You do?” She lifted the triangle-shaped piece of watermelon to her mouth. “Why?” she asked, before taking a bite.
Dean smiled at her, as if surprised by her question. Shelby was surprised she’d actually said the words aloud, but she found she really wanted to hear his answer.
“Your town reminds me of what Thunder Canyon used to be like. Back when I was kid, long before the gold rush, the fancy resorts and shops,” Dean said. “It’s still a good place to live, don’t get me wrong, but we get a lot of tourists now, so it’s kind of lost that ‘everyone knows everyone’ feel.”
Shelby chewed the bite she’d taken and swallowed, knowing the bitter taste in her mouth wasn’t from the sweet fruit. “You mean everyone knows everyone’s business.”
“That, too, I guess.” He shrugged. “I tend to stay away from the small-town gossip.”
“Easier said than done most times.” Especially when you’re continuously the subject of that gossip. Shelby managed to keep those words from spilling out of her mouth.
“Maybe, but what I really like about Rust Creek Falls is how everyone is coming together, not only to survive the flooding, but also to rebuild, to make things the way they were or even better than they were.” Dean leaned forward, his eyes bright with conviction. “Neighbors opening their homes to those who need a place to stay, opening their barns to take in homeless animals, doing what they can to keep things normal for the kids. Giving of their time, their money, hell, I’ve seen people give the clothes off their backs, literally, for each other.”
Shelby nibbled on the watermelon, admitting that Dean was right about how the town had come together since the crisis. She’d done her part by volunteering with the summer school program last month held in the town hall.
Still, she hated that she’d wondered just how giving everyone would have been to her and her family if help had been needed out at their place.
“And the way they pause to celebrate the simple things, like Collin and Willa’s wedding last weekend. I mean, everyone was invited. It didn’t matter if you’ve lived here your entire life or had only come to town to help with the recovery.”
Dean asked if she wanted more. Then, when she shook her head, he took her plate. Putting their trash in a separate bag he’d brought with him, he finally looked at her again, a chagrined smile on his face. “Boy, I can’t believe I just said all that. I’m not usually the kind of person who talks a lot.”
Shelby laid a hand on his arm. “Please, don’t stop. I like listening to you.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded, releasing him to toss the watermelon rind into the trash bag. Wiping her hands, she tried to erase the tingling sensation that danced from her palm to her elbow thanks to the warmth of his skin.
“My brothers and I have worked on projects together, but usually it’s just me and whatever piece of furniture I’m working on.” Dean moved the cooler and the trash bag and now sat closer, leaning on his hip with one arm braced behind him. “Now I’m enjoying the day-to-day construction work, being part of a crew, functioning with a group of people to accomplish a collective goal. Furniture-making can be a bit solitary at times.”
“Solitary sounds good to me. My job is nothing but working with people. Sometimes that can be hard, too.”
“Especially when those people aren’t so nice?”
Shelby nodded, wrapping her arms around her bent knees as she stared out at the nearby creek. “There are times I feel like I’m two different people.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’s the one who’s responsible, oh-so-polite and always offers a smile even while telling customers they’ve reached their alcohol limit or apologizing for a food order being messed up.”
Biting on her bottom lip, she was surprised at how easily those words had slipped past her defenses. She never did that, never let anyone get close enough to see the real her. Since her life had taken such a dramatic turn five years ago, she wasn’t sure who the “real” her was anymore.
At sixteen it’d been all about making the cheerleading squad and dating a popular guy while studying her butt off to get the grades she needed to get out of this Podunk town. Now, she was Caitlin’s mother, Rosey’s right hand and her mother’s support system since the sudden death of her husband three years ago. And a wannabe teacher who needed to start applying for a position. Away from Rust Creek Falls.
“And the other person?”
Tilting her head, she looked at him while adding lightness to her tone. “Oh, that girl can be a real witch at times. With a capital B.”
Dean leaned closer, brushing back the hair that had fallen against her cheek, his thumb staying behind to move back and forth across her cheek. “I find that hard to believe.”
Her breath caught, then vanished completely the moment he touched her. Move away. Now. The command filled her head, but she was frozen in place, her arms locked around her knees.
Held captive by the simple press of his thumb, he gently lifted her head while lowering his. The warmth of his breath floated across her skin, his green eyes darkening to a deep jade as he looked down at her.
Before their lips could meet, Shelby broke free.
Dropping her chin, she kept her gaze focused on the sliver of blanket between them as heat blazed across her cheeks.
Dean stilled for a moment, then eased away. “Okay. This is a bit awkward.”
“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment, or worse, in his eyes as the apology rushed past her lips. “I haven’t— It’s been a long time since I’ve—”
“It’s okay, Shelby. No worries. I’ll wait.”
She looked up and found nothing in his gaze but tenderness mixed with banked desire. “You will? Why?”
“Because when the time is right, kissing you is going to be so worth it.”
* * *
“Hey, bro!” Nick’s voice rang out across the empty space that used to be the reception area/waiting room of the Rust Creek Falls Clinic. “That hammer you’re choking works a whole lot better if you had something—you know—to hammer with it.”
Dean ignored his brother’s smart-ass remark, even though the man was right. Without a nail, the tool he held tight in his grip was pretty useless.
Much like him.
It was only three in the afternoon, still early as most workdays lasted until the sun went down, but Dean couldn’t seem to get anything done right today. Yesterday hadn’t been much better either.
All because Shelby wouldn’t go on another date with him.
He’d asked on the way back to her place Sunday afternoon, but she claimed she was working all week. So he tried to set up a lunch date, figuring eating with her would be more pleasant that chowing on a sandwich with his brother and the crew, but she’d turned down that idea, too.
He did see her at the bar Monday night, purposely showing up at last call under the guise to see if she needed a ride home. Her car had already been repaired, thus killing that plan, even though she did seem glad to see him, especially when he told her about getting the lower falls bridge added to the town’s repair list. They’d talked after everyone had gone, cleaned up the place together and he ended up walking her to her car before heading back to his trailer.
Alone.
The same thing happened Tuesday night, which went even better as he managed to talk her into a slow dance to one of Rosey’s jukebox choices after the place emptied. Dean smiled as he remembered how nervous she seemed at first, tripping over his feet. Then he’d pulled her close, loving the press of her curves against his chest, the flowery scent of her hair as it brushed against his chin. But when he pushed about her plans for the coming weeken
d, suggesting dinner and movie in nearby Kalispell, she never gave him a straight answer.
He’d gone back again last night, earlier this time with his brother who’d stopped by the trailer, but Rosey said Shelby had called in sick.
Was he just too stupid to get the hint?
He thought they’d had a good time on the picnic. Yeah, he’d talked too much about himself, something new for him. And she’d backed away when he’d misread what he thought was an intimate moment and tried to kiss her.
Another new experience. Not that he’d been doing a lot of kissing—or much of anything else for that matter—over the past couple of years, but to be so wrong about something so simple?
To be so wrong about her?
He thought back to what his brother had alluded to the night he first met Shelby, about her having some kind of reputation, but quickly rejected the idea. He just couldn’t reconcile that image with the sweet young woman who seemed so shy around him.
And who wouldn’t even go out on a second date with him.
“Here, try one of these. I hear they work wonders.”
Dean turned. Nick stood next to him, a box of Sheetrock nails resting in his palm. “Very funny.”
“Hey, the crew is ready to mud and tape as soon as we give them the green light,” Nick said. “Emmet is anxious to get this place up and running. Everyone is.”
Emmet DePaul, the local nurse-practitioner, had managed to save a good deal of his supplies and equipment before the creek overflowed its banks during the storm. He’d set up a temporary shop in his home near Strickland’s Boarding House for the duration. With the clinic at the top of the list of needed repairs and a quick reopen, Dean’s crew was just about finished with getting the new drywall in place. By Saturday morning they could be priming the walls and laying the new floor.
Thinking about the wood flooring reminded Dean of another project he wanted to get done. Something that he hoped would keep him busy enough this weekend so he wouldn’t care that Shelby was doing her best to give the impression she didn’t want him around.
He grabbed the box of nails and then flipped his hammer in the air. Catching it by its head, he slapped the tool handle into Nick’s now-empty hand. “Here, take over. There’s just a few more nails needed along this seam. I’m going to talk to the crew for a minute before I head out.”
“Out? It’s not beer-thirty yet.”
“It’s always beer-thirty in your world.” Dean brushed the dust off his T-shirt as best he could and unhooked his tool belt from around his hips. “I’m off to talk to Maggie Roarke about funding.”
“I thought you did that at the meeting on Monday.”
“This is something new. A project that just came up.”
Nick groaned. “Don’t tell me this has to do with that day-care center?”
How in the hell— “Why would you say that?”
“Because you stopped by that place twice last week.” His brother twisted his paint-splattered ball cap around until the brim rested against the back of his neck. “When’s the last time you got some?”
Dean’s grip tightened on his belt, his gaze quickly darting around the space. There was no one here except him and his brother, which was why Nick felt comfortable ragging on him. Still, any one of the crew could have walked in.
“That’s quite a switch. Talking about a day-care center in one breath and asking me about my sex life in the next.”
“You know how my mind works. Besides, I think if you just scratched that itch that makes you want to do nothing but work seven days a week, you might be a happier guy. What do ya think?”
“I think it’s none of your damn business.”
“Come on, bro.” Nick walked over to him. “I’m not telling you to get married and have a bunch of kids of your own.”
Nick was treading on thin ice now. “Don’t go there.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, there are plenty of ladies looking for someone to spend a little time with this summer. We’re going to be here for only another few months. There’s nothing wrong with temporary.”
His brother’s whole life was a study in temporary—a lifestyle Dean wasn’t interested in.
In fact, he’d been doing some hard thinking about turning this short-term construction job into something more permanent.
He and Matt Cates, a friend since high school, had already talked a bit about Matt’s father wanting to open a branch of Cates Construction here in the Rust Creek Falls area.
Matt had no interest in moving north, but Dean had already half fallen in love with this remote Western town.
Still, it was just an idea, nothing Dean wanted to talk about aloud yet. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“What I’m worried about is your wrangling me into working on Sunday. That’s a sacred day. It’s God’s day.”
Dean didn’t fall for his brother’s attempt at his innocent, choir-boy face from their youth. “Sunday is sacred to you because of football.”
“Darn right.” Nick grinned, leveling the hammer in Dean’s direction. “Did you know a kid from here is playing pro ball for the Jets? They’re playing Sunday.”
“It’s only the preseason. The games don’t count.”
“You’re only saying that because the 49ers played last Sunday. A game which you missed, by the way. Where were you anyway?”
“I’ll be back in about an hour.” Dean headed for the door. “I want to see plenty of mud slapping the walls when I get back.”
“Slap this, little brother,” Nick called out.
Knowing his brother’s sense of humor like he did, Dean didn’t bother to turn around. He checked in with the crew of five men, all experienced in the construction trade, and then grabbed a water bottle from the nearby cooler before climbing into his truck.
Minutes later, he pulled into an empty parking spot at the town hall, pausing to admire a Heritage Softail Classic motorcycle sitting nearby before heading inside.
Maggie Roarke, a lawyer by trade, had taken a leave of absence from her job in Los Angeles to set up free legal counsel for home and business owners needing assistance in dealing with their insurance companies. She was also spearheading the private fund-raising drive that was helping Rust Creek Falls get back on its feet.
He took the stairs to the second floor, pausing when he saw Rosey step out of Maggie’s office. He smiled, taking in her dark jeans, leather jacket and boots, not to mention the shiny black skull helmet decorated with red roses she held in one hand.
“Hey, lady. Don’t tell me that Softail outside is yours?”
“Hey, there, handsome. Of course it’s mine. What brings you down this way?”
He gestured toward the door she’d just exited. “Money. I need to talk to Maggie.”
Rosey looked back at the door for a moment, a mysterious smile on her face. “Yeah, I just did the same.” She turned back to him. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure. Did you put in a request for work to be done?” Dean followed as she moved down the hall and stepped into a small alcove. “I know the bar didn’t suffer any losses in the flooding. Is something damaged at your home?”
“My place is fine.” Rosey poked gently at his chest with her helmet. “The damage I’m worried about is what you’re doing to Shelby’s heart.”
Chapter Five
“You’ve been in the Ace the last three nights in a row. That’s five visits in less than a week.” Rosey dropped the helmet to her side but kept on talking. “The businesswoman in me is quite happy about that. As Shelby’s friend? That’s a different story.”
“Wait a minute.” Dean was amazed at her precise listing of his activities in relation to the bar, considering she’d been gone both Monday and Tuesday before he’d shown up. “How do you know all that? Ah, Shelby told you.”
“Shelby hasn’t mentioned you once.”
Hmm, that stung more that it should have. “She hasn’t? Then, how did you—”
“I know everything that happens in this town, including the fact that my girl was spotted riding shotgun in your truck, heading down from Falls Mountain Sunday afternoon.” Rosey leaned in close. “And I’m sure I’m not the only one who knows that.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“You grew up in a small town. Whether it’s discussing the newest fool willing to run for public office or who is and isn’t attending Sunday services, people love to talk about...people.”
Dean squared his shoulders. “I’m a pretty boring guy. No one should be talking about me.”
“Or talking to you?”
“About what?”
“Who you’re knocking boots with?”
Did Rosey think he and Shelby were— Was that what his brother was trying to get at back at the job site?
No, if Nick knew what happened Sunday afternoon, or what he thought had happened, he would have claimed his brotherly right and grilled him on the subject. “I’m not knocking boots with anyone.”
That got Rosey to arch one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Did you know your left eye twitches when you lie?”
“I’m not lying.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. His brother might not know anything about him and Shelby, but Rosey sure did. “Yes, I took Shelby to the lower falls for a picnic on Sunday, but that’s it.”
“A picnic?” The disbelief in her voice was plain as day.
“Yeah, a picnic. We went up to see where the bridge her father built used to be and had something to eat. She was home before six o’clock.” Jeez, this was like being back in high school all over again. “Without saying she’d go out with me a second time, if you want to know the whole truth.”
Rosey’s posture changed. She suddenly looked more relaxed, almost happy. “You want to date her again.”
Her words came out as a statement, not a question, but Dean answered her anyway. “Yes. She’s smart and pretty and easy to talk to and...”
The Maverick's Summer Love (Montana Mavericks: Rust Creek Cowboys) Page 6