Mommy and the Maverick

by Meg Maxwell

  Autry wasn’t sure he’d ever get through to his dad. As a strange sensation fluttered in his chest, he realized something had tightened, closed up, shuttered in his heart. All that family togetherness and sharing at the Fuller-Raffertys was nice, but it wasn’t his life or his family. And he had to remember that. He wasn’t here for love.

  Stick to the plan, he told himself. Show Marissa and her family a nice time while you’re here. Make things easier for them.

  And the next time you feel the urge to kiss her behind an old tree with the whole history of her life in it, don’t.

  Chapter Six

  Over the next few days, Autry was a regular visitor at the Fuller-Rafferty house. He made big country breakfasts of pancakes and bacon, grilled hot dogs and served his secret-recipe potato salad. He fixed two lopsided tables, sanded a door that stuck, talked the stock market with Marissa’s dad and politics with her mother, listened to Abby go on about her favorite band and charmed the little Fuller girls with more magic tricks and stories about the exotic foods he’d tried in the different countries he’d traveled to. When all three girls wanted to try Indian food and spicy curry, he’d hired a personal chef to drive in from Kalispell and whip up a special feast.

  “Must be nice to have so much disposable income,” Roberta Rafferty had whispered with an edge of disapproval in her voice.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ralph had whispered back. “The man is a millionaire. This is chump change to a Jones. I, for one, like Autry.”

  So did Marissa. So did her daughters.

  Marissa had noted Autry was careful to limit their time together to family activities. They didn’t go for solo walks. They didn’t stand behind the big oak tree in the yard, where they could kiss in private.

  They didn’t have a second kiss.

  But every night since their one and only kiss, Marissa had lain awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, imagining herself under the covers with Autry. Sometimes she couldn’t imagine it; she’d been with one man only, since she was sixteen. But then she let her fantasies take over and all thought poofed out of her head, instinct and desire running the show.

  The other evening, when Autry had made them dinner and they’d gone around the table, sharing things, Marissa had really meant what she’d said—that she’d made a new friend. She’d let someone into her life. A friend, yes, but someone new. In the two years she’d been widowed, she hadn’t done that. The first year, the single men of Rust Creek Falls had let her be, but by the second year, she’d found herself asked out quite a bit. In Crawford’s General Store while picking up paper towels and milk. While waiting for Kiera and Kaylee at the day care both attended. Not that men were tripping over themselves to take her out, but at least twice a week she very politely declined invitations, and slowly, the asking had trickled down to a near stop. She’s not ready to date was the echo Marissa sometimes overheard about herself if gossip came her way. And that was fine with her. She wasn’t ready to date.

  She knew she needed an Autry-free day so she could collect herself, have a good talk with the practical, smart side of herself. If they were just friends—and that was what they were both trying so hard to be—she had to stop the nightly fantasies of him kissing her, making love to her, asking her to marry him.

  It was that last one that had slapped her upside the head. What? Marry him? Where had the thought even come from? She couldn’t possibly be subconsciously dreaming of marrying Autry Jones, could she? Maybe in some Cinderella-like fairy-tale sense. But Autry Jones was about global travel and would be gone in less than three weeks. And that would be that.

  So today, with Grandma and Grandpa taking Kiera and Kaylee to a pottery painting class for three-to five-year-olds, Marissa was spending the morning with Abby, getting a trim for the nine-year-old at Bee’s Beauty Parlor and then taking a trip to Daisy’s Donut Shop. But as they were about to pass Crawford’s General Store, Marissa noticed a crowd gathered in front of a table. There was an easel with a poster board on it, but too many tall men were blocking her view. Leah Ganley, president of the Rust Creek Falls K–8 PTO, sat behind the table with a clipboard.

  “What’s going on?” Marissa asked Haley Peterman, mother of a girl in Abby’s class last year. Haley’s daughter and two other girls were holding hands in a circle, talking excitedly about something. Marissa noticed Abby looking over at them shyly. Her daughter had her best friend, Janie, and a few other friends, but this clique of girls always seemed to have a sobering effect on her.

  “The PTO came up with the idea to hold a kids’ version of The Great Roundup,” Haley said. “Isn’t that precious? Young cowboys and cowgirls competing in Western challenges. The teams are going to be mothers and sons versus fathers and daughters. Ticket sales will benefit field trips for the coming school year.”

  When a group who’d just signed up moved away, Marissa could now see the poster. The Great Roundup Kids Competition! Teams of mothers and sons vs fathers and daughters! Based on the TV show and for ages 8–12, The Great Roundup Kids Competition will feature our town’s young cowboys and cowgirls and their folks in Western-style challenges on the town green, such as an obstacle course, ringtoss, three-legged race, piggyback rides and more!

  Marissa’s stomach plummeted. Abby didn’t have a father.

  Haley Peterman seemed to remember that Marissa was a widow and turned around fast.

  “Oh, look, it’s Abby,” one of the girls from her school said, and they inched closer. “Oh my God, it’s so sad that you can’t participate. Are you okay?”

  “Why can’t she?” another girl asked.

  The ringleader turned and whispered something in her ear. Marissa thought she heard the word dead.

  Abby’s cheeks turned bright red and Marissa could see tears poking at her eyes.

  “Aww, I think she’s crying,” a third girl said, before they turned and walked away.

  “Sweetheart,” Marissa said, kneeling down beside Abby.

  But Abby’s expression suddenly brightened and she raced off in the opposite direction.

  Huh?

  Marissa stood up and shielded her eyes from the bright August morning sunshine to see who Abby had run to.

  Autry Jones. Walking right toward her in sexy jeans and a brown Stetson.

  “How are two of my favorite pe—” he started to say, before Abby flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around him.

  Marissa headed over, watching Abby wipe away tears.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, tilting up Abby’s chin.

  “There’s going to be a kids’ version of The Great Roundup and I really want to be in it. But it’s mother-and-son teams and father-and-daughter teams. And I can’t do it because—” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Abby,” Marissa said. “I know it hurts. And I’m very sorry.”

  “But maybe Mr. Autry can be my partner,” Abby said, wiping away her tears and looking up at him hopefully.

  “Sweetheart, Mr. Autry has to prepare for his big business trip to Paris,” Marissa said. “And The Great Roundup Kids Competition is an entire Saturday.”

  Marissa watched Autry glance over at the poster on the easel.

  “I understand,” Abby said, her expression crestfallen. “It’s okay. Grandma always says we have to accept what we cannot change. Accept what I cannot change,” she repeated. “Accept what I cannot change,” she said again, as though trying to will the words from her head into her heart. And then she walked away and sat under a tree, her head down on her arms over her knees.

  “If it’s all right with you,” Autry said, “I’ll sign up with her.”

  “Oh, Autry,” Marissa said. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. Because while her grandmother is right, you always have to have hope and believe in possibilities.”

&nbs
p; Marissa’s eyes welled with tears. How was this man so kind? Why was he making it so impossible for her not to fall in love with him?

  “If you really want to do it, it’s more than okay with me,” she said.

  He smiled and squeezed her hand, then jogged over to Abby. Marissa watched as he told her daughter the good news and then Abby’s face lit up. The girl jumped and flung herself at him and he wrapped her in a hug.

  And Marissa caught his expression—uneasiness. A bit of sadness. She wondered what was behind it. Maybe he was just thinking that he was starting to like the Fullers and would be leaving soon, and would see Marissa and her daughters every now and then on trips to visit his brothers. Or maybe he really didn’t want to do the kids competition but felt sorry for Abby and had spoken up before he thought too much.

  Except from what he’d said, he didn’t feel sorry for Abby. He wanted her always to know there were magical possibilities in life, even when it seemed there weren’t. Yeah, her father was gone. But that didn’t mean Autry Jones couldn’t sign up in his place. And he had.

  Marissa watched him head over with her daughter to the sign-up booth, saw the dropped jaws of Haley Peterman and the three mean girls from Abby’s class.

  “Mr. Autry is going to be my partner in the competition,” she told the girls. “He rode his first horse when he was just three years old.”

  “Two, actually,” Autry said, tipping his Stetson at Haley. Marissa watched the woman practically swoon.

  “Actually, it’s father-daughter,” one girl said. “Right, Mrs. Ganley?” she said to the woman at the table.

  “Well, that’s just a label,” Mrs. Ganley said. “But any adult can stand in for a parent or guardian. Aunt or uncle, family friend, that kind of thing. So Mr. Jones is welcome to sign up as Abby’s teammate.”

  The girls’ faces fell. Abby beamed. And Autry signed his name next to Abby’s, making him her official partner for The Great Roundup Kids Competition in two weeks.

  Autry took a flyer listing the challenges, like tug-of-war and an obstacle course, and handed one to Marissa. “We’ll have to practice so we have a shot at winning the big prize.” Free doughnuts for a month at Daisy’s and a brand-new bicycle, compliments of the town mayor.

  That meant Autry would be spending a lot of time at her house.

  Uh-oh.

  * * *

  After a good ride on Hulk, one of his brother Hudson’s mares, on the fields of the Lazy B ranch, Autry felt somewhat restored, a bit back to himself. He now stood under the shower spray in his suite at the Maverick Manor, the hot water coursing over him.

  His mother was right. There had to be something in the goddamned punch. Not that he’d had any punch. But there was something in the water here in Rust Creek Falls, something that made previously normal people like himself turn inside out and sign up as the “dad” in a parent-kid competition.

  Thing was, the minute he’d seen Abby Fuller’s crumpled little face, the pain, the disappointment, the willing herself to accept what was, he’d remembered himself as a nine-year-old, a big house full of brothers he barely knew, his parents never around or interested in any of them as individuals. And he’d had both his parents alive and well. Abby had lost her father as a seven-year-old. If he could make things better, if just for a Saturday, hell yeah, he would.

  He grabbed a thick, fluffy white towel and dried off, then wrapped it around his waist. Just as he stepped into his bedroom, there was a knock at the door.

  He opened it, expecting to see Hudson or Walker. But Marissa Fuller stood there, cheeks pink, mouth slightly open.

  “I...” she began, then turned away, and he remembered that he was just in a towel.

  “Come on in,” he said. “I’ll go get dressed.”

  She stepped in and shut the door behind her, looking everywhere but at him. He smiled and held up a finger, then went into the bedroom and put on a navy T-shirt and jeans.

  “I was just about to order room service,” he said. “I’m craving a BLT and the Manor’s peach iced tea. Join me?”

  “That does sound good,” she said.

  He smiled and picked up the phone and placed the order.

  “I can’t even remember the last time I stayed in a hotel or ordered room service,” she said, looking out the window at the gorgeous Montana wilderness. “Actually, I can. It was my honeymoon when I was eighteen. We drove down to the Wyoming border and stayed at a motel in a tiny town even smaller than Rust Creek Falls. We just wanted to say we’d left the state.” She smiled and turned to him. “It was just a plain room with dated furnishings and a lopsided bed, and there was no room service, but we were on top of the world for those three nights.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said. “You had each other and what else did you need?”

  She tilted her head. “Exactly.”

  “Now here I come, wining and dining you with BLTs and peach iced tea and kid competitions involving a ringtoss and piggyback rides.”

  She laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, you don’t sound like a millionaire jet-setter who’s going to...” Her smile faded and she turned away.

  He walked over to her and lifted her chin. “Who’s going to what?”

  “Leave.”

  He took a breath and nodded. “We always knew that, though, Marissa.”

  “Right. And we also shook on being friends. But...” She paused and dropped down on the love seat across from the fireplace.

  “But things feel more than friendly between us,” he finished for her. “There was that kiss, for one. And the fact that every time I see you I want to kiss you again.”

  “Ditto. See the problem?”

  He smiled and sat down beside her. “Marissa, why did you come here? To tell me that doing the competition with Abby is a bad idea? That she’s going to get too attached to me?”

  “Yup.”

  “Except you didn’t say that.”

  “Because I don’t want to take it from her. I want her to be excited about the competition. To not lose out on something when she’s been dealt a hard blow in life so young. But yeah, I am worried she’s going to get too attached. All three girls. But especially Abby.”

  “Abby knows I’m leaving for Paris at the end of August. That’s a given. Goodbye is already in the air, Marissa. We’re not fooling anyone.”

  “Why do I keep fighting it, then?” she asked. “Why do I have to keep reminding myself that feeling the way I do about you is only going to—”

  “Make you feel like crap when I go? I know. I’ve had that same talk with myself fifty times. I wasn’t expecting to meet you, Marissa. Or want you so damned bad every time I see you.”

  It wasn’t just about sex, but he wasn’t putting that out there. If she kept it to sexual attraction, surface stuff, maybe he’d believe it. Then he could enjoy his time with Marissa and go in a couple weeks without much strain in his chest.

  “So what do we do?” she asked. “Give in to this or be smart and stay nice and platonic?”

  He reached for her hand. “I don’t know.”

  “Your hair’s still damp,” she said. “I can smell your shampoo. And your soap.”

  He leaned closer and kissed her, his hands slipping around her shoulders, down her back, drawing her to him. He felt her stiffen for a second and then relax. “I don’t want to just be friends, Marissa. I want you.”

  She kissed him back, her hands in his hair, and he could feel her breasts against his chest. He sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by desire, by need. “You’re sure?” he asked, pulling back a bit to look at her, directly into her beautiful dark brown eyes.

  “No, I’m not sure,” she whispered. “I just know that I want you, too.”

  “Only when you’re sure,” he said, moving back a couple inches on the love seat. “You’ve
got a lot going on, Marissa. I don’t want this—” he wagged a hand between the two of them “—to mess up the order in your life. You have three girls to think about. You have a job. You have your parents.”

  “I know,” she snapped. She took a deep breath. “Sorry. I guess sometimes I just wish I could have everything.”

  “Let me buy you a house,” he said. “I could fund a bank account for you. You could quit your job.”

  She bolted up. “What?”

  “To make things easier on you,” he said.

  “I have no interest in being anyone’s kept woman,” she said through gritted teeth, then marched to the door and left before he could try to explain that wasn’t what he meant.

  Dammit. He just wanted to make things easier. Really. Her own home. No need to work. After all she’d been through, why shouldn’t she be able to relax a little?

  Because she’d worked hard her whole life and had worked for everything she had. That’s why. And she didn’t grow up with the Jones millions.

  He was about to run after her. Apologize. But maybe it was better that there was some friction between them. She wasn’t sure about moving their “friendship” into the bedroom. And he knew it would only lead to problems when he’d have to say goodbye. So a little emotional space between them was probably a good thing.

  So why did it make his chest ache?

  Chapter Seven

  Marissa hated when her mother turned out to be right, which was...always. “Mother knew best.” Except when it came to Marissa the mother, who’d had a terrible lapse in judgment in allowing that man to sign up in The Great Roundup Kids Competition with her very impressionable nine-year-old daughter. A man who had zero scruples, obviously.

  Buy her a house. Quit her job. He had to be kidding! That wasn’t how life worked. You didn’t make a wealthy man’s acquaintance—one who’d be leaving very soon—and accept a free house and a padded bank account. And in exchange, he wouldn’t have to feel bad about leaving Rust Creek Falls and the woman he’d dallied with. But I bought the poor single mother a house and threw her some money!