Catching the Cowboy: A Small-Town Clean Romance (Summer Creek Book 1)

by Shanna Hatfield

  However, since she hadn’t known how to drive anything with a manual transmission, Nell, Jossy, and Hud had taken turns giving her a few lessons before she could confidently head down the road.

  With multiple trips to town under her belt, Emery grinned as Cricket climbed into the booster seat Emery kept in the vehicle for her.

  She backed around and drove toward the road, shifting gears without grinding them. While Cricket alternated between chatting about the branding and her friends, and humming the theme song from her favorite cartoon, Emery thought of the sports car parked in her parent’s garage that she’d been given for her twenty-first birthday. The first month she had it, she’d gotten two speeding tickets. Her father had warned her if she got a third, he’d take away the car along with her driver’s license. She hadn’t gotten another ticket, but his warning hadn’t slowed her down much.

  As Emery compared the vehicle she now drove to the luxury car she used to drive, she hated to admit that she enjoyed the pickup more than the car. Jace had done a wonderful job restoring it, and the pickup had so much character. Emery could just imagine all the places it had been over the years, all the happy and sad conversations that had taken place inside it. It was like driving a piece of history each time she got behind the wheel.

  Hud had taken a look under the hood and told her everything was new, giving her confidence the pickup wouldn’t leave her stranded somewhere. Not that she’d gone any further than Summer Creek, but she’d been thinking about driving into Burns soon. She was in desperate need of a haircut. The only place in town to get one was Mayor Kane’s barbershop, which was only open on Tuesdays and Thursdays and boasted one barber chair that appeared to be original to the Edwardian era building.

  Emery had walked past a place on the south end of town with a sign that read Shirley’s out front, hoping it was a salon. She’d soon discovered it was a machine shop that also did repairs on tractors and trucks. The original owner was Shirley, a man who’d learned how to weld during World War II. The current owner, a feisty young woman named Deena, didn’t look big enough or strong enough to handle the heavy equipment she worked with, but Hud mentioned she had a gift for welding, whatever that meant.

  Confused when she’d first arrived in town because so many of the business names were from owners who had been gone for decades, Emery had taken a while to get the businesses and owners sorted out. One afternoon, when Hud had given her a ride after she’d spent the day working at City Hall, he’d mentioned running by Whitey’s to grab a part he’d ordered for the four-wheeler. At the time, Emery had thought Whitey was a person, knowing the convenience store, gas station, and local garage held that name.

  When she’d said she looked forward to meeting Whitey, Hud had given her a strange look. “Bill White, nicknamed Whitey, started the service station back in 1943. Cliff Hutchins owns it now, but Jace Easton manages it. He and his sister hope to buy the business.”

  “Well, how would I know there isn’t someone named Whitey?” she’d asked, perplexed. She’d glanced at Cricket in the backseat. “Do you know about Bill White and Whitey’s?”

  “Sure! Everyone knows about Whitey’s and Neil’s and Shirley’s and … ”

  Emery had turned around and sighed.

  She’d been forced to adjust her thinking to accept how things were done in Summer Creek, because it was far different than anything she’d known. And she was starting to realize different didn’t necessarily mean bad or wrong, just … different.

  The day felt warm, and the sun gleamed brightly overhead as she drove through town and parked outside the feed store. The building was shaped like an enormous barn. Off to the left, there was a covered area where the store had set up a nursery and offered a variety of bedding plants as well as trees and shrubs. Emery had learned during the holiday season, it was turned into a Christmas tree lot.

  “Can I see the bunnies?” Cricket asked when they walked inside.

  “Okay, but just for a minute.” Emery took the little girl’s hand, loving the way it fit so well against her own. Cricket drew out maternal instincts Emery had no idea she possessed. Once in a while, she even allowed herself the indulgence of pretending Cricket was her daughter. Emery knew it was silly, but she’d grown to love the child like she was her own.

  Nearly prancing as they approached the cages in the back of the store that held four rabbits, Cricket stood on her toes and peered inside. “I like the brown one,” she said, pointing to a lop-eared bunny that wiggled his nose at them.

  “He is pretty cute.” Emery bent down by Cricket and wrapped a hand around her waist. “Do you suppose he’s thinking the same thing about you?”

  Cricket giggled, then struck a pose with her hands in the air and tossed her head. “Am I cute, Mr. Bunny?”

  Emery tickled the child, making her laugh and squirm. She picked up Cricket and held her on her hip as they both looked into the bin where dozens of chicks peeped beneath the warmth of a heat lamp.

  “I think our baby chicks are better,” Cricket whispered in Emery’s ear.

  “Me, too.” Emery set Cricket on her feet, then took her hand again. “But we better get moving, missy.”

  “Moving, moving it, missy,” Cricket sing-songed as she skipped beside Emery up to the cash register.

  Emery recognized the manager, Jack Olsen, from church and from seeing him at City Hall. He was a nephew to the mayor, at least she thought that was how they were related. Many of the families had lived in the area for decades and married into other families until Emery found it impossible to keep track of who was related to whom.

  “Mornin’, Emery. Hud called and said you’d be in to pick up the supplies he ordered. I’ve got them right here.” Jack pushed a cardboard box toward her. “Hope the branding goes well today. If I weren’t working, I’d sure be out there.” He smiled at Emery as she lifted the box, surprised by the weight of it. “Nell always makes the best food in the county and I hate to miss out on branding day at Summer Creek Ranch.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be missed, Mr. Olsen. Have a good day.” Emery gave him a polite nod then hurried out the door with Cricket beside her. She set the box in the back of the pickup, helped Cricket into her booster seat, and then drove to the grocery store.

  Ethel stood outside, chewing on an old tennis shoe, the strings dangling from her mouth like limp noodles. Emery wanted to take it away from the goat before she choked on it, but instead, she let Cricket pat the wily creature on the head, then herded her young charge inside the store.

  Cricket stayed beside the cart and behaved well as they hurried up and down the aisles. Much to Emery’s relief, she wasn’t a child to demand candy or throw a fit. She’d been taught well by her father and grandmother. But when Cricket pointed to a pineapple and asked if they could get one, Emery added one to the cart. She didn’t see any harm in buying fruit as a special treat.

  It didn’t take long to gather the rest of the items on Nell’s list, check out, and be on their way. Cricket sang along to the radio as they drove back to the ranch and Emery joined her. If her friends could see her, wearing jeans that cost less than the lattes she used to buy, with her hair in a braid, driving an old pickup and singing along to country tunes, they might have her committed to an asylum.

  But Emery didn’t care. Not when it all felt so fun and so incredibly right.

  When her family had visited for Easter, her mother had brought along two large suitcases full of Emery’s clothes. She’d appreciated the gesture, but most of the clothes were inappropriate for the ranch, or even Summer Creek. Where would she wear a Chanel suit in town? Even her designer jeans stood out in a crowd of people who did most of their shopping in the feed store’s clothing section.

  The Emery who’d arrived in Summer Creek not all that long ago would have gladly donned her Dolce & Gabbana dress and flaunted it around town. Now, though, after living and working among the people of Summer Creek, Emery didn’t want to do anything to call attention to herself or put on a
irs.

  Although her father was a billionaire, and she herself would soon receive a sizable account through her trust fund, if her father gave it to her, didn’t matter at all.

  Slowly but surely, Emery was learning money wasn’t everything, and neither was trying to impress people with it. The notion that she was finally starting to grow up filled Emery with pride and gratitude as she parked the pickup at the back of the house.

  Cricket grabbed a bag of groceries and raced inside while Emery packed in the other bags.

  “I think we got everything,” Emery said when she stepped into the kitchen, only to find an empty room. The mouth-watering aroma of meat cooking with onions and peppers filled the air, mingling with a hint of cinnamon from the churro cookies that Nell had baked earlier. Nell had mentioned today’s big meal would have a Mexican theme. Tomorrow, she planned to fix a barbecue lunch fit to make a Texan proud when everyone went over to Jossy’s place to work.

  Cricket helped Emery put away the groceries, then the two of them studied the pineapple, eager to taste a slice.

  Emery had never cut one open, had no idea where to start, but that didn’t deter her. She set the pineapple on a cutting board, took one of Nell’s sharp kitchen knives in her hand and cut the pineapple in half. A sweet fragrance rose from it and she and Cricket both leaned closer, breathing it in.

  “It smells yummy!” Cricket declared, then pointed to the pineapple. “Can you peel it?”

  Emery started whacking chunks of the rind away, then cut off a few pieces of pineapple, handing one to Cricket. “Don’t eat the center part.”

  “Okay,” Cricket said, then took a bite. Juice dripped down her chin, but the little girl didn’t seem to notice or care. When they’d both eaten two pieces, Emery held Cricket up to the kitchen sink to wash her hands and face. She set Cricket on her feet, then cleaned up the mess on the counter while the child played with her kitten.

  The rattle and rumble of vehicles sounded from outside just as Emery finished wiping sticky juice off the counter.

  “Let’s go, Emery! I wanna see everyone.” Cricket grabbed her hand and tugged her outside, maintaining a tight grip as they hurried toward the barn where pickups pulling horse trailers rolled to a stop.

  Remembering the box of supplies she’d retrieved for Hud, Emery went back to get it, leaving Cricket at the barn with the child’s promise to stay out of the way.

  Emery jogged to the house, hefted the box, and returned to find Hud holding Cricket in his arms, turning her chin this way and that, studying her face.

  When she approached him, his brow furrowed into a harsh scowl. “What happened to Cricket?”

  Shocked, Emery stared at an angry red rash that encircled Cricket’s mouth and trailed down her chin. “I … I don’t know, Hud. I didn’t notice that earlier.”

  “Where have you been? What’s she eaten?” His frown deepened as people began milling around them.

  “I went to the feed store to get this,” she said, setting the box on the ground at his feet. “Then we went to the grocery store. Other than the cereal you gave her, all we’ve had was a few pieces of fresh pineapple.”

  Hud rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. “It’s my fault. We should have told you she can’t eat pineapple, or limes.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was allergic. Should I take her to the clinic?” Emery felt awful as the rash appeared to grow redder by the second.

  “She’s not allergic. The doctor calls it an irritation reaction. She’ll break out in a rash like that anywhere the fruit juice touches her skin. And no, you don’t need to take her to the clinic. Grammy has some stuff in the bathroom she puts on it when Cricket breaks out.” Hud set his daughter on her feet and nudged her toward Emery. “No more pineapple for you, Cricket.”

  The little girl’s lower lip rolled out in a pout, but she took the hand Emery held out to her.

  “I really am sorry, Hud.” Emery stared up at him. With the bright blue sky behind him, he looked like he should be on the cover of a western magazine or maybe in an advertisement for a clothing company. His hair was too long as it curled around the edges of his cowboy hat, and he hadn’t shaved for a while, evidenced by the stubble that was quickly turning into a beard. The dimple in his chin was barely visible.

  Even with his scruffy appearance, he was still the most attractive man she’d ever encountered. Especially with those magnificent blue eyes framed with thick dark lashes. The blue chambray shirt he wore only enhanced their color, not to mention it made his shoulders seem a mile wide. She wouldn’t allow herself to glance down at the leather chaps, dusty boots, or the spurs she knew he had on. If she did, there was the distinct possibility she might swoon.

  As good as Hud looked when he wasn’t even trying, it was a wonder women weren’t lined up from the ranch to town, vying for his attention.

  “Don’t worry about it, Em.” He’d never called her by the nickname before. If anyone else had said it, she would have been irritated and made it plain she didn’t like it. Except hearing it from Hud, the abbreviated name seemed more like an endearment, leaving her languid and slightly lightheaded.

  Aware she’d lost the thread of conversation, she blinked to clear her thoughts and tuned back in to Hud.

  “And thanks for picking up these supplies. I appreciate it. Come back out later, if you want to see what a branding is all about.” He hefted the box in one hand and strode behind the barn to the corrals where cattle milled around, and calves bawled.

  Emery watched him until he disappeared from view, and then she led Cricket back to the house. When they stepped inside, Nell bustled around the kitchen.

  “Hi, Grammy. We couldn’t find you.” Cricket hugged the older woman, then skipped down the hallway toward her room.

  “I forgot to get out the big coffee maker,” Nell said, waving her hand toward a huge coffee maker sitting on the end of the counter. “I had to dig it out of the storage barn. The last time we used it had to be the branding a year ago.”

  Emery took a deep breath, not wanting to tell Nell she’d fed Cricket pineapple, but knowing she needed to get medicine on the rash. “Cricket asked me to get a pineapple at the store. I didn’t know it would cause a rash, and Hud said you have something you put on it.”

  “That little sneak knows she’s not supposed to eat pineapple, but she loves it.” Nell shook her head. “If you look in the bathroom, top shelf of the medicine cabinet, there’s a tube of ointment I put on it. Just don’t get it in her mouth.”

  Emery hurried to the bathroom, found the ointment, then carefully applied it to Cricket’s skin. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She gave the little girl a hug when she finished.

  “It’s okay, Emery. I wanted some pineapple. It’s been forever since I had any.”

  “It might be forever before you get more. Your grammy said you know you aren’t supposed to eat pineapple,” Emery said, giving her a long look. “You shouldn’t trick people into doing what you want, Cricket. It’s not okay.”

  The little girl’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bad.”

  Emery pulled her into another tight hug. “You weren’t bad, honey. But in the future, just always be honest and tell the truth. You can’t manipulate people into doing what you want.”

  Convicted by her own words, Emery thought of all the times she’d manipulated, connived, cajoled, or charmed people into doing her bidding. With a flash of clarity, she realized how wrong that was, how wrong she’d been.

  After giving Cricket one more tender hug, she set the little girl back on her feet. “Let’s go see what we can do to help in the kitchen.”

  Emery and Cricket ended up hauling coffee and cookies to the barn to tide over the workers until lunch. Although Cricket wanted to stay and watch, the sound of calves bawling and the stench of burning hair in the air was enough to send Emery scurrying back to the house as soon as the last cookie was snatched off the tray.

  Lunch was a lively a
ffair with people joking and teasing as they ate. Emery sat next to Parker Princeton. The man ran a hunting and guide service in town, helped with odd jobs when the guide business was slow, and had been Hud’s best friend since their school years. From the way Parker glanced at Jossy, Emery couldn’t help but wonder if he had feelings for her. Rather than ask anyone about it, Emery kept her thoughts to herself.

  “So, how’s your community service work coming along?” Parker asked as he held a pan of enchiladas out to Emery.

  “Very well,” she said, giving him a smile as she helped herself to an enchilada, then took the pan and passed it along. “I’ve really enjoyed working at City Hall.”

  Parker gave her a studying glance. “You like being stuck in there, digging through old junk and papers?”

  Emery smiled. “It’s a lot of fun, and I love learning more about Summer Creek and the families who’ve been here for years. I can’t help but think every building holds a bit of history, every piece of land a story, and every home a wealth of memories.”

  Parker leaned close and pointed out people who were there for the branding. All but five of them belonged to the families who’d founded the town. Emery felt awed their roots that ran so deep in Summer Creek.

  After lunch, she helped Nell with the mountain of dishes. As soon as she finished, Cricket begged to go outside to watch. When Nell finally agreed it was fine, the little girl insisted on putting on a little pair of chaps, a tiny pair of spurs, and a cowboy hat.

  Emery thought she looked adorable and used Nell’s phone to snap several photos of Cricket. She sent a photo to her folks and one to Uncle Henry and Aunt Jenny. Not wanting to be the only one wearing tennis shoes, Emery rushed up to her room and tugged on the pair of cowboy boots Aunt Jenny had sent along when Emery had first come to Summer Creek. The square-toe boots were plain brown with a thick sole, meant for work, not fashion. Although not many opportunities to wear them had arisen the past weeks, other than the few times she’d gone horseback riding with Hud, Emery had worn them enough to know they were comfortable and serviceable.