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

by Shanna Hatfield

  While she was busy filling out paperwork, she also had time for introspection. Emery didn’t necessarily like the picture of herself she saw with unwavering clarity. She’d always been spoiled, selfish, and self-centered. She’d never taken responsibility for her actions, and had rarely expected any consequences for her choices.

  Although she never wanted to repeat the experience, she was almost glad Officer Tipton had arrested her. That one incident, that one moment in time, sent her down a path far, far different than any she would have chosen for herself, but one that had brought such joy into her life.

  Emery felt like a completely different person than she’d been two months ago when she arrived in Summer Creek. The girl she was then seemed almost like a stranger to her now—one she didn’t want to know.

  It was a wonder Hud hadn’t taken one look at her and refused to allow her in the house, let alone stay for as long as he had. She’d been so full of herself, so certain she’d been mistreated by her father and uncle for abandoning her in Summer Creek. Yet, it had been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  Not only had she found herself, and what she considered her true calling, she’d fallen in love.

  The other night, when Hud looked at her across the room with such longing in his eyes, she’d been so weak in the knees that she’d leaned against the wall for support. He’d been so close, so incredibly close, to kissing her when Steve Park brought Cricket home, that Emery had battled the urge to stamp her foot in frustration when the doorbell interrupted them.

  Since then, there hadn’t been any opportunities to be alone with Hud. If Cricket wasn’t with them, it seemed Nell, Jossy, or one of the neighbors acted as an unwitting chaperone.

  Emery knew it was for the best since she’d eventually have to return to Portland. She hated to think about that day, though.

  She’d be the first to admit she missed malls, coffee shops, and hair salons. The convenience of having everything she wanted at her fingertips or available nearby was a luxury she’d taken for granted. And there were days she missed her big walk-in closet and trips to the spa.

  But in Summer Creek, she got wide open spaces, beautiful sunrises and sunsets, fresh air, true friendships, a child who made her feel like she could conquer anything, a man she loved with every breath she drew in, and a reason to bounce out of bed in the morning.

  Emery finished submitting another grant application online and glanced at her watch. She wanted to get a sign up on the highway as soon as possible. Until the historical society had some funding coming in, they were working with less than a shoestring budget. Emery would have gladly purchased anything that was needed, but she’d spent every penny she had until her next paycheck to buy the buildings.

  The mayor had told her the first order of business as the chair of the historical society should be to make sure she reimbursed herself. Emery had no intention of doing that. She wanted to contribute the buildings to the town and newly formed historical society.

  She’d talked Nell into serving on the board along with the mayor. Heidi Nelson from the grocery store, Liam Lake from Sugar Loaf Electric, and Margie McCall, sister to Maudie who owned the diner, also volunteered to serve on the board. They’d held a meeting and discussed details, gone over Emery’s plans, and agreed to move forward in attempting to get the buildings listed on the national historic registry.

  They also agreed it would be a good idea to go through each building and list the repairs needed. The mayor volunteered to get in touch with the town’s handyman as well as the local insurance office to see what sort of coverage would be needed.

  Details Emery hadn’t thought about, hadn’t considered, threatened to overwhelm her, but each member of the board brought something to the table that proved beneficial. The board unanimously agreed to leave Emery in charge and suggested the city donate an office space at City Hall for Emery to use. She wouldn’t have minded working out of the library or basement, but the mayor assured her there was an office space available on the main floor, at least there would be when he had one of the public works employees clean out everything that had been stored there for years.

  Emery would have cleaned it out herself, but she’d been too busy with grant proposals, researching other towns with historic districts, and avoiding Hud.

  Each time she got within sight of him, her breath caught in her chest, she felt like the world had upended itself, and she experienced an overpowering longing to step into the circle of his arms where she instinctively knew she’d feel safe. Cherished. And possibly even loved.

  To keep from surrendering to her feelings for him, feelings she wasn’t sure would ever be reciprocated, especially when she returned to her life in Portland, she tried to stay so busy she wouldn’t have time to think about him. No time to consider Hud’s magnificent physique, his teasing smile, or his kind eyes. He truly had the kindest eyes of any man she’d ever met, not to mention that expressive way he could communicate just by lifting an eyebrow.

  Speech eluded her when she returned to the ranch yesterday to find he’d gone to visit Mitch at the barbershop and had his beautiful black curls cut off. She’d almost cried at the thought of never running her fingers through them, but the short haircut made him look even more rugged. After studying him for a few moments, she’d decided she was rather glad he’d gotten a trim.

  About to lose herself to her daydreams of the cute cowboy, she turned off the computer in the library where she’d been working, flicked off the lights, and decided to see about making a sign for the highway. How hard could it be? The mayor told her there were old signs in the public works storage building she could repaint. The family who owned the property where she wanted to place the sign had given permission for it to be installed.

  Emery smiled as she walked outside into the beautiful spring afternoon and breathed in the perfumed air. A row of lilacs bloomed on the back side of the old hotel and filled the surrounding area with a fabulous fragrance.

  Content and warmed by the sunshine, she decided to walk to the public works storage building. She knew it was located down Fifth Avenue, on the other side of the railroad tracks. Technically, she wasn’t sure it was within city limits, not that it mattered.

  She crossed Main Street and turned onto Fifth Avenue. Whitey’s was across the street, and she waved at Tassie as the girl pumped gas into Barbara Miller’s car. Amused she’d been in town long enough to recognize not only people, but also their cars, children, and pets, Emery knew that would never happen in Portland.

  Mrs. Russell, whose husband owned the junk store, waved as she walked her ginormous dog, a Caucasian shepherd named Buddy, down the block. The woman was a bit eccentric with spiked purple hair and a tendency to wear neon colors, but she was friendly and always had something nice to say whenever Emery stopped by Russell’s Antiques and Treasures.

  If Emery had her own place to live and more funds than was currently in her account in the local bank, she would have spent far too much money in the store. Most people in town referred to it as a junk store, but hidden among the unwanted lava lamps and stacks of encyclopedias were gorgeous antiques.

  Last week, someone had brought in an antique china dinner set. Knowing how much she loved old dishes, Mrs. Russell had called to let Emery know she should come see it. When she had, she’d wanted the set so badly, she could picture herself having tea parties with her children and grandchildren. The exquisite china pieces were from the late 1800s and featured gold trim surrounding delicate forget-me-not flowers.

  Those little flowers spoke to her heart in a way hardly anything else had.

  Forget-me-not.

  That’s what Emery wanted—to be remembered, and not for doing something stupid, but because she’d earned the respect of others and contributed something of value, of importance. That was part of the reason she was so determined to make the tours of the old buildings a success. If her plan worked, then the town could start focusing on other ways to bring tourists and new businesses t
o town.

  A bump against her leg brought her back to the moment. She glanced down at Ethel the goat. Big brown eyes intently studied her. Hesitantly, Emery reached out and rubbed a hand between the goat’s ears then along her neck. Ethel bumped against her again, as though she let Emery know she enjoyed the attention.

  “You like that, girl?” Emery asked, as she continued to scratch the goat’s neck and back. With no warning, the goat made a bleating noise, then scampered off toward Main Street.

  Emery brushed off her hands as she walked down the quiet street and glanced over at two tiny houses the mayor had built on a strip of land he owned near the railroad tracks. Emery bet the houses weren’t more than five-hundred square feet, but they were cute cottages. One of them, he rented to a member of the public works crew who was young and single. The second house, he kept available for short-term stays, almost like a bed and breakfast, minus the meals and charm.

  As she crossed the railroad tracks, she thought of Hud, and how little he’d been when he’d lost his parents. It wasn’t any wonder he avoided railroad crossings. What a sad, terrible tragedy. At least he’d had his grandparents, though, and Jossy. For all the losses they’d weathered, the two siblings were well rounded, not horribly scarred by their life experiences.

  It just seemed so strange to Emery that both of them had lost a spouse. Granted, Hud’s wife would have soon been an ex-wife, but still, it was odd, especially since they had both been so young. Jossy had lost her husband two years ago to heart failure. Nell had mentioned it had been a hard time for Jossy, and she was just now getting her feet back under her.

  Emery couldn’t help but wonder if Hud’s sister was aware of how much Parker Princeton seemed to like her. Maybe Parker thought it was too awkward to pursue his feelings for her since he was Hud’s best friend. Perhaps Emery could look into doing a little matchmaking before she moved back to Portland. The thought of finagling ways to throw Jossy and Parker together made her mind spin with possibilities as she arrived at the storage building.

  No one was there, but the mayor told her she could go in and pick out a sign if she saw one that would work. Emery wound her way past big pieces of equipment, including a hulking snowplow, to the back of the storage building where signs were stacked against the wall. She found one the right size and tugged it free from the stack, then wished she’d driven her pickup instead of walking since the sign was much heavier than she anticipated.

  She glanced around at the paint cans lined up on a shelf. The mayor told her to use whatever she needed, but she couldn’t pack the sign and paint back to her pickup. The simplest way to get the work completed would be to paint the sign there. She found a paint-splattered tarp on the shelf and placed it on the floor with the paint, then laid the sign on top of it. It didn’t take her long to paint the entire sign bright white, giving her a clean slate on which to work.

  While the paint dried, she hurried back to City Hall and got her pickup, then parked it outside the public works building. She was just sliding off the pickup seat when her cell phone buzzed.

  A glance at the caller ID made her quick to answer. “Hey, Hud. What’s going on?” She walked inside the building that now carried a strong smell of paint. She looked around and located the button to open the big garage-style door that allowed the pieces of equipment to enter and exit the building. The door squeaked and squealed in protest as it rolled upward.

  “What is that noise?” Hud asked.

  “The big door on the public works storage building. I’m painting a sign, but the fumes are a bit strong.”

  “A sign? Is that the one you mentioned placing out where the road to the mountain veers away from the road into town?”

  “The very one,” Emery said with a smile. “The mayor told me I could use one of the old street signs and repaint it, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m fairly certain you didn’t call to listen to me talk about a sign. Do you need me to pick up something on my way home?”

  “No. I, um … I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, how your day was going.”

  Taken aback by his thoughtfulness, Emery remained silent for a moment. “That’s very kind of you, Hud, and very much appreciated. It’s been a good day so far. I’ll head back to the ranch when I finish painting the sign.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you later.” Hud disconnected the call.

  Emery stared at her phone for the length of several heartbeats, wondering what inspired him to call her. He never called her just to chat. Then again, she’d hardly given him a reason to. She’d barely said more than a few sentences to him since the night of their almost-kiss. It was a wonder he had any interest in talking to her at all.

  Introspective as she picked up a can of dark blue paint, she pictured how she wanted the sign to look, the wording, and where to place it.

  She started painting, lost in her thoughts of Hud instead of the project at hand. When she surveyed her work, it was only to realize the base paint had bubbled and in other places ran, carrying the blue-painted words into messy smears.

  “Ugh!” Frustrated with herself, she wanted to kick the paint can.

  “Emery!” a familiar voice called from the doorway.

  She looked up to see Cricket racing toward her with Hud close behind his daughter.

  Appalled at the idea of him seeing what a mess she’d made of things, she had nothing to do but greet him with paint-covered hands and a watery smile.

  “The whole painting-a-sign thing seemed so much easier in my head,” she joked, but her voice cracked. Emotion welled within her because of all the things she’d failed at, not just painting the sign. All the times Hud had seen her at her worse. All the things she’d bungled, broken, or destroyed since she’d been in Summer Creek.

  A tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another.

  “Cricket, would you go to the pickup and see if I left the radio on? I don’t want to run the battery down,” Hud said over his shoulder to his daughter as he moved in front of Emery.

  They both knew he hadn’t left the radio playing, but it gave her a moment to attempt to gather her composure without the little girl pelting her with questions.

  To his credit, Hud didn’t run away or ignore her tears. He moved in front of her, lifted his hands, and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “What’s wrong, Em?”

  “I’m just such a … failure. Every time I try to do something, I only mess it up. What if this whole crazy idea of mine goes up in smoke, and I end up costing the town money and time with those old buildings?”

  Much to her delighted surprise, Hud pulled her against him and gave her a warm, comforting hug. “Don’t cry, Emery. It’s just a sign, and it can be repainted. It seems to me you’ve done a great job so far with the historical society. No one can predict whether tourists will come, but the one thing you’ve done no one else has been able to do for years is to give the residents of Summer Creek hope. That’s not an insignificant thing. It’s a huge thing. Don’t discredit yourself or what you’ve accomplished since you’ve been here.”

  Silent, she rested her head against his chest. His heart thumped with a steady rhythm beneath her ear, making her long to stay there forever, encircled by his strong arms and surrounded by his care and kindness.

  “The radio isn’t on, Daddy!” Cricket called. The sound of the pickup door slamming and her footsteps heading toward them forced Emery to draw back and hastily wipe away her tears.

  Hud eyed her curiously, as though he wanted to make certain she would be okay, as he picked up Cricket to keep her from getting into the wet paint.

  “I’m fine, and thank you,” Emery whispered, stepping away to put the lid back on the open paint can. “You think we can really fix this mess?”

  “I know someone who is good with paint. If you give me an idea of what you want on the sign, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

  “Thank you, Hud. You’re always here when I need you most.” The words she spoke rang with truth. H
ud had been so gentle with her, so kind, even when it was clear he had no interest in her staying at the ranch when she first arrived. Somewhere along the way, they’d become friends. In truth, Hud was probably the closest she’d ever come to having a best friend, in spite of the girls who’d claimed that title over the years.

  The look he gave her held questions she wasn’t ready to answer, wasn’t in a position to address.

  With a brief nod to her, he picked up the sign and carried it along with Cricket back to his pickup.

  Emery stood with paint-flecked hands, watching him drive away with both the sign and her heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hud expelled a weary sigh as he rode Ajax up to the barn. With his sister’s and grandmother’s assistance, he’d spent all day moving cattle into the summer pasture he owned about six miles from the ranch. The rain that fell most of the day left him cold, wet, hungry, and tired.

  His sister had been a trooper and stuck it out the whole day, even if she had taken a shortcut to her place rather than riding all the way back to his and then across the road to the Lazy J Ranch. The ranch dogs had stayed on task all day, too.

  However, when the drizzle of rain had turned into a downpour, he’d insisted Nell return to the house before she caught pneumonia. Her ready agreement to go home reminded him that his grandmother was getting older.

  After leaving Ajax in a stall with fresh bedding and feed, Hud gave Wrigley and Gizmo a few minutes of special attention and a few treats, grateful for the well-trained dogs.

  He hurried through the evening chores before dragging himself inside the house. The aroma of something yeasty blended with a beefy fragrance, making his stomach growl with hunger. He hoped what he smelled meant his grandmother had made her rich, beef stew with homemade rolls for dinner.

  “Daddy?” Cricket called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

  “Who else would it be?” Humor edged the exhaustion from his voice as he removed his mud-splattered chaps and boots, hung up his jacket and hat, then yanked off his damp shirt and socks and tossed them into the hamper.