And there it was. That unexpected candor that had drawn her to Hank just as much as his broad shoulders and rugged good looks. His raw honesty was far more revealing than the swim trunks he’d been wearing the day before, and every bit as appealing. It was also enough to defuse some of her anger and make her look at the situation from his side. Hadn’t she made some assumptions of her own when Hank no showed? Hadn’t she immediately pictured him out with another woman? Ditching her for someone else—someone sexier and more seductive—the way Chad had?
Even so... She stomped back into her boots with a little more force than necessary. “I can’t believe you thought I was...trawling for a date on my honeymoon.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I thought. My head was filled with all kinds of doubts and that was before I found out you were staying in the honeymoon suite. And then when I saw the dinner cart and the card—but I should have at least called to cancel.”
“Yes, you should have,” Gemma retorted as she pushed away from the rocky ledge. But in the face of his open-book admission, she had to confess, “It would have saved me from thinking you’d stood me up to go out with another woman.”
Hank stared at her without speaking long enough for Gemma to feel even more uncomfortable. Considering her clothes were soaked and she was standing in a pair of muddy boots, that was saying something.
Feeling completely vulnerable, Gemma turned away, but Hank caught her by the arm. His grip was warm and firm even through the soaked material. She could have pulled away but stood still instead, held in place more by the tingles of pleasure radiating out from his touch than by the strength of his hand.
She didn’t turn back to face him, though, which only allowed Hank to step close behind her. She could feel the heat from his body against her chilled back as he leaned down to confess in her ear, “There isn’t a woman at Maverick Manor—hell, in the state of Montana—that I would want to have dinner with rather than you.” The husky murmur, combined with the whisper of breath against her neck, sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold water seeping through her clothes.
And oh, how her feminine pride and wounded ego wanted to believe him!
Pulling away before she melted right at his feet, she turned and asked, “Not even Janie?”
Hank smiled, but the intensity in his gaze never wavered as he said, “Janie doesn’t count. She’s a girl, not a woman.”
* * *
And no doubt about it, Gemma Chapman was all woman.
Hank was all too aware of that fact—even before she lifted a slender hand to the silver tab at the center of her chest and unzipped the jacket she was wearing. His jaw dropped just as fast at the thin white tank top and luscious curves that were suddenly revealed.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“This jacket is soaked,” she said even as she peeled the wet material from her arms and did her best to wring out the water.
“Yeah, well, so are your pants.”
She shot him a wry smirk at that. “Don’t get your hopes up, cowboy.” She knotted the sleeves of the jacket around her waist with a sharp tug. “I’m keeping them on.”
As she set her hands on her hips, Hank had to drag his gaze from the swell of her breasts beneath the tank top’s scooped neckline. Thank goodness her jacket had taken the brunt of her fall in the creek. Just the idea of Gemma in some kind of wilderness wet T-shirt contest was enough to have him breaking out in a sweat.
“So, how do we get back up there?” she asked as she looked up at the steep incline leading back to the trail.
“Same way we came down...only a lot slower.” Taking the lead, Hank climbed up a few steps. He wedged his feet into the damp earth before he held out a hand. “Come on. You can do this.”
Gemma sucked in a deep breath as she put her hand in his, and they started to make their way to the footpath above. He was right. The going was slow, and she slipped more than a few times, the air escaping from her lungs in a gasp and her fingers clenching around his wrist. When he asked if she wanted to stop for a break, she waved him off.
She was determined—he’d give her that—though completely out of her element. City girl through and through with her expensive workout clothes and ridiculous excuse for boots.
“Like you said...we can do this.”
Actually, he’d said that she could do it. Hank hadn’t felt the need to include himself in the reassurance. He’d walked farther distances and climbed steeper hills—often in knee-deep snow or with an injured calf over his shoulders.
But even so, there was something about the sound of that word that he liked. A long time had passed since his name had been linked with a woman’s—and never with a woman like Gemma Chapman.
She was tougher than she looked, but more vulnerable, too.
Her beauty made it hard for him to believe she would ever have any doubt about her appeal, but her worry, even if only for a moment, that he had stood her up for another woman revealed an unexpected insecurity.
A triumphant grin lifted her lips as she climbed the final step back onto the path. A slight flush colored her cheeks and a few tendrils had slipped from her tidy ponytail to frame her face. “Yes! Success!”
Hank might have thought she’d just scaled Granite Peak by her exuberant fist pump, and he wasn’t about to ruin her moment. He figured any woman going on a honeymoon alone deserved something to celebrate.
Laughter drifted through the trees, and he guessed they had less than a minute before the kids and the Maverick Manor guide circled back their way. He caught Gemma’s arm as she turned toward the sound. She glanced back, a question in her green eyes. The feel of her soft skin beneath his hand short-circuited his brain long enough for his unguarded expression to give her some kind of answer judging by the sudden, swift breath she took.
“I am sorry about last night,” he finally managed to say, “but I meant what I said. There isn’t another woman I want to go out with.”
“In all of Montana,” Gemma murmured.
“What?”
“You said there isn’t another woman in all of Montana you want to go out with.”
“That’s right.”
A faint hint of pink touched her cheeks, and she met his gaze with a challenging lift to her eyebrows. “You do realize Montana is one of the least populated states.”
“You don’t make things easy on a guy, do you?”
Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “I think I’ve made things way too easy on guys in the past.”
Guys like the fool in New York who had let her walk away.
“There’s something you should know about real cowboys,” he told her. “We aren’t afraid of hard work. Let me prove that by making last night up to you.”
“How?”
“By showing you a bit of real life in Rust Creek Falls.”
Chapter Four
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a store where you can buy groceries, clothes and garden supplies all in one trip,” Gemma said the following morning as she gazed around Crawford’s General Store.
The redbrick building did indeed carry all those goods and more, and just like that, Hank’s brilliant idea suddenly seemed like the stupidest one ever. His daughter’s fascination with Gemma’s wardrobe, along with her comment about him being a real cowboy, had given Hank the idea to take Gemma shopping for some genuine Western wear before they went riding. But unlike his suddenly fashion-conscious daughter, Hank didn’t know designer labels from the ones his mom used to sew into his clothes when he was a kid.
He should have taken her into Kalispell, where they at least had a mall. The jeans and button-down shirts would all be off-the-rack and nothing fancy, but at least there they wouldn’t be stockpiled at the end of an aisle containing oversize bags of dog food on one side and an assortment of leather work gloves on the other.
; “Hey, Hank!” An excited female voice called out. “Can I help you find something?”
Hank swore beneath his breath. Something else the Kalispell stores wouldn’t have, he thought to himself as he turned and met the wide-eyed, not-so-innocent stare of Natalie Crawford. The youngest Crawford, Natalie, along with her older sister, Nina, frequently worked at the family store.
Unlike Nina, who was happily married to Dallas Traub and raising a handful of kids, Natalie was still single and something of a flirt. Not that Hank ever took her seriously. No one took Natalie seriously. Everyone in town knew she had a penchant for causing trouble and seeking attention. With her big blue eyes, blond hair and curvy figure, she had a way of attracting both.
Normally Hank took the way she liked to give him a hard time as part of the service provided by Crawford’s. But today he really, really wished Nina had been the one manning the aisles.
“I think we’re good, Nat,” he told her, not that she listened.
“Yeah, seems to me like you’ve got your hands full already,” she mused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“Um, hi.” Holding out her hand with a friendly smile, Gemma introduced herself. “I’m here on vacation and wanted to do some shopping while I’m in town.”
“Well, I can tell you right now, you’re not gonna find anything like that—” Natalie gave a wave at Gemma’s sheer blouse and black leggings “—in Rust Creek Falls.”
“I’m actually looking for something that would help me blend in a little.”
Hank didn’t think that was possible. Or necessary. What he’d seen of her wardrobe so far was very Gemma—sexy, sophisticated and very big city. But he couldn’t expect her to go riding without something far more casual to wear.
Natalie gave a small snort. “Why blend in when you can stand out? And around here, you will definitely stand out.”
“We’re going riding, Nat, so Gemma needs some boots, a pair of jeans and some kind of shirt.” Turning to Gemma, he said, “I don’t figure we’ll be out too late, but if you start to get cold, you can always borrow my jacket.”
“Aw, isn’t that sweet?” Natalie interjected. “Giving Gemma your jacket... I think that means you’re goin’ steady.”
Before Hank could protest, though he had no idea what he might say to discourage Natalie, the blonde started grabbing items off the shelves and shoving them into a startled Gemma’s arms. “But you’re not just going riding, right? I mean, Rust Creek Falls doesn’t have much nightlife, but you’ll want to have dinner at Maverick Manor, maybe shoot some pool over at the Ace in the Hole.”
“I’ve never played pool before,” Gemma confessed, as if admitting some deep, dark secret.
“Seriously? I thought big-city girls had all the experience, right, Hank?” Natalie flashed a wink at him before holding up a shirt and eyeballing Gemma. She added it to the growing pile in Gemma’s arms and told her, “But hey, if you have a free night, let me know. I can show you some tricks, and we’ll have a blast.”
Hank did not want to be thinking about Gemma’s experience or Natalie’s tricks. He rubbed a sudden ache growing between his eyebrows. Why the hell hadn’t he taken Gemma to the mall in Kalispell? “Neither of you should be going to the Ace in the Hole on your own,” he insisted.
Single guys would be tripping all over themselves watching the beautiful blonde and the gorgeous brunette leaning over the green-felt table and lining up shots. He could just imagine some rowdy cowboy offering to help. Pressing up against Gemma, his arms around hers as he guided her hands along the pool stick...
Hank roughly reined in his imagination as the temperature in Crawford’s General Store jumped about a hundred degrees.
“Oh, please, Hank! I already have four big brothers. Last thing I need is another one,” Natalie argued. “What about you, Gemma?”
“Um, no brothers to speak of—big or otherwise. I’m an only child.”
Natalie sighed. “Must be nice. All the attention, not to mention all the bathrooms to yourself.”
“Growing up wasn’t like that. At least not for me. I spent most of my childhood at a boarding school.”
Hank’s gut clenched as he tried to imagine sending Janie away for school and then clenched again as Gemma offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. As she lowered her lashes, Hank caught a glimpse of the girl she’d been—all big green eyes, long dark hair, skinny arms and legs, dressed in some ubiquitous plaid uniform—lonely and lost and far from her family.
But then she gave her hair a quick toss, as if shaking off the momentary vulnerability, and joked, “So I spent my days sharing the bathroom with dozens of girls.”
Natalie shuddered. “Worst nightmare ever! You have my complete sympathy. In fact—” she said as she slid Hank a not-so-subtle grin “—we should commiserate over a beer or two at the Ace in the Hole before you leave.”
“Well, we were supposed to go there the other night but...something came up,” Gemma finished but not before sliding a reproachful look his way, over the growing mound of clothing.
Okay, so not out of the doghouse yet. Well, he had told her he wasn’t afraid of hard work, and Gemma deserved to know she was worth the effort. But as Natalie glanced at him with a curious expression on her face, Hank felt the need to explain, “Janie had a headache.”
Natalie huffed out a sound as she went back to digging through the clothes like his dad’s old retriever burrowing through his mom’s vegetable garden. “At least it was Janie with the headache. Because when a woman gives a guy that excuse, it usually means... Well...” She stopped to give him a once-over over her shoulder. “I can’t imagine too many women round here giving you that kind of a brush-off, Hank.”
“Yeah, well, as it was pointed out to me recently, Montana is one of the least populated states.”
“Huh?”
He thought he heard Gemma give a small laugh, but he couldn’t tell for sure now that she was practically hidden by a pile of clothes that would last her for the next two years, forget the next week.
“Never mind, and I think we’re good, Nat...unless you’re hoping we’re going to buy out all of Crawford’s inventory.”
The blonde heaved a sigh that reminded Hank of his daughter, as well as the “you don’t know anything” eye roll to go with it. “No, I don’t expect Gemma to buy all this. First she has to try the clothes on.”
“Seriously?” He’d been shopping at Crawford’s for years. “You have a dressing room?”
“Of course we have a dressing room! How else would our customers be able to buy clothes?”
“Um, by size?”
This time Natalie wasn’t the only female giving an exasperated sigh. “Men,” Natalie said with a conspirator’s glance at Gemma. She grabbed his arm as she walked by. “Come on. Dressing rooms are back this way.”
As he found himself dragged down a hallway toward the employees-only area, Hank realized why he’d never spotted the rooms before. Natalie pushed aside a striped curtain and revealed a cubicle small enough that he would have banged both elbows had he ever felt the need to try a shirt on before buying it. A full-length mirror, a small bench and a single hook were the only amenities inside.
He half expected Gemma to turn up her nose at the space, but as she dumped the load of clothes onto the bench, a big smile lit her face. Holding up a sleeveless black-and-red checkered shirt against her torso, she grinned at him as their gazes met in the mirror. “What do you think? Does this say Montana cowgirl or is it too Pacific Northwest lumberjack?”
Realizing Gemma was about to take her clothes off, Hank’s thoughts stalled there, and he couldn’t quite get his mind to move forward fast enough to comment on what she’d be putting on instead. “Uh—”
Fortunately Natalie jumped in and said, “Try it on, and we’ll see.” After sliding the curtain closed with a flick of her wrist, she turned to fa
ce him with a smug smile. “’Bout time you got back in the saddle,” she murmured beneath her breath.
“I’m a rancher, Nat,” Hank deadpanned. “I’m in the saddle a good ten to twelve hours a day.”
“Not what I meant, and you know it,” she said in a singsong voice.
Hank did know it. He also knew he felt far more than a little uncomfortable standing right outside the dressing room. With the full-length curtain pulled closed, he couldn’t see anything. But he didn’t need to see to imagine Gemma sliding those leggings down her long, slender legs, pulling the loose blouse over her head and letting her long dark hair tumble over her bare shoulders and back... And he could hear the rustle of clothing that made everything he was picturing less like imagination and more like a reality that was one whisk of a curtain away.
He practically jumped when the jingling rings sailed across the metal rod.
“What do you think?”
Holy...
Hank didn’t know what he’d expected to see when Gemma pulled back that curtain. After all, at their first meeting she’d been wearing less material than it took to make a handkerchief. He knew how gorgeous she was. Sexy, sophisticated, big-city chic. Everything about that woman had exuded look but don’t touch. But this...
Skintight indigo denim hugged her long legs, skimming over every curve in a way that had his palms tingling to do the same. As his hungry gaze moved upward, he took in the sleeveless blouse she’d chosen. Not the checkered one she’d held up earlier, but a red bandanna print that showed off the toned muscles and smooth skin of her arms. And maybe there was something to be said for paying the big bucks for designer outfits because the maker of this shirt had clearly cut corners when it came to adding buttons. The material gaped in the center of her chest, revealing a hint of black lace along with the soft swell of her breasts.
This was girl next door...all grown up.
And all the reasons why Hank had told himself to keep his distance—the differences in their lives, in their locations, in his reluctance to risk his heart in any kind of relationship—seemed to have been brushed aside with one magical swipe of a dressing-room curtain.
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