The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart

by Stacy Connelly

  “Some of the kids are going on a fishing trip down by the creek. Besides,” she added with a hopeful look, “this way you and my dad can be alone. I know he really likes you.”

  “Do you think so?” Gemma cringed at the eager sound of her own voice. Good grief! Which one of them was the adolescent girl?

  Janie nodded. “I can tell. It’s like when my best friend Abby’s mom met Autry Jones. Abby just knew they would fall in love and get married. Now they’re all living in Paris.”

  “Oh, wow!” Stunned by that whirlwind explanation of a relationship and fearing what Janie might have in mind for her and Hank, Gemma said, “I, um... I’m not sure how your dad would like being a rancher in Paris.”

  “He’s not gonna go to Paris, silly!” Some of Janie’s excitement dimmed as the logistical reality of Gemma’s living in New York seemed to sink in. She hopped up from the bed, stumbling a bit in Gemma’s heels. “I just want him to be happy, you know? A few years ago, Homer Gilmore spiked the punch at a wedding, and after that a bunch of people got married. So I thought about seeing if he could put something in my dad’s coffee. But I’m not real sure where Mr. Gilmore lives, and he’s kinda scary.”

  “Janie!”

  “Then two years ago, Zach Dalton took out an ad in the newspaper for a wife, so I thought that’s what I should do for my dad.”

  Taking out a newspaper ad for a wife? Gemma might not have known Hank for very long, but she had no doubt the somewhat-stoic rancher would be mortified. But even worse was the thought of Janie seeking out some strange, kinda-scary old man to put some unknown substance in her father’s morning cup of joe!

  Leaning forward to meet the girl’s gaze, Gemma said, “Promise me you won’t contact the newspaper or Mr. Gilmore.”

  “I won’t have to.” Completely ignoring the dire warning in Gemma’s voice, the young girl beamed at her. “Because you’re here!”

  Chapter Five

  Hank couldn’t have picked a more beautiful morning for riding. The summer day was warm but with enough clouds in the big blue Montana sky to offer a break from the beaming sun. A cool breeze sifted through the trees and green grasses, carrying the scent of pine and clean mountain air. And Gemma was just as fresh and beautiful and breathtaking as the land he loved.

  They’d talked on the drive over, though Hank couldn’t have said about what. He’d been too busy trying to keep his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel instead of letting them roam all over the woman in the passenger seat. She was wearing one of the outfits from her shopping spree at Crawford’s the day before, though not the one that had brought tears to her eyes and nearly brought him to his knees.

  She’d wanted to ride with the window down, unconcerned by the way the wind was whipping through her ponytail. The faded denim jeans fit her like a glove, and the pink-and-white checkered Western shirt had enough pearl snaps to keep her covered and to keep him sane. He was glad to see she’d changed out her dangling earrings for a sparkling pair of diamond studs. The likelihood of the jewelry getting caught on something was small, but this was Gemma’s first ride, and he would do everything to keep her safe.

  As they rounded a curve in the road, Hank spotted a familiar horse trailer parked along a turnout to one of the many hiking trails around Rust Creek Falls. He’d asked one of his hands, Russell Neal, to load up two of his best horses, and the younger man stood holding the reins of the already saddled rides.

  “Hey, boss.” The young hand grinned as he handed over the reins, freeing up his right hand to tip his hat toward Gemma. “Ma’am.”

  “Ma’am...” Gemma imitated Russell’s deep drawl and then gave a laugh. “You cowboys and your manners.” Holding out her hand, she said, “I’m Gemma Chapman.”

  Russell quirked a grin as his large hand engulfed her small, delicate one. “Ma’am,” he repeated to Gemma’s delight.

  Hank gritted his teeth at his employee’s obvious flirting. In his early twenties, Russell was still sowing his oats, picking up part-time work on ranches while trying to find fame and fortune on the rodeo circuit. The kid worked hard—Hank would give him that—but he was also a bit reckless and wild, out for excitement and adventure.

  All of which made him too young for Gemma, and all of which made Hank wonder if he wasn’t too old.

  “Daylight’s wasting,” he said abruptly, putting a sudden end to Russell’s down-home charm.

  “Yessir.” With a final tip of his hat to Gemma, Russell confirmed he’d be back to pick up the horses in a few hours. The truck rumbled off, the low-pitched hum and smell of diesel fading as the trailer rounded the bend in the highway.

  He turned back to find Gemma studying him with a concerned gaze. The midmorning breeze picked up, sweeping her ponytail over one shoulder so the feathered ends rested against the curve of her breast. “Hank, are you sure about this?”

  Not about one damn thing... And if there was anything he hated, it was not knowing where he stood. He’d felt that way through most of his marriage, once he realized that Anne was never getting over Dan Stockton and that her relationship—and the man himself—would never be part of the past.

  And now here he was with Gemma. A woman unlike anyone he’d met before, fresh from what he assumed was a painful breakup, on a honeymoon for one with all of New York City waiting for her back home.

  “It’s just a horseback ride,” he said as much to reassure himself as to smooth over whatever worries Gemma might harbor.

  But as it turned out, her worries had traveled a very different path. “I know, but Russell had to take time out of his day to haul the horses out here, and it’s not like you own a riding stable. I’m sure these horses have more important jobs than going on a pleasure ride. I don’t want any of the other men to be shorthanded. Or...would that be short-hooved?”

  “Short-hooved?” he echoed with a laugh he quickly smothered when he realized Gemma was serious.

  Everyone in Rust Creek Falls knew Hank had turned the Bar H into one of the most successful ranches in the area, but of course Gemma wasn’t from Rust Creek Falls. Even though Janie had gone on in embarrassing length about how successful he was, Gemma didn’t seem to understand how many hands and hooves worked the ranch.

  The big bay stallion, Hondo, was Hank’s own horse, the one he rode for work and pleasure. And the palomino with the pale streak beneath its forelock... “This is Lightning,” he said by way of introduction. “He belonged to my mother.” The big gelding was too old for ranch work, but his mother had loved that horse. “He’s retired now, but he’ll always have a home at the Bar H.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Gemma’s lovely features softened into a tender smile women usually reserved for cooing over chubby-cheeked babies and fluff-ball kittens.

  “Yeah, that’s me all right,” he muttered, feeling like he’d heard that statement his whole life.

  Nice-guy Hank Harlow.

  “He’s gorgeous, but are you sure you don’t have a smaller horse I could ride? Maybe one pony-sized and possibly with training wheels?”

  One corner of Hank’s mouth hitched up in a half smile. “Lightning’s just big-boned.” He ran his hand down the side of the large horse’s neck. “But he’s also as steady as they come. You could set off firecrackers at his feet and he wouldn’t move a hoof.”

  “Tell me we won’t be putting that to the test today.”

  “Not a chance. Just letting you know you’re safe with him.” Hank might not know how to laugh and flirt like one of his ranch hands, but he knew horses and he knew how to protect the people around him. Checking on one of the straps holding the saddle in place, he gruffly added, “You’re safe with me.”

  * * *

  You’re safe with me.

  Gemma knew that. Down to her bones. Everything about Hank Harlow spoke of integrity and respect. She trusted him to keep her safe. That trust just hadn’t transfe
rred to the thousand-pound horse standing in front of her yet.

  But part of her honeymoon for one was about taking chances and doing what she wanted to do. And riding a horse was something she wanted to do. In theory. The reality was a bit more daunting than she’d expected.

  “You don’t have to go through with this, you know,” Hank told her.

  “But you went to so much trouble...”

  Gemma’s voice trailed off as she realized how closely the words echoed the conversation she’d had when she told her mother about Chad’s cheating. Only, Gemma had been the one to say she couldn’t go through with the marriage, and her mother had pointed out all the trouble—and expense—she and Gemma’s stepfather had gone through in paying for the wedding.

  As if that was a bigger concern than exchanging vows to love, honor and cherish with a cheating louse who couldn’t keep it in his pants in the days leading up to the ceremony!

  But as Gregory Chapman’s stepdaughter, Gemma had very much been about silently going with the flow and not making waves.

  “No trouble,” Hank insisted.

  “But the horses...”

  “It’s no trouble,” he repeated with the same infinite patience he showed when Janie had asked him at least a half dozen times in the span of fifteen minutes about all they had planned.

  And just like he had said then, he added, “It’s your vacation, Gem. Anything you want.”

  And oh, wasn’t that a dangerous suggestion! His deep voice murmuring the shortened version of her name and his offer of anything sent a shiver down her spine.

  “I want to do this. I do.” Trying to keep the butterflies at bay, she joked, “After all, I’ve got the outfit and the boots and everything.”

  Hank’s lips tipped up at the corners at her adamant statement. “You had the bathing suit, too.”

  “What?”

  “At the pool,” he reminded her, “you had the bathing suit, but you never went in the water.”

  “I stuck my feet in,” she argued. And she had. At the steps in the shallow end. Which suddenly seemed so pathetic. Was that what she really wanted? To spend her life in the shallow end? Afraid of taking chances, of making waves?

  No. At least not anymore. If it was, then she would have married Chad. After all, she already had the dress and the heels and everything.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped toward the horse and reached for the handle-thingy on the saddle.

  “Whoa, there, Annie Oakley.” Hank caught her with a muscled arm around the waist before she could try to hike her way up onto the huge horse. His breath was warm and his voice amused as he murmured into her ear, “Buy a guy a drink first, would ya?”

  “Oh, I, um, guess I was rushing things?”

  “It’s your first time, so you want to take things easy. And remember, we’ve got all day.”

  Okay, they were still talking about riding horses...weren’t they? With his muscled arm wrapped around her waist, Gemma could think of a few other firsts. Like turning in his arms and feeling that first whisper of breath, that first brush of his lips against hers, that first taste of him on her tongue.

  “You want to take a minute to get to know the horse first.”

  “Oh, right.” So they really were still talking about horseback riding.

  “Here.” Taking her hand in his, he guided her palm along the horse’s neck. The animal’s coat was warm and bristly beneath her palm. When Lightning snorted and tossed his head with a jingle of the reins, Gemma would have jumped back, but with Hank standing behind her, she had nowhere to go.

  “Easy,” he murmured, and Gemma didn’t know if he was talking to her or to the horse. She wasn’t even sure it mattered, as her nerves had calmed. Lightning glanced at her with the biggest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen, a soulful sweetness shining out from the chocolate-brown depths.

  She reached out again, this time without Hank to guide her. “Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you just a gorgeous guy?”

  The horse nickered again, and this time Gemma laughed softly as the animal almost seemed to nod in agreement. “Of course you are. And you’ve already heard my deep, dark secret. Probably seems silly to you, doesn’t it? That I’ve never ridden a horse before. I planned this whole Wild West vacation so I could do all the things I’d dreamed of doing, but—sometimes things don’t work out the way you plan.”

  Though Gemma stood facing the horse with Hank at her back, she could sense his stillness. Because of course she hadn’t simply planned a vacation. She’d planned a honeymoon. She’d planned a wedding. She’d planned to be married.

  Nothing in her extensive plans had her standing in the arms of a Montana rancher.

  Unwittingly, Gemma’s hand paused along the horse’s warm neck, and she started when the animal swung his large head toward her and nudged her arm.

  Hank chuckled. “Lightning can be a bit pushy when it comes to what he wants.”

  “What does he want?” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder.

  “What any guy wants,” he murmured. “The attention of a beautiful woman.”

  * * *

  They rode through rolling green hills and towering trees and along a sparkling stream on a mountain trail that Hank said would lead to the waterfall the town was named after. Gemma tried to enjoy the glorious scenery, but her entire attention was focused on staying in the saddle.

  Despite Hank’s patient instruction to loosen up her knees, relax her back and rock her hips in time with Lightning’s rhythm, she felt more like she was bouncing on a pogo stick than riding a horse.

  “You’re doing great!” he encouraged as he rode next to her, so fluid and natural astride Hondo that he looked like he was born to it. And so effortlessly masculine and sexy that Gemma’s mouth went dry. “You feeling okay?”

  She might have nodded, but with the way her head was bobbing up and down along with the rest of her body, she figured Hank wouldn’t even be able to tell. “Great,” she said, her voice bouncing in time with her backside hitting the leather saddle.

  Hank laughed. “Don’t worry. It takes a while to find your seat.”

  Gemma didn’t think she’d have any trouble finding her seat. She had a good idea that it would be black-and-blue, and the bruises there would certainly be making themselves known. She stared out over the beautiful landscape, but she couldn’t quite swallow the lump of disappointment lodged in her throat. “I’m awful at this.”

  After only about fifteen minutes, Hank reined Hondo to a stop and Lightning immediately slowed as well. So that was it. Her great horseback-riding adventure was ending in failure. Maybe she’d built the whole thing up in her mind too much. Seen too many romantic movies with handsome cowboys and their bold, brave cowgirls riding across wide-open meadows. Perhaps if she’d learned as a child, the way Janie likely had, then things might have been different. But now it was too late to learn, too late to change.

  Did she really think anything would be different when she went back home? Back to her high-rent apartment, back to her designer wardrobe, back to her sixty-hour workweeks. Or would she simply fall back into the same routine that should have made her happy and proud and fulfilled...and yet didn’t?

  Blinking back ridiculous tears, Gemma forced herself to meet Hank’s gaze and braced herself for some “city girl” comment. Sure enough, he cocked one of his eyebrows the same way he had when he called her out on staying in the shallow end of the pool. “Quitting already?”

  Her jaw dropped. “Me? You’re the one who stopped. I figured you’d...given up on me.”

  The smile slid from his face as he dismounted. He kept Hondo’s reins in one hand as he walked over to Lightning’s side.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he slipped her boot from first one stirrup and then the other.

  “Trying something new.” And before she had
any idea what he intended, he swung up into the saddle behind her. Gemma barely had time to gasp, as she was suddenly plastered up against Hank’s solid body, her back to his chest, her thighs running alongside his, his arm bracketed low across her hips.

  “And for the record,” he murmured into her ear as he kicked the horse into motion, Hondo walking beside them, his reins in Hank’s hands, “we’re just getting started.”

  * * *

  A half hour and what felt to Gemma like a hundred miles later, Hank pulled both horses to a stop at the sparkling falls. He swung down first and then reached back up to help her from the saddle. This time they ended up pressed chest to chest as she slid down Hank’s body until her feet touched the ground.

  “Easy there,” he murmured as she stumbled, her legs suddenly feeling as weak as wet noodles. “I told you you’d get the hang of it.”

  Breathless and exhilarated and not sure how much of that had to do with the wild ride and how much was due to the rancher, she grinned up at him. “That was amazing! And this...”

  The towering waterfall was breathtaking, spilling into the stone-lined pool below, the spray creating a brilliant rainbow. A stand of cottonwoods ringed the meadow, offering plenty of shady spots to rest and relax in the cool summer grass. “It’s beautiful. Pictures don’t do it justice.”

  “Pictures?”

  Gemma nodded. “I went online and did some research before coming here. I read about Falls Mountain, Owl Rock.” She laughed lightly. “I watched every episode of The Great Roundup.”

  “This is a great town, and for those of us who live here, it certainly has its charms. But it isn’t the kind of place where someone would typically plan a honeymoon. There are dozens of places—bigger, far more popular—that would cross most people’s minds long before anyone ever came across Rust Creek Falls. So why here?”