Too good to accept her impulsive proposition. Gemma cringed a little when she thought of her ridiculous offer. The whole thing sounded like some kind of horribly cheesy come-on.
“So, what’s his story anyway?” The words escaped Gemma’s mouth—courtesy of the vodka in the Montana Mule—but she didn’t wish them back. Eyeing the copper mug, she thought, In for a penny... “I’ve already met Janie, and I know he’s divorced, but—”
“But what?” Natalie asked.
“But I don’t get it,” Gemma confessed. “I mean, unless I’m missing some pretty big flaws, he seems like a really great guy.”
“He is.”
“And he told me how there was some kind of Gal Rush with all these single women who came to town after the flood, and yet he’s still single.” Gemma shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Nope, sure doesn’t. Just like it doesn’t make any sense for a gorgeous, smart, sophisticated woman from New York to be in little ole Rust Creek Falls. On her honeymoon. By herself.”
Natalie lifted her beer and an eyebrow in question. When Gemma stayed silent, the blonde let out a sigh before turning the conversation back to Hank—much to Gemma’s relief and abject curiosity.
“How did the two of you even meet?” Natalie asked.
“He’s staying at Maverick Manor.”
Gemma supposed she should have waited until her new friend finished taking a drink before making that statement. Natalie nearly choked on her margarita, coughing so hard, she had to wipe tears from her eyes with a small cocktail napkin. “Seriously?” she asked as she waved off Gemma’s offer of some water.
“He and Janie are staying there this week. Why? Is it really that hard to believe?” she asked, feeling suddenly defensive—protective, even—on Hank’s behalf.
“The guy hardly leaves the ranch other than to come into town when he has Janie for weekend visitation, so for him to stay away for an entire week... Yeah, it’s stepping pretty far outside of his box. But if it was Janie’s idea... Well, everyone knows he’ll do just about anything for that girl.”
Even take Gemma horseback riding. He wouldn’t have asked her out if not for Janie’s persistence. But she could hardly get upset when it was really all so sweet that he was willing, as Natalie put it, to go so far outside of his box to please Janie. And also so sad...to think of Hank isolating himself on his ranch, working so hard, with only his visits with his daughter to brighten his week.
Gemma already knew how far he would go to make Janie happy, but what was it, she wondered, that would make Hank happy?
She lifted her glass and took another drink. The ginger-and-lime concoction fizzed against her lips, a tingle that couldn’t begin to compare with Hank’s kiss, and she wondered if a week would be enough time to find out.
* * *
One beer, Hank told himself as he stepped through the Ace in the Hole’s swinging doors. Music, laughter and the hoppy scent of beer assailed his senses as he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the bar’s dim lighting.
Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to get the image of Gemma by herself at the Ace out of his head. Oh, sure, he knew Natalie would be there as well, but that did little to ease the churning in his gut. And Janie had seemed to know it.
“You should go, Dad,” his suddenly mind-reading daughter had piped up after they’d shared room service, her expression far too serious and knowing for her age.
I want to.
“You know you want to.”
Get out of my head, kid! Sucking in a deep breath, Hank told her, “What I want is to be here with you.”
His daughter had rolled her eyes. “It’s movie night tonight in one of the ballrooms for all the kids and families.”
“See, that’ll be fun.”
Another eye roll. “They’re playing Shrek.”
A movie they had both seen dozens of times. “Perfect. That’s a great movie.” Only, at the moment the cartoon mirrored his life a little too closely for comfort.
The Bar H wasn’t exactly a swamp, but Hank had hidden out there for years under the disguise of working hard and building up the ranch. There was no outside threat to his home, but Gemma with her smile, her humor and her willingness to try posed an even greater threat to his solitary lifestyle.
You should go. You know you want to.
“Gemma doesn’t need saving.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Janie frowned at him.
“Huh?”
“Nothing. I just meant that Gemma’s fine on her own and out having fun with her new friend.”
“You’re her new friend, too.”
Was he? Did that kiss make them more than friends?
“I don’t want to leave you by yourself. This is your vacation, Janie.”
“Mr. Crawford has already asked me and some of the bigger kids to watch the little kids. I don’t need a babysitter.” Her chin lifted to a proud angle. “I am the babysitter.”
And with that, Hank’s last excuse had flown right out the manor’s windows.
So he’d have one beer while he checked to make sure Gemma was okay, and then he would call it a night and head back to the hotel. Hopefully with Gemma in tow. He’d feel better knowing she was back at Maverick Manor. Which even he had to admit made no sense. Gemma was not only a grown woman, but a woman who lived on her own in New York City. She could certainly handle anything a small town like Rust Creek Falls might dish out and then some.
Face it, his subconscious taunted, you aren’t worried that Gemma won’t be able to handle the local cowboys. You’re jealous she will.
Ignoring the annoying voice, Hank made his way into the Ace, his boots crunching on discarded peanut shells as he sidestepped a couple of rowdy cowboys arguing over who would buy the next round.
Is one week enough time to knock some of that rust off?
Hank didn’t know about the rust, but in a matter of days Gemma had certainly managed to shake him up. He couldn’t get the green-eyed beauty out of his mind. And it was more than looks. In recent years Rust Creek Falls had had its share of attractive, single women hit town. But none of them had captured his attention the way Gemma had with her fearlessness and determination in going on a honeymoon by herself, in grabbing the reins on her first horseback ride, in...
Learning to line dance.
Hank stopped short amid the locals clustered around the high-top tables and waitresses weaving their way through the crowed bar, and he stared at the parquet dance floor.
Surrounded by a dozen or so other dancers, Gemma sparkled amid the denim- and plaid-wearing crowd. But it wasn’t the silver sweater or the metallic gleam of the earrings dangling from her ears, even though both caught the meager gleam of light from the neon beer signs and multiple televisions hanging around the bar. No, Gemma’s glow came from within, and Hank couldn’t look away. She was smiling as she dipped a bare shoulder forward and then rocked back in time with the other dancers. But then she tipped her head back and laughed as she turned wrong, bumping into the dancer beside her rather than shimmying the other way.
Not that the guy seemed to mind. Hank’s jaw clenched as a familiar cowboy turned Gemma’s misstep into an impromptu spin and dip right in the middle of the rest of the choreographed line dancers. Gemma laughed again as her partner drew her into his arms, smiling up at the handsome cowboy.
Suddenly, staying for even a single beer seemed like one too many, but before Hank could back out the door, a female voice called his name. Natalie broke away from a group gathered near the bar and skirted around the crowded high-top tables to reach his side. He didn’t have a chance to greet her before she grabbed him by the forearm and started dragging him toward the bar.
“It’s about time you got here,” she shouted above the music blaring from the jukebox.
“What?”
“I said—”
“No, I heard what you said. I just—I never told Gemma I was coming here tonight.”
Natalie rolled her eyes at that. “You’re a smart man, Hank, and letting a woman you’re interested in come to the Ace by herself would be nothing but dumb.”
Hank opened his mouth to argue, but that too would have been nothing but dumb and not something Natalie would have believed for a second. Fortunately the bartender picked that very moment to ask what he wanted, so the only words to come out were his request for a beer.
One beer...
He was halfway through the bottle by the time Gemma made her way off the dance floor—with the grinning cowboy hot on her fancy heels. A few tendrils of dark hair had escaped her intricate hairstyle to frame her face, and she was slightly breathless from dancing. Her eyes lit as she caught sight of Hank, giving both his ego and the desire building inside of him a sudden boost.
“Hank, I didn’t think you were coming!”
Natalie caught his eye over Gemma’s bare shoulder, and even in the bar’s dim lighting he could see her mouth the word dumb.
Turning his attention back to Gemma, Hank said, “Well, I’ve already heard you sing. I figured I shouldn’t miss out on watching you dance.”
“What’s that about singing?” the dark-haired cowboy with her echoed.
“It’s nothing.” Gemma shook off his question with a smile. “Hank’s just teasing me.”
But that smile told Hank it was far more than nothing. It was a private joke between the two of them, and one that Gemma didn’t want to share with her line-dancing friend.
To his credit, the cowboy took it all in stride. Holding out his hand, he said, “Garrett Dalton.”
Ah, so that was why the guy looked familiar. He was one of the Dalton cousins who’d moved to Rust Creek Falls after their ranch outside of Hardin had been lost in a tragic fire. They’d come to Rust Creek Falls to rebuild and had bought a patch of land that had been a former train depot. Hank had met Garrett’s father and a few of his ranching brothers, but from what he’d heard about Garrett, the guy was usually elbow-deep in an engine, working beneath the hood of whatever car, truck or tractor that needed repair. He had a reputation for liking fast cars...and fast women.
“Hank Harlow,” he greeted the other man, refusing to give in to the urge to turn the handshake into some kind of macho show of strength.
Garrett’s eyebrow lifted. “I’ve heard good things about the Bar H.”
“Thanks,” Hank said as he waited for the familiar feeling to come over him. The antsy, impatient need to return to the ranch, the one that hit him anytime he was away for too long. Ranching was a twenty-four-hour-a-day, three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day-a-year commitment, a desire that ran in his blood, bone-deep in his DNA.
But for the first time in longer than he could remember, the Bar H wasn’t at the forefront of his mind.
The idea that anything—or anyone—could distract him from what was his lifeblood sent a tremor of unease beneath his feet—like the distant rumble of an oncoming stampede. Taking another swallow of beer, Hank shook off the feeling. The newness of his time away from the ranch was still a novelty. In another day or two, he’d be itching to be back on the Bar H and back in the saddle.
Reassured that he had nothing to worry about, Hank said, “Congratulations on finding your new place.”
“My aunt and uncle were nice enough to let us all crash at their ranch, but that was a lot of Daltons under one roof. Enough about me, though,” he said with a nod to the bartender, who handed him a beer. Pointing the bottle in Gemma’s direction, he said, “I want to know what a beautiful woman like you is doing in Rust Creek Falls and how it is that we haven’t met before now.”
Seeming more amused than anything by the cowboy’s charm, Gemma said, “I’m here on vacation and staying at Maverick Manor for the next week.”
“Is that right?” Garrett’s eyes seemed to light up at that, and Natalie gave a quick laugh.
“Watch out for this one,” she warned Gemma. “One week is longer than Garrett’s last three relationships combined. Isn’t that right, Dalton?”
Instead of taking offense, the dark-haired cowboy grinned as if Natalie showered him with praise. “Hey, if you do it right, you can pack a whole lotta living into a little bit of time.”
The bold statement sounded like something Gemma would agree with, but when Hank glanced over, she wasn’t looking at the newcomer cowboy. Instead her gaze snagged Hank’s as she lifted the copper mug.
“I certainly hope so,” she agreed before catching a waitress’s eye and waving her over. “Hank will have another drink.”
Lifting his bottle, he was surprised to realize it was almost empty. “I only came for one beer,” he protested.
Gemma shot him a look that heated his blood. “This one’s on me,” she told the waitress, who headed for the bar to place the order. Leaning closer to be heard over a new song, she murmured, “I’ve been told I need to buy a guy a drink first.”
“First?” He was almost—hell, make that totally—afraid of what came next.
As if reading his mind, she grinned. “Don’t worry, cowboy. I promise to go easy on your...toes. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Tilting her head toward the dance floor, she held out her hand. The moment her slender fingers wrapped around his palm, Hank knew he would have followed her anywhere.
* * *
“Let me guess,” Hank said as Gemma led the way toward the couples moving in time to the music. “Dancing the two-step is part of the Wild West vacation you planned.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn.”
“So why haven’t you before now?”
“Because before now I’ve never had you to teach me.”
Gemma had no doubt Garrett Dalton could show her a few moves, on the dance floor and off, but there was no other man Gemma wanted guiding her across the rough wooden floors. His hand was hot against her hip, or maybe that was only the blood in her own veins as he pulled her into his arms.
“So, what else is on this list of yours?”
“Oh, you know,” Gemma said, realizing how her list had evolved. What she did didn’t matter as much as whom she did it with.
Learn to two-step...with Hank. Go for a hayride...with Hank. Sleep beneath the stars...with Hank.
Chad had broken her trust, making her question her own judgment, and he’d done a number on her self-confidence as well. Making her wonder what it was about her that wasn’t enough.
But as she met Hank’s gaze—the startling blue much more vivid in the garish glow of the neon beer signs—Gemma knew she wasn’t imagining the desire reflected there. Nor could she shake the feeling that when Hank looked at her, he saw her. Not just the perfect hair and makeup, not just the designer clothes and flashy jewelry. Instead he saw past all that to the real Gemma inside...and he still liked what he saw.
Which wasn’t to say that meeting his gaze didn’t leave her feeling more than a little vulnerable. Needing to turn the tables a bit as he guided her through the steps of the dance, she teased, “You’ve been holding out on me, cowboy. You’re good at this.”
He ducked his head ever so slightly, and despite the dim lighting, Gemma sensed she’d embarrassed him. The reason dawned with a bittersweet glow and brought a smile to her lips. “You’ve been practicing with Janie.”
Hank cleared his throat even as he maneuvered out of the way of a swing-dancing couple. “Yeah, well, she, um, likes to dance. Always has...ever since she was a little girl.”
Gemma could picture it—Janie as a toddler, her tiny fingers wrapped around Hank’s broad thumbs, her bare feet on the tops of his boots as father and daughter waltzed together.
“You’re a nice guy, Hank Harlow,” she whispered around the sudden lump in her throat. “Anybody ever tell you that?”
No wonder he had
n’t taken her up on her offer for what could only be a short-term fling.
If that even was what she was offering.
Despite her big-city experience, Gemma had never been one to fall in love—or into bed—easily. An all-girl prep school had limited her teenage opportunities, and then Gemma had thrown herself into her college classes. She’d dated casually after graduation, but her dedication to her career had made sustaining a relationship difficult. And then she met Chad, who’d seemed so perfect, she should have realized he was too good to be true. Unlike Hank, who was as genuine as they came. She’d come to Montana to play cowgirl, but Hank was the real deal.
“People tell me that all the time.” A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth in a sexy smile as he turned her in an intricate circle.
Gemma wasn’t surprised. What did surprise her was how quick she was to believe it was true. Chad’s betrayal should have scarred her—maybe not forever, but certainly longer than a few weeks. And yet Gemma believed that Hank was someone she could trust, someone she could believe in, someone she could...
Fall in love with?
The startling thought had barely crossed her mind when a female voice called out Hank’s name. He froze at the sound, and Gemma looked over to find a wide-eyed, petite blonde staring at the two of them from the edge of the parquet dance floor.
“Oh, um...” Hank cleared his throat. “Hey, Anne. What are you doing here?”
The woman nodded toward a table in the corner that was surrounded by a group of women whispering back and forth and glancing toward the dance floor. “An impromptu girls’ night out. Jamie decided Fallon needed a break, so here we are.”
“Here we are,” Hank echoed.
The moment was growing more awkward by the second, and many women might have been tempted to retreat, but Gemma figured most women hadn’t walked in on their fiancé in bed with their best friend. She and embarrassing situations were well acquainted. Holding out a hand, she said, “Hi, I’m Gemma Chapman.”
The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart Page 10
