The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart

by Stacy Connelly

  But Gemma was already shaking her head. “We’re not shopping for you at Crawford’s.”

  “That’s where I took you.”

  “Because I needed denim and Western shirts and cowboy boots. You, on the other hand, need something other than denim and Western shirts and cowboy boots.”

  Janie’s giggle punctuated Gemma’s statement. “He doesn’t wear anything but jeans. Ever.”

  “Because that’s what ranchers wear,” he argued as he tossed an arm around Janie’s shoulders, “and the last time I checked, the cattle didn’t care about my wardrobe.”

  “Well, try to remember that you aren’t dressing for a bunch of cows, and this might not be as painful as you think it will be,” Gemma added.

  “Oh, it’s gonna be painful. I have no doubt about that.”

  Despite Hank’s dragging his heels, they found a saleswoman quickly enough. As Gemma chatted up the woman, he was pretty sure he saw dollar signs flashing in her eyes.

  Not that he couldn’t afford one of the fanciest suits displayed on the mannequins posed around the store. He could. But where would he even think to wear something like that once Gemma was gone? And unlike Gemma, who seemed so eager to take home mementos of her time in Rust Creek Falls, Hank wasn’t going to need those reminders. Once she left, he feared he would see her everywhere he looked—riding beside him on Lightning, picking out Western wear in Crawford’s, line dancing at the Ace, kissing him under the stars...

  “What do you think about this?” Gemma asked as she gestured toward a slate-blue dress shirt that looked like it would disintegrate the moment he brushed up against a rough piece of wood in the barn.

  It wouldn’t take long before anything he bought in that store would end up in the back of his closet. Gathering dust—just like he was. But not yet. With Gemma by his side, he felt like he was twenty years old. Younger, even, considering he’d already had the weight of his family’s ranch on his shoulders by the time he was in his twenties.

  “Think you can shine a rusty old cowboy into a city slicker?”

  “I wouldn’t even try. City slickers are a dime a dozen. And there isn’t a man in all of New York that I’d rather be with than you.”

  * * *

  Hank did purchase the shirt, along with two others, a pair of slacks and a tie that Janie had laughingly picked out for him. But as the saleswoman started ringing up his purchases, Gemma placed a hand on his arm. “Are you sure about this, Hank?”

  “What? Do you think I should have gone with that other tie instead?”

  “No, I mean...it was my idea to go shopping...”

  With the sales assistant eyeing the two of them, Hank couldn’t help but chuckle. “Didn’t we have this argument already? You paid for your clothes. I’ll pay for mine.”

  “But you already went a little overboard with everything you bought for Janie,” Gemma argued before meeting the look he gave her with a sigh. “All right, fine. But not the suit,” she insisted with a firm look at the saleswoman.

  “I thought you liked the suit,” Hank murmured as the associate hung the dark slacks and matching jacket on a rack of items to be returned to the floor.

  Like the other day at Crawford’s when Gemma had modeled the latest in Western wear, Hank had taken his turn in the dressing room. Every time he had stepped out, Gemma had moved in—fixing a collar here, adjusting a sleeve there. The casual touches had been driving him crazy, as had the way Gemma’s eyes darkened when she’d taken in the sight of him in the suit.

  Even now a husky note entered her voice as she said, “I loved the suit. You looked...” Her words trailed off into a moment of silence filled with all the things they weren’t saying. But then, with a small shake of her head, she cleared her throat and added, “But it’s too much. You wouldn’t have any place in Rust Creek Falls to wear it.”

  “No, I suppose not,” he agreed slowly. After all, hadn’t he been the one to point out that a bunch of cattle didn’t care if all he wore were the same Western shirts and jeans day after day? And neither did anyone in town. But all he could think about were the thousands of places in New York City where a man who was dating Gemma Chapman could wear that suit.

  “It’s just that I know how expensive a stay at Maverick Manor is.”

  “I think I can afford it,” he reassured her as he signed for the purchases. “And while we’re here, I might as well get that haircut I’ve been putting off.”

  He had put his foot down at Janie’s idea of him going to some place called Tres Chic and instead took a walk-in appointment at Snip and Style. Afterward he posed for a ridiculous amount of selfies and photos. Both Gemma and Janie finally gave up once he refused to look at the camera with a straight face.

  “Okay,” Gemma sighed, “I think we have enough pictures of you with your eyes crossed.”

  “Finally,” he said with an eye roll that would have done Janie proud.

  They grabbed a quick dinner at the food court, with Janie going for her favorite teriyaki rice bowl, while he had a huge slice of pepperoni pizza and Gemma ate a salad.

  “Salad for dinner.” Hank shook his head as he took a big bite of the crisp crust with its wonderfully melted cheese and spicy pepperoni. “That is no way to live, Gemma Chapman.”

  “Um, it actually might be a longer way to live, cowboy,” she said as she stabbed a juicy cherry tomato. “Oh, excuse me, rancher.”

  Their teasing set Janie off into a girlish fit of giggles, while he and Gemma shared a smile. Finished with her meal faster than the adults, his daughter had turned her attention back to the phone. “Look at this one!”

  She stuck the cell phone in his face, giving him little choice but to look at it, though he had to hold the small screen back an arm’s length before he could focus on the image. It was a selfie of the three of them, and the light and laughter in Janie’s face wrapped around his heart the same way her tiny fingers had wrapped around his thumb the very first time he held her. “That’s a good one, Janie.”

  After Janie grabbed her empty bowl and tray and headed for the trash can, Gemma leaned in for a better view of the photo. “I can’t say whether or not Janie looks like her aunt Bella, but I can tell you that she looks like one happy girl.”

  Hank had to agree. He saw how happy Janie looked. But more than that, he saw how happy he looked. He swallowed against a lump that felt like half of the pizza crust had lodged in his throat. In this photo, unlike his daughter, he wasn’t mugging for the camera. No, he was looking down at Gemma, who was tucked underneath his arm so they could all be in the close-up shot.

  He tore his gaze away from the screen as she adjusted the folded cuff of his shirt. Her green-eyed gaze was tender and encouraging as she said, “What you wear isn’t so much about how you look but about how you feel.”

  How he felt? Hank wasn’t sure he should spend too much time thinking about how he felt. Especially not after looking at that picture. A picture that proved the shirt on his back had little to do with the smile on his face. No, that was all thanks to the woman on his arm.

  “Hank?”

  He reluctantly glanced away from Gemma as a female voice called out his name. He spotted Missy Denbrough across the crowded tables. The buxom blonde smiled as she wove her way through the busy food court. “Hank Harlow! I thought that was you, but I couldn’t imagine what you’d be doing at the mall in the middle of the week. Or anytime really!”

  Hank felt his face flush and wished she hadn’t made it sound like he was some kind of hermit, never leaving the ranch except to make a random visit to Rust Creek Falls. Oh, who was he kidding? That was exactly who he was and something Gemma already knew. “I’m here with my daughter.”

  Missy barely glanced toward Janie, who’d gotten in line for a refill at the soda fountain, her focus locked on him and Gemma to the point where he didn’t know how to avoid an introduction. “Gemma Chapma
n, this is Missy Denbrough. Missy and her family own a ranch outside of Kalispell.”

  “The Double D,” Missy announced proudly before sizing Gemma up with a glance. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

  “Gemma’s here on vacation. From New York,” he added, although he wasn’t sure why. Missy didn’t need that information, so maybe it was more a way to remind himself.

  Missy’s smile brightened. “Montana must be such a change for you. I can’t even imagine what living in New York is like—all those restaurants and shops and theaters. Life around here must seem so boring in comparison.”

  “I can’t say that I’ve been bored.” She slid a smile in Hank’s direction. “Must be the company.”

  Missy laughed. “Well, sure, it’s easy to say that now, but just wait until there’s some freak August storm and you’re snowed in by six-foot drifts with no cell service. But, well, you don’t have to worry about that, do you? You’ll be long gone by then.”

  * * *

  Even as Gemma had done her part to transform the ruggedly handsome rancher—to help shake the rust off—she had known some other woman would be the one to claim the polished version of Hank Harlow.

  She simply hadn’t expected it to happen right in front of her.

  As Hank and Missy discussed the price of beef, alfalfa crops and immunizations, echoes of her conversations with Hank from that afternoon bounced around in Gemma’s head. Talk about men’s fashion and which type of shirt could be worn untucked. The differences between pure cotton and a polyblend. The best colors to make his blue eyes pop.

  A shopping spree wasn’t going to solve anyone’s problems, but as they’d messed around with the camera, posing for pictures, Gemma truly believed that she’d seen an added confidence, as Janie held her head higher and stood a little straighter. And Hank had been such a good sport about adding to his own wardrobe and getting a haircut.

  Gemma had felt like she’d made a difference, but now all of it felt so frivolous.

  She could spot a deal on a pair of Jimmy Choos from a mall away, but the price of beef? The cost of alfalfa? She didn’t have a clue when it came to the things that really mattered in Hank’s life.

  You don’t have to know, Gemma reminded herself. You’re only here on vacation.

  Something Hank had been quick to point out to Missy “Double D” Denbrough. Gemma shoved the thought from her mind as she managed to make a proper response when Missy said her farewell.

  “So, she seems nice,” Gemma murmured.

  “She is. Missy knows her stuff. She’s been born and raised around cattle ranching her whole life.”

  All of which made the other woman perfect for Hank.

  “Have the two of you ever...?” She let the question trail off, but Hank simply waited, eyebrows raised, as a tension-filled silence lengthened and an embarrassed flush of heat rose to her face.

  “Have we ever...what?” he finally asked, the glint in his eyes telling her he knew exactly what she was trying not to ask.

  “Dated? Have you ever dated?” she demanded, hearing a mix of annoyance, frustration and jealousy.

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “Sounds like you’d have a lot in common.”

  “We’d have ranching in common.”

  “And you love ranching.”

  “I do,” Hank agreed, “but sometimes I think I love it too much. Dating a woman like Missy would be like... Well, it would be like dating Carl, the Bar H foreman.”

  Gemma burst out laughing. “I hope you don’t plan on telling Missy that.”

  “Naw,” he said with a grin that sent an arrow straight to Gemma’s heart. “Don’t plan on tellin’ Carl either.”

  She might not know ranching, but shopping wasn’t the only thing she was good at. “You know, the other night at the Ace, Natalie and I were talking about her plan for the future.”

  “Yeah, and what is her plan this week?”

  “She didn’t really go into specifics, only that whatever it is, it’s going to be big.”

  Hank chuckled. “That sounds like Nat.”

  “Well, anyway, I offered to take a look at her finances while I’m here.”

  Was it her imagination or had Hank’s jaw tightened a bit?

  “I’m sure Nat appreciates that. I guess you’re probably missing work right about now.”

  Startled, Gemma realized she hadn’t missed her job—or New York—at all. “I wish I had the chance to work with people like Natalie. But Carlston, Landry and Greer is more about helping the rich get richer. Not that I should complain. It’s certainly a lucrative job, and one I’m good at. Good enough that I might even get the promotion I’m up for.”

  This time she was sure she hadn’t imagined the muscle tightening in Hank’s strong jaw. Treading carefully, she said, “But I’d be more than happy if you’d like me to take a look at some of your investments.”

  “Mine?”

  Gemma heard the surprise in Hank’s voice and rushed to explain. “You know, like with Natalie. Just to help out and see if there’s any place you might be able to set some extra money aside.”

  “Extra money,” he echoed.

  “Yes. Janie told me how long it’s been since you were able to go on a vacation, and you just said how you were worried the ranch was becoming your whole life. Maybe it would be a good thing if you could, you know, afford to get away more often.”

  Maybe even to come to New York. The wistful thought whispered through her mind, bringing an added heat to her cheeks as he stared at her with an enigmatic expression. “Or get a new truck one day.”

  “You don’t like my truck?” Hank leaned back in the chair, a smile playing around his lips. Well, she’d rather amuse him than offend him.

  Flustered, Gemma hedged, “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just—”

  Putting her out of her misery, Hank leaned forward and covered her hands with his own. “I appreciate the offer, Gemma. I do. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m good.”

  His hands were so big, they completely engulfed hers. They told the story of who he was—strong, capable, hardworking. A gentle squeeze had her lifting her eyes to his. “But what you did today for Janie, that means more to me than all the money in the world.”

  Gemma wished he would let her do more but figured she was no match for a stubborn rancher’s pride. Giving a big sigh, she teased, “Well, I guess it’s safe to say you don’t want me for my mind?”

  Hank gave a laugh. “Sweetheart, even a dumb cowboy knows there’s no good answer to that question...except maybe to say that I want you, Gemma Chapman. Each and every part of you.”

  No good answer? Then how was it he’d found the one guaranteed to make her heart melt?

  * * *

  The following night, Gemma stopped short as Hank tried to guide her down one of the back paths leading from the hotel. Crossing her arms over her chest, she demanded, “Why exactly do you want me to trek through the Montana wilderness in the middle of the night?”

  Hank laughed. “Even I wouldn’t call eight thirty the middle of the night. And aren’t you the one from the City That Never Sleeps? Besides, it’s not like I’m taking you out into Glacier National Park and throwing you to the wolves,” Hank argued.

  “There are wolves?”

  He caught her hand when she pretended to dash back inside where the warmth and glow of the Manor’s gleaming chandelier beckoned. “Forget the wolves.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered while trying to hide a smile.

  “Hey, if anyone should be worried about wolves, it’s me. Wolves dressed in trendy teenage-boy clothing,” he muttered. He wasn’t entirely sure he was kidding, but the sound of Gemma’s laughter settled into his heart, making him feel lighter and younger.

  They’d spent the day by the pool, and this time he
and Janie had convinced Gemma to do more than relax in one of the loungers. She’d surprised them both by doing a cannonball into the deep end, unconcerned about her hair or her makeup or even the fact that she could barely swim—something Hank realized a moment later as she came up sputtering and struggling to tread water.

  “What were you thinking?” he’d demanded as he pulled her toward the steps.

  Pushing her dark locks from her face, she’d grinned at him. “That I’m done living life in the shallow end!”

  Shaking his head, he’d told her, “You might want to learn to swim first.”

  But she’d only lifted a challenging eyebrow. “No time like the present.”

  After dinner at Maverick Manor’s dining room, the three of them had played a few of the old-fashioned board games in the lobby. Dan had been teaching Janie to play chess, and she could now beat Hank hands down. But it was the confidence in Janie’s expression as she scooted her chair closer to the board to explain all of the moves to Gemma that Hank enjoyed the most.

  “It’s been years since I’ve played,” Gemma had confessed, “and even then, I barely knew the rules. I’m pretty sure the only thing I remember for sure is that the queen has all the best moves.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Hank murmured, earning a wink from Gemma over Janie’s head.

  They’d played for half an hour or so before a group of girls a bit older than Janie walked by the fireplace. A tall brunette flicked her long hair over one shoulder as she spoke. “Board games are so lame.”

  The others, clearly following the brunette’s lead, nodded while a second girl added, “Yeah, they’re for babies.”

  Janie’s face reddened and it took everything inside of Hank—and the gentle hand Gemma placed on his arm—to keep from jumping to his daughter’s defense. But any comment he made would only further embarrass Janie, and no grown man could have an argument with a bunch of teenage girls and not make a fool of himself.