The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart

by Stacy Connelly

  A sixtysomething woman opened the door, a smile lighting her round face when she caught sight of Hank. “Hank, this is a surprise.”

  “Hi, Ellie. I hope we’re not interrupting.”

  “Of course not! Our door is always open to our friends and neighbors.” The woman’s expression was warm and welcoming, but Gemma didn’t miss the curiosity in her gaze.

  “This is Gemma Chapman. She’s visiting Rust Creek Falls, but it turns out she might have a connection to the town and to your ranch.”

  Ellie’s eyebrow rose. “Well, doesn’t that sound mysterious? Why don’t you come on in? If you have questions about the ranch, my husband will be the one with the answers.”

  As Ellie ushered them into the living room, Gemma glanced at the mantel and the multitude of framed photos. No doubt the handsome cowboys on display were the six Traub brothers and their happy, growing families.

  “Give me just a moment to call my husband in from the backyard. He’s out there, manning the grill.”

  Just then Gemma caught a whiff of the mouthwatering scents drifting in from the kitchen, a mix of freshly baked bread and something with a hint of smoky, spicy flavors. “We’re interrupting—”

  “Not at all,” Ellie reassured her with a wave of her hand. “Around here, it’s always the more the merrier. Please, have a seat.”

  Though Gemma was sure the oversize leather couch was perfectly comfortable, she might as well have been sitting on pins and needles.

  “Relax,” Hank encouraged her.

  “Nothing I find out will change who I am,” she echoed.

  “That’s right,” he reassured her. “And who you are is pretty amazing.”

  Who she was was a single city girl with a career and an apartment waiting for her back in New York City. What about who I can be?

  Gemma didn’t have a chance to ask Hank that question before an older man stepped into the living room with Ellie at his side. He greeted Hank with a handshake before turning to Gemma with the tip of his worn cowboy hat.

  “Bob, this is Gemma Chapman,” Ellie said by way of introduction, “and Hank thinks she might have a connection to the ranch.”

  Given that explanation, Gemma expected some kind of suspicion or distrust to enter the older man’s gaze, but instead she saw nothing but curiosity. “Really? Well, this ranch has a history that goes back for more years than you’ve been alive, Ms. Chapman. So anything is possible.”

  Nothing will change who you can be... Anything is possible...

  Gemma wasn’t sure which she wanted to believe more, but Hank was right. She needed to know the truth. “My father’s name was Daryl Reems, and Mrs. Strickland seemed to think his father might have worked here years ago.”

  “Daryl Reems...”

  Holding her breath, she waited, bracing herself for disappointment.

  Sorry, I don’t recognize the name.

  Reems, you say? Sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t really remember...

  Instead an almost wistful note entered Bob Traub’s voice as he confessed, “I haven’t heard that name in almost thirty years.”

  Her heart in her throat, Gemma asked, “You knew my father?”

  “Knew him?” Bob gave a husky laugh. “The two of us practically grew up together. He was like a brother to me.” He shook off the memories, and his gaze sharpened as he focused on Gemma. “So, you’re Daryl’s daughter... His precious gem.”

  “His...what?”

  “That’s what Daryl always called you. His precious gem.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, Hank could see how the emotional day was taking a toll on Gemma. Not that Ellie and Bob Traub were anything other than kind and compassionate as they told tales about Gemma’s father growing up on the ranch. They had welcomed Gemma with open arms—as did their sons as they arrived one after another, along with their wives and children, for the Traub Saturday afternoon barbecue.

  The elder Traubs had insisted Hank and Gemma stay, with Ellie waving aside their protests about imposing and laughing at the idea that there might not be enough food as Bob added yet another leaf to the table. “One thing this family is never short of, and that’s food.” Reaching out, the older woman gave Gemma a quick hug. “There’s always more than enough to go round.”

  Tears had welled up in Gemma’s eyes at the older woman’s warm embrace, and Hank had been glad when Collin Traub, former bad boy turned good and the current mayor of Rust Creek Falls, chimed in from his seat across from Gemma. “So, now that you’re practically family, has anyone filled you in on the Traub-Crawford feud?”

  A few groans sounded from around the enormous dinner table, where the adults had gathered, and Hank shot Gemma a wink. Collin shook his head in mock gravity. “From what I hear, you and Natalie have been hanging out, but you’ve gotta put an end to that.”

  Gemma’s startled look turned to laughter as Collin’s younger brother Dallas lobbed a roll at his brother’s head.

  “Children,” Ellie admonished from the head of the table.

  “What?” Collin demanded as he tore the roll in half and slathered it with butter. “Hating the Crawfords is a deep-seated Traub family tradition!”

  “I resent that remark,” Nina Crawford Traub said mildly before she leaned over to kiss her husband, Dallas, causing a second round of groans.

  Collin shook his head in dismay. “I’m telling you, we had a good thing going around here until these two had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us.”

  “What can I say?” Dallas asked. “True love conquers all.”

  True love...

  The words were still ringing in Hank’s ears an hour later as he and Gemma said their goodbyes. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she nestled her head against his shoulder. Despite the Traubs’ warm hospitality throughout the evening, Gemma hadn’t once left his side. Or was it that he hadn’t left hers?

  He wished he could believe that Dallas was right. After all, true love had bridged a feud spanning almost a hundred years. Was it possible it could erase a distance of two thousand or so miles?

  Gemma’s shoulders tensed slightly as Bob Traub pulled her into his arms only to practically melt into his embrace as he gruffly said, “Your daddy would be so proud of the smart, beautiful woman you’ve become.”

  Hank had to give her credit for holding herself together. Even though her long lashes were fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings, she kept up her smile until they made it out the front door and down to his truck. As he opened the passenger door, she let out a sudden sob and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and cradled her to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, much as Bob Traub had a moment ago, though Hank’s feelings were far from fatherly. But they were protective—an instinct to battle Gemma’s demons and guard her against all harm. He only hoped to hell he wasn’t the one who had harmed her.

  “I am so sorry,” he murmured. “I thought it might help you to find some people who had known your father. I didn’t think...” He cut off a brief curse. “I didn’t stop to think about how hard it was going to be for you to deal with all you’d lost.”

  “Lost?” she echoed on a watery laugh. “Oh, Hank.”

  As she pulled back far enough to look up at him with eyes glistening like the forest after a summer rain, she said, “I’m not crying because I’m sad. Hearing all those stories about my father from people who loved him, people who considered him family and welcomed me the same way... That means so much to me. And it was all thanks to you.”

  She pressed her fingertips to his lips when he would have argued. “Your faith in me gave me the strength to believe I can be whoever I want to be.”

  And when she rose up to kiss him, Hank swore he could taste the change in her. She was no longer the city girl look
ing to escape her broken engagement, nor the wannabe cowgirl searching for a piece of her past, but someone new. Someone with the confidence to choose a bigger, brighter path.

  Pulling her body tightly to his, he could only thank his lucky stars that she had chosen him.

  * * *

  He’d given her a miracle.

  That was the thought that kept circling through Gemma’s mind as they drove back to Maverick Manor. The sun was starting to sink behind the mountains, vivid pinks and purples and oranges streaking across the western sky. Hank had cracked the windows to let in the cool, pine-scented evening air, and he glanced over when a small shiver streaked down her spine. “Do you want me to roll up the window?”

  “No, I’m fine.” The breeze ruffled through his thick hair the way Gemma’s fingers itched to do, and it wasn’t the cold that had goose bumps rushing across her skin.

  It was Hank. His kindness, his caring... She gazed at his handsome profile, backlit by the setting sun, and could barely swallow around the lump in her throat. His...everything.

  He’d given her such a precious gift—something she’d never had before. Memories of her father. That they were shared memories of people who had known him, people who had loved him, didn’t dilute the images in Gemma’s mind. If anything, they were even more vivid, even more powerful, as they gave her deeper, stronger ties to Rust Creek Falls and the friends and the family she had met.

  Maybe she was getting greedy, but Gemma didn’t want her memories of Rust Creek Falls to end there. She didn’t want them to end at all. She knew Hank felt the same when instead of turning into the visitor’s parking lot, he drove right up to the front of Maverick Manor and handed the valet the keys. She wasn’t sure how they made it to the room, stopping to kiss every few feet beneath the golden glow of old-fashioned sconces in the long hallway leading to the suite.

  As Gemma reached up to run her lips along the underside of his strong jaw, Hank fumbled with the key card. He cursed, making her laugh, as it took two tries for him to get the card into the slot. “Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” he all but growled.

  “Well, you did say you were rusty—” Her words ended in a shriek as he picked her up and flung her over his shoulder as if she were weightless. The wild, upside-down ride ended with Gemma giggling and landing with a breathless bounce as he tossed her into the middle of the wide white canopy bed.

  As he followed her down on the soft mattress, her laughter faded away. He was still and quiet above her before he brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek with an aching tenderness. His body lay full-length alongside hers. All hard muscle and long, masculine limbs. Shoulder to shoulder, breast to chest, thigh to thigh...

  The temptation was so... Hank. The combination of strength and gentleness that she could never resist. Was she really surprised she’d fallen in love with him? Of course she had. How could she not?

  “Are you sure about this, Gemma?”

  She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. Just like finding those old photos had been like finding a piece of her past, loving Hank was like finding the other half of her heart. The words rose in the back of her throat, but she silenced them quickly. Too soon, too much... But he was waiting for her answer, unwilling to assume, refusing to push.

  Just waiting. For her. Like she had been waiting for him her whole life.

  “Oh, Hank, yes.”

  Like lighting a fuse, Gemma felt as though she had set him on fire with those words. His blue eyes blazed as his strong fingers went to his shirt. At first she thought he’d ripped it clean open until she discovered the absolute joy of snap-front Western wear. Her hands were on his naked skin in seconds, the light covering of chest hair tickling her palms as she discovered the hard planes and jaw-dropping six-pack.

  She pushed the soft cotton from his shoulders as his hands moved to the tiny buttons of her shirt. Unlike with his own clothes, he took his time, sliding each pearl through the hole until Gemma thought she might go crazy. Finally, finally he pulled the panels apart to reveal her black bra.

  His grin had her pulse pounding through her veins. “You might be a cowgirl at heart, but this—” he ran a finger over the lace edge of the cups “—this is all city girl underneath.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that, cowboy,” she warned, and she pulled a stunt that would have made a steer wrestler proud as she shoved Hank onto his back and straddled him. “I’ve learned some moves in Montana.”

  She swallowed his rough laugh with her kiss as she bent over him. He buried his hands in her hair, holding her to him, even as his tongue delved deeper. His hands found her breasts as he brushed the bra aside, and Gemma could feel her body softening, melting like the delicious, decadent marshmallows they had roasted under the starlit Montana sky.

  But those billions of stars had nothing on the galaxy of color and light and emotion shooting through Gemma as Hank stripped the rest of her clothes away and came back to her naked and ready. Her body opened for him in an instant, their joining so right, so perfect that she couldn’t hold back.

  “Gemma. Gemma.” The words dropped from his lips only to be caught by hers in an endless kiss. The taste, the texture, the sheer amazement of holding Hank in her arms could have gone on forever.

  Too much...and yet never enough.

  The pressure built inside her, as overwhelming and intense as she’d ever imagined. And then pleasure burst like a meteor shower, raining down over them as he called out her name.

  * * *

  Gemma wasn’t sure what she expected the next morning, but it wasn’t waking up in the honeymoon suite alone. She told herself that Hank wasn’t on vacation any longer. His reservation had ended the day before, and he was expected back at the ranch. All of which made perfect sense to her head, if not to her heart.

  Her heart was still vulnerable enough to wonder if last night hadn’t meant as much to Hank as it had to her. If she didn’t mean as much.

  Gemma tossed the sheets aside, determined to do the same with her worries. She’d trusted Hank last night enough to fall asleep in his arms. She would trust him even now that she hadn’t had the chance to wake up in them this morning.

  As she slid on the robe that was draped over the foot of the bed, a faint buzz had her hands tightening on the sash. The sound of her phone vibrating inside her purse. Much as it had all afternoon yesterday while she and Hank listened to stories about the father Gemma had never known.

  A father who had loved her. A father who had wanted to be a part of her life. A father who was a hardworking, honest, respectable man. A father her mother had lied to Gemma about for thirty years.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “Well, it is about time,” Diane Chapman stated once Gemma answered the phone. “I was starting to think they didn’t even have cell service in that place.”

  “Is that why you were calling? To check on phone reception in Montana?”

  “Of course not. I was hoping you’d come to your senses. You’ve already been gone over a week. You should come home. This is hardly a time to be away from the firm—especially with the promotion on the line.”

  “Nothing’s been decided yet,” Gemma argued, but her mother’s silence on the other end made her wonder if perhaps a decision had been made—thanks to her stepfather’s influence. Gemma’s hand tightened on the phone. “I’m staying in Montana, Mother.”

  “What?”

  “Until the end of my reservation. I’m staying until the end of my reservation.”

  But despite the added explanation, the words echoed through the honeymoon suite. I’m staying...

  “I don’t have any idea why you wanted to go there in the first place.”

  “Don’t you?” Gemma pressed. “You never even asked where in Montana I was staying.”

  “Because you told me... Some manor place.”

  “Maverick Manor. In
Rust Creek Falls.”

  Even across the cell phone connection, Gemma heard her mother’s sharp inhalation. “Rust Creek—why, Gemma? What do you expect to find there?”

  “Maybe some answers? Some piece of my life, some piece of myself, that’s been missing all of these years.”

  “Your life is in New York,” Diane insisted. “Anything that’s missing, anything that you are searching for, you’ll find it here. Not in that place.”

  She heard the scorn that practically dripped from her mother’s voice. “Why are you so sure that I’d hate it here?”

  “Because I did!”

  “You...” Gemma sank down onto the bed as she suddenly remembered Melba Strickland’s words. I never forget a face... And everyone said how much Gemma resembled her mother. “You came to Rust Creek Falls? You stayed at Strickland’s Boarding House?”

  After a long moment, Diane stated, “I checked into some creaky old inn. I don’t remember what it was called.”

  “When was this?”

  “After I realized I was pregnant,” her mother told her. “I went to Rust Creek Falls and stayed a few days while I tried to find your father. Cell phones weren’t around back then, so it took me a while to discover he was working on some middle-of-nowhere dirt farm another town over.”

  Gemma tried to imagine her mother living somewhere outside of New York and couldn’t even picture it. Least of all in Montana. “You actually lived here?”

  “For four months. It was a mistake, but I was young...and foolish.”

  “I don’t understand why you never told me. Why did you let me believe my father simply walked out on you?”

  “By the time you were old enough to ask questions, Daryl had already passed away and I was dating your stepfather. He was going to be the only father you would remember, so why bring up the past? What would have been the point?”

  “The point?” she echoed. “Only that I would have known my father didn’t abandon me. That he cared about me. That he loved me.”