The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart

by Stacy Connelly

  How many times had she asked Chad that question? And how many times had he tucked his phone away and answered her with those same words? With that same lie?

  And while she certainly wasn’t cheating on Hank, she wasn’t going to start lying to him either. “It was an email from someone at work. She’s heard that the bosses have narrowed down their candidates for the promotion, and I’m on the short list.”

  Was her mind playing tricks or did his spine straighten at the mention of her job? She certainly wasn’t imagining the distance between them as he stayed on the other side of the large island, with three feet of granite separating them.

  He ducked his head, the brim of his cowboy hat shielding his face as he said, “That’s great, Gemma. Now you’ll have the chance to pick and choose the clients you want to work with, just like you’d hoped.”

  Would she? As much as Gemma wanted to believe her hard work had paid off, she couldn’t help but wonder how much her stepfather’s connections to billionaires like Wilson Montgomery had paved the way. And if so, then the expectation would be that she would bring in bigger clients with even larger portfolios.

  “You know, you aren’t the only one who hasn’t had a vacation in years,” Gemma said, her heart starting to pound even as she tried keeping her voice casual. The same way this whole relationship with Hank was supposed to be casual. But her heart was in too deep, and so quickly, she wasn’t even sure when it happened. The night he arranged for the late-night picnic at Maverick Manor? When she’d kissed him after their horseback ride? From that first moment when she’d seen him rising from the pool?

  It didn’t matter when it had happened. Only that it had. And now what? She was supposed to get on a plane and leave Rust Creek Falls and Hank behind?

  “I’m sure I could talk my boss into letting me have a few more days off.”

  Even as she said the words, Gemma fought the urge to cry. A few more days? Was that really all she was hoping for when a lifetime with Hank would never be enough?

  “Gem...” His voice was deep, rough, not casual in the least as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “A few more days...”

  He shook his head, and faint threads of hope wrapped around her broken heart, mending the shattered pieces. So it wasn’t just her? He felt it, too? He wanted more, too?

  “A few days won’t make a difference.”

  Won’t make a difference? Won’t make a difference to whom? Clearly not to Hank, but to Gemma, those days would make all the difference in the world—especially if they would be the last few days she would spend with the man she loved.

  And Gemma knew then that the days weren’t the problem. She was. She hadn’t made enough of a difference in Hank’s life for him to ask her to stay. He was, in his nice-guy Hank Harlow way, telling her to go.

  “You’ve got a promotion waiting for you. Hell, you’ve got all of New York City waiting for you. Rust Creek Falls can’t compare to the life you have in the city. You deserve so much more.”

  So he was telling her to go for her own good. Which was exactly how her mother had phrased things when she’d sent Gemma away to boarding school. She and Gregory were only thinking of Gemma’s future and what would be best for her. It was the same line Diane had used to explain why she had lied about Gemma’s father. All for her own good. But if this was all for Gemma’s good, why was she the one feeling so bad?

  “You’re right, of course,” she said woodenly. “I should go. In fact, it would probably be best if I left now. I can get a good night’s sleep at Maverick Manor before I check out in the morning.”

  “Gemma—”

  “It’s a long flight, after all. Back to New York.” She kept talking as she backed out of the kitchen, as if the words were somehow propelling her feet to move. “Back to my real life.”

  Did he really not know how he had changed everything? Maybe she was still a city girl, but thanks to Hank, she now had the heart of a cowgirl—one who was so completely in love with a cowboy...who didn’t love her back.

  “Goodbye, Hank.” The farewell grated against her throat, like old, rough wood leaving painful splinters of emotion behind. “It’s certainly been a honeymoon to remember.”

  Gemma thought she heard him call after her, but she didn’t slow down and she didn’t stop. What would be the point of listening to what he had to say when he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to ask the only question she wanted to hear?

  He wasn’t going to ask her to stay.

  * * *

  Standing in the foyer of Anne and Daniel’s house, Hank waited while Janie gave her mom a hug, an overnight bag slung over one slender shoulder. He rubbed at the ache in his forehead, a pounding that hadn’t stopped since Gemma had walked out. But that was still better than the ache in his chest where he feared his heart may never start beating again.

  “You got everything, kiddo?” he asked even though he knew she pretty much had anything she might need already at the Bar H.

  “Yep! All set.”

  “Janie, why don’t you go wait for Hank in the truck?” Anne suggested. “I need to talk to him for a minute.”

  Janie sighed. “Are you guys gonna talk about me?”

  Without taking her gaze off him, his ex-wife stated, “Not this time.”

  “Oh...” Her curious gaze moving between the two of them, Janie seemed to come to some conclusion. Giving a small scoff, she said, “Good!” and headed down the front walk.

  “What’s up, Anne?”

  “I thought you might tell me. You look like you’ve been working yourself to death.”

  In the three weeks since Gemma had left, Hank had done little but work. Once, after losing his family’s ranch, after losing Anne, the Bar H had been his refuge. Something that was truly his and his alone. Working the cattle, cutting the calves and riding the fences had been his salvation. Now it all felt like punishment.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fine isn’t the same as happy. Your mother used to say that...about our marriage.”

  “Yeah, I know. But you and Dan are happy now, so everything worked out.”

  “Hmm. From what Janie’s told me about your stay at Maverick Manor, you and Gemma were something more than ‘fine’ together.”

  Hank didn’t want to think about Gemma or about how empty the house felt without her. How empty his heart felt without her. And he certainly didn’t want to talk to his ex-wife about her! But he stopped short at the open doorway before turning back to face his ex-wife. “I owe you an apology.”

  Anne’s pale brows rose. “What on earth would you have to be sorry for?”

  “All those years, during our marriage, I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why you couldn’t...let go. Just get over Dan and move on.” His hand tightened on the jamb as he confessed. “I get it now.”

  Too little, too late, but Hank finally understood. There were some things a woman—or a man—didn’t simply get over.

  “Oh, Hank.”

  Sympathy filled Anne’s voice, the tremulous sound weakening the walls he’d retreated behind since Gemma had left, forming cracks and causing too much of the emotion he’d been holding back to start leaching out until his whole body ached. “Don’t, Annie,” he said gruffly.

  But of course she didn’t listen. “Did you tell Gemma how you feel? Did you ask her to stay?”

  He gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. “What would be the point?”

  “The point? Oh, I don’t know! Only that maybe she would have stayed and you wouldn’t be all miserable and alone.”

  “Well, thanks for that.” He turned to leave, but this time it was Anne who spoke.

  “You have no one but yourself to blame for letting her walk out.”

  Hank turned back, anger cauterizing some of those leaky emotions and keeping them from spilling out all over the place. “My fault? You
think this is my fault for not asking Gemma to stay? Give me a break, Anne!”

  Understanding why his wife hadn’t been able to let go of the real love of her life didn’t make the pain of learning that lesson firsthand any easier to take. “In the weeks before we got married, if you had found out where Dan was living, would you have stayed if I’d asked? If I’d begged?”

  “The situation isn’t the same,” Anne argued before hesitantly asking, “Is it?”

  “Gemma was here on her honeymoon. By herself,” he added when her jaw dropped. “She broke off her engagement only a few weeks before coming here.”

  “Did she tell you why?”

  “She did.” But her ex-fiancé’s cheating was too personal for Hank to reveal to anyone else. “She says she’s over him but...”

  Anne crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t believe her,” she accused as if he’d committed an affront to women worldwide.

  “She was engaged, Anne. I met her the day after she should have taken a walk down the aisle.”

  “And you’re scared.”

  “What? No!” How had Anne gotten that out of anything he’d just said?

  “You’re scared,” she repeated. “You and I met not long after Danny left town and left me. You were looking for someone to start a new life with only to find out I was carrying some serious baggage.”

  “Janie was not baggage.”

  “You know what I mean. Even if I hadn’t been pregnant, I was still in love with another man.”

  Hank’s heart cramped at the thought. Not of Anne’s loving Dan Stockton, but of Gemma’s being on the rebound from her ex-fiancé. Her lying, cheating loser of an ex-fiancé. “It’s not just her ex,” Hank argued. “It’s all of it. Her job, her life in the city. And not just any city. New York City.”

  Though he didn’t like to admit it, he’d pushed Anne into marriage all those years ago. Ten years her senior, he’d been older and he thought wiser. So sure that as long as he treated Anne with love and respect, she’d eventually come to love him in return. But even as a teenager, Anne had known far more about the gut-wrenching depth of true love. Where letting go was like losing the most vital piece of yourself.

  He knew now because that was how he had felt watching Gemma walk away.

  But he didn’t want to push this time. Not when Gemma might go back home, take one look around the bright lights and big city and realize all she’d been missing. Rust Creek Falls and their time together might soon be nothing more than a faint memory.

  Shaking his head, he said, “It’s for the best, Anne. Gemma’s gone back to her life, and it’s time for me to get on with mine.”

  Anne shook her head. “Keep telling yourself that, Hank,” she warned, “and one of these days, you’ll start believing it.”

  * * *

  By the time he finished with the evening chores and took a quick shower, Hank’s stomach was grumbling. The scent of pot roast his housekeeper had put in a slow cooker to warm filled the kitchen, and Janie had already set the table for dinner.

  “Janie, time to eat!” he called out as he headed down the hallway toward her bedroom, but she didn’t answer. Figuring she had her headphones on, Hank lifted a hand to knock on the door. But the sound of feminine laughter hit hard enough to freeze him in place.

  Gemma.

  Hank knew the two of them had been video chatting every few days since Gemma had left. He knew because Janie was always quick to tell him everything Gemma was up to back in New York City.

  Gemma went to a new art gallery. Gemma saw so-and-so at a fancy restaurant owned by a celebrity chef he’d never heard of. Gemma had tickets to the theater. Gemma had forgotten all about him and the nights they’d spent together in the honeymoon suite and on the ranch.

  Okay, Janie hadn’t actually told him that last part. But with as busy as Gemma was, rushing from one exciting event to another, Hank couldn’t imagine she was lying awake at night missing him...the way he was missing her.

  Dropping his arm, Hank backed away from the door and headed for the kitchen, even though he’d lost his appetite.

  * * *

  Later that night after dinner and hearing all about Gemma’s latest adventure—this time field box seats at the Yankees game, when Hank hadn’t even known she liked baseball—he settled back on the couch. Janie was microwaving popcorn in the kitchen for their marathon movie night, watching some of her favorite flicks, when his cell phone on the end table beside him buzzed.

  He glanced over, not intending to respond unless it was something urgent. He didn’t know if it was an emergency or not, but Hank felt his heart stop as Gemma’s name flashed across the screen.

  He scrambled for the phone only to knock it off the table in his haste and send it clattering to the floor. He swore as he reached over the arm of the couch, his fingertips brushing the plastic case but unable to reach it. By the time he shoved the furniture out of the way, the ringing had stopped.

  His heart pounding, he waited, phone in hand, to see if Gemma might leave a message. Instead only the words missed call appeared on the screen.

  Hank didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the now silent phone. He could call her. After all, she had called him first. After three weeks of nothing, he doubted she was reaching out simply to tell him she’d caught a foul ball at Yankee Stadium. But before he could make up his mind, he practically jumped when the phone buzzed again—this time with an incoming text.

  Not a foul ball, but she’d definitely thrown him a curve with the words that popped up on the screen.

  Talk to Janie.

  Hank would never consider himself fast when it came to typing on the tiny screen, but his thumbs were practically flying as he shot back a response.

  Talk to Janie about what?

  He was holding his breath, waiting for a response, but all he got back was more of the same.

  Talk to her, Hank.

  He didn’t have time to ask what he was supposed to talk about before Janie came into the room, carrying a huge bowl of freshly popped popcorn.

  “Ready, Dad?” she asked as she plopped down onto the couch, a few of the buttery kernels bouncing over the side. “Which movie do you wanna watch?”

  “I was thinking we might talk first,” he said, sliding the phone into the back pocket of his jeans before Janie could see the screen.

  Janie wrinkled her nose. “’Bout what?” she asked before she shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

  Hank resisted the urge to take another look at the phone. Gemma hadn’t bothered to fill him in on that part. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. I guess just about whatever’s going on with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s summer break. Nothing’s going on around here.”

  “So...nothing, huh?” Would it be too obvious to try to text Gemma? Maybe if he went into the kitchen to grab some drinks...

  Hank cut off the thought. He and Janie had had a relationship long before Gemma had arrived on the scene. He didn’t need her—he didn’t need anyone—running interference between him and the girl he would always consider his daughter!

  But Gemma had been the one to make him face facts. Janie wasn’t a little girl anymore—even if she would always be his little girl.

  “No new kids at the community center?” Forcing a casual air, he asked, “Maybe a new boy?”

  “Da-ad!”

  “What? It was just a question.” Clearly the wrong question, much to his relief.

  After a moment of silence, Janie gave a shrug. “Kristen Roarke is putting on a play in town,” she said, mentioning one of the Dalton siblings who had won several roles in a regional theater over in Kalispell.

  “Well, that sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah,” Janie sighed, sounding about as excited as he had at the idea of a new boy in her life. “It’s a musical.”

&nb
sp; “Even better. You love to sing.”

  “Dad...”

  “What?”

  Leveling a look at him that made her seem so much older, she said, “You know I’m not any good.”

  “Hey! What do I always say it takes to be good at anything?”

  “Hard work and practice,” she echoed.

  “That’s right. So, how many practices have you had so far?”

  “None. The practices come after auditions.” Setting the bowl of popcorn on the wagon-wheel coffee table, she slumped back against the cushions, arms crossed over her chest. “But I’m not gonna try out.”

  “Janie!” Hank cut himself off before he could launch into a version of his dad’s “I didn’t raise a quitter” speech that had gotten Hank through the rigorous schedule of chores in the morning, a full day of school, and football practice in the afternoon and evening. His father’s tough-as-rawhide approach had worked for him and for Hank, but for Janie...

  Talk to her, Hank.

  “Why don’t you want to try out?”

  “I told you. I’m no good. I’m not gonna get the part I want.”

  “So that’s it? You’re quitting without even trying? You’re gonna...”

  Let the woman you love walk away because you’re too damn scared to ask her to stay?

  Was that what he was teaching Janie? To walk away from what she really wanted? To give up without giving it her all?

  “Gonna what, Dad?”

  “The thing is, Janie, sometimes in life you have to take chances. You have to risk making a fool of yourself and falling flat on your face if that’s what it takes to get you what you want.”

  “But, Dad, I don’t want to fall on my face!”

  “And you won’t! I wasn’t talking about you, kiddo. I was talking about me.”

  Janie snorted. “I don’t think they’ll let you try out for kids’ theater.”