The Last-Chance Maverick

by Christyne Butler

  “Ever been to BearTrap Mountain?”

  “The ski resort?”

  Vanessa nodded. “It’s about an hour from here, right?”

  “Yeah, but if you’re looking to ski it’s still a bit early. Don’t let that snow on the mountaintops fool you. Barring an early storm, it’ll be another month before the ski trails get enough cover.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t looking to ski.” There was no way she was going to tell him the real reason she wanted to go. She had a hunch Jonah might be a bit too straitlaced for what she had in mind. “Just wanted to check it out.”

  The headlights of her truck cut across the land that had belonged to the Dalton family for over a hundred years. She loved listening to Rita Dalton, Jonah’s mother, talk about the family history whenever she’d go to Sunday dinners at the house. So unlike the quiet dinners when she was growing up when it was usually just her and her parents.

  After her mother died, her father often ate in his office or was out on business so she’d either had the housekeeper or more often than not, Adele and her mother to keep her company.

  “You can drop me around the corner, back by the kitchen door.”

  Jonah’s words were soft as she turned into the drive and continued on past the front door and the porch that ran the length of the house. Pulling around the side, she eased to a stop just outside the glow coming from the kitchen window.

  “Nice to know Mom still leaves the light on for us wayward kids.” He released his seat belt. “Thanks again, Vanessa. For the company tonight and the ride home.”

  “You’re welcome. I had a good time, too. Glad you ended up at my table.”

  Jonah returned her stare for a long moment and just when Vanessa wondered if he was going to lean in closer, a nonverbal request for her to do the same, he turned and reached for the door handle.

  “Oh, it’s hard to open from the inside. You need to jiggle it to the left three times, up twice and then down while pulling on it.”

  Jonah followed her directions, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “No, three times to the left.”

  “I did go left.”

  She sighed and released her belt. Moving her book out of the way, she scooted closer. Propped on one hip, she leaned across his lap. “Here, let me. You just need the magic touch.”

  “Is that right?”

  His words were soft against her hair, his lips right at her ear taking her back to when they’d danced and he’d reassured her he wasn’t ready to leave the floor yet. That dizzying feeling came back again and needing to brace herself, she put one hand on the closest surface, which turned out to be his muscular thigh.

  Well, it was either that or between his legs, so this was probably best.

  “Yes, that’s right. Just give me a second...” She continued to play with the handle, reciting the steps silently to keep her mind occupied and away from the fact she was practically in his lap.

  The door finally popped open. “There!” Pleased, she moved back, turning her head toward Jonah at the same time. “All it took was the right...”

  Her words disappeared as their mouths brushed, lips clinging until someone, and for the life of her she didn’t know who, moved. Soft and tender, the pressure barely felt until their breaths combined.

  She backed away, realizing she now had both hands on his legs, but it wasn’t enough. Her elbows gave way, but he reached for her shoulders, keeping her in place.

  “Why did you do that?”

  He looked at her. “Do what?”

  Was he serious? “Kiss me.”

  “I didn’t kiss you.” His gaze left hers and settled on her mouth. Even in the dark she could see banked desire there. “You kissed me.”

  A shiver of indignation skirted down her backbone. “I already told you I don’t kiss on the first date.”

  “This isn’t a date.”

  Vanessa started to protest, but he was right, despite how he’d labeled himself back at the bar. “Point taken.”

  His mouth hitched up one corner. “So, that makes it okay that you kissed me?”

  “I didn’t! Believe me, architect, if I’d kissed you, you’d have known—”

  The rest of her words disappeared once again as his mouth came down on hers.

  Chapter Four

  Boy, this cowboy can kiss.

  A silly thought to be sure. Jonah had made it clear he hadn’t been a cowboy in years, but it was the first thing that raced through Vanessa’s mind when he interrupted their “who went first” argument by kissing her.

  And he kept on doing so.

  His mouth was firm when it first crashed down on hers, but it softened when she made it clear she was fully on board with what he was doing by opening her mouth, her tongue darting out to sneak a taste of him.

  Heavenly.

  A low groan escaped from him as he angled his head, pulled her closer and settled his mouth against hers again. Deepening the kiss, his tongue glided against hers, stealing her breath and when it returned it was a soft moan to let him know how much she was enjoying this.

  She hadn’t been kissed in a long time and the way he explored her mouth, teasing and tasting, along with a hint of urgency that overrode any hesitation she should be feeling, told her just how much she’d been missing.

  Instead, she wanted to test that resolve, wanted to see just where he would take this if she released the tight grip she had on the solid muscles of his thighs and simply crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  The thought of doing just that seemed to melt her every bone, or maybe that was the heat from his body as he held her close, just like when they were dancing.

  But then he broke free and drawing in a ragged breath, he slowly set her back on the seat before releasing her. “Ah, that was...”

  His husky whisper trailed off and even though he was looking at her, shadows covered most of his face.

  Except for his mouth.

  The perfection of his still-wet full lips was only inches away, open as if he had more to say, but he stayed silent.

  She fought back the temptation to be the one to initiate round two of surprise kisses that came out of nowhere—or would that be round three?—and instead said, “Yeah, I didn’t...”

  Whatever else she’d planned to say vanished from her head like bubbles popping in midair. Hmmm, guess he wasn’t the only one at a loss for words.

  She swiped her tongue across her parched lips and he dropped his head a fraction of an inch. Her breath caught, certain he was going to kiss her again. But then he moved and seconds later stood outside, the open door allowing the night’s cool breeze to displace the warm sultry air that had filled her truck.

  “Thanks again...for the ride home. Good night.”

  She expected him to shut the door and walk away, but he remained standing there.

  Waiting for her to respond? What was she supposed to say?

  “Good night.”

  Yes, that was a clever comeback, but before she could say another word he stepped back and gently closed the door, double-checking that it was shut. He then turned and headed up the stairs until all she could see of him was his legs from the knees down as he stood on the porch.

  It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to leave. The idea raced through her head of crawling out from the driver’s side and joining him, just to see how he’d react, but this was his family’s home and heck, he’d been the one to end their impromptu make-out session.

  She slid back behind the wheel, put the truck into Drive and slowly pulled away. Not looking in the rearview mirror was impossible as her gaze automatically went there. Jonah remained on the back porch until she could no longer see him as the road twisted away from the main house.

  It only too
k a few minutes and she was parking next to the cabin. The lights she’d left on, both inside and the porch lamp, welcomed her home. She slipped inside, thinking about Jonah doing the same thing back at his place. Despite the distinct warmth that still flooded her insides thanks to those amazing kisses, she noticed the chill in the air as she locked the door behind her.

  Shutting off lights as she headed to the bedroom in the back of the cabin, she went to the small woodstove in the corner. Rita Dalton had been the one who’d shown her how to start a fire and keep it going, but even with written instructions it sometimes took her a few tries. Things went perfectly this time and as she watched the kindling ignite, her thoughts drifted back to the night’s events.

  It’d been clear that Jonah hadn’t expected to see her at the bar, much less for her to ask him to dance. Yes, she should’ve told him that her two-stepping skills were sorely lacking, but he’d been so sweet in taking her out to the middle of the dance floor instead of heading back to the table. So understanding about her need to avoid an overamorous cowboy.

  She liked talking to him, getting to know him better.

  At least until he mentioned the mural.

  The minute he’d gone all businesslike and started asking detailed questions, she’d felt the dread surge to life deep in her stomach.

  “Maybe agreeing to do that mural wasn’t your best idea,” she said aloud as she placed a couple of larger logs inside the stove. “Not that your block is anyone’s fault but yours. Still...”

  Her voice trailed off as she stared at the flames, fingers outstretched for the warmth. She studied her hands and thought about how they’d never let her down before. Not once in all the years she’d been painting.

  “You’ve done it before, you can do it again.”

  Closing up the stove, she then grabbed her pajamas and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower was just what she needed before going to bed. Standing beneath the steamy spray she relived the moments in the truck, still not sure who’d kissed who first.

  But she knew for sure that second kiss was all Jonah and for someone who claimed not to like surprises, he’d certainly pulled a rabbit out of the hat the moment his lips touched hers.

  She washed away the night’s sweat and smells from the bar, but also the rich, spicy scent of Jonah’s cologne that filled her head, clung to her skin and made her weak in the knees every time she got close to him.

  A few minutes later, she was tucked beneath the covers in the coolest bed ever after making sure the woodstove had enough fuel to keep the room toasty until the morning. She clicked on the radio that only seemed to pick up two stations, country music and a national news show. Soft strains of an old Patsy Cline ballad played as she reached for the sketch pad and the leather case that held her pens and pencils, her gaze catching on the folded piece of paper on her nightstand.

  She gently opened it, smoothing it out with her hands. Grabbing one of her pens, she trailed a finger down the list, remembering the moments last year with Adele when they added to their childhood agenda for a happy life.

  Number twelve: kiss a cowboy.

  When she told Jonah she didn’t kiss on the first date, she meant it. A personal rule since she was a teenager. Despite dating quite a few cowboys since coming to town, she hadn’t kissed a single one.

  In fact, the last time she’d been kissed was well over two years ago after her last relationship ended, thanks to a cheating boyfriend who’d managed to keep both her and a girl in Boston in the dark about each other for over a year.

  Heck, she hadn’t even dated since then, throwing herself into her art. Just like Adele had said. So when she’d moved here she’d been determined to meet new people. Do new things. Find the joy and happiness missing from her life.

  Find someone new to kiss. Find her lost talent.

  And she liked to think she had at least started on those goals, even if her gift was only coming through in practice sketches.

  She’d made friends, and yes, being as small of a town as Rust Creek Falls was, people tended to know each other’s business and felt compelled to offer unsolicited advice at times, but they cared about each other. Cared about their town.

  And when it came to kissing...

  Well, she knew now why none of the men she’d dated had tempted her to break her rule.

  They weren’t Jonah.

  Technically he was more city boy than cowboy now, but she’d bet her custom-made sable paintbrushes the man could still saddle a horse and ride off into the sunset.

  Kissed Jonah Dalton!

  She scrawled the words next to number twelve and placed a checkmark there, as well. Another mission accomplished. One she wouldn’t mind repeating.

  Out of the sixteen remaining goals on their list, she’d completed five so far. Well, she was still working on the Harry Potter books, but she was halfway through them so that goal got a checkmark, as well.

  She looked over the list again, her heart giving a little jolt when she read one of the goals they’d written down when they were twelve.

  Number nine: Fly among the clouds (and not in an airplane!)

  Impossible? Maybe not.

  She’d come up with an idea and in a spur-of-the-moment flash, probably still in the clouds from being held in the man’s arms, she’d thought maybe Jonah would—

  “Nope, don’t go there.” Vanessa folded up the list and tucked it back between the lamp and a framed collage of pictures of her and Adele through the years.

  “Don’t ruin how great tonight ended.” She then turned back to her sketch pad. “Okay, let’s make some magic for this mural.”

  She opened to a blank page, switched out her pen for a pencil and held it over the stark whiteness in front of her. Waving the pencil back and forth, the tip hovering over the paper just enough not to leave a mark, she waited for...

  Something.

  Anything to come to mind that would represent a mural honoring the special place and people that meant so much to this town and its residents.

  And yet again, there was nothing.

  Her head was as blank as the paper before her.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes, shut out the unadorned sheet and focused on the Tim McGraw ballad that filled the air, one of the songs she and Jonah had danced to tonight.

  Forcing the pencil to make contact, to glide across the page, stroke after stroke, she allowed the music to guide her, already knowing what she was sketching. When the song ended, she looked and the rough outline of dark eyes, slightly mussed hair and a strong jaw looked back at her.

  Jonah.

  She tossed the sketchbook and pencil to the empty side of the bed, turned off the light and snuggled deep beneath the covers, determined not to think about the man she’d only met this morning—and kissed tonight!—and get some sleep.

  Sleep. Who was she kidding?

  * * *

  Jonah pulled into the parking lot of the Grace Traub Community Center, the town’s newest building, built just this past spring.

  He checked his watch. Just after four o’clock.

  Usually he’d still be putting in at least three more hours of work before calling it a day, but the foreman had pointed out construction was ahead of schedule and recommended starting the weekend a bit early. Jonah had agreed and when the last worker pulled out of the parking lot, he wasn’t far behind.

  Because of Vanessa.

  When she mentioned last night how the town’s gossip mill would probably make them dancing together a hot new topic, Jonah had figured it would start this morning at breakfast, but he’d been wrong. Only because both Derek and Eli made the walk of shame as they showed up still wearing the same clothes they’d had on the night before, so all three Dalton boys were on the hot seat.

  Their mother had stayed quiet when the two of them walked in th
e back door at the same time, and all Dad had wanted was for them to shower and eat so they could get started on the workday. Even though she was well aware that all of her children were adults now, it still amazed Jonah how their mother had the ability to express her emotions without saying a word—and she wasn’t happy.

  That is, until Eli had pulled out the often used diversionary tactic from their youth and asked Jonah about his ride home.

  Once Jonah had cleared up the confusion by admitting he’d gotten a lift from Vanessa, his mom had talked nonstop about their tenant. When he’d mentioned Nate had commissioned her to paint a mural for the resort, she’d shown him a pencil sketch Vanessa had done of his father while sitting in the barn one afternoon, drawing as he worked without the old man realizing she’d been there.

  The piece was stunning.

  She’d captured his father’s weathered, yet still handsome features. The deep grooves around his eyes from years of working outdoors, laugh lines he called them, saying they came from being happily married to their mother all these years. The cowboy hat perched back on his head as he concentrated on whatever job he’d been tackling.

  Jonah was impressed with her talent and wanted to see more of her previous work, especially since he hadn’t done an internet search on her last night when he’d gotten home like he planned.

  Not after the way she’d kissed him.

  He kissed her.

  They’d kissed each other.

  The first time had been purely by accident. Although the way she’d leaned across his lap to mess with the door handle—her hand on his leg, her hair in his face, knowing that she only had to turn his way—so yeah, the thought had crossed his sleep-deprived mind.

  But the cute way she’d insisted it hadn’t been her fault, not to mention the dare she’d practically thrown down made him cut off her protest with a searing kiss.

  It was only when he’d pulled her even closer and thought about dragging her onto his lap so they’d both be more comfortable, that he’d put a stop to the craziness, got out of her truck and said good-night.

  Before it was too late.

  His brothers had used their mother’s focus on Vanessa and her artwork to slip out of the kitchen, so thankfully they hadn’t seen his mental stroll down memory lane, but his mother had picked up on his quietness. When she pushed, he claimed he was still tired from the long drive from Denver the day before, but agreed that the sketch was terrific.