The Last Single Maverick

by Christine Rimmer

  “I hope so.”

  “And the main thing is that you didn’t go through with it. You had the guts to turn and walk away. You’re a strong woman. And you’re going to be fine.”

  Joss could have stayed in Jace’s arms all night. But she’d had her head on his shoulder for several minutes now—too long really. She needed to pull herself together, no matter how good it felt to lean on him.

  She sat up and retreated to her end of the sofa. That time, he didn’t try to stop her, and she was glad that he didn’t. If she was going to have a man for a friend—even just for a week—it was nice to think he was the kind of guy who would know when to put his arm around her.

  And when to let her go.

  “Mostly,” she said, “I think I’m doing pretty well, you know?”

  He gave her a slow nod, his dark eyes steady on hers.

  “I tell myself I’m getting past what happened last Saturday. But every time my mom calls, she just brings the whole mess into painful focus all over again. Her blindness to the reality of the situation makes me see way too clearly what a huge mistake I made.” She held up her thumb and forefinger, with just a sliver of space between them. “I got this close to marrying a guy who cheated on me on our wedding day—and with my own cousin, no less.”

  “But you didn’t marry him. Focus on that, Joss.”

  She braced her elbow on the sofa arm and rested her chin on her hand. “You’re right, I didn’t. But I did quit my job for that rotten, no-good cheater. I gave up my cute apartment. When I go home, I’ll be starting all over again.”

  “Maybe you can get your job back.”

  “Maybe I can. We’ll see.” She straightened her spine. What she wanted right now was a long bath accompanied by an equally long, totally self-indulgent crying jag. “Thank you for listening—and I need to stop whining.”

  He gave her a slightly crooked smile. “I have the strangest feeling you’re giving me the boot.” He picked up his beer from the coffee table and downed the last of it.

  “It’s only, well, lately talking to my mom really brings me down.” She tried to think of something snappy and charming to say, so they could end the evening on a happier note. But right then, she was all out of snappy, totally bereft of charming.

  He rose. “It’s the great thing about a best friend. Even a best friend for a week. You don’t have to explain anything. All you have to say is good night.”

  * * *

  Jace thought about Joss all the way out to Jackson and Laila’s place.

  He hoped she was okay. And he hoped he’d done the right thing by leaving when she asked him to.

  What else could he have done? She’d had that look. Like all she wanted was to get into bed—alone—and pull the covers up over head. He’d figured the best thing he could do for her right then was to get lost.

  Jackson and Laila had ten beautiful, wooded acres with a big two-story farmhouse, a barn and a paddock where they kept a few horses. When Jace pulled up in front of the house, the lights were off upstairs. But through the shut blinds of the front room’s picture window, Jace could make out the faint glow of the flatscreen TV. He figured he would find his brother in there, channel-surfing, waiting up.

  Jace was right.

  Jackson sat in his favorite recliner, the mutt he and Laila had adopted from the animal shelter snoozing at his feet. Jace entered the room and Jackson turned off the TV. “Beer?”

  “No, thanks.” Jace dropped into the other recliner and popped out the footrest. “Good party at the Rib Shack.”

  Jackson grunted. “Ethan get after you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He thinks he’s going to talk you into coming in with us.”

  “It’s not gonna happen.”

  “Yeah.” Jackson set the remote on the table by his chair. “I told him that. More than once. But you know how he can be when he gets an idea in his head.”

  Jace closed his eyes. He felt comfortable. Easy. It was always like that with him and Jackson. Even when they fought—which they used to do a lot when they were younger—there was a certain understanding between them. They didn’t need a lot of words. They just accepted each other.

  The mutt’s collar jangled as he scratched himself. The dog’s name was Einstein. He wasn’t much to look at, but Jackson claimed he was really smart.

  Jackson said, “You know, I thought you said you’d sworn off women. But you’re in Thunder Canyon barely twenty-four hours and already you’ve got a girl.”

  “No, I don’t.” Jace gave the denial in an easy tone, knowing his brother wouldn’t believe him.

  “Shame on you, Jason. Lying to your own twin brother.”

  “Joss is great. I liked her the first minute I saw her. But it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Yeah, and if you think I believe that, I’ve got some oceanfront property in Kansas to sell you.”

  “I mean it. We’re friends. She’s here for another week. I’ll be hanging around with her if she’ll put up with me, but nothing’s going to happen between us.”

  “Hey, whatever you say. I’m just glad to see you taking an interest in a woman again. And she seems like a great girl to me. Laila liked her, too. So did Ma.”

  Jace made a low noise that could have meant anything and hid his smile. His family—including his twin—were all so predictable. He showed up with a woman at his side, and they couldn’t believe there was nothing but friendship going on.

  Which suited him just fine.

  Jackson spoke again, gruffly this time. “And it’s good, that you came back to Montana finally.”

  Jace knew he’d hurt his brother’s feelings by not coming to Thunder Canyon over the holidays—and worse, he hadn’t been there for Jackson and Laila’s Valentine’s Day wedding.

  Time to try and get that behind them. “I’m sorry, Jackson, that I didn’t come for the holidays when you invited me. And missing your wedding? That was the worst. I know it was wrong of me not to be there.”

  Jackson didn’t answer for a full sixty seconds at least. Finally, he grunted. “I was pretty miffed at the time—especially that you didn’t show to be my best man. But I’m over it.”

  Jace confessed, “I didn’t know my ass from up for a while there. I didn’t come at Christmas because of Tricia.” He said her name and waited to feel miserable. Instead, he realized, he felt perfectly okay. Apparently, he really was putting all that behind him. “The last thing Tricia said she wanted was to ‘head for the sticks over the holidays’—her words, not mine. I didn’t even argue with her. I was gone, gone, gone. It was ‘Whatever Tricia wants, Tricia gets,’ as far as I was concerned. And then it all went to hell. For a couple of months after New Year’s, I was operating strictly on autopilot. I went to work and I went home. Then you and Laila decided you wanted a Valentine’s Day wedding. I was a mess. I just wasn’t up for it.”

  “Sounds like you’re better off without Tricia Lavelle.”

  “I am. A lot better off. I see that now. But at the time, I was one-hundred-percent certain it was the real thing with her. You know how I’ve always been. Not a guy who ever gets serious over any woman. So when I actually thought it was love, I went for it. All the way. How wrong could I get? It was a rude awakening when it ended, let me tell you.”

  “Rough, huh?”

  “Bad love will do it to you every time—not that it was love. Not that I even have a clue what love is.”

  Jackson slid him a cautious glance. “The whole family kind of wonders if you’re really over her yet.”

  Jace tried to picture Tricia’s face in his mind. Somehow, the image wouldn’t quite take form. And then he thought of Joss—her great laugh, how much fun it was just to talk to her, those big brown eyes and all that gorgeous cinnamon-shot coffee-colored hair. He had no trouble picturing his new best friend at all. “Oh, yeah,” he told his twin. “I’m over Tricia. I’m ready for a brand-new start.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Good. Y
ou quit your job and you don’t want to live in Midland anymore, so it looks to me like a new start is exactly what you’re going to get.”

  Chapter Three

  The phone by the bed was ringing.

  With a groan of protest, Joss lifted her head from the pillow and squinted at the bedside clock. Nine-fifteen in the morning. Not what you’d call early. Unless you’d lain wide awake until the wee hours, stewing over your bad choices, angry at your mother, wondering what you were going to do with your life….

  And the phone was still ringing.

  Surely, eventually, it would cycle back to the front desk, because she didn’t want to answer it. Who could it be except her mother calling to beg her to come back to Kenny—or Kenny calling to demand she stop being “petty” and quit making such a big deal over a tiny little incident that had meant exactly nothing?

  Hah.

  She reached over and grabbed the phone and barked into it, “I do not want to hear another word about it. Do you understand?”

  The voice of her new best friend answered, “Aunt Melba is going to be disappointed. You know she was really looking forward to seeing you in church.”

  Joss dragged herself to a sitting position and swiped her tangled hair back off her face. “Ugh. And wait a minute. Did I actually tell her I would be there?”

  “No,” Jace admitted. “You hedged. Aunt Melba assumed. I said you’d be there.”

  “So thoughtful of you to make my commitments for me.”

  “Did I mention I brought coffee?”

  “Brought? Where are you?”

  “Waiting in the hallway outside your door.”

  She grinned. She couldn’t stop herself. “That is so not fair.”

  “Vanilla latte. Just sayin’.”

  “All right, all right. You sold me.” She hung up, grabbed her robe and belted it as she hurried to let him in. When she opened the door, he held out the tall Starbucks cup. She took it, sipped and gestured him inside, shutting the door and then leaning back against it with a sigh. “Yum. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He gave her one of those knock-your-socks-off smiles of his. Really, he was looking great, freshly showered and shaved, in a different pair of expensive boots, tan slacks, a button-down shirt and a nicely cut sport coat.

  She grumbled, “At least someone got a good night’s sleep.”

  He took in her blenderized hair, the robe, her bare feet—and her grumpy expression. “Sorry to wake you up.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You’re right. I’m not.” He took her shoulders, turned her around and pointed her toward the bedroom. “Go on. Get ready. We don’t want to be late. Aunt Melba would never forgive us.”

  “Who’s this ‘we,’ cowboy?” She muttered over her shoulder, but she went. And she took her latte with her.

  Twenty minutes later, she emerged feeling church-ready in a pink silk blouse and an oyster-white skirt, with a favorite pair of low-heeled slingbacks in a slightly lighter pink than the blouse. She’d pinned her hair up loosely and worn the pearl earrings her mom had given her when she graduated from high school.

  Jace said, “You look amazing.”

  She realized she felt better. A lot better. Jace seemed to have that effect on her. He cheered her up, had her looking on the bright side, thinking that something exciting and fun could be happening any minute. She grabbed her pink purse and off they went.

  * * *

  Thunder Canyon Community Church, Jace explained, was in what the locals called Old Town, with its narrower, tree-lined streets and buildings that had stood since pioneer times.

  Joss loved the church on sight. It was, to her, the perfect little white clapboard church, with tall windows all along the sides and a single spire in front that housed the bell tower. A mature box elder tree shaded the church steps and the small square of front lawn.

  The doors into the reception area stood wide as the church bell finished chiming. Inside, the organist was playing something suitably reverent, yet inviting. People smiled and said hello. Melba was there, wearing a blue flowered dress and a little blue hat, standing guard over the open guestbook. She greeted them with an approving smile and showed them where to sign.

  Joss signed her name and “Sacramento, California,” for her address. She felt a little tug of glumness, to be reminded that she didn’t have a place to call her own anymore, that all her household possessions were packed up in boxes and stacked in a rented storage unit, waiting for her to figure out what to do with her life.

  But the glumness quickly passed when Jace took her arm. They entered the sanctuary and the organ music swelled louder. The sun shone in the tall windows and Jace’s brother Ethan signaled them up to a pew near the front. Lizzie, on Ethan’s other side, leaned across her husband to greet them as they sat down.

  The service was as lovely and comforting as the little white church itself. Joss even knew the words to a couple of the hymns. The pleasant-faced pastor gave a sermon on God’s grace, and somehow all of Joss’s problems seemed insignificant, workable. Just part of life.

  After the service, Lizzie reminded them that she would love to treat them to free muffins at her bakery. Meanwhile, Ethan said he wanted Jace to take a tour of his Thunder Canyon office building.

  Jace said, “No, thanks. Gotta go,” and herded Joss toward the exit.

  Melba was at her post by the guestbook. She told them how glad she was that they had come. “And I want to see you both at the Historical Society Museum very soon. I’ve been helping out there several times a week. Thunder Canyon is a fascinating place with a rich history. While you’re in town, you might as well learn something.”

  Joss only smiled and nodded. Jace ended up promising he would drop by the museum soon.

  From the church, they went over to Lizzie’s bakery, where they split a complimentary blueberry muffin and each had a ham and egg croissant and a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Jace seemed to know everyone. He introduced her to a guy named Connor McFarlane and his wife, Tori, who was pregnant and just starting to show. Tori taught at the high school. Connor was not only the heir to the McFarlane House hotel chain, but he was also a major investor in the resort.

  Joss also met Grant Clifton, his wife, Stephanie, and their little boy, AJ. The child was seventeen months old and adorable, with golden curls and a sunny smile. Stephanie let Joss hold him. He was so sweet and friendly, dimpling at her, laying his plump little hand against her cheek, even leaning his blond head on her shoulder. Joss gave him back to his mom with a little tug of regret. She wished she could have several little ones just like him.

  Maybe someday…

  Grant Clifton seemed vaguely familiar. When he explained that he managed the resort, Joss realized she’d seen him behind the front desk once and another time at the resort’s best restaurant, the Gallatin Room.

  That was the great thing about a small town like this one, Joss thought. You could get to know almost everyone. And when you walked down the street, people just naturally smiled and said hi.

  After they left the bakery, Jace took her hand. They started strolling west down Main Street, enjoying the sunshine, looking in the windows of the quaint little shops. It felt good to have her hand in his. Really good. Maybe too good.

  She let him lead her along for another block before she realized they were going the wrong direction and hung back. “Hey, wait a minute. Your car’s that way.” She pointed over her shoulder. They’d left his fancy SUV back near the church.

  “So? It’s not going anywhere.” He tugged on her hand. “Come on, I want to show you the Hitching Post—you know, that great old bar and restaurant I told you about yesterday?”

  She eased her fingers from his grip. “Right, the one where you hooked up with Theresa Duvall.”

  He stood there on the corner, his dark hair showing glints of bronze in the sun, and looked at her reproachfully. “What did I do?”

  She hung her head and stared down at her pretty
pink slingbacks. “Not a thing. Sorry, that was low.”

  “Yeah, it was. But I’ll get over it. Hey, look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she raised her head. His eyes gleamed. With just a look, he made her want to smile at him. But she didn’t.

  On that corner was a homey-looking restaurant with flowered café curtains in the windows. The restaurant was closed. He stepped into the alcove by the door and tipped his head at her, signaling her to join him.

  “We can’t stand here on the corner forever,” she groused, as an older couple walked past her and went on across the street.

  He chuckled. “We’re not standing on the corner. You are.” He waved her into the alcove with him. “Come on. Come here…”

  Reluctantly, she went. “What?”

  He whispered in her ear, “I love the Hitching Post.”

  “Whoop-de-do.” She spun her index finger in the air.

  “Joss, about your attitude?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Lighten up.”

  She knew he had a point. “Okay, okay. So why do you love the Hitching Post?”

  He sat on the wide window ledge next to the door. “Good memories, that’s why. When I was a kid, we always used to go there every time we came to town. My dad would take us. We’d get burgers and fries and milkshakes on the restaurant side, where they allowed kids, and it was a special thing, with all of us together, with my dad relaxed and really with us, you know, focused on the family? He used to call us his little mavericks. I thought that was so cool. It seems to me that we went to the Hitching Post often, even though I know that we couldn’t have. I was only six when he died. And we only got to visit Thunder Canyon now and then in the summer. But I do remember clearly that on our last visit here before he died, my dad took me to the Hitching Post alone, the two of us. For some reason, Jackson didn’t even get to come. It was just me and my dad and I was the happiest kid on the planet.” He rose from the window ledge. His eyes holding hers, he took a few stray strands of her hair and guided them back behind her ear. A small shiver cascaded through her and she wanted to move even closer to him—at the same time as she knew she ought to step back.