Roping the Marshal: A Sweet Contemporary Cowboy Romance (Kester Ranch Cowboys Book 2)

by Tori Kayson

  He pivoted, his fingers curling around the doorknob. “Good night, Summer.”

  “Night.”

  The cool night air enveloped him, a welcome relief to the hot blood flowing through his veins. Had he blown it tonight? Not just in allowing that kiss to deepen, but reaffirming that he was a Deputy US Marshal?

  Maybe. But he wouldn’t take any of it back. The kiss or the acknowledgement.

  What he would do over is hold her longer.

  Could he convince her to give them a try, even if it was long distance?

  11

  “Thank you.” Summer handed the menu to the server with a smile, but inside, her tummy quivered. She doubted she’d touch a bite of the club sandwich she’d just ordered. The unexpected lunch with her sister unsettled her.

  “No problem, ladies. I’ll have it right out.” The waitress slapped both menus against her ample bosom, stuck a pencil behind an ear, and hustled back to the counter.

  Something was wrong. Beth’s tastes tended to gravitate toward more sophisticated establishments, the kind with cloth napkins, fancy names and hefty prices. Definitely not The Scrambled Egg, an old-fashioned diner with vinyl covered benches, grease-splattered menus and the scent of bacon hovering over the room thick as fog. The second clue? When her sister hugged her neck longer than usual.

  “So, what’s up?” Dare she ask?

  The heater ruffled Beth’s silk blouse. Or was it a sigh? Beth’s lips squeezed tight and her jaw clenched. She shuddered, as if it took every ounce of self-control to hold her emotions together.

  Summer put a hand over her sister’s icy fingers. “Just spill.”

  Beth licked her lips. Cleared her throat. “I just found out that Ben…” Beth pulled her hand away and reached for the glass of water. She guzzled half of it, white knuckled fingers clenching the glass until it landed back on the table with a loud thud. Another hefty sigh. “We’re getting a divorce.”

  “What?” After all those phone calls, her sister’s voice dripping with scorn and condescension as she’d tried to talk Summer out of divorcing Judd?

  “Yeah. I just can’t deal with it anymore. His constant traveling—”

  “That’s nothing new, Beth.”

  “Yeah, well, I feel like I’m raising these kids by myself anyway.”

  There had to be more to the story. She waited for her sister to continue.

  Beth flicked her head, an angry jerk, and sniffled. “He’s having an affair.”

  “Oh no!” Summer should have recognized the signs at the birthday party. Hadn’t she lived through that most awful betrayal with Judd? But she’d chalked it up to not seeing them often. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. I know. Thanks.” Beth picked up the fork and toyed with it, twirling it around in her fingers like a baton, faster and faster until it finally plunked back on the table. She glanced up, pain and bitterness darkening her expression. That, and apology. “And I’m sorry for all those ugly words and trite phrases I touted to you when you told us you were divorcing Judd. Thanks for not hurling them back at me.”

  Summer met her sister’s gaze, the sounds of silverware clinking, burgers sizzling and lunchtime chatter fading into background buzz. “I forgave you a long time ago. That’s what sisters do.” Besides, she’d known that Beth meant well. And it’s not like she’d told her family all the dirty deeds. Summer wasn’t sure she even knew about all of them. Didn’t want to. What would that do other than heap more hurt on top of the mountain of pain?

  “Thank you, sis.” Beth’s face softened.

  “Ben wants the divorce too?”

  “No. At least he says no.”

  “Did he break it off with her?”

  “So he says. But how can I trust him not to do it again? He’s on the road more than he is at home.”

  Summer nodded. She could totally understand. That’s how it had been with Judd.

  Just like it would be with Maverick. That thought slipped into her head, unbidden, unwelcome. She shook her head, dismissing the dreamy vision of the marshal standing at the front door of her apartment, the soft glow glinting from his hat and dappling his rugged features. She brushed her lips, still tingling with memories of their kiss, and bumps of pleasure danced along her arms. Her pulse stuttered.

  She hugged her waist. What was she doing? Her sister needed her right now, and she was daydreaming about another dead end romance.

  “—another chance.”

  “And you’re going to give it to him?” Summer downed a long slug of water. Who was she to judge her sister? Beth had to decide what was best for their family. Not Summer, and she couldn’t let her experience color her sister’s. Ben and Judd were two very different men.

  And so is Maverick.

  That thought snuck in and startled her. She jumped, just as the server appeared at their table with two heaping plates straddled on her arm.

  The waitress jerked back. Somehow she juggled the plates so they didn’t crash to the floor, but Summer’s club sandwich and fries landed on top of Beth’s scrambled eggs and fresh fruit.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. We’ll take care of that,” Summer said. “My fault.”

  “You sure? I can take it back.” One of the server’s brows arched, but before either of them answered, she plunked both plates on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No. We’re good. Thanks,” Beth answered, a hint of disdain in her voice as she plucked Summer’s sandwich off her plate and dropped it on the empty one.

  The server didn’t stick around.

  “What the heck happened there?”

  “I’m not sure.” Summer’s voice came out garbled, swallowed up among the clank of silverware and constant hum of chatter.

  “You’re not sure? You jumped a mile. Thanks to you I now have greasy fries seasoning my fresh fruit.” Beth scowled and held out Summer’s plate.

  “I don’t think their fruit was all that fresh to begin with.” Could she transfer Beth’s focus to something besides ferreting out the truth?

  The truth was…she’d fallen for the marshal, hard and fast. Like a concrete block dragging her to the bottom of a river.

  Would loving Maverick mean losing her soul? Every ounce of independence and self-worth she’d worked so hard to regain after Judd?

  Beth cleared her throat, her steady gaze demanding answers. “Is the marshal giving you grief?”

  “We were discussing you and Ben.” Even as the words tumbled from Summer’s mouth, she knew her sister wouldn’t give up.

  Beth shook her head. “Not anymore. Old news. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me during your divorce. I can be now. I want to know what’s going on with you.” Beth speared a strawberry and deposited it in her mouth, waited.

  “I’m afraid I might have misjudged him. He seems so different than Judd.” She tossed a few fries around on her plate.

  “In a good way? Or not so good?” Another fat red strawberry disappeared in Beth’s mouth.

  “In a totally amazing way. He’s sweet and thoughtful. Kind and gentle. Wonderful with Logan. I lost track of how many times the poor guy has rescued Logan and never once did Maverick lose his temper. And Logan adores him.”

  “That much was obvious from the party. What took you so long to see it?”

  “I couldn’t see past the badge.”

  “He’s not wearing it right now, though, is he?” Beth’s thin brows arched, wrinkling her normally smooth forehead.

  “No. But it’ll go back on. And when it does, will he become just like my ex-husband? He’s already admitted that it’s hard for him to leave his job behind in the evenings and that he rarely spends much time in his own apartment. What then?”

  “You’ll never know unless you give him a chance.”

  “Like a long distance relationship?”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Dallas.” Summer stuffed a fry in her mouth. She could take the club sandwich home and eat it later, when her tummy wasn’t all in k
nots.

  “Long distance? Dallas?” Beth scoffed. Her fork clanged on the plate. “You might not be able to see each other every night, but you could commute back and forth on the weekends.” She studied Summer, her fingertips circling a glass of iced tea. “If you truly wanted to.”

  Summer squirmed under her sister’s scrutiny. Did she really want to risk her heart, risk her son’s heart, for this man? Her hand trembled as she reached for the water glass. She guzzled some then set the glass back down with a thud.

  “He kissed me.” There. She said it. And just those three words ignited goose bumps along her arms, and that dreamy feeling to rise up from her belly. But just as quickly, the fear, her history squelched it.

  “That must have been some kiss.” Beth’s voice carried more than a hint of amusement. Along with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

  “Yeah.” That didn’t even begin to describe it, or how Maverick made her feel. “It makes me nervous.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I know, right? I’ve been down this road before and it wasn’t pleasant. I should be detouring, taking a side road to avoid the destruction and bitterness that’s sure to be at the end.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Beth, you just told me you’re divorcing your husband of what, seventeen, twenty years now?”

  “Eighteen. But, I haven’t decided yet.” Beth dipped her head and stared at her half-full plate.

  Summer continued in a softer tone. “You and Ben have history and I hope you can work this out. But, admit it, these issues stem primarily because he travels a lot.”

  “True.” Beth’s confession and the moisture leaking around her cheekbones didn’t ease the pressure building in Summer’s belly.

  “What should I do?” Summer asked.

  “You’re a big girl. You’ll figure it out.” Beth pushed some hair away from her face and tipped her chin in a defiant jut. “But Ben’s a good man, and if I had it to do all over again, I’d probably make the same choice. Heaven knows I’ve made my share of mistakes, and I’ve failed him in several aspects of our marriage too.”

  “You’re a wonderful wife and mother, Beth. Don’t pile all that guilt on your shoulders.”

  “It takes two to make or break a relationship.”

  “That’s true. But don’t you think he could have kept himself from being in that position? That he could have exercised some character, could have been strong enough to resist the temptation? Or how about this novel idea? He could have called you and talked about it before it happened.” All words Summer had hurled at her supposedly-tough ex-husband.

  Not tough when it counted.

  “You’re right, Summer.” Tears shimmered from Beth’s glassy eyes. “But I’m just saying. If all this marshal’s great qualities far outweigh his bad, he might be worth a shot.”

  Might be worth a shot? They were talking about futures and families, about love and forever. At least, that’s how she looked at it, that’s how she’d always looked at it. She wasn’t going into another marriage thinking of it as disposable. Her little boy was impressionable, needy. She wanted him to grow up with a male influence, someone dependable and kind, loving and attentive. Someone who was there. Not just a paycheck.

  No. She was better off alone.

  12

  Could his table be any closer?

  Sure, Summer had talked to the organizer of the Coldwater Ridge Art Festival to get Maverick a last minute spot since registration had closed, but that didn’t mean she expected —or wanted— their booths jammed right next to each other. Mercy!

  Summer scooted her chair to the edge of her allotted space, trying hard to squelch the pride when passers-by stopped to ooh and ahh over Maverick’s sketches. But ignoring the spicy blend of woods and leather, of male and autumn that drifted her way with the early November breeze was impossible.

  He’s not a cowboy. He’s not a cowboy. Keep telling yourself that, Summer.

  Like it would do any good. Especially today.

  She stole another glance at him. How many times had she done that already? At least a hundred. His coal black Stetson hung low over his forehead. The late afternoon sun cast shadows across the hard angles of his face, the whiskers lining his jaw a few days heavy. His muscles stretched taut against a long sleeved ebony button up shirt, and his thighs strained against the confines of denim. He looked her way and winked. A smile, slow and teasing, curved his lips. As if he knew her weakness.

  He probably did.

  The rascal.

  She whipped her head back to the person who’d moved to thumb through her photo box.

  Wade Johnson. Just who she wanted to see. Maybe Wade would jerk her thoughts away from the lawman next to her.

  “Nice shots, Summer,” Wade drawled, pulling out a black and white of cattle sunning in a pasture out on Highway 39, hundreds of them sprawled out on the grassy meadow on a lazy summer afternoon. Interest sparkled from Wade’s sun-leathered face, and she knew it wasn’t for the picture. “I didn’t realize you were such a great photographer.”

  “That’s kinda what I do for a living, Wade.” Now that she thought about it, had Wade ever asked her what she did?

  Red crept up his neck. “Yeah. I know. But weddings and such. Didn’t know about the landscapes.”

  Okay. She’d give him that. “Not too often. Mostly when I have a few minutes to spare before picking up Logan from daycare.”

  Come to think of it, Wade never really asked her about Logan either. Hmm.

  Wade’s blond hair curled an inch or so over his collar, a bit longer and more unkempt than she liked. Holes peeked through his jeans, and scuffs marked his boots from the hours he put into making a living off the acreage he owned. Married and divorced early in his twenties, Wade seemed settled and knew what he wanted out of life. To ranch. He was a purebred cowboy. Exactly what she wanted.

  Wasn’t he?

  Summer flicked a sideways glance. Barely caught Maverick’s pinched brows, the dark expression blanketing his face before his gaze whipped from her back to the couple admiring his sketches.

  Just then, the breeze picked up, bringing a scent of hard work her way. Something different from before. Rank, stale…old.

  Thirty-five wasn’t old, she scolded herself. And just because Wade didn’t smell as fresh as the lawman didn’t make him less attractive. “Thanks, Wade. Where’s your sweet girl today?” Usually every time she saw him, his ten-year-old daughter clung to his side.

  “She’s with her mama this weekend.” Wade plunked the framed photo on the table, the grime underneath his fingernails gray and permanent-looking as he riffled through his wallet, and then slipped some fives into her hand. “I sure do miss her. I do believe I’ll take this one, Summer.”

  “Thank you, Wade.” She wrapped the cardboard frame in tissue and slid it in a bag, flashing her highest wattage smile at him. He was so sweet. Really.

  Wade kicked at the grass with his boot. “Summer, I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

  “Excuse me, Summer?” Maverick’s deep rumble broke through Wade’s higher pitched tone, making the older cowboy sound less…manly.

  Stop it, Summer! She’d cultivated this relationship for two years. Not that she welcomed a marriage proposal from Wade yet, but this cowboy topped her list of prospects. She couldn’t doubt herself now.

  A twenty-dollar bill floated in front of her. Attached to Maverick’s hand.

  She jerked her head toward the offending interrupter. “Yes?”

  “Do you have change for a twenty?” Amusement threaded Mav’s voice and a fat smile curved his lips. As delicious and inviting as a heaping mound of espresso chip ice cream.

  And, oh, what he could do with those lips!

  “Sure.” If she gave the man what he wanted, he’d disappear and Wade could get on with his invite, right? She whipped the twenty from his fingers, cringing at how clean and groomed and how unlike Wade’s they were. Summer slapped four fives in Mav’s palm then tu
rned back to Wade. So what if her pulse just rocketed from the lawman’s touch and her fingers tingled? Wade’s slow and steady trumped fire and storm, right?

  She blew out a breath.

  But then sucked it back in when Maverick extended a hand toward Wade. “Hey, Wade. Maverick Kester.”

  So much for leaving them alone.

  “Maverick Kester?” Wade’s brows disappeared into his hat as he gave the lawman’s hand a vigorous pump. “You’re back in town?”

  Of course, these two knew each other. They’d grown up in the same city. Only a few years separated them, so they’d probably attended the same schools.

  She huffed and stomped her boot against the hard ground.

  Because he was on her side of the table Maverick noticed. He responded with another wink and slow grin, flashing teeth worthy of a toothpaste-commercial. His clean scent replaced the stink hovering around the table like a dense fog.

  She hugged her stomach, willing her tense muscles to relax. But it didn’t calm the squall inside. Confusion swirled and raged as if a storm had blown in.

  Maverick.

  “Only for a few more days. Just got cleared from the doctor to go back to work next week.” The rascal avoided looking at her. For good reason.

  Next week?

  Did you hear that, Summer? By next week, he’ll disappear out of our lives, quicker than he appeared. And he won’t look back.

  She should be happy, thrilled even. Instead, disappointment curdled in her belly, creeping in unexpected. Unwelcome and frightening as stumbling upon a burglar in the wee hours of a morning.

  ****

  “Really? What do you do now?” Wade asked.

  “I’m a Deputy US Marshal based out of Dallas.” Maverick tempered his tone but his fingers itched to whip out his badge and flash it around to scare off the old buzzard. Better yet, his weapon.

  “That’s awesome.” Wade stood there, shaking his head, a dazed expression glazing his face as his gaze bounced between the two of them.

  Summer slipped around to the other side of the table, shooting Mav a glare that would have silenced most men. Good thing he was made of tougher stock. She’d been very clear on the fact that she wanted a cowboy, but Wade? The other man had to be older than her by a decade.