The Maverick's Summer Love

How could you be so stupid?

This is the last thing I need right now.

There goes my life!

The loud laughter behind her stopped Shelby from heading down a road that led only to heartache. She shook her head, pulled in a deep breath and quietly reminded herself that she was the lucky one.

Turning around, she walked across the room. “Okay, boys, it’s closing time. You all need to head out.”

The four cowboys did as she asked, two helping their one friend who was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. She smiled her thanks as they walked away, and started to clear away their empties, but froze when she felt an arm snake around her waist.

“Hmm, why don’t I stick around so we can have some fun?” Heavy, beer-ladened words slurred in her ear as male fingers tightened on her hip.

Shelby fought against the tears that threatened by blinking hard. Could this night get any worse? She never let her guard down and got this close to customers, especially those who stayed until closing time.

“No, thanks.” She tried to angle her body away from him, but he practically had her pinned against the table. “I still need to clean up.”

“I’ll help ya.” His breath stank of cigarettes and his rough beard scraped against her cheek. “My buddies are already gone—”

“And you should join them.”

Suddenly, she was free from his mangled hold. Shelby hurried away, moving around to the other side of the table in time to watch Dean escort the sputtering cowboy toward the door.

“H-hey! I wasn’t go-going to do nothing!”

“I’m sure the lady is pleased to hear that in case you ever want to come back again.” Dean’s voice carried back across the bar as he strong-armed the man outside. “But it’s time for you to leave anyway.”

This time she couldn’t hold on. She’d reached her limit and when her legs gave way, Shelby sank into the closest chair.

“I need to get out of here.” Dropping her head, she covered her face with her hands, rocking back and forth repeating the words again and again. “I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here.”

“Any special place you want to go?”

She jerked upright. Dean had returned and knelt in front of her. He’d tossed his hat on the table, making it easy for her to see the sincerity in his gaze.

“Just name the spot, darling.” His mouth hitched upward in one corner, making his smile tentative and sweet at the same time. “Name it and I’ll take you there.”

Chapter Three

Incredible blue eyes stared back at Dean. Eyes the color of the crystal clear falls located in the mountains outside of town. They were also wide and unblinking, which worried him as much as the way he’d found her huddled in one of the simple wooden chairs, after he’d come back inside from making sure that the drunken cowboy left with his buddies.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

Her voice was as shaky as the rest of her. He found himself wanting to pull her into his arms, hold her close and tell her everything was going to be all right.

Which was probably a lie.

He had no idea what the heck was going on other than a drunken cowboy manhandling her and a booth of female customers that took childhood bullying to a new level.

“Offering to play chauffeur?” That got him a small smile, so he continued, “I came for a beer, remember?”

She nodded, still holding his gaze. “But you left.”

“No, I just stepped outside to get some fresh air. When I saw your last customers leave, minus one, I figured I should come back in and make sure you were okay.”

This time she closed her eyes and turned away. Two deep breaths didn’t seem to help. She was still shaking. When she captured her bottom lip with her teeth and bit down, he just about lost it. “Hey, can I get you anything? A glass of water maybe?”

She shook her head.

“Something stronger?” It felt wrong to ask her that. She looked so innocent, but his brother had assured him she was of age and they were in a bar after all. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got just about everything here.”

That got her attention. Eyes open, she looked at him again and he was glad not to see any tears in those blue depths. She drew in another breath, this one a bit more steady, and nodded.

“Okay.” Dean backed away, rising to his full height. “Pick your poison.”

“Hot chocolate.”

Hot—What? “Hot chocolate?” he repeated.

She nodded again. “And don’t spare the marshmallows. I need lots and lots of marshmallows.”

He looked around, spotting the swinging door that led to the kitchen. “I’m guessing I’ll find what I need in there?”

“No, the cabinet beneath the register. There’s one of those automated machines with the tiny cups. Just pop one in and press the button.”

Dean knew what she was talking about. They’d bought one of those gadgets for their father a few years ago for Christmas. The old man loved it. “And the marshmallows?”

“There should be a fairly new bag and a couple of mugs, too.”

Dean crossed the bar and found everything just where she said. An assortment of single cups featuring flavored coffees, teas and hot chocolate lined the top shelf and the mugs, both looking well-used, sat next to a bag of miniature marshmallows. One of the mugs was stamped with Property of SEAL Team One, Naval Amphibious Base Coronado while the other featured a group of cartoon princesses.

He grabbed the princess mug, made the hot chocolate and returned. By the time he got back to her, her fingers were relaxed when she reached for the mug.

“What made you choose this one?” she asked, still a bit shell-shocked. “Don’t think I know any Navy SEALs?”

He shrugged, having gone purely on instinct and handed her the spoon he’d brought with him.

“Well, I do.” She paused to blow on the contents of her mug and poked at the melting marshmallows on top. “Samuel Jackson Traven, retired SEAL. He’s Rosey’s special someone.”

Dean leaned against the nearby table. “I guess a spitfire like Rosey would need someone with the stamina of a Special Forces kind of guy to keep up with her.”

This time she smiled, still looking down at her mug before bringing it to her lips to take a sip. “You figured that out after only just meeting her?”

“I’m a pretty good judge of people.”

Shelby choked, but waved him off when he reached for her. “I’m—I’m fine. It’s just still too hot.”

Dean watched as she stirred her drink, then scooped the gooeyness on top into her mouth. A small sigh escaped when her lips closed over the spoon, a sigh that went straight to a part of him that had no business responding.

He tightened his grip on the table’s edge, remembering the anger that flared in his gut when he’d come back in and found that drunk manhandling her. A protective—no, almost possessive—instinct he’d never felt before reared its ugly head and he wanted to do more to the guy than just haul his ass outside.

Why? What was it about this girl that brought out that side of him?

“Boy, that’s good.” Shelby’s words pulled him from his thoughts. She sat a little straighter in the chair, resting the now half-empty mug in her lap. “Ah, thanks.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“You’re welcome.”

She held his stare for a long moment, then broke free and looked around the bar as if she was seeing it for the first time. A quick shake of her head and she was on her feet.

Turning her back to him, she started cleaning the table. “I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

He moved out of her way. “Let me help you.”

“No.” Her reply was sharp and biting. She glanced over her shoulder, bit down on her lower lip for a second time, then said softly, “I’ve got this, but thanks again.”

“Okay.” He took a step backward, hands held wide in mock surrender. He then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just get the trash from the booth over there.”

“No!” She whirled around, clutching the bottles and her mug to her chest. “I don’t need any help. Really. Everything is fine…I’m fine. The Ace is closed now and you’ve done your good deed, so you can just head on home.”

After witnessing that lost look in her eyes a few minutes ago, and knowing the cause of it was still out there somewhere? Not gonna happen. “I’m guessing you upend all the chairs and stools to sweep the floor?”

She sighed and stared at him for a long moment. He could almost see the internal battle she had going on inside her head. Not that he blamed her. Working in a bar probably meant she was hit on a lot and sometimes not as directly as what had happened a few minutes ago.

Was he hitting on her? Yeah, okay, maybe he was.

Finally, she gave him a quick nod before brushing past him in the direction of the dirty booth. Dean started with the closest clean table and by the time Shelby had wiped down the booth and locked the front door from the inside, he was working on the barstools.

“Hey, where should I put this?”

She turned, surprise on her face when she saw him holding the still-unopened beer bottle in his hand. “The beer cooler is behind the bar on the far left. I guess you weren’t really interested in a beer, huh?”

No, he’d come back here tonight for just one reason. To see her.

Yeah, he was definitely hitting on her.

Shelby hadn’t waited for an answer before disappearing through the swinging door. She returned a minute later with a couple of brooms and a dustpan. She paused but relented and passed one over to him when he held out his hand. Their fingers brushed and that same flicker that had crackled between them when he touched her before was still there. The widening of those beautiful eyes told him she felt it, too.

She spun away and headed for the back corner of the bar. He went to the front and they worked silently as an Elvis ballad filled the air. When they met in the middle of the room, Shelby grabbed a nearby trash barrel and took command of the dustpan. They finished just as the last notes of the song faded away.

She never once looked directly at him.

“Is that it?” Dean asked. “Or are we breaking out a mop and a pail of soapy water?”

“No, we don’t wash the floors until the weekend is over unless a customer gives us a reason to—” A faint buzzing filled the air, cutting off Shelby’s words. “Oh, darn it!”

She handed him the broom while fishing a cell phone out of her rear pocket. Tossing the dustpan into the trash can, she grabbed it and headed around the end of the bar while the thumb of one hand flew over the phone’s flat screen.

Replying to a text message? Was someone wondering why she hadn’t come home yet?

Dean hadn’t considered that. There was no ring on her finger, but that didn’t mean anything.

He’d been surprised after walking Jazzy back to where she was staying at Strickland’s Boarding House last night to find Shelby Jenkins still on his mind. He was intrigued by her, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he found himself wanting to know her better.

Now he knew why she’d spent most of last night frowning in his direction.

She thought he was already involved with someone. A misconception he’d cleared up earlier before she kicked him out of the bar. Not that he’d planned on leaving, at least not until he was sure she believed him. Now he was glad he’d stuck around.

“Well, that’s it. Thanks again for your help.”

He noticed her cell phone was gone, back in her pocket he guessed or inside the leather purse that hung from her shoulder.

“You might want to put these away.” He walked over to her, holding out the brooms.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She took them from his grasp, not allowing their hands to touch this time. “You can—”

“Walk you to your car?” He cut her off, offering a wide smile for the offense. “Great idea. You parked out back?”

“What are you—Why are doing all this?”

“I’m a nice guy?”

“Or maybe you think I’m an easy—”

“I think you’ve had a long night.” Dean cut her off again. “That includes being manhandled by a drunk and I just want to make sure you get to your car safely. That’s all.”

She nodded, and moments later, they were outside in the warm summer air. The parking lot was empty except for a couple of pickups and a car. Dean was glad to see the area was well lit. He glanced quickly at his watch. Almost twothirty in the morning. He guessed there were many nights when Shelby left the bar this late.

She headed for the used four-door that looked as if its best days were long behind it, her keys already in her hand.

“You know, I was planning to come by earlier than I did,” Dean said, falling into step beside her. “I worked until sunset at the elementary school and then fell asleep reading.”

“All of the volunteers have been working so hard to help the town get back on its feet.” Shelby reached the driver’s-side door and quickly unlocked it. “Everyone appreciates all you’ve done.”

He realized his time with her was ending fast. “Well, you know what they say about all work and no play. I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime.”

She yanked the door open and hesitated for a moment before sliding in behind the wheel. “I don’t think so.”

The door closed before he could stop her. Defeated, Dean could do nothing but stand there as she jammed her keys into the ignition. A quick turn and the highlights came on, but nothing else did except for a rapid clicking noise.

He watched her mouth move in what he guessed were a few colorful word choices as she tried to start her car again with the same results. Twice.

Tapping on the window, he waited until she rolled it down to lean forward and peer in at her. “Pop the hood. I’ll take a look.”

“Dean, you’ve already done so much for me tonight.” She stared straight ahead out the windshield. “I can’t ask you—”

He liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips. “You didn’t ask. I offered. Now, pop it.”

She did as he asked and he walked around to the front of the car, lifting the hood. She’d parked beneath a light, which helped somewhat. He fiddled with the battery connections but they were tight.

“Here, this might help.”

He turned to find Shelby standing next to him with a flashlight. “Thanks.”

Ten minutes later, he shut off the light and closed the hood with a light bang. Shelby stood leaning against the driver’s-side door. “Sorry. I don’t see anything that’s a simple fix. It might just be your battery. More likely it’s the alternator or the starter.”

“It’s money I can’t afford to spend right now, that’s what it is.” She took the flashlight from him and tossed it back inside her car, locking the door behind her. “A perfect ending to a perfect night.”

Dean wasn’t happy this happened, but at least he was going to get to spend more time with her. “Come on, I’ll take you home. Can we walk from here?” Considering the size of Rust Creek Falls, a person was able to walk from one end of town to the other in a few hours.

Shelby was shaking her head before he finished talking. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“I’m not going to let you walk alone.” He remembered her cell phone. Damn, he hated to ask, but he had to. “Unless there’s someone you can call to come get you?”

Shelby tightened her grip on her purse, an array of emotions playing across her face before she turned away into the shadows. Silence filled the air and he wondered what she wasn’t telling him.

“No,” she finally said. “There’s no one. And I don’t live in town. I’m on the east side of the creek, over on the edge of the Traub ranch.”

Dean had met most of the Traub family when they’d held a barbecue out at their place last month inviting the whole town, including the volunteers.

“Are you related to the Traubs?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My daddy used to work at the ranch.”

“Well, my truck is parked at the trailer I’m staying in.” He motioned with one hand. “Let’s get you home, huh?”

They made the quick walk across the street and into the makeshift trailer park. Dean held open the passenger-side door for Shelby, ignoring her look of surprise. He got behind the wheel and headed down Sawmill Street, knowing it headed straight out of town.

“How long have you lived in Rust Creek Falls?” he asked to fill the silence as they left the center of town.

“All my life.” Shelby kept her gaze toward the window. “Born, raised and never been farther than Kalispell.”

Kalispell was the next closest town to Rust Creek Falls, about thirty minutes away and where Dean had hoped to take Shelby out for dinner and maybe a movie. She’d already turned him down once. Should he try again?

He followed her directions on the back roads once they left the town limits, noting they soon passed a house for sale, and the five acres it sat on, that had caught his eye last week. Uninhabited for a few years because of the elderly owner’s death, it had survived the flood unscathed. Dean had checked out the place on a whim, his head already filled with ideas to fix it up.

If he went through with his idea of being more than just a temporary resident of Rust Creek Falls, he’d need a place to live.

Shelby pointed out the road that led to her driveway just a few miles away. Dean turned, noting how the gravel drive inclined as they drove. “Did you have much damage from the flooding last month?”

“No, my daddy built our place up on this rise. There was a lot of water around us, and the driveway was impassable for a day or two, but that was it.”

Dean was happy to hear that. Lord knew there were a lot of homes that had suffered damage ranging from flooded basements to entire homes being condemned. the biggest loss to the town, in terms of buildings at least, had been the total destruction of the elementary school.

He had to admit it’d been hard on his heart to be part of the team that gutted the entire place from the ceiling downward, tossing out tons of debris that included everything from books to pencils before a structural inspection could take place.

“Your father’s a smart man.”

“Was. Was a smart man. He died three years ago.”

Damn, that sucked. Shelby must have been a teenager when that happened. Dean, too, knew what it was like to lose a parent at that age. His mother had died suddenly the summer after he graduated from high school.

“You can turn in here.”

He did as Shelby instructed. The headlights of his truck passed over a simple, one-story ranch-style house with a front porch.

And a pickup truck parked in front of a two-car garage.

He thought back to the text message she’d received, not liking how his gut twisted at the sight of the extra vehicle in the drive. Pulling into the empty space near a side entry door, he saw an outside light shone bright in the dark night. A soft glow also came from inside the house. The kitchen, he guessed, wondering again if Shelby had someone waiting up for her.

He put the truck into Park and shut off the twin beams of light from the headlights that bounced off the garage, putting the cab’s interior into a shadowy darkness.

“Well, it’s pretty late.” She reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Shelby, wait.” He rested his arm across the back of the truck seat, his fingers inches from her shoulder. “You must have figured out that I came back to the bar to see you.”

That got her attention.

She turned to look at him, the soft cotton of her T-shirt brushing against his fingertips. With her back to the outside light, it was hard to see her face, but he could see when her tongue darted out to swipe across her lips.

Yeah, there went his body’s involuntary reactions again.

“Do you believe what I told you earlier about me and Jazzy just being friends?” he pressed.

She nodded but remained silent.

Having no idea if that was a good thing or not, Dean decided he was going to try this again. But first things first. “You know, I’d really like to take you out, but I guess I should find out if you’re involved with someone.”

“Dean, I…” Her voice trailed off as she looked out the windshield, her fingers tunneling through the shoulder-length strands of her hair. “I’m not involved. Most of my nights are spent working at the bar. I don’t have time to date.”

He was glad to hear she was single and she hadn’t turned down his offer quite yet. “Look, I was planning to take a picnic lunch up around the falls Sunday afternoon. I found this great spot, an open area with marked paths, right next to an outcropping of rocks where there’s the remains of—”

“—of a bridge.” She turned back and finished his sentence with him. “Wait, did you say the remains of a bridge?”

Dean nodded. “As far as I can tell, yeah, there used to be a bridge of some kind over the creek. I guess the flooding took it out. Do you know the place?”

“Yes, I know it.”

He waited, wondering if she was going to say more. When she didn’t, he plowed ahead. “So, how about joining me? I make a pretty mean fried chicken.”

She smiled at that. “You cook?”

“It’s an old family recipe that earned my mother a blue ribbon at the Gallatin County Fair three years running.” Dean grinned at the memory. “I’ll even throw in macaroni salad and freshly sliced watermelon.”

Shelby studied him for a long moment, and Dean held his breath. He hadn’t worked this hard for a date in a long time. A couple of the female volunteers on his construction crew had made it clear from the first day they were willing and able to spend time with him. He hadn’t been interested and not just because mixing work and pleasure could be a formula for disaster either.

But this? This he wanted with every ounce of his being.

“Well, how can a girl say no to freshly sliced watermelon?”

Shelby stepped inside her house and closed the kitchen door with a soft click, pausing to lean up against the cool wood for a moment. She couldn’t believe she’d done the exact opposite of what her head had told her to do.

She’d said yes.

For an evening that had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes just an hour ago, it had ended with Shelby agreeing to go on a picnic with a total stranger.

A stranger who’d already earned Rosey’s stamp of approval, saved her from a drunken cowboy, helped her clean up the bar and insisted on seeing her safely home after her car died.

A regular knight in shining armor.

Too bad Shelby no longer believed in fairy tales or happily-ever-afters, despite the princess mug.

“Are you okay, honey?”

Shelby turned at the voice, wondering how many times she’d been asked that question in her lifetime. “I’m fine, Mama.”

“When you replied to my text you said you’d be home any minute. What happened? And where’s your car?” Vivian Jenkins shuffled into her kitchen, tying the sash of her cotton bathroom tightly around her waist. “And who brought you home?”

“My car died.” She flipped the lock on the door, deciding to go with the short version of the night’s events. “That was Dean Pritchett. He was at the bar and nice enough to bring me home.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you are hooking up with another one of those cowboys.” Her mother’s tone switched from concerned to protective. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Dean isn’t a cowboy. I think. I’m not really sure what he does for a living, but he’s part of the volunteer crew that came from Thunder Canyon to help with the repairs of the town.”

Her mother’s demeanor changed in an instant. For a woman who had fallen in love and married a cowboy within weeks of meeting him twenty-five years ago, she sure held a disdain for the species nowadays. “Oh. Well, that was very nice of him.”

“Yes, Dean Pritchett is a nice guy.” Shelby walked past her mother and out of the kitchen, waiting until she was in the hallway before dropping the next bomb. “Which is why I agreed to go out on a date with him.”