The Maverick's Summer Love

“Shelby Marie!”

“Shh!” Turning around, Shelby put her finger to her lips despite the partially closed door to her left. “I don’t want you to wake her.”

Her mother dismissed the request with the wave of her hand. “Oh, please. That child sleeps through a Montana thunderstorm. You know her.”

Yes, she did.

Shelby pushed open the door, the night-light bathing her daughter’s bedroom in a warm light. The entire room was decorated in princesses, from the bedding to the toys, but the most important princess of all lay asleep, a stuffed yellow bear held tight in her grasp.

Crossing the room, Shelby automatically picked up the stuffed toys that hadn’t been selected as bedtime companions and her daughter’s clothing, tossing each in their respective baskets. She perched gently on the edge of the twin-size mattress, marveling at how small Caitlin looked curled up in a ball in the center of the bed.

Brushing back the blond strands that matched her own, Shelby gazed at the little girl who changed her life five years ago. Caitlin was born on Shelby’s seventeenth birthday, a present ten days early.

And two weeks after the end of Shelby’s junior year in high school.

Two weeks after Caitlin’s father, football star Zach Shute, had graduated, still proclaiming the baby wasn’t his.

Shaking off the memories, Shelby leaned in and placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, taking a moment to breathe in that simple fragrance of bubblegum-scented shampoo and talcum powder.

“Did she give you any trouble with her bath tonight?” Shelby whispered, knowing her mother stood behind her.

“Are you kidding me?” Vivian laid a hand on Shelby’s shoulder. “She loved it. As long as I sang ‘Under the Sea’ over and over again. And then we had to read the book connected with that movie at least four times before she would settle down.”

Shelby smiled. Her daughter did love to read. A trait she’d picked up from both her grandparents. She didn’t have any idea where she or Caitlin would be today if it wasn’t for the love and support of her parents.

Telling them she was pregnant at the tender age of sixteen was the hardest thing she’d ever faced, but both her mom and her dad had been by her side from the very beginning.

Rising, Shelby motioned her mother from the room. She was suddenly very tired and she had to be up with Caitlin in the morning as her mother worked at the local beauty salon on Saturdays. Thank goodness her daughter tended to sleep in, but even an 8:00 a.m. wake-up was going to be tough to handle at this point.

“Good night, Mama.” Shelby gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek after they left Caitlin’s room. “I’m heading to bed.”

“So when is this date of yours?”

Shelby sighed. She should have known. “We’re going for a picnic Sunday afternoon. Is that okay? Are you and Caitlin still going to the movies in Kalispell?”

Her mother nodded. She’d insisted on special afternoons with her granddaughter even though she stepped in as babysitter while Shelby worked at the bar. “And we’re going out for junk food afterward.”

“Mama—”

“I know, but it’s my right as a grandmother. Healthy stuff here in the house, junk food during nana-and-me dates.”

She was too tired to argue about it now. “Okay.”

“Does this man you’re going out with know about Caitlin?”

No, he didn’t.

She’d thought about telling him she was a single mom to a five-year-old. Just to see how quickly he would backpedal from his invite, much like the last two guys did after finding out about Caitlin.

But the idea of spending a few hours up by the falls with another adult of the opposite sex, especially one as goodlooking and well, nice, as Dean Pritchett, was too tempting to pass up.

Besides, she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Goodness knows she had enough seriousness in her life, especially now. Her plans to move away from Rust Creek Falls had implanted even more fully in her head after the school board’s rejection of her job application.

“Well, does he?” her mother asked.

“No. At least not yet.” Shelby had a feeling he would have mentioned Caitlin if someone else had already told him. “Don’t worry, Mama, Sunday afternoon is nothing more than a one-time thing.”

She closed her eyes to the seed of hope that was already rooting inside of her. The one that said maybe this was more than that.

Much more.

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