The Last Single Maverick

“I didn’t tell you? It’s oil. Except for my oldest brother, Dillon, who’s a doctor, we’re all in oil.”

She laughed. “Knee-deep?”

“All the way over our heads in it, trust me. We’re Traub Oil Industries. I was a vice president in the Midland office. I quit the first of April. I was supposed to be out of there by the end of May. My mother and Pete kept finding reasons why I had to stay. I finally escaped just this past Wednesday. I’m never going back.”

“You sound determined.”

“Believe me, I am.”

“How come you call your dad Pete?”

“He’s my stepdad. My father, Charles, was something of a legend in the oil business. He died in an accident on a rig when I was little. My mom married Pete about two years later. Her last name is Wexler now. None of us were happy when she married him. We were loyal to our dad and we resented Pete.”

“We?”

“My brothers, my sister and I. But Pete’s not only a good man, he’s also a patient one. He won all of us over eventually. Pete had a heart attack a couple of years ago. We almost lost him. That really taught us how much he means to us.”

“It’s so obvious he’s head over heels in love with your mom.”

“Yes, he is. A man like that is damn hard to hate.” He took her arm. “Come on, I want you to meet my brothers.”

They wandered back inside. Joss met Dillon and Ethan and Corey and Jace’s twin, Jackson. The two did look a lot alike—meaning tall, dark and handsome. But it wasn’t the least difficult to tell them apart. Joss also met the Traub boys’ only sister, Rose, and Rose’s husband, Austin, and she visited with the wives of Jason’s brothers. She liked them all, with Lizzie, Ethan’s wife, possibly being her favorite.

Lizzie Traub was tall and sturdily built, with slightly wild-looking dark blond hair and a no-nonsense way about her. She owned a bakery, the Mountain Bluebell, in town. Everyone said that Lizzie baked the best muffins in Montana.

And beyond Jace’s brothers and sister and their spouses, there were Traub cousins, too: DJ and Dax and their wives Allaire and Shandie. And also Clay and Forrest Traub, two cowboys from Rust Creek Falls, which was about three hundred miles from Thunder Canyon.

Joss was starting to wonder how she was going to keep all their names straight when a woman named Melba Landry, who was Lizzie Traub’s great-aunt, caught up with them. A big woman with a stern face, Melba possessed a truly impressive bosom. Joss tried not to laugh as the energetic old woman cornered Jace and insisted she wanted to see him at her church the next morning.

“Of course he’ll come,” Joss told Melba. “There’s nothing Jace enjoys more than a good Sunday service.”

Beside her, Jace made a low groaning sound.

And Melba turned her sharp hazel eyes on Joss. “Excellent. I want to see you there, too, young lady.”

“Well, now, I don’t exactly know if I—”

“We’ll be there,” Jace promised. Joss elbowed him in the ribs, but he didn’t relent.

Aunt Melba said, “Wonderful. The service begins at ten.” And she sailed off to corner some other unsuspecting potential churchgoer.

The party continued. It really was fun. Joss forgot her troubles and just had a good time. She spotted Theresa Duvall dancing with a tall, lean cowboy, one of Jace’s cousins from Rust Creek Falls. Theresa clung to that cowboy like paint. She didn’t seem the least upset that things hadn’t worked out for her with Jace.

Joss and Jace danced. He was a good dancer. Plus, he kept to their agreement about just being friends. He didn’t hold her too close. She swayed in his arms and thought how good it felt to be held by him. His body and hers just kind of fit together. He was a great guy and if things were different she would definitely be attracted to him. Really, the longer they danced, the more she started thinking that she wouldn’t mind at all if he did hold her closer….

But no. That wouldn’t be a good idea. The last thing she needed right now was a new man in her life. She liked Jace as a person, but still. He was a man. All man. And she wasn’t trusting any man. Not now.

Not for a long, long time, if ever.

It was after ten when the party broke up. She and Jace were among the last to leave. They wandered out to the lobby together and then kind of naturally turned for the elevators side-by-side.

The Honeymoon Suite was on the top floor. The doors opened and they left the elevator.

At the door, she paused, key card in hand. “If I let you in, you have to promise not to put a move on me.”

He looked hurt. “Joss, come on. How many ways can I tell you? I need a friend. You need a friend. That’s what we’ve got going on here. It’s all we’ve got going on here.”

She chewed her lower lip for a moment. “All right. I believe you.” And then she stuck her key in the slot and pushed the door wide.

He followed her in, through the skylit foyer area into the living/dining room, which had floor-to-ceiling windows with a spectacular view. “Nice.”

“Hey, only the best for Kenny Donovan’s runaway bride.” She headed for the wet bar. “How about a little champagne and caviar? On Kenny, of course.”

“Got a beer?”

She gave him one from the fridge and grabbed a ginger ale for herself. “Make yourself at home.” He took a fat leather easy chair and she shucked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa.

And they talked. About his family. About the party at the Rib Shack. About how they both thought Lizzie was great and how Lizzie’s aunt Melba cracked them up.

“So how long are you here for?” he asked.

She thought how much she liked his voice. It was deep and warm and made her want to cuddle up against him—which she was not, under any circumstances, going to do. Ever. “Another week. As long as Kenny doesn’t put a stop on his platinum card, I am having my whole two-week un-honeymoon.”

“And then?”

“Back to Sacramento. To find a job. And a new place to live.”

“We have so much in common,” he said. “I’m here for a week, too.”

“You told me. The family reunion. And then after that?”

“I suppose I’ll have to get a life. But I’m not even going to think about that yet.”

“Jace, I like the way you completely avoid anything remotely resembling responsibility. Aunt Melba would so not approve.”

“Thank you, Joss. I do my best.” He tipped his longneck at her. “I’m glad we’re friends. Let’s be best friends.”

“All right. I’m up for that.”

“Best friends for a week,” he declared.

She held up her index finger and reminded him, “No benefits.”

He looked at her from under his thick dark brows. “You know you’re killin’ me here. Have I, in any way, put any kind of move on you?”

“Nope, not a one.”

“Then can we be done with the constant reminders about how I’m not supposed to try and get you naked?”