The Maverick's Summer Love

“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.