The Maverick's Summer Love

“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.”