The Maverick's Summer Sweetheart. Stacy Connelly
Extract
“This is awesome! Don’t you think so, Dad?”
As rancher Hank Harlow reluctantly handed over the keys for his classic Ford pickup to the valet and watched a uniformed kid roughly half his age and half his size carry his own luggage toward the impressive entrance of Maverick Manor, he had to admit it sure was different.
Not that Hank had never stayed in a fancy hotel before. He had—even if that one time had been on his honeymoon. He didn’t spend much time thinking of that long-ago weekend. It was over...as was his marriage.
“Dad!” His preteen daughter, Janie, turned back with an exasperated sigh that only preteen daughters seemed capable of. Standing in front of the iron-trimmed double doors, she threw her arms out wide. “Did you even hear me? Isn’t this awesome?”
Dad... That was what Hank thought was awesome. His little girl still calling him “Dad” even though she, like the rest of the tiny town of Rust Creek Falls, Montana, now knew the truth.
With a last glance back at the disappearing bumper of his F-150, Hank jogged over to his daughter. “You are right, kiddo. This place is awesome.”
Hugging Janie to his side, he stepped into the lobby. Hank was familiar with the local hotel and its unique story. The timber-and-stone mansion was once a private home locals referred to as Bledsoe’s Folly. For years the place had stood empty and abandoned, until Nate Crawford had turned it into the fanciest hotel for miles around. Perched on a mountainside with gorgeous views of the town below, the hotel was a prime location for parties and special events.
But this would be Hank’s first time as a guest. And not just for an overnight stay. Nope. When Hank asked Janie how she wanted to spend her first week of summer vacation, this was his daughter’s request—a stay at Maverick Manor.
He didn’t get it. He really didn’t. Staying in a hotel in their own hometown? Sleeping in a strange bed, living out of a suitcase, using ridiculously tiny travel toiletries? All less than thirty miles from the Bar H, his ranch and Janie’s home away from home when she wasn’t living with her mother and Anne’s new husband, Daniel Stockton.
She’s growing up, Hank, Anne had told him. She wants to experience new things.
Over the past several years, Hank had suffered through quite a few new things—including his divorce, the return of Anne’s first love, her remarriage, Janie calling another man Dad...
Yeah, he’d had enough of new at a time when he wanted nothing more than to hang on to the way things used to be.
Janie has been missing Abby, Anne had added. She’s feeling a bit disconnected from her best friend, who’s off having all these exciting adventures. Janie wants to be seen as mature and sophisticated, too.
Hank had bitten his tongue at that. Janie had just completed the sixth grade. No one in the sixth grade needed to feel mature or sophisticated. Certainly not his tomboy daughter! But Anne might have a point when it came to Janie’s best friend. Abby’s mother, Marissa, had married Autry Jones, and since then the family had been living in Paris, where Autry worked for his family’s company. Hank supposed Paris did seem new and exciting compared to little ol’ Rust Creek Falls, where everyone knew everyone else.
And if staying at Maverick Manor was what Janie wanted, then Hank would make sure this summer vacation was everything his daughter hoped it would be.
“So, what do you want to do first, Janie?” he asked as they waited in line to check in.
Janie grinned up at him. “I want to check out the room and the view. Oh, and then order room service and see what movies are showing and—”
Hank nodded at his daughter’s unbridled enthusiasm and tried not to think how the views from the Bar H were the best around or how he and Janie could have shared snacks and watched her favorite flicks right from the comfort of their very own couch.
She’ll be a teenager in a few months, Hank, he could hear Anne telling him. She won’t be a little girl forever.
Not forever. At the rate things were changing, not even for long. As he forced a smile at the woman behind the desk, Hank tried hard not to look into a future where he’d be sitting on that couch, watching movies and eating popcorn...alone.
* * *
Gemma Chapman eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror. The black satiny bikini she’d found in a 5th Avenue boutique had been exactly what she was looking for three months ago. A little sexy, a little revealing, perfect for grabbing her groom’s attention on their honeymoon.
Now she didn’t know what she’d been thinking.
Discovering only weeks before the wedding that the man she had planned to marry had been sleeping with her best friend had Gemma questioning everything.
Including swimwear.
On paper—like in their engagement announcement and the photo taken by one of New York’s most in-demand wedding photographers—she and Chad Matthews had been perfect for each other. Both of them came from affluent families. Both of them had attended prestigious prep schools before going to Ivy League colleges. Gemma worked in the financial district at an investment company, while Chad was already a junior member at a top law firm. They knew the same people and were members at the same club. They both enjoyed an evening at the theater and dining at the trendiest restaurants, followed by a night on the town. And if Gemma had ever longed for something more, her mother was always there to remind her not only how to act, but how to feel.
You should feel honored your stepfather wants to adopt you.
You should feel fortunate Chesterton Prep has accepted you.
You should feel thrilled your stepfather arranged an interview with Carlston, Landry and Greer.
You should feel so excited that Chad proposed.
Walking in on her fiancé and her best friend, Gemma hadn’t needed anyone to tell her how she should feel. Angry...betrayed...humiliated... Certainly she had felt all of that, but shouldn’t she have also felt heartbroken? And how was it that a relationship that looked so perfect on the outside could end up being so empty inside?
Chad’s infidelity had made Gemma start to question what else in her life wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. And while her mother was certain Gemma would feel completely miserable on a honeymoon by herself, she had kept her first-class reservation and had arrived in Rust Creek Falls earlier that day.
Unlike her cheating scumbag of an ex, Maverick Manor was exactly as advertised. The bathroom had had all the amenities of a modern hotel but with an added old-fashioned flair in the enormous claw-foot tub and a raised sink reminiscent of a water basin. And though the spacious bedroom—with its hand-scraped wood floors and exposed-beam ceiling—had the same rugged and handcrafted design as the rest of the hotel, the honeymoon suite also boasted a faux-bearskin rug that was spread out in front of a river-rock fireplace and a four-poster bed draped with a sheer white canopy. Romantic touches a newlywed couple would expect.
Which was all the more reason to leave the suite behind and head for the pool.
From what Gemma had seen on her way to her room, the hotel’s newly constructed pool looked exactly as it had in the website photos—with rock walls and a waterfall and a spa built to resemble a natural hot spring. The wide wall of windows looked out onto a breathtaking mountain view, and the huge glass panels that could be closed during colder months were open for the summer.
Ignoring