The Maverick's Summer Love. Christyne Butler

She stared straight ahead out the windshield. “I can’t ask you—”

      He liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips. “You didn’t ask. I offered. Now, pop it.”

      She did as he asked and he walked around to the front of the car, lifting the hood. She’d parked beneath a light, which helped somewhat. He fiddled with the battery connections but they were tight.

      “Here, this might help.”

      He turned to find Shelby standing next to him with a flashlight. “Thanks.”

      Ten minutes later, he shut off the light and closed the hood with a light bang. Shelby stood leaning against the driver’s-side door. “Sorry. I don’t see anything that’s a simple fix. It might just be your battery. More likely it’s the alternator or the starter.”

      “It’s money I can’t afford to spend right now, that’s what it is.” She took the flashlight from him and tossed it back inside her car, locking the door behind her. “A perfect ending to a perfect night.”

      Dean wasn’t happy this happened, but at least he was going to get to spend more time with her. “Come on, I’ll take you home. Can we walk from here?” Considering the size of Rust Creek Falls, a person was able to walk from one end of town to the other in a few hours.

      Shelby was shaking her head before he finished talking. “I can’t ask that of you.”

      “I’m not going to let you walk alone.” He remembered her cell phone. Damn, he hated to ask, but he had to. “Unless there’s someone you can call to come get you?”

      Shelby tightened her grip on her purse, an array of emotions playing across her face before she turned away into the shadows. Silence filled the air and he wondered what she wasn’t telling him.

      “No,” she finally said. “There’s no one. And I don’t live in town. I’m on the east side of the creek, over on the edge of the Traub ranch.”

      Dean had met most of the Traub family when they’d held a barbecue out at their place last month inviting the whole town, including the volunteers.

      “Are you related to the Traubs?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “My daddy used to work at the ranch.”

      “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