The Maverick's Summer Love. Christyne Butler

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.”

      Her mother’s demeanor changed in an instant. For a woman who had fallen in love and married a cowboy within weeks of meeting him twenty-five years ago, she sure held a disdain for the species nowadays. “Oh. Well, that was very nice of him.”

      “Yes, Dean Pritchett is a nice guy.” Shelby walked past her mother and out of the kitchen, waiting until she was in the hallway before dropping the next bomb. “Which is why I agreed to go out on a date with him.”

      “Shelby Marie!”

      “Shh!” Turning around, Shelby put her finger to her lips despite the partially closed door to her left. “I don’t want you to wake her.”

      Her mother dismissed the request with the wave of her hand. “Oh, please. That child sleeps through a Montana thunderstorm. You know her.”

      Yes, she did.

      Shelby pushed open the door, the night-light bathing her daughter’s bedroom in a warm light. The entire room was decorated in princesses, from the bedding to the toys, but the most important princess of all lay asleep, a stuffed yellow bear held tight in her grasp.

      Crossing the room, Shelby automatically picked up the stuffed toys that hadn’t been selected as bedtime companions and her daughter’s clothing, tossing each in their respective baskets. She perched gently on the edge of the twin-size mattress, marveling at how small Caitlin looked curled up in a ball in the center of the bed.

      Brushing back the blond strands that matched her own, Shelby gazed at the little girl who changed her life five years ago. Caitlin was born on Shelby’s seventeenth birthday, a present ten days early.

      And two weeks after the end of Shelby’s junior year in high school.

      Two weeks after Caitlin’s father, football star Zach Shute, had graduated, still proclaiming the baby wasn’t his.

      Shaking off the memories, Shelby leaned in and placed a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, taking a moment to breathe in that simple fragrance of bubblegum-scented shampoo and talcum powder.

      “Did she give you any trouble with her bath tonight?” Shelby whispered, knowing her mother stood behind her.

      “Are you kidding me?” Vivian laid a hand on Shelby’s shoulder. “She loved it. As long as I sang ‘Under the Sea’ over and over again. And then we had to read the book connected with that movie at least four times before she would settle down.”

      Shelby smiled. Her daughter did love to read. A trait she’d picked up from both her grandparents. She didn’t have any idea where she or Caitlin would be today if it wasn’t for the love and support of her parents.

      Telling them she was pregnant at the tender age of sixteen was the hardest thing she’d ever faced, but both her mom and her dad had been by her side from the very beginning.

      Rising, Shelby motioned her mother from the room. She was suddenly very tired and she had to be up with Caitlin in the morning as her mother worked at the local beauty salon on Saturdays. Thank goodness her daughter tended to sleep in, but even an 8:00 a.m. wake-up was going to be tough to handle at this point.

      “Good night, Mama.” Shelby gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek after they left Caitlin’s room. “I’m heading to bed.”

      “So when is this date of yours?”

      Shelby sighed. She should have known. “We’re going for a picnic Sunday afternoon. Is that okay? Are you and Caitlin still going to the movies in Kalispell?”

      Her mother nodded. She’d insisted on special afternoons with her granddaughter even though she stepped in as babysitter while Shelby worked at the bar. “And we’re going out for junk food afterward.”

      “Mama—”

      “I know, but it’s my right as a grandmother. Healthy stuff here in the house, junk food during nana-and-me dates.”

      She was too tired to argue about it now. “Okay.”

      “Does this man you’re going out with know about Caitlin?”

      No, he didn’t.

      She’d thought about telling him she was a single mom to a five-year-old. Just to see how quickly he would backpedal from his invite, much like the last two guys did after finding out about Caitlin.

      But the idea of spending a few hours up by the falls with another adult of the opposite sex, especially one as goodlooking and well, nice, as Dean Pritchett, was too tempting to pass up.

      Besides, she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Goodness knows she had enough seriousness in her life, especially now. Her plans to move away from Rust Creek Falls had implanted even more fully in her head after the school board’s