The Last Single Maverick. Christine Rimmer
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a look, he made her want to smile at him. But she didn’t.
On that corner was a homey-looking restaurant with flowered café curtains in the windows. The restaurant was closed. He stepped into the alcove by the door and tipped his head at her, signaling her to join him.
“We can’t stand here on the corner forever,” she groused, as an older couple walked past her and went on across the street.
He chuckled. “We’re not standing on the corner. You are.” He waved her into the alcove with him. “Come on. Come here…”
Reluctantly, she went. “What?”
He whispered in her ear, “I love the Hitching Post.”
“Whoop-de-do.” She spun her index finger in the air.
“Joss, about your attitude?”
“Yeah?”
“Lighten up.”
She knew he had a point. “Okay, okay. So why do you love the Hitching Post?”
He sat on the wide window ledge next to the door. “Good memories, that’s why. When I was a kid, we always used to go there every time we came to town. My dad would take us. We’d get burgers and fries and milkshakes on the restaurant side, where they allowed kids, and it was a special thing, with all of us together, with my dad relaxed and really with us, you know, focused on the family? He used to call us his little mavericks. I thought that was so cool. It seems to me that we went to the Hitching Post often, even though I know that we couldn’t have. I was only six when he died. And we only got to visit Thunder Canyon now and then in the summer. But I do remember clearly that on our last visit here before he died, my dad took me to the Hitching Post alone, the two of us. For some reason, Jackson didn’t even get to come. It was just me and my dad and I was the happiest kid on the planet.” He rose from the window ledge. His eyes holding hers, he took a few stray strands of her hair and guided them back behind her ear. A small shiver cascaded through her and she wanted to move even closer to him—at the same time as she knew she ought to step back.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I get it now—why that place is so special to you.”
“Good.” His caressing tone hovered somewhere on the border between gentle and intimate. “I mean, nothing against Theresa, but she’s not what I think about when the Hitching Post comes to mind.”
Joss felt rotten, and not only for razzing him about Theresa. There was also the uncomfortable fact that she was starting to wonder what it might feel like to kiss him. Plus, she was flat-out envious of him.
He had a great big, terrific family. And he’d had a dad, a real dad, until he was six, a dad who hadn’t left him willingly. Then, when he lost his dad, he’d gotten kind Pete Wexler as a stepdad. Her dad, on the other hand, had walked out before she even had a chance to know him. Her family consisted of her and her mom and right now, her mom only lectured her.
He was grinning again. “So come on, let’s go to the Hitching Post.”
“I don’t know. It’s past noon. Maybe I should just go back up to the resort.”
His grin faded. He blew out a breath. “Okay, Joss. what’s up with you?”
“I just… I feel low now, that’s all.”
“Why? A few minutes ago you seemed to be having a great time.”
“I was.”
“So what happened? You realized you were having too much fun?”
She opened her mouth to tell him how off-base he was, but then she saw that he might actually have a point. “I keep thinking I can’t just hang around in Montana doing nothing forever.”
“You’re right, but there’s no problem. You’re only hanging around in Montana doing nothing for another week. Then you can go back home and knock yourself out finding another job and a new apartment.”
Now she felt hurt. Really, her emotions were all over the map today. “How can you make a joke of it, Jace? It’s not a joke.”
“I know it’s not.” He said the words gently. And then he asked, “Are you bored?”
“No!” She wasn’t. Not in the least. “Are you kidding? I’m having a great time—or I was, just like you said, until a few minutes ago. And then, I don’t know, all at once I felt low and cranky.”
Jace stuffed his hands in his pockets. And then he just stood there next to the glass-topped, café-curtained door of the closed restaurant, watching her, waiting.
She busted herself. “Okay, my life’s a mess. And right now, I feel guilty about it. I mean, at least up at the resort I’m busy being defiant, you know? Having my un-honeymoon, hating all men. But here, with you…” She didn’t know quite how to explain it.
Jace did it for her. “Here, with me, you’re having a good time. And you don’t feel you have the right to have a good time. And not only are you having a good time when you don’t have the right to, but you’re also having it with a man.” He widened his eyes and spoke in a spooky half whisper. “A man you just met… yesterday.” She didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the arm. Then he put on a look of pretend disapproval. “Face it, Joss. Your mother would never approve.”
“This is not about my mother.” She said it with way too much heat. “And I really, well, I just want to go back to the resort now. Please.”
He gave her a long look. And then he nodded. “All right, but would you do one little favor for me first?”
She resisted the sudden need to tap her foot. “Fine. What?”
“The Town Square’s back there about two blocks. It’s that small park we passed after we left the bakery?”
“I remember it. What about it?”
“We’ll stop there, sit on a bench under a tree and talk a little bit more. And then I’ll take you back up Thunder Mountain.”
She folded her arms across her middle and looked at him sideways. “Talk about what?”
“I don’t know. The weather, the Dallas Cowboys, the meaning of life…”
“Oh, very funny.”
“We’ll just talk, that’s all, about whatever subject pops into our heads. And not for long, I promise. Half an hour, max. Then it’s back to the resort for you.”
She accused, “I know you’re going to try and make me feel better about everything. Don’t deny it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of denying it. Yes, Jocelyn Marie, the ugly truth is I am going to try and make you feel better. That is my evil plan. So what do you say? The Town Square? A measly little half hour of your time?”
He didn’t wait for her answer, but only reached for her hand again.
The little park was a lovely, grassy, tree-shaded place. They found a bench under a willow, the drooping branches like a veil, hiding them from the rest of the world.
“Nice, huh?” he asked her, after brushing a few leaves off the bench seat and gallantly gesturing for her to sit first. She did, smoothing her skirt under her, crossing her legs and folding her hands around her knee. He dropped down next to her. “Kind of private. If we whisper, no one will even know we’re here.”
She laughed. He really was so charming. “How old are you, ten?”
“Only at heart. Tell me a secret.”
She gave him a deadpan stare. “You first.”
He thought it over, shrugged. “Once I kissed a toad.”
“Eeww. Why?”
“Jackson dared me. He was always a troublemaker. And I was his second banana,