The Last-Chance Maverick. Christyne Butler
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dates in three months isn’t that many.”
“Six dates with six different guys.”
“Five.” Vanessa had made the mistake of going out twice with the same cowboy. There wouldn’t be a third time. “But who’s counting? Besides, not everyone believes in love at first sight. I’m more of the ‘you only live once, so enjoy yourself’ kind of girl.”
Unlike half of the women in the town’s Newcomers Club, it seems.
Besides Callie, two other members—Mallory Franklin and Cecelia Clifton—had also found happily-ever-after in the past few months and were sporting pretty engagement rings, even though Mallory claimed she hadn’t specifically moved to Rust Creek Falls for the great “Gal Rush” as many of the locals called the arrival of females over the past year or so. She’d initially come to town to raise her orphaned niece, the little girl her sister and brother-in-law had adopted from China. Then she fell in love with former playboy rancher, Caleb Dalton.
“Hey, Jonah!” Nate called out, “Come over and join us.”
The man hesitated, but then spun back around and headed across the room toward them, the hard hat now perched on his head with a rakish tilt. Callie backed up a few steps toward her fiancé and sent Vanessa a quick wink. She grinned in response and followed, happier now that the conversation had shifted away from the mural she still hadn’t officially agreed to do.
“Welcome home.” Nate held out his hand. “When did you get in?”
“Late last night.” He switched his travel mug from one hand to the other and shook Nate’s. “Very late. Hence, the need for coffee.”
“There’s always a need for coffee.” Nate released him and turned to her and Callie. “You remember Callie?”
He nodded. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too, Jonah. I bet you’re glad to be home.”
A shuttered look filled his gaze for a moment bringing Vanessa’s attention to his green-gold hazel eyes. Tired eyes. The man looked like he could use a good night’s sleep and it was barely eight in the morning.
“Yes, it is,” he said, then turned back to Nate. “Sorry I’m a day late. I know I said October first, but I got stuck on business—”
“Hey, one day doesn’t matter. Did you read my latest email?”
“I meant to, but yesterday was all about tying up loose ends and a long drive. Did I miss something important?”
“Yes, but I think this is better, anyway. Remember when I said I had a great idea for the lobby?” Nate waved his hand toward Vanessa. “Well, here she is.”
The stranger turned his gaze to her, the expression on his face as blank as the walls—as her imagination. Well, blank when it came to the mural. Suddenly she was coming up with some great ideas for her and this handsome guy.
Vanessa forced out a quick laugh, thankful it sounded so relaxed and stuck out her hand. “Gee, you make me sound like a pole dancer or something. Hi, I’m Vanessa Brent.”
“Jonah Dalton.”
He took her hand in his and heat engulfed her fingers. Where had the tingling come from that turned the heat up to volcanic level?
The widening of his eyes told her he felt it, too, and he quickly released her, tipped his mug again and took a long gulp. It was then she noticed the logo on the side. “Dalton...are you related to either of the Daltons here in town?”
He nodded, tugging the brim of his hard hat a bit lower. “Charles and Rita Dalton are my folks.”
“Oh, my goodness! What a small world!” Vanessa hugged her sketch pad to her chest. “Your parents are the sweetest people. I mean, your whole family is so nice. I’m renting a cabin on the Circle D Ranch.”
“You don’t say.”
“Do you know the place? When I was looking to move out of the boardinghouse in town, you mom insisted she had the perfect cabin and she was right! The living room has this one wall that’s a huge single pane of glass—” she waved a hand at the windows that filled the other side of the room “—nothing like that, of course, but the views of the ranch and the mountains are amazing. I’m still learning how to work the woodstoves, the nights have been getting chilly, but the best thing is the claw-footed tub in the bathroom.” Vanessa closed her eyes for a moment a sighed. “Oh, fill that baby with foamy bubbles, give me a good book and I’m soaking for hours up to my—”
The sound of choking had her eyes flying open in time to see Jonah thumping at his chest with his fist. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” One more thump and then he cleared his throat. “Last mouthful of coffee went down the wrong way. Yes, I know the cabin. I grew up on the Circle D Ranch.”
“So, are you a cowboy like your brothers?” It wasn’t hard to picture him in a classic Stetson instead of the hard hat he wore. “Although, I’m guessing from your current chapeau you’re working here on the renovation?”
Both Nate and Callie laughed, reminding Vanessa she wasn’t standing here alone with this long lost Dalton son she’d now recognized from the numerous family photos in the main house on the Dalton’s ranch.
“Yes, Jonah is working on the resort. He’s the lead architect on this project,” Nate explained. “All the innovative building techniques we’re putting into this place to turn it into a premier resort are his. He’s also the lead on all of the interior design so you’ll be working for him. In a way.”
“She will?” Jonah asked, clearly confused. “As what?”
“An artist,” Nate said. “I’ve commissioned Vanessa to paint a mural over the registration desk in the front lobby.”
“You have?” The confusion on his face gave way to something closer to annoyance. “When?”
“Just today,” Vanessa chimed in. “But I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Hmmm, interesting response. One arched eyebrow from her told him he was free to continue.
“No, that came out—what I meant was we’ve already got the designs for the interior furnishings in place.” Jonah’s gaze darted from Vanessa to Callie and back to Nate. “I mentioned earlier this week that Rothschild—the firm in Denver we hired—is sending a representative in a few weeks to give the team a final presentation on everything from furniture to curtains to...well, artwork.”
An emotion that hovered between resentment and relief filled Vanessa’s chest. It seemed Nate and his architect weren’t on the same page when it came to this so-called mural. Good. While the idea of taking on the commission scared her more than anything had in years, she’d admit she had been leaning toward saying yes, confident her talent hadn’t deserted her completely.
Now it didn’t seem to matter.
“Are you telling me you honestly didn’t know Nate had hired Vanessa to paint a mural in the resort?” Eli asked.
They’d managed to find an empty table with a couple of tall stools—one with a trio of half-finished drinks still sitting there—in the back corner of the Ace in the Hole, the local bar that catered to everyone from cowboys to bikers. Between the cracking of the pool balls against each other to the country music blaring from the jukebox for the dancers on the crowded parquet floor, the place was loud and noisy and Jonah had to lean forward to hear his brother. “No, I honestly didn’t know.”
Eli looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
“I didn’t.” Jonah dropped his gaze and fixed it on the icy longneck