Christine Rimmer - Marriage, Maverick Style!

“What brought you home to Bozeman?”

“Now, that’s a long story. One you don’t need to hear right this minute.”

“But I would love to hear it.” He was leaning close again, his arm along the back of the bench behind her, all manly and much too exciting. “You should tell me. Now.” How did he do that? Have her longing to open her mouth and blather out every stupid mistake she’d ever made?

Uh-uh. Not happening. “But I’m not telling you now—so let it go.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me someday?” He sounded almost wistful, and that made her like him more, made her think that he was more than just some cocky rich guy, that there was at least a little vulnerability under the swagger.

“I guess anything’s possible,” she answered, keeping it vague, longing to move on from the uncomfortable subject.

Again, he retreated to his side of the bench. She drank a sip of ginger ale. Finally, he said, “You looked amazing in that stork costume.”

“Oh, please.”

“You did. You looked dorky and sweet and intriguing and original.”

“Dorky, huh?”

“Yeah. Dorky. And perfect. Almost as perfect as you look right now. I couldn’t wait to meet you. And now I never want to leave your side.”

“I’ll bet.”

He put up a hand as though swearing an oath. “Honest truth.”

She let out a big, fake sigh. “Not so perfect with babies, unfortunately. Poor little Gil—that’s Kayla and my cousin Trey’s baby, the one I was holding during the parade.”

“I remember.”

“Did you hear him wailing?”

“I did. Yes.”

“He’s probably scarred for life after having me hold him for the whole parade.”

“I’m not much of a baby person, either,” Carson confessed with very little regret.

She teased, “So you’re saying that we have something in common?”

“I’ll bet we have a lot in common.” He sounded way too sincere for her peace of mind. She tried to think of something light and easy to say in response, but she had nothing. He picked up her hat, tipped it back and forth so the rhinestone accents glittered in the sunlight, and then set it back down between them. “Any particular reason you rode the Gazette’s float?”

“Two reasons. One, I need work and I’m trying to get in good with the paper’s editor and publisher. I love Rust Creek Falls and I’m considering moving here permanently—if I can pull enough business together from my website and locally to make ends meet, that is.”

“And the second reason?”

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “The stork costume fit me.”

He chuckled at that. Then he asked about her family. “Ryan told me that you’re staying at your grandmother’s boardinghouse.”

She explained that she had two sisters, one of whom still lived in Bozeman, as did their mom and dad. “My other sister, Claire, her husband, Levi, and Bekka, their little girl, live here at the boardinghouse. Levi manages a furniture store in Kalispell and Claire is the boardinghouse cook.”

Carson listened to her ramble on. He really seemed to want to know everything about her. She found his interest flattering.

Maybe too flattering. Was she playing with fire?

Of course not. She’d met an interesting, attentive man, and she was enjoying his company.

Nothing wrong with that.

Eventually, they got up and each took a beer from the coolers. They visited with friends and family until the barbecue came off the smokers; then they sat together at a picnic table with Ryan and Kristen, Trey and Kayla. Tessa’s sister Claire and her husband, Levi, joined them, too.

Tessa was having a fabulous time.

Her original fears about Carson seemed so silly now. He liked her. She liked him.

It was a beautiful day, and she was spending it with a handsome, hunky guy. It would go nowhere, and she was happy with that. Before very long he would return to his glamorous life in LA. She would stay right here in Rust Creek Falls, enjoying her summer break and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

Later, as twilight fell, she and Carson got a blanket from his car. They spread the blanket on the grass, got comfortable and talked some more.

She confessed that she was kind of at a crossroads, trying to decide where to take her graphic design career. There was her nice, safe job in Bozeman and the growing business she was building through her website. “I kind of want to try leaving the Bozeman job and focusing on freelancing independently, but it’s tricky.”

He stuck his long legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. “I thought you said you wanted to move here, to Rust Creek Falls.”

“I do, but that doesn’t really fit with my ambitions for work. I’m slowly accepting that eventually I need to choose between trying again for a more ambitious career and a move here.”

“Go big,” he suggested.

“And what, exactly, does that mean?”

He shrugged. “You need to be where the action is. Why don’t you move to LA?”

She set her hat on the blanket between them and stretched out on her back. Folding her hands on her stomach, she stared up at the darkening sky. “You weren’t listening to me.”

He leaned over her and touched her chin with a light brush of his finger, causing a bunch of small, winged creatures to take flight in her belly. “I would be there. To help you get settled.”

She tried to keep it light. “Oh, I just bet you would.”

“Can you dial back the sarcasm?” He held her eyes.

“Carson, you hardly know me.”

“And that’s my point. I want to know you better.”

There was a moment—a long, sweet one—when he gazed down at her and she looked up at him. The world seemed wide-open at that moment, bright and so beautiful, bursting with hope and limitless possibility.

He whispered, “It’s just a thought.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She meant it to sound teasing. Flirtatious. But somehow, it came out too soft. Too full of yearning.

But then the band started playing over by the portable dance floor beneath the warm glow of the party lights strung between the trees.

“Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s dance.”

And they did dance. For over an hour, they never left the floor. He was more than a foot taller than her, but when he wrapped his big arms around her, it felt only...right. He knew the two-step and how to line dance.

When she told him she hadn’t expected an LA boy to know the cowboy dances, he laughed. “You oughta see my disco moves.”

“Okay, Carson. Now you’re starting to freak me out.”

Eventually, they got bottles of water from the coolers and returned to the blanket. Theirs was a great spot, out of the way of the action, shadowed and private, with only the thick swirl of the stars and the waning moon overhead for light.

They whispered together like a couple of bad children plotting insurrections against unwary adults. He told her that he’d been married to his high school sweetheart, Marianne. “Marianne wanted to start a family right away.”

“And you didn’t want kids, right?”

“Right. I realized I’d married too young. We divorced. She remarried a couple of years later. Her husband Greg’s a great guy. They have four kids.”

She stretched out on her back again and stared up at the stars. “So you’re saying she’s happy?”

“Very. I don’t see much of her anymore, but it’s good between us, you know? We’re past all the ugly stuff. She ended up finding just what she wanted.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m happy, too. I like my life. It’s all worked out fine.” He leaned over her, bending closer.

It just seemed so natural, so absolutely right, to offer her mouth to him, to welcome his kiss.