Karen Smith - Marrying Dr Maverick

Feeling as if she’d scrubbed herself raw from her shower at Strickland’s Boarding House, attempting to wash off the mud from a disastrous date, she passed the old-fashioned hitching post out front and stared up at the oversize playing card—an ace of hearts—that blinked in red neon over the door. After she climbed two rough-hewn wooden steps, Jazzy opened the old screen door with its rusty hinges and let it slap behind her. A country tune poured from a jukebox. Booths lined the outer walls while wooden tables with ladder-back chairs were scattered across the plank flooring around a small dance floor. Jazzy glimpsed pool tables in the far back. Old West photos as well as those from local ranches hung on the walls. A wooden bar was situated on the right side of the establishment crowded with about a dozen bar stools, and a mirrored wall reflected the rows of glass bottles.

Cowboys and ranch hands filled the tables, and a few gave her glances that said they might be interested in talking...or more. Jazzy quickly glanced toward the bar. There was one bar stool open and it was next to—

Wasn’t that Dr. Brooks Smith? She hadn’t officially met him, but in her volunteer work, helping ranch owners clean up, paint and repair, she’d caught sight of him now and then as he tended to their animals. She’d liked the way he’d handled a horse that’d been injured. He’d been respectful of the animal and downright kind.

Decision made, she crossed to the bar and settled on the stool beside him. Brooks had that sexy, scruffy look tonight. He was tall and lean and broad-shouldered. Usually he wore a smile for anyone he came in contact with, but now his expression was granitelike, and his hands were balled into fists. It didn’t even look like he’d touched his beer.

As if sensing her regard, and maybe her curiosity, he turned toward her. Their gazes met and there was intensity in his brown eyes that told her he’d been thinking about something very serious. His gaze swept over her blond hair, snap-button blouse and jeans, and that intensity shifted into male appreciation.

“You might need a bodyguard tonight,” he drawled. “You’re the only woman in the place.”

He could be her bodyguard anytime. She quickly banished that thought. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that he didn’t date much? Love gone wrong in his romantic history?

“I’m meeting a friend.” She stuck out her hand. “You’re Brooks Smith. I’m Jazzy Cates. I’ve seen you around the ranches.”

He studied her again. “You’re one of the volunteers from Thunder Canyon.”

“I am,” she said with a smile, glad he’d recognized her.

When he took her hand to shake it, she felt tingles up her arm. That couldn’t be, could it? She’d almost been engaged to a man and hadn’t felt tingles like that. Brooks’s grip was strong and firm, his hand warm, and when he took it away, she felt...odd.

“Everyone in town appreciates the help,” he said.

“Rust Creek Falls is a tight-knit community. I heard stories about what happened after the flood. Everyone shared what was in their freezers so no one would go hungry.”

Brooks nodded. “The community spirit was stoked by Collin Traub and the way he pulled everyone together.”

“I heard about his proposal to Willa Christensen on Main Street but I didn’t see it myself.”

Brooks’s eyes darkened at her mention of a proposal, and she wondered why.

“He and Willa seem happy” was all Brooks said.

So the man didn’t gossip. She liked that. She liked a lot about him. Compared to the cowboy she’d been out with earlier tonight—

A high-energy country tune played on the jukebox and snagged their attention for a moment. Jazzy asked, “Do you come here often?”

“Living and mostly working in Kalispell, I don’t usually have the time. But I’ll meet a friend here now and then.”

Kalispell was about twenty miles away, the go-to town for everything anyone in Rust Creek Falls needed and couldn’t find in their small town. “So you have a practice in Kalispell?”

“I work with a group practice there. We were called in to help here because my dad couldn’t handle it all.”

She’d heard Brooks’s father had a practice in Rust Creek Falls and had assumed father and son worked together. Her curiosity was aroused. She certainly knew about family complications. “I guess you’re not needed here as much now since the town’s getting back on its feet.”

“Not as much. But there are still animals recovering from injuries during the flood and afterward. How about you? Are you still cleaning out mud from homes that had water damage?”

“Yep, but I’m working at the elementary school, too.”

“That’s right, I remember now. You came with Dean Pritchett’s group.”

“Dean’s been a friend of our family for years. He was one of the first to volunteer to help.”

“How long can you be away from Thunder Canyon?”

“I’m not sure.” Because Brooks was a stranger, she found herself saying what she couldn’t to those closest to her. “My job was...static. I need a business degree to get a promotion and I’ve been saving for that. I came here to help, but I also came to escape my family. And...I needed a change.”

“I can understand that,” Brooks said with a nod. “But surely they miss you back home, and a woman like you—”

“A woman like me?”

“I’d think you’d have someone special back there.”

She thought about Griff Wellington and the proposal he’d wanted to make and the proposal she’d avoided by breaking off their relationship. Her family had tried to convince her she should marry him, but something inside her had told her she’d known better. Griff had been hurt and she hated that. But she couldn’t tie them both to a relationship she’d known wasn’t right.

Maybe it was Brooks’s easy way; maybe it was the interest in his eyes; maybe it was the way he listened, but she admitted, “No one special. In fact, I had a date tonight before I ended up here.”

“Something about that doesn’t sound right. If you had a date, why isn’t he here with you?”

“He’s a calf roper.”

Brooks leaned a little closer to hear her above the music. His shoulder brushed hers and she felt heat other places besides there. “What does that have to do with your date?”

“That was the date.”

Brooks pushed his Stetson higher on his head with his forefinger. “What?”

“Calf-roping. He thought it would be fun if he showed me how he did it. That would have been fine, but then he wanted me to do it. Yes, I ride. Yes, I love horses. But I’d never calf-roped before and so I tried it. There was mud all over the place and I slipped and fell and I was covered with mud from head to toe.”

Brooks was laughing by then, a deep, hearty laugh that seemed to echo through her. She liked the fact she could make him laugh. Genially, she bumped his arm. “It wasn’t so funny when it was happening.”

He gave her a crooked smile that said he was a little bit sorry he laughed, but not much. “Whatever gave him the impression you’d like to try that out?”

“I have no clue, except I did tell him I like horses. I did try to be interested in what he did, and I asked him questions about it.”

“This was a first date?” Brooks guessed.

“It was the last date,” Jazzy responded.

“Not the last date ever.”

She sighed. “Probably not.”

Was he thinking of asking her out? Or were they just flirting? With that twinkle in his eyes, she imagined he could flirt with the best of them if he really wanted to.

“So you came here to meet a friend and hash out everything that’s happened,” he concluded.

“My gosh, a guy who understands women!”