Harlequin Special Edition July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Read online

  Harlequin Special Edition July 2021 Box Set 2 of 2

  The Rancher’s Summer Secret

  Not Their First Rodeo

  The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog

  Christine Rimmer

  Christy Jeffries

  Carrie Nichols

  Table of Contents

  The Rancher’s Summer Secret

  By Christine Rimmer

  Not Their First Rodeo

  By Christy Jeffries

  The Sergeant’s Matchmaking Dog

  By Carrie Nichols

  MONTANA MAVERICKS

  Welcome to Big Sky Country, home of the Montana Mavericks! Where free-spirited men and women discover love on the range.

  THE REAL COWBOYS OF BRONCO HEIGHTS

  The young people of Bronco are so busy

  with their careers—and their ranches—that they have pushed all thoughts of love to the back burner. Elderly Winona Cobbs knows full well what it is like to live a life that is only half full. And she is determined to help them see the error of their ways...

  Oh-so-handsome cowboy Jameson John knows he’s considered a “catch,” but he’s never wanted to be caught...until now. His one-night stand with Vanessa Cruise over the winter was meant to be no strings attached. Now, however, he’s mesmerized by brainy, beautiful Van, and she doesn’t want to change the rules!

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome back to Bronco, Montana. It’s summertime, and here in Big Sky Country, we do the Fourth of July up right. It’s called Red, White and Bronco, and it’s a four-day festival celebrating Independence Day.

  Born and raised in Bronco, high school science teacher Vanessa Cruise left town brokenhearted nine years ago. She’s returned now and then to visit her family, but she’s vowed to never again make Bronco her home. Yes, it’s true that this year she’s here for the whole summer, teaching summer-camp science to tweens and early teens. But come fall, she’s returning to Billings and the good life she’s made for herself there.

  Rancher Jameson John is a Bronco man through and through. No way would he ever live anywhere else. In his younger years, Jameson was something of a player. And Van has a weakness for players—somehow, they always end up breaking her heart.

  Well, not this time, Van promises herself. She’s powerfully attracted to Jameson, but no way will she allow herself to fall in love with him.

  Jameson, however, is determined to convince his disaffected hometown girl to give love one more chance—with him. And on the second of July, at the Miss Bronco Beauty Pageant, something totally unexpected is about to happen, something that will give Jameson the romantic opportunity he’s been waiting for...

  It’s a great year for love here in Bronco. I hope Jameson and Vanessa’s story tugs at your heartstrings and reminds you that love is stronger than all our fears and doubts.

  Happy reading, everyone!

  Christine Rimmer

  The Rancher’s Summer Secret

  Christine Rimmer

  Christine Rimmer came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at christinerimmer.com.

  Books by Christine Rimmer

  Harlequin Special Edition

  The Bravos of Valentine Bay

  Almost a Bravo

  Same Time, Next Christmas

  Switched at Birth

  A Husband She Couldn’t Forget

  The Right Reason to Marry

  Their Secret Summer Family

  Home for the Baby’s Sake

  A Temporary Christmas Arrangement

  The Last One Home

  Montana Mavericks: What Happened to Beatrix?

  In Search of the Long-Lost Maverick

  Montana Mavericks: Six Brides for Six Brothers

  Her Favorite Maverick

  Montana Mavericks: The Lonelyhearts Ranch

  A Maverick to (Re)Marry

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For MSR, always.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  CHAPTER ONE

  Last New Year’s Eve

  Jameson John fully intended to ring in the New Year in style.

  He wanted to hear some good music, play a little eight ball and, if the stars aligned, take someone sweet and willing home. To make all that happen, he’d jumped in his quad cab and headed straight for Wild Willa’s Saloon.

  Perched on Center Street, with the entrance in Bronco Valley and the dance floor in tony Bronco Heights, Wild Willa’s was the most popular bar in Bronco, Montana. At Wild Willa’s, things got loud and rowdy pretty much every night. On New Year’s Eve, however, the fun reached a whole new level.

  As midnight approached, the very air seemed charged with anticipation. The sound of boots stomping on hardwood competed with the wail of the fiddle, the beat of the drums and the driving rhythm from the bass guitar.

  Tonight, every man wore his best boots and a snap-front dress shirt. Every woman had on her tightest jeans or her shortest flirty skirt. Many wore light-up, sequined cowboy hats. They blew party horns and shouted encouragements at the band. The place smelled of beer, perfume, saddle soap and sweat.

  “Hey, cowboy, let’s dance.”

  Jameson turned to the pretty blonde who’d just tapped him on the shoulder. She had lipstick on her straight white teeth and a woozy look in those big blue eyes. Like just about everyone else in Wild Willa’s tonight, she’d had one too many.

  As for Jameson, in the two hours since he’d walked through the wide, rustic double doors, he’d had a whiskey, neat, and a single beer. He wanted to be sharp, on his best game, just in case he met someone interesting. So far, that hadn’t happened. It wouldn’t be happening with this cowgirl, either.

  But the woozy blonde looked sweet and hopeful. He gave her a smile and led her out on the packed dance floor.

  When the song ended, another cowboy stepped up. Jameson thanked the blonde and left the floor. He tried not to feel discouraged, but at this rate, he’d have nobody to kiss when the clock struck twelve. Maybe it just wasn’t his night.

  With a shrug, he decided he needed a second whiskey and a seat at Wild Willa’s famous Get-Lucky Bar, which formed four loops of stools in a four leaf clover configuration.

  Too bad every stool had an occupant. Jameson considered heading for the pool tables. He could order a drink there.

  But then, in the split second before he turned for the tables, a guy at one end of the clover got up. Jameson moved in to claim the seat.

  “Good luck, buddy,” muttered the other man as he went by. He looked kind of glum, like maybe he’d just been shut down.

  Jameson slid onto the vacant stool, with the wall on one side and a curvy brunette on the other.

  He signaled the nearest bartender and ordered, “Knob Creek, straight up.”

  The brunette turned a pair of velvet brown eyes hi
s way—and he almost felt sorry for that other guy. But then her wide, plump lips stretched in a devilish smile.

  The rich, musical sound of her laughter had him forgetting all about that other guy. “Well, if it isn’t the one and only Jameson John.” She raised her glass as the bartender set his drink down. “Hot and handsome as ever, I see.”

  Suddenly, his evening looked a whole lot more promising. Apparently, this gorgeous woman knew him. He studied her more closely.

  She did look a little familiar. He raised his whiskey and tapped the glass to hers.

  “Wait—don’t tell me,” he said. “I know that I know you...”

  She laughed again, tossing her head, her thick, wavy hair tumbling down her back, gleaming like polished mahogany. He found himself staring at the smooth olive skin of her throat. “I’m Vanessa,” she said. “Vanessa Cruise.”

  “Wow.” He never would have guessed. Tipping his hat to her, he said with frank admiration, “Evan Cruise’s little sister grew up.”

  Vanessa had always been cute and smart, but somewhere along the line she’d turned into a beauty—the natural kind, in a silky white shirt and a pair of snug jeans that hugged every gorgeous, generous curve. She had that thick dark hair, those fine eyes to match and freckles, too. Everything about her appealed to him.

  She shook a finger at him. “You are staring, Jameson John.”

  “Sorry, can’t help it. I like your freckles.”

  “Now, there’s an interesting compliment.”

  “Freckles seem surprising, somehow, with your skin color.”

  “It’s a fallacy that only redheads have them. You know that, right?”

  He liked her voice—kind of low, husky. “Tell me more.”

  She laughed. “It’s just a reaction to UV exposure. A result of the overproduction of melanin.”

  “Well, I like them on you. If I remember correctly, everyone used to call you Van, right?”

  “Van or Vanessa, either way.”

  “Just checking. I really like Vanessa. It suits you better, somehow. Didn’t you move away?”

  She gave a slow nod. “I live in Billings now.”

  “A teacher, right?”

  “You remembered.”

  “English?”

  “Science—chemistry and biology.”

  “That’s right. Always a brainy one.”

  “You’d better believe it.” Her thick, dark eyelashes swept down and up again.

  “Home for the holidays, huh?”

  She leaned closer. “It’s my last night in town. Tomorrow I head back to Billings.” Her shoulder brushed his arm, and his breath caught. She smelled sweet and fresh, like the roses his mother grew beside the steps of the main house out at the family ranch, the Double J.

  “Vanessa.” He touched the brim of his hat, a salute meant to signal he held her in the highest regard. “You mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  “Go for it.”

  “Got a guy in Billings—someone who can’t wait for you to come home?”

  She sipped her drink. “Not now, I don’t.”

  Something in her tone alerted him. “Did I just hit a nerve? I didn’t mean to—”

  “Not your fault.” She waved his apology away with a shapely hand, the nails cut short, businesslike. No-nonsense. Her full, tempting breasts rose and fell as she sighed. “I confess. There was someone, yes. I was trying, you know?”

  “I don’t quite follow. Trying to...?”

  “What can I tell you? This someone I just mentioned wasn’t my type, but my type kept messing me over. I go for the players and that never goes well. Trevor—that’s his name—was no player. I met him at a science fair. He was so nice. Nerdy and shy, you know? I felt zero chemistry with him. But chemistry isn’t everything, am I right?”

  He stifled a chuckle. “Vanessa, I’m not touching that with a ten-foot cattle prod.”

  She let out another soft sigh. “I thought I could draw him out, get him to relax and have fun. I thought that he would be true to me and I would slowly come to care for him deeply, to be grateful for his steady ways.”

  “I have to say it. Trevor sounds dead boring—and let me guess. You finally had to face the fact that Trevor wasn’t the guy for you?”

  She seemed faintly amused. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  “Just before I came home for Christmas, Trevor dumped me.”

  He couldn’t believe it. “No way.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Trevor is a damn fool.”

  She leaned close again. The scent of roses beckoned him as she whispered, “He said he couldn’t be with me anymore because he didn’t find me sexually attractive.”

  Jameson knew he must have heard wrong. “What man with a pulse wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, well. You win some, you lose some, I guess.”

  From over by the pool tables, some guy let out a whoop and someone else whistled. Applause followed. The band struck up another song, this one loud and fast.

  When the noise died down a little, she asked, “You here with a date?”

  “Nope. Just having a drink with a fascinating woman.”

  She studied his face for a long count of five before declaring, “You’re playing me, aren’t you?”

  He sat up a little straighter. “No, I am not. Trevor blew it, and I’m grateful to that clown. Because if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here next to me on New Year’s Eve.”

  Slowly, she turned her glass on its Wild Willa’s coaster, the one that showed a sexy cowgirl in a short skirt riding a bucking bronc and waving her red hat above her head.

  “What?” he asked low. “Say it.”

  “You are bad,” she observed. “So. Very. Bad—and I like that about you far too much.”

  “Being bad is good, then?” he asked hopefully.

  “Oh yes, it is. In the context of this moment, of you and me side by side on New Year’s Eve at the Get-Lucky Bar, being bad is very, very good.”

  As the band struck up another fast one, they gazed at each other, eye to eye. Time passed, but neither of them looked away. He saw no reason to speak. He could just sit here beside her, staring into those sultry eyes of hers until next year came around.

  Except he really did like the sound of her voice, especially when she kept those eyes on him and spoke to him alone.

  He asked about her family.

  And she brought him up to speed on the Cruises. Her brother, Evan, owner and operator of Bronco Ghost Tours, had just gotten engaged earlier that night to Daphne Taylor, estranged daughter of the richest rancher in the county. Vanessa’s mother had a boyfriend now, and Vanessa’s grandmother Dorothea, whom the Cruise family called Grandma Daisy, had recently found out that her mother was not her birth mother.

  “That is some big news,” he observed.

  “And there’s more.”

  He couldn’t wait another second to touch her. Prepared to apologize profusely if she slapped his hand away, he guided a thick curl of hair behind the perfect shell of her ear. She didn’t object. Instead, a tiny smile pulled at one corner of that mouth he hoped he might get to kiss when midnight rolled around.

  “Tell me everything,” he commanded.

  “Well, I’ll tell you this. Grandma Daisy’s birth mother—my great-grandmother—is the Winona Cobbs.”

  “Wait. You mean Winona Cobbs who wrote the famous ‘Wisdom by Winona’ syndicated column?” He used to read that column every week. Winona Cobbs gave good advice.

  “The one and only.”

  “Lots going on with you Cruises.” Things never got that exciting on the Double J.

  Lowering her voice and leaning closer to him once more, Vanessa confessed, “I feel a little bit guilty. I ran out on tonight’s famil
y New Year’s Eve party at Daphne’s Happy Hearts Animal Sanctuary.” Daphne Taylor was somewhat famous locally—not only for being the only daughter of cattle baron Cornelius Taylor, but also for not eating meat in the middle of cow country and for her rescue farm, where she took in every broke-down horse and runaway goat that wandered by.

  “Please don’t get me wrong,” said Vanessa. “I’m glad Daphne and Evan found each other. And my mother, who’s in love with her boss, is happier than she’s ever been before.”

  “But?”

  “It’s just that seeing the people I love all cozily coupled up only makes me more depressed about my own romantic future—plus, well, the family doesn’t exactly know that it all blew up with Trevor.”

  He pretended to look stern. “Holding out on the family. That’s just not right.”

  “Maybe not.” She drew her shoulders back. “But I don’t feel up to dealing with their loving concern at the moment, if you know what I mean.” She looked sad.

  And he felt bad for teasing her. “I was just yanking your chain. Honestly, I hear you. Sometimes the people you love are the last ones you want in your business.”

  She braced her elbow on the bar and propped her pretty chin on the heel of her hand. “Thank you.” She seemed to mean it.

  He nodded in acknowledgment. “And I want you to know that your secret is safe with me.”

  “Good.” Her expression changed, and he had no idea what she might be thinking as she warned, “And you’d better watch out.”

  “Why is that?”

  A slow grin curved that mouth, which was so damn inviting it probably ought to come with a warning. “I’m in a mood to forget all my troubles, and I have a weakness for players like you.”

  Wait, he thought. Players?

  He was no player—yeah, okay, maybe he’d come here tonight in hopes of meeting someone like her. And maybe, back in the day, he’d dated a lot of different women.

  But since then, he’d grown up. He’d been married and divorced. He was older and wiser now, a man who’d learned enough about what mattered in life to want more from a woman than a one-night stand.