The Last Single Maverick

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, you know? He would come up with these wild-ass ideas and I felt honor-bound to go along. But then, somehow, if there was something gross involved, he would always manage to get me to go first. Then he would mock me. Once I kissed the toad, he told me I was going to get warts on my lips.”

“Oh, that’s just mean.”

“He could be, yeah. But he’s also… the best, you know?”

“How?”

“He’d take a bullet for me. For anyone in the family. That’s how he is. You can count on him. Even in the old days, when you never knew what stunt he was going to pull next, you always knew he had your back.”

“So you’re saying he’s settled down, then—from the days when he made you kiss that toad?”

Jace nodded. “He was the bad boy of the family. He drank too much and he chased women and he swore that no female was ever going to hogtie him. But then he met Laila. She changed his tune right quick. Now he’s got a ring on his finger and contentment in his heart. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is now.” He studied her face. His gaze was warm. She thought how she was kind of glad he’d insisted they come here before he took her back up the mountain, how being with him really did lift her spirits. “Your turn,” he said. “Cough up that secret.”

“I always wanted to get married,” she heard herself say. “Ever since I was little. I wanted… a real family. I wanted the family I never had. A man I could love and trust. Several kids. Growing up, it was always so quiet at home, with just my mom and me. My mom likes things tidy. I learned early to clean up after myself. So our small house was neat and orderly, with a hushed kind of feeling about it. I dreamed of one of those big, old Craftsman-style houses, with the pillars in front and the wide, deep front porch—you know the kind?”

“I do.”

“I dreamed of bikes on their sides on the front lawn, of toys all over the living room floor, of spilled milk and crayon drawings scrawled in bright colors on the walls, because the children who lived there were rambunctious and adventurous and couldn’t resist a whole wall to color on. I dreamed of a bunch of laughing, crying, screaming, chattering kids, everybody talking over everybody else, of music on the stereo and the TV on too loud. And I saw myself in the middle of all of it, loving every minute of it. Me, the Mom. And I saw my husband coming in the door and stepping over the scattered toys to take me in his arms after a hard day’s work. I pictured him kissing me, a real, hot, toe-curling kiss, the kind that would make our older kids groan and tell us to get a room.”

“Wow,” he said. “That’s a lot better secret than kissing a toad.”

A leaf drifted down into her lap. She brushed it away and confessed, “I always felt guilty about my dream for my life, you know? My mom did the best she could. But all I wanted was to grow up and get out of there, to find my steady, patient, good-natured guy and start having a whole bunch of rowdy kids.”

“Joss.” He touched her hair again, so lightly, guiding a hank of it back over her shoulder. “I’m beginning to think there is altogether too much guilt going on in your head.”

“Yeah, probably. But my mom tried so hard, she worked so hard, to do right by me, to make a good life for me.”

“Just because you dreamed of a different way to be a mom doesn’t make your mom’s way bad.”

She gave a low chuckle. “You amaze me, you know that?”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“In a great way. When I met you I thought you were just another hot guy trying to get laid. But instead, you’re a shrink and a philosopher, with a little Mahatma Gandhi thrown in for good measure.”

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