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The Maverick's Secret Baby
Teri Wilson
Two feuding families One baby on the way…. Avery Ellington knew sleeping with Finn Crawford was a mistake. And now she’s pregnant! But what she’s not expecting, is Finn’s immediate demand that they marry—or her surprising desire to turn their convenient marriage into something real…


This cowboy cutie won’t settle down
Until he gets unsettling news…
Finn Crawford is going to be a dad. He can only imagine the fireworks when the Ellington family learns he slept with their cherished daughter Avery. Their families have been feuding for years. It’s no wonder sweet, expectant Avery balks at Finn’s suggestion of a convenient marriage. What’s more surprising is that the footloose, flirty rancher might secretly long for something more…
TERI WILSON is a novelist for Mills & Boon. She is the author of Unleashing Mr. Darcy, now a Hallmark Channel Original Movie. Teri is also a contributing writer at hellogiggles.com (http://www.hellogiggles.com), a lifestyle and entertainment website founded by Zooey Deschanel that is now part of the People magazine, Time magazine and Entertainment Weekly family. Teri loves books, travel, animals and dancing every day. Visit Teri at teriwilson.net (http://www.teriwilson.net) or on Twitter, @teriwilsonauthr (http://www.@teriwilsonauthr)
Also by Teri Wilson (#u8312f908-b8b3-5e87-808e-6078b5ce5da7)
How to Rescue a Family
The Ballerina’s Secret
How to Romance a Runaway Bride The
Bachelor’s Baby Surprise
A Daddy by Christmas
His Ballerina Bride
The Princess Problem
It Started with a Diamond
Unmasking Juliet
Unleashing Mr. Darcy
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
The Maverick’s Secret Baby
Teri Wilson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09162-6
THE MAVERICK’S SECRET BABY
© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Note to Readers (#u8312f908-b8b3-5e87-808e-6078b5ce5da7)
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This book is dedicated to my writing friends
from the Leakey, Texas, writing retreat.
From the small-town shop with the meat cleaver door
handles to the house on the river and the nighttime
campfires, it was the perfect inspiration for writing a
Montana romance with a cowboy hero. I love you all.
Contents
Cover (#u7d53d2e1-eadd-55d2-ac8c-5fa228c9f8d0)
Back Cover Text (#ua6f3d6b2-1405-5d3d-bde2-13839378f599)
About the Author (#u58c75133-2d52-5bcd-b13c-fe37139f93c5)
Booklist (#u93772643-ddcd-5f44-be77-8f6187788809)
Title Page (#u56e76e63-a446-5b0a-9e78-bd4daf8d6c9b)
Copyright (#u1b3eaa87-0b9c-5950-acd3-b3d8f950d2e6)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#ue004954c-2bcc-5406-8d83-ff08ff4afa1f)
Chapter One (#uf7c3e9f8-e20e-5129-a758-ad8ce450d2db)
Chapter Two (#u27151221-5938-598b-9197-84d5451f8b58)
Chapter Three (#u2d70407f-ccfb-5d56-875b-351ea34a3489)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u8312f908-b8b3-5e87-808e-6078b5ce5da7)
Finn Crawford was living the dream.
Granted, his father, Maximilian, had gone a little crazy. The old man was intent on paying a matchmaker to marry off all six of his sons. If that wasn’t nuts, Finn didn’t know what was.
This wasn’t the 1800s. It was modern-day Montana, and the Crawfords were…comfortable. If that sounded like something a rich man might say about his family, then it was probably because it was true. Finn’s family was indeed wealthy, and Finn himself wasn’t exactly terrible-looking. Quite the opposite, if the women who’d been ringing Viv Dalton—the matchmaker in question—were to be believed. More important, he was a decent guy. He tried, anyway.
Plus, Finn loved women. Women were typically much more open than men. Kinder and more authentic. He loved their softness and the way they committed so much to everything, whether it was caring for a stray puppy or running a business. Show him a woman who wore a deep red lipstick and her heart on her sleeve, and he was a goner. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, Finn had already fallen in love more times than he could count.
So the very notion that he’d need any help in the marriage department would have been completely laughable, if he’d had any intention of tying the knot. Which he did not.
Why would he, when Viv Dalton was being paid to toss women in his direction? His dad had picked up the entire Crawford ranch—all six of his sons and over a thousand head of cattle—and moved them from Dallas to Rust Creek Falls, Montana, for this asinine pretend version of The Bachelor. The way Finn saw it, he’d be a fool not to enjoy the ride.
And enjoying it, he had been. A little too much, according to Viv.
“Finn, honestly. You’ve dated a different woman nearly every week for the past three months.” The wedding planner eyed him from across her desk, which was piled high with bridal magazines and puffy white tulle. Sitting inside her wedding shop was like being in the middle of a cupcake.
“And they’ve all been lovely.” Finn stretched his denim-clad legs out in front of him and crossed his cowboy boots at the ankle. “I have zero complaints.”
Beside him, Maximilian sighed. “I have a lot of complaints. Specifically, a million of them where you’re concerned, son.”
Finn let the words roll right off him. After all, paying someone a million dollars to find wives for all six Crawford brothers hadn’t been his genius idea. Maximilian had no one to blame but himself.
“Mr. Crawford, I assure you I’m doing my best to find Finn a bride.” Viv tucked a wayward strand of blond hair behind her ear and folded her hands neatly on the surface of her desk. All business. “In fact, I believe I’ve set him up with every eligible woman in Rust Creek Falls.”
“All of them?” Finn arched a brow. This town was even smaller than he’d thought it was. It would have taken him a lifetime to go through the entire dating pool back in Dallas. He should know—he’d tried.
Vivienne gave him a tight smile. “Every. Last. One.”
“Okay, then I guess we’re done here. You gave it your best shot.” Finn stood. He’d miss the girlfriend-of-the-week club, but at least his father would be forced to accept the fact that he wasn’t about to get engaged to any of the fine female residents of Rust Creek Falls.
Finn placed his Stetson on his head, set to go. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Sit back down, son.” Maximilian didn’t raise his voice, but his tone had an edge to it that Finn hadn’t heard since the time he’d “borrowed” his father’s truck to go mudding with his high school buddies back in tenth grade.
That little escapade had ended with Maximilian’s luxury F-150 stuck in a ditch and Finn mucking out stalls every weekend for the rest of the school year.
Of course Finn was an adult now, not a stupid teenager. He made his own choices, certainly when it came to his love life. But he loved his dad, and since the Crawfords were all business partners in addition to family, he didn’t want to rock the boat. Not over something as ridiculous as this.
“Sure thing, Dad.” He lowered himself back into the frilly white chair with its frilly lace cushion.
Maximilian sat a little straighter and narrowed his gaze at Viv Dalton. “Are you forgetting what’s at stake?”
She cleared her throat. “No, sir. I’m not.”
A look of warning passed from Finn’s father toward the wedding planner, and she gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Finn’s gut churned. What the hell was that about?
Damn it.
Knowing his dad, he’d gone and upped the ante behind Finn’s back. When Maximilian ran into problems, he had a tendency to write a bigger check to make them go away.
Finn sighed. “I’m no longer sure entirely what’s going on here, but I think it might be time for this little matchmaking project to end. Half of us are already married.”
One by one, Finn’s brothers Logan, Xander and Knox had become attached. It was uncanny, really. None of them had ended up with women of Viv’s choosing, but they’d coupled up all the same. The way he saw it, his dad should be thrilled. The Crawford legacy would live on, Finn’s bachelor status notwithstanding.
Maximilian shook his head. “Absolutely not. We need Viv’s help now more than ever. It’s not going to be easy to make matches for you, Hunter and Wilder. Hunter hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since his wife died. Wilder is just…well, Wilder. And you can’t seem to focus on one woman to save your life. If you’re not careful, son, you’re going to wind up old, alone and lonely. Just like me.”
A bark of laugher escaped Finn before he could stop it.
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re far from lonely.”
His father was rarely, if ever, alone. The business and living arrangements at their sprawling Ambling A Ranch pretty much assured that Maximilian saw each of his six sons on a daily basis. Plus, he was the biggest flirt Finn had ever set eyes on.
His dad had been single for decades. Finn’s mother had abandoned the family when all six of her sons had been young. Maximilian might have remained single, but that hardly meant he lacked female companionship. His wallet alone was an aphrodisiac—plus he was something of a silver fox. Being in his sixties didn’t stop him from dating nearly as much as Finn did.
Like father, like son.
“Point taken.” Maximilian shrugged one shoulder. The corner of his mouth inched up into a half grin. “In any case, we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to find you a bride.”
“Your son might need to adjust his standards,” Viv said, as if Finn wasn’t sitting right there in the room. “The sheer number of women he’s dated in the past three months should have guaranteed a good match.”
“I guess you’ll just have to dredge up more women. It seems like the only solution.” Finn aimed his best sardonic smile directly at the wedding planner. She was really beginning to annoy him.
Adjust his standards? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“I’ve been calling around town to see if I’ve overlooked any single ladies. This morning alone I’ve tried all the day-care centers, the veterinary clinic, the medical center and Maverick Manor.” Viv tapped a polished fingernail on the pink notepad in front of her. “I thought maybe I could find a few datable, single women working in one of these locations whom I might not be acquainted with, some ladies living in one of the surrounding counties.”
So now she was going to import women into town to date him? This whole ordeal was getting more absurd by the minute.
“Any luck?” Maximilian said.
“Not yet. But there’s still one place left on my list—Strickland’s Boarding House.”
An ache took up residence in Finn’s temples. “That ramshackle Victorian mansion by the fire station?”
Viv’s lips pursed. “It’s a town landmark.”
“It’s purple,” Finn retorted.
“Lavender gray, technically.” She smiled brightly at him. Jeez, this woman never gave up, did she? Maybe because your father is offering her a million dollars to marry you off…possibly more. “Just the sort of place a lovely single woman might choose to stay.”
“That actually makes sense, son.” Maximilian waved a hand toward Viv’s list. “Go ahead and call over to the boarding house. We’ll wait.”
Finn was on the verge of pulling his Stetson low over his eyes and taking a nap. No one here seemed to care much what he thought, anyway. But once Viv dialed the number, she put her phone on speaker mode, which made napping pretty much impossible.
After two rings, an older man’s voice rattled on the other end. “Howdy, Strickland’s Boarding House.”
Viv smiled. “Hello there, Gene. It’s Vivienne Dalton calling.”
“Hi there, darlin’. What can Melba and I do for you today?” he said.
In the background, Finn heard a woman—Melba, presumably—asking who’d called. When Old Gene supplied her with the information, she yelled out a greeting to Viv.
Viv and Old Gene exchanged a few more pleasantries. Gene asked about her husband, and she inquired as to the well-being of the baby pygmy goat Gene and Melba were caring for.
Of course there’s a baby pygmy goat. Finn suppressed a grin. Maximilian, however, was less charmed. He cleared his throat, prompting Viv to get on with the matter at hand.
She took the hint. “Actually, Gene, I have a rather odd question for you. Do you happen to have any single young women staying at the boarding house who might be interested in a date with a handsome cowboy named Finn Crawford? I’m trying to help out a friend who’s new in town.”
“Funny you should mention single young women,” Old Gene said. “We’ve had a darling young lady staying with us for a couple weeks now. A bit on the shy side, but sweet as pie.”
Viv’s eyes lit up. “Really? What’s her name?”
“Avery.”
Finn narrowed his gaze at Viv’s phone.
Avery?
The only Avery he knew would never fit into a place like Rust Creek Falls. She couldn’t possibly be talking about…
“Avery who?” Maximilian growled. “Please tell me you’re not talking about the daughter of that rat bas—”
“Dad.” Finn shook his head. “Chill out.”
As usual, Maximilian had a harsh word at the ready for anyone related to his old nemesis, Oscar Ellington.
Finn was certain he didn’t need to worry. It just wasn’t possible. Oscar Ellington’s daughter lived over a thousand miles away, in Texas. Plus, with her pencil skirts, red-soled stilettos and designer handbags, she wasn’t exactly what Finn would describe as sweet. Considering they’d only shared one night together, she wasn’t exactly his, either.
Still, what a night it had been.
“Gene! Stop talking right this minute!” Melba’s voice boomed in the background again.
Viv frowned down at her phone. “Is everything okay over there?”
“Fine and dandy,” Gene said.
Melba issued a simultaneous “No, it is not. Gene seems to have forgotten we shouldn’t be giving out guests’ private information.”
“But she seems a little lonely,” Old Gene countered while Melba continued to balk.
Again, Finn’s memory snagged on a sweet, sultry night on an Oklahoma business trip and the most electric kiss he’d ever experienced. The power had gone down, bathing the city in darkness. But when his lips touched Avery Ellington’s, they’d created enough sparks to light up the sky.
How long had it been?
Months.
“Excuse me.” Finn leaned forward in his chair. He knew he was supposed to be a quiet observer at the moment, but he had to ask. “What exactly does this Avery woman look like?”
The glare Viv aimed his way shot daggers at him.
“Never mind,” she said primly. “Sorry to bother you, Gene. We’ll chat soon. Give that baby goat a kiss for me. Bye now.”
She ended the call, and for a minute, Finn was seriously worried she might throw the phone at his head. “What does she look like? You can’t be serious.”
Maximilian shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question.”
Finn held up a hand. “Wait. That’s not what—”
But Viv wasn’t having it. She cut him off before he could explain. “There are far more important things than looks when it comes to a potential life partner.”
Agreed.
Finn wasn’t looking for a life partner, though. He doubted he’d be looking for one for another decade or so. Besides, he’d simply been trying to figure out if they’d been talking about the same Avery. All Old Gene needed to say was long, lush brown hair and dark, expressive eyes. Then he would have known.
Give it up. This is the opposite end of the country from Texas.
Or Oklahoma, for that matter.
Besides, Avery Ellington would stick out like a sore thumb in Rust Creek Falls. Surely he’d have run into her by now.
“You’ve found all of Viv’s picks attractive so far, son. I’m sure this Avery girl wouldn’t be any different,” Maximilian said.
Finn let out a long exhale. How shallow could his father possibly make him sound? Maybe it was time to stop humoring the old man and dating every woman Viv Dalton threw at him.
“Thank you for everything, Ms. Dalton, but I think it’s time to go.” Finn stood and turned toward Maximilian. “Dad?”
His father didn’t budge.
Fine. He could waste all the time and money he desired, but Finn was out of there. He tipped his hat to Viv and waded through all the pastel cupcake fluff toward the exit. All the while, his father’s words echoed in his head.
I’m sure this Avery girl wouldn’t be any different.
That’s where he was wrong.
Finn had never met a woman quite like Avery Ellington.


Avery Ellington tucked her yoga mat under her arm and made her way down the curved staircase of the old Victorian house where she’d been living for the past few weeks.
Living? Ha. Hiding is more like it.
Her grip on the banister tightened. She didn’t want to dwell on her reasons for tucking herself away at Strickland’s Boarding House in Nowheresville, Montana. She had more pressing problems at the moment—like the fact that her Lululemons were practically bursting at the seams.
Even so, instead of heading to the back porch for her early-morning yoga session when she reached the foot of the stairs, she veered toward the kitchen to see what smelled so good in there.
Her appetite had never been so active back in Dallas. She hardly recognized herself. Before, breakfast consisted of a skinny triple latte consumed en route to a business meeting. Then again, her entire life had been different before. This new after was strange…different.
And scary as heck.
“Ah, good morning, dear.” Melba wiped her hands on her apron and smiled as Avery entered the boarding house’s huge kitchen. “Claire just left to take Bekkah to school, but she made a fresh batch of muffins earlier. Would you like some?”
Claire, the Stricklands’ granddaughter, was the official cook for the boarding house. She and her family used to live with the Stricklands, but according to Old Gene, they’d recently moved out, leaving Melba a little out of sorts. Claire still came by regularly to cook, but Melba’s empty nest meant Avery got more than her fair share of the older woman’s attention.
Not that being doted on was a bad thing, necessarily. Truth be told, Avery was accustomed to it. She’d been doted on her entire life.
“Good morning. And thank you.” Avery bit into a muffin and nodded toward her mat. “I’m about to do a little yoga out back. It’s such a nice, crisp day.”
God, who was she? She sounded like Gwyneth Paltrow on a spa weekend instead of the Avery Ellington she’d been since graduating with honors from the University of Texas and stepping up as the vice president of Ellington Meats.
You’re still the same person. This is only temporary. Mostly, anyway.
Right. As soon as she did what she’d come to Rust Creek Falls to do, she’d go straight home and get back to her regular life in Dallas. Her charmed life. The life that she loved.
“Here you go.” Melba handed her a steaming mug of something that smelled wonderful—nutmeg, brown sugar and warm apple pie. Autumn in a cup. “We’ve had hot apple cider simmering all morning. This will get you nice and warmed up before you go outside.”
“Thank you.” Avery took a deep inhale of the fragrant cider and had a sudden urge to curl up and knit by the fire in the boarding house’s cozy hearth instead of practicing her downward dog.
Never mind that she’d never held a knitting needle in her life. Clearly she’d been in Montana too long.
She took a sip and glanced at Old Gene, sitting at the kitchen table with a live goat in his lap. “How’s the baby this morning?”
Baby.
Her throat went dry, and she took another gulp of cider.
“She’s settling in.” Old Gene nodded and offered the adorable animal a large baby bottle. The goat wasted no time latching on.
Melba rolled her eyes. “If you call waking up every two hours ‘settling in.’ Honestly, I don’t know what possessed you to bring that thing home.”
“My cousin is in the hospital with a broken hip, and he’s got a barn full of animals that need tending. What was I supposed to do? Bring home a pig?”
Melba tossed a handful of cinnamon sticks into the pot of cider. “Lord, help me.”
Old Gene winked at Avery behind Melba’s back, and she smiled into her mug. The morning goat wars had become a regular thing since Gene had returned from his rescue mission to his cousin’s farm a week or so ago, goat in hand. Melba was antigoat, particularly indoors, whereas Old Gene doted on the animal like it was a child.
Avery had yet to go anywhere near it. She didn’t know a thing about goats. Or baby bottles, for that matter.
“You’re really doing your best to get on my last nerve this morning.” Melba sighed.
“I was simply trying to do something nice,” Old Gene muttered. “You never know. Avery might enjoy going on a date with a nice young man.”
“Wait…what?” She blinked.
How had the conversation moved seamlessly and at lightning speed from the goat to her love life?
“Gene.” Melba looked like she might hit him over the head with her ladle.
“Can I ask what you two are talking about?” Avery set her mug down on the counter with a thunk.
Old Gene shrugged. “Viv Dalton just called. Apparently she knows a lonely cowboy.”
“Don’t you worry, dear.” Melba reached for her hand and gave it a pat. “I made sure Viv knows you’re not interested in meeting a man right now. Old Gene had no business even giving her your name.”
Avery had no idea who Viv Dalton was, nor did she care. But she cared very much about her name floating around town. She might be new to Rust Creek Falls, but she was well aware of how swiftly the rumor mill worked. Case in point: Melba knew her husband was bringing home a goat before he’d even walked through the door. Old Gene had stopped by the general store for supplies on the way back to the boarding house and before his truck had pulled into the driveway, Melba had already gotten half a dozen texts and calls about the furry little kid.
“You gave my name to a stranger?” Avery felt sick.
The goat let loose with a pitiful bleat that perfectly mirrored the panic swirling in her consciousness.
Old Gene and Melba exchanged a worried glance.
“Only your first name.” Melba reached for Avery’s empty cup and refilled it with another ladleful of fragrant apple cider. A peace offering. “I’m sorry, dear. Old Gene was just trying to help, but I set him straight.”
Avery nodded.
She wasn’t sure what to say at this point. The day she arrived, she’d made it very clear to Melba that she was in town for a little respite. She’d been in desperate need of peace and quiet.
Avery had a feeling Melba assumed she was on the run from a bad boyfriend—maybe even a not-so-nice husband. She was somewhat ashamed to admit that she’d done nothing to correct this assumption. But it had been the only way to prevent her arrival in Rust Creek Falls from hitting the rumor circuit.
Her time had run out, apparently.
“Apologize to Avery, Gene.” Melba pointed at her husband with a wooden spoon.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Avery smiled in return, because it was impossible to be angry at a man bottle-feeding a baby goat. “You’re forgiven.”
Melba let out a relieved exhale and turned back to the stove. “Go on now and do your yoga in peace. Gene and I both know you’re not one bit interested in meeting that Crawford boy, no matter how charming and handsome Viv Dalton says he is.”
Avery almost dropped her yoga mat.
That Crawford boy?
She couldn’t be talking about Finn. Absolutely not.
Please, please no.
And yet somehow she knew it was true.
Charming? Check.
Handsome? Double check.
She swallowed hard, but bile rose up the back of her throat before she could stop it. She felt like she might be sick to her stomach…again. But that was pretty much par for the course now, just like her crazy new insatiable food cravings and the broken zipper on her favorite pencil skirt.
The goat slurped at the baby bottle, and Avery stared at the tiny animal. So utterly helpless. So sweet.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them away.
Get a grip.
She had more important things to dwell on than an orphaned goat. Far more important, like how on earth she could possibly explain to Melba and Old Gene that the last thing she wanted was to be set up with Finn Crawford when she was already four months pregnant with his child.
Chapter Two (#u8312f908-b8b3-5e87-808e-6078b5ce5da7)
No amount of downward dogs could calm the frantic beating of Avery’s heart. She tried. She really did. But after an hour on her yoga mat, she felt more unsettled than ever.
Probably because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Finn Crawford’s handsome face and his tilted, cocky smirk that never failed to make her weak in the knees.
She huffed out a distinctly nonyogi breath, scrambled to her feet and rolled up her mat. So much for the quiet, peaceful space she’d managed to carve out for herself in Rust Creek Falls. Her little time-out was over. She could no longer ignore the fact that she’d come here to find her baby’s father—not when fate had nearly thrown her right back into his path.
“Finished already, dear?” Melba said when Avery pushed through the screen door and back into the kitchen of the boarding house. She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you young girls enjoy twisting yourselves into pretzels.”
Melba’s apron was dotted with flour, and a fresh platter of homemade biscuits sat on the kitchen island. The baby goat snoozed quietly on a dog bed in the corner by the window.
“Yes. I think I’m getting a little stir-crazy.” She needed a nice distraction, something to completely rid her mind of Finn Crawford until she worked out exactly how to tell him he was going to be a daddy. “Maybe I could help clean some of the guest rooms again?”
Back home in Dallas, Avery typically put in a sixty-hour workweek. Fifty, minimum. She couldn’t remember having so much free time on her hands. Ever. When she’d first arrived in Montana, all the unprecedented free time had been a dream come true. Pregnancy hormones had been wreaking havoc on her work schedule. The day before she’d left town, she’d actually nodded off in the middle of a marketing meeting. She’d needed a respite. A work cleanse.
Staying at the boarding house had given her just that. And it was lovely…
Until the morning she couldn’t force the zipper closed on her favorite jeans—the boyfriend-cut ones that were always so soft and baggy. Faced with such painful evidence of the life growing inside her, Avery had experienced a sudden longing for her old life. She didn’t know the first thing about babies or being pregnant, so she’d thrown herself into helping out around the boarding house in an effort to rid herself of her anxiety. Unfortunately, she knew as much about cleaning as she knew about caring for an infant.
“Oh. Well. That’s certainly a kind offer.” Melba picked up a dishcloth and scrubbed at an invisible spot on the counter. “But I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Old Gene is upstairs, still trying to unclog the toilet in the big corner room.”
Avery’s face bloomed with heat. The clogged toilet had been her doing. But what were the odds she’d accidentally flush another sponge?
The baby goat let out a long, warbly bleat. Meeeeeeehhhhhhhh.
Avery narrowed her gaze at its little ginger head. Was the animal taunting her now?
Melba cleared her throat. “Don’t look so sad, dear. If you really want to help out around here, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“I do. Honestly, I’ll try anything.” Except maybe bottle-feeding the goat. That was a hard no.
Melba consulted the to-do list tacked to the refrigerator with a Fall Mountain magnet. “I need to make a run to the general store. Would you like to come along?”
Avery’s heart gave a little leap. She was much better at shopping than cleaning toilets. She excelled at it, quite frankly. A closetful of Louboutins didn’t lie. “Shopping? Yes, count me in.”
“You’re sure?” Melba gave her one of the gentle, sympathetic glances that had convinced Avery the older woman thought she was running from some kind of danger. “You haven’t wanted to get out much.”
Avery nodded. She was going to have to leave the boarding house at some point. Besides, the odds of running into Finn Crawford or his notorious father at the general store were zero. Not a chance. They weren’t the sort of men who ran errands. They had employees for that kind of thing. How else would Finn have time to wine and dine every eligible woman in town?
“We’re just going to the general store, right? Nowhere else? I have a…um…conference call later, so I shouldn’t stay out too long.” There was no conference call. At least not that Avery knew of. She hadn’t checked in to the office for days. Another first.
If she called in, her father would surely pick up the phone. She’d been a daddy’s girl all her life, through and through. That would change once he found out she was carrying Finn’s baby. Oscar Ellington would rather she have a child with the devil himself.
“Straight to the general store and back.” Melba made a cross-my-heart gesture with her fingertips over the pinafore of her apron.
“Super! I’ll run upstairs and change.” Avery beamed and scurried up to her corner room on the third floor of the rambling mansion.
Along the way, she heard Old Gene cursing at the clogged toilet, and she winced. The wincing continued as she tried—and failed—to find something presentable that she could still manage to zip or button at the waist.
It was no use—she was going to have to stick with her yoga pants and slip into the oversize light blue button-down shirt she’d borrowed from Old Gene. Lovely. If by some strange twist of fate Finn did turn up at the general store, he probably wouldn’t even recognize her.
Any lingering worries she had about running into him were instantly kicked into high gear when she and Melba reached the redbrick building on the corner of Main and Cedar Streets. Melba said something about the amber and gold autumnal window display, but Avery couldn’t form a response. She was too busy gaping at the sign above the front door.
Crawford’s General Store.
Did Finn’s family own this place?
“Avery?” Melba rested gentle fingertips on her forearm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She pasted on a smile. “I just noticed the name of the store—Crawford’s. Does it belong to the family you mentioned earlier?”
“Heavens, no. The general store has been here for generations. The Montana Crawfords have lived in Rust Creek Falls for as long as I can remember. The new family is from Texas.”
I’m aware.
Seriously, though. Finn’s family was huge, and Rust Creek Falls was very small. Quaint and cozy, but rural in every way. Their addition to the population must mean that half the town had the same last name all of a sudden.
“I see,” Avery said.
She tore her gaze away from the store’s signage long enough to finally take in the window display, with its garland of oak and maple leaves and towering pile of pumpkins. They’d walked a grand total of two blocks, and already she’d seen enough hay bales, woven baskets and gourds to make her wonder if the entire town was drunk on pumpkin spice lattes.
Autumn wasn’t such a big thing in Texas. The warm weather back home meant no apple picking, no fall foliage and definitely no need for snuggly oversize sweaters. It was kind of a shame, really.
But here in Montana, fall was ushered in with a lovely and luminous harvest moon, smoky breezes that smelled of wood fire and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Avery had never experienced anything like it.
“Maybe we should get some ingredients for caramel apples and make them for my great-granddaughter Bekkah’s kindergarten class. I always bring some to the big Halloween dance, but the children might like an early taste.” Melba glanced over her shoulder at Avery as she pushed through the general store’s entrance. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s a marvelous idea.” Avery had never made caramel apples before, but there was a first time for everything.
Apples…autumn…babies.
She glanced past the dry goods section near the front of the store and spotted a rack of flannel shirts, quilted jackets and cable-knit cardigans. It wasn’t exactly Neiman Marcus, but she was going to have to bite the bullet and invest in a few things that actually fit her changing body.
“Good morning, ladies. Is there anything I can help you with?” A slim woman with dark wavy hair, big brown eyes and a Crawford’s General Store bib apron greeted them with a wide smile.
“Yes, please.” Melba pulled a lengthy shopping list out of her handbag and plopped it onto the counter. Then she gestured toward Avery. “Nina, I’d like you to meet Avery. She’s one of our boarders.”
Nina offered Avery her hand. “Welcome to Rust Creek Falls. I’m Nina Crawford Traub.”
Seriously. Did everyone in this town have the same last name?
“Hello.” Avery shook Nina’s hand, then dashed off to grab a few warm, roomy items of clothing while the other women tackled Melba’s list of supplies.
By the time she returned, the counter was piled high. It looked like Melba was buying out the entire store.
“Wow.” Avery’s eye widened. She clutched her new flannels close to her chest, because there wasn’t enough space to set them down. “This is…”
“Impressive,” someone behind her said. There was a smile in his voice, a delicious drawl that Avery felt deep in the pit of her stomach. “Here’s hoping you’ve left some stuff for the rest of us.”
Don’t turn around, her thoughts screamed. She knew that voice. It was as velvety smooth as hot buttered rum and oh, so familiar.
But just like the last time she’d been in the same room with the bearer of that soulful Texas accent, her body reacted before her brain could kick into gear. Sure enough, when she spun around, she found herself face-to-face with the very man she so desperately needed to speak to—Finn Crawford, the father-to-be, looking hotter than ever wearing a black Stetson and an utterly shocked expression on his handsome face.
Avery realized a second too late what was about to happen. Trouble.
So.
Very.
Much.
Trouble.


Avery?
Finn blinked. Hard.
No way… No possible way.
He was hallucinating. Or more likely, simply mistaken. After all, the brunette beauty who’d just spun around to stare at him might bear more than a passing resemblance to Avery Ellington, but she was hugging a stack of flannel shirts like it was some kind of security blanket. The Avery he knew wouldn’t be caught dead in plaid flannel. She might even be allergic to it.
It had to be her, though. On some visceral level, he just knew. Plus he’d recognize those big doe eyes anywhere.
Avery Ellington. Warmth filled his chest. Well, isn’t this a fine surprise.
Finn glanced at the older woman beside her—Melba… Melba Strickland, as in the owner of Strickland’s Boarding House. So Old Gene’s “darling young lady” that Viv Dalton wanted to set him up with was indeed the Avery he knew so well.
He burst out laughing.
Avery’s soft brown eyes narrowed. She looked like she might be contemplating dropping the flannel and using her hands to strangle him. “What’s so funny?”
“This.” He gestured back and forth between Avery and Melba. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but an hour or so ago, we were almost set up on a blind date.”
“I might have heard something about that,” Avery said, clearly failing to find the humor in the situation.
She seemed a little rattled. If Finn didn’t know better, he would have thought she was unhappy to run into him. But that couldn’t be right. The last time they’d seen one another had been immensely pleasurable.
For both of them.
Finn was certain of it. Plus, they’d parted on good terms.
“It’s incredibly good to see you. What on earth are you doing in Rust Creek Falls?” He arched a brow. She was awfully far away from her daddy’s ranch in Texas.
Melba interjected before Avery could respond, “Avery is a guest at the boarding house.”
Finn nodded, even though they’d already covered Avery’s local living arrangements. It still didn’t explain what she was doing clear across the country from home.
He swiveled his gaze back to Avery. She looked beautiful, but different somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what had changed. Maybe it was the casual clothes or her wind-tossed hair, but her usual cool elegance had been replaced with a warmth that made him acutely aware of his own heartbeat all of a sudden.
“How’s the little one?” he said with a smile.
“Um.” Avery blinked like an owl. “How did you—”
Finn shrugged. “Everyone in town is talking about it. There’s nothing quite as cute as a baby goat.”
“The goat. Right.” Avery swallowed, and he traced the movement up and down the graceful column of her throat.
Was it his imagination, or did she seem nervous?
“The goat’s cute, but she’s a handful. I don’t know what Old Gene was thinking.” Melba rolled her eyes. “She has to be bottle-fed every four to five hours, round the clock. It’s almost like having a real baby again, but maybe a little less noisy.”
Avery turned toward Melba with an incredulous stare. “Less noisy?”
Melba shrugged. “Sure. You know how babies are.”
Avery shifted from one foot to the other as she glanced at Finn and then quickly looked away.
Melba’s eyes narrowed. “How exactly do you two know each other?”
Why did the question feel like a test of some sort?
Finn gave her an easy smile. He had nothing to hide. “Avery and I are both in the beef business.”
“Really?” Melba looked him and up down.
“Absolutely. Our paths used to cross every so often, but we haven’t bumped into each other since my family relocated to Montana.” A pity, really. “I’d love to take you out while you’re in town, Avery.”
She bit the swell of her lush bottom lip. “Oh…um, well…”
Not exactly the reaction he was going for. Avery looked as scared as a rabbit, and Melba was once again scrutinizing him as if he were giving off serial killer vibes.
Was he missing something?
His thoughts drifted back to the night they’d spent together in Oklahoma City. It didn’t take much effort. The entire encounter was seared in his memory—every perfect, porcelain inch of Avery’s skin, every tender brush of her lips.
They’d been in town for a gala dinner of cattle executives, and Finn would be lying if he’d said he hadn’t been hoping to run into her. Through their overlapping business connections and a handful of mutual friends, Finn and Avery had been moving in the same orbit for quite a few years. He’d wanted her for every single one of them. How could he not? She was lovely. And smart, too. It took a special kind of woman to hold her own as the vice president of a major company in a business dominated by men. Finn considered himself a Southern gentleman, but that wasn’t true of everyone in the beef business. Avery had run into her fair share of chauvinists and good old boys, but she never failed to rise above their nonsense with her head held high.
As much as she fascinated him, he’d respected her too much to make a real move. Their interactions had been limited to a low-key flirtation that he found immensely enjoyable, if somewhat torturous.
But the night in Oklahoma had been different. June in the Sooner State was always a nightmare of blazing heat and suffocating humidity, but that particular weekend had been especially brutal. A heat wave swept through the area, causing widespread power outages as the temperature soared. The gala’s luxury hotel was plunged into darkness. Even after they got the generator up and running, the crystal chandeliers were barely illuminated, and heady, scented candles were scattered over every available surface.
He remembered Avery saying something about the animosity between their families, and true, his father had never uttered a kind word about Oscar Ellington. Quite the opposite, actually. There was definitely bad blood between the Crawford and Ellington patriarchs. But Finn and Avery had always managed to get along. And something about the darkness made their little flirtation seem not so low-key anymore, so over laugher and dry martinis at the bar, they’d agreed to set aside any familial difficulty.
She’d looked so damned beautiful in the candlelight, all soft curves and wide, luminous eyes. He’d taken a chance and leaned in…
He swallowed hard at the memory of what came next. It had been like something out of a dream. A perfect night—so perfect he hadn’t taken another woman to bed since, despite his popularity in Montana. And now Avery was right here, less than an arm’s length away, when he’d thought he’d never see her again.
“Please,” he said. “Dinner, or even just coffee? For old times’ sake.”
He’d been neck-deep in women for the past three months, and now he was begging for an hour of Avery Ellington’s time. Wonderful.
Melba cut in again before she could give him an answer. “Look at the time! Sorry to interrupt, but we simply must be going. Avery, how could you let me forget? We have to stop over at the Dalton Law Office to pick up those papers for Gene.”
Avery’s expression went blank. “What papers?”
“Those very important papers. You know the ones.” Melba took the flannel shirts from Avery and handed them to Nina, who shoved them into a bag.
Avery crossed her arms, uncrossed them and crossed them again. Finn’s gaze snagged on her oversize blue button-down. Was that a man’s shirt she was wearing?
His jaw clenched. They hadn’t even spoken since that simmering night in June, but Finn didn’t like the thought of her with another man. Not one bit.
Overreacting much? It was one night, not an actual relationship. Maybe he wasn’t such a fine Southern gentleman, after all.
“Come on, now. We don’t want to keep Ben Dalton waiting.” Melba shoved one of her five shopping bags at Avery and then linked elbows with her.
“Right. Of course we don’t.” Avery glanced at him one last time as Melba practically dragged her out of the store. “It was good seeing you, Finn. Goodbye.”
He stared after them, wondering what in the hell had just happened.
“Can I help you find anything, Mr. Crawford?” Nina said from behind the counter.
Finn dragged his gaze away from the scene beyond the shop window and Avery’s chocolate-hued hair, whipping around her angelic face in the wind like a dark halo.
He smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “No, thank you.”
For some strange reason, he almost felt like he’d already found what he needed. And now he’d just watched her walk away.
Again.


“Where are we going, exactly?” Avery gripped her shopping bag until her knuckles turned white and did her best to resist the overwhelming urge to glance over her shoulder for another glimpse of the general store.
Of Finn.
She almost wanted to believe she’d imagined their entire awkward encounter just now. Since the moment she’d first spotted the two tiny pink lines on the drugstore pregnancy test she’d taken in her posh executive washroom at Ellington Meats, she’d tried to imagine what she’d say to Finn the next time she saw him. Somehow she always imagined she’d be able to utter more than two stuttered words.
Had she managed to string a whole sentence together at all? Nope, she was pretty sure she hadn’t. So much for being a strong, independent woman and facing the situation head-on.
“We’re not going anywhere, dear. I thought you were going to faint when you saw Finn Crawford. I made something up to get you out of there.” Melba gave her hand a comforting pat.
So her panic had been that obvious? Fabulous.
“Oh, thank you. But I was surprised, that’s all.” Shocked to her core was more like it.
Which was really kind of ridiculous, since the whole reason she’d come to Rust Creek Falls was to tell him about the baby. Get in, drop the baby bomb and get out. That had been the plan. It was just so much harder than she’d imagined. And now here she was, a couple weeks later, still secretly pregnant.
“Finn is an old friend.” She stared straight ahead as they walked back to the boarding house. What had just transpired at the general store was a minor setback, not a total disaster. It’s not like she could have told him she was pregnant right then and there.
Hey, so great to see you. FYI, I’m having your baby, and I’m planning to raise it on my own. Just wanted to let you know. I’ve got to pay for my pile of flannel now. Have a nice life.
Beside her, Melba snorted. “Well. He seems to have a lot of friends, if you know what I mean.”
Avery’s steps slowed as her heart pounded hard in her chest. “I don’t, actually.”
“It seems pretty obvious that you aren’t ready to jump into a relationship. In any event, from what I’ve heard, Finn Crawford wouldn’t be a great candidate.”
Avery concentrated hard on putting one foot in front of the other as she turned Melba’s words over in her mind. She was almost afraid to ask for more information, but she had to, didn’t she? If the father of her baby was an ax murderer or something, that seemed like vital information to have. “Melba, what exactly have you heard?”
The older woman shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a right charming fellow—possibly too charming. He’s dated practically everyone in Rust Creek Falls since his family moved to town. It’s sweet that he asked you to dinner, but Finn isn’t right for a nice girl like you.”
A nice girl like you.
What on earth would Melba think if she knew the real story?
Avery took a deep breath. The air smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg, courtesy of the decorative cinnamon brooms so many of the local business included in the fall pumpkin displays decorating the sidewalk. But the cozy atmosphere couldn’t get her mind off a troubling truth—Finn might not be a serial killer, but apparently, he was a serial flirt. Somehow she didn’t think a baby would fit neatly into a carefree lifestyle like the one Melba had just described.
But that was fine. More than fine, really. She didn’t need Finn’s help. If she could run the business division of a Fortune 500 company, she could certainly raise a baby. Her father would blow a gasket once he found out his first grandchild was going to be a Crawford, but he’d get over it. Having Finn out of the picture might even make things easier, where the whole family feud matter was concerned.
She obviously needed to let Finn know it was happening, though. That just seemed like the right thing to do. His reputation around Rust Creek Falls didn’t change a thing. It wasn’t as if she’d thought she could actually build a life with the man.
Still, the fact that he’d been acting as if Montana was the set of Bachelor in Paradise while she was battling morning sickness and freaking out about starting a family with the son of her father’s sworn enemy stung a little bit.
Who am I kidding? Avery climbed the steps of Strickland’s Boarding House alongside Melba and thought about all the nights she’d spent in this house, secretly wishing Finn would call or text out of the blue so she’d feel less awkward about their situation. Less lonely.
It stings a lot.
Chapter Three (#u8312f908-b8b3-5e87-808e-6078b5ce5da7)
“Mr. Crawford.” Melba Strickland stood on the front steps of her big purple house and looked Finn up and down. “This is a surprise.”
Was it?
Finn got the feeling she wasn’t shocked to see him in the least. The furrow in her brow told him she wasn’t pleased about his impromptu visit, either.
“Good morning, Mrs. Strickland.” He tipped his hat and smiled, but her frown only deepened.
Once Finn had recovered from the shock of running into Avery at the general store the day before, he’d realized she’d never given his invitation a straight answer. Granted, she hadn’t exactly jumped for joy when he’d told her he wanted to take her out while she was in town, but she hadn’t turned him down, either. Melba hadn’t given her a chance.
After he’d finally collected what he needed at the store, he’d returned to the Ambling A and spent the afternoon making repairs to the ranch’s barbed-wire fence. One of the things Finn liked best about Montana was its vast and sweeping sky. He’d always loved the deep blue of the heavens in Texas, but here it almost felt like the sky was stacked on top of itself like a layered cake. A man could do a lot of thinking under a sky like that, and while he’d pounded new fence posts into the rich red earth, he’d managed to convince himself things with Avery hadn’t been as awkward as he’d imagined. Old Gene probably had papers waiting to be picked up at the Dalton Law Office, just like Melba said. There was no legitimate reason why Avery should be trying to avoid him.
Now, in the fresh light of day, he wasn’t so sure. Melba was definitely giving him the side-eye as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tried to see past her to the inside of the boarding house.
Was she even going to let him in?
“I stopped by to see Avery.” He nodded toward the bouquet in his hand—sunflowers and velvety wine-colored roses tied with a smooth satin ribbon. “And to give her these.”
Melba glanced at the flowers. Her resistance wavered, ever so slightly.
“I’ll have to see if Avery is available.” She held up a hand. “Wait here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winced as she shut the door in his face.
Finn felt like a teenager again, trying to get permission to take a pretty girl to the school dance. Even back then, he wasn’t sure he’d ever run into a protective parent as steadfast as Melba Strickland.
At long last, the door swung open to reveal Avery with her thick brunette waves piled on top of her head and her lips painted red, just like she’d looked that fateful night in Oklahoma. But instead of her usual business attire, she was wearing faded jeans and an oversize cable-knit sweater that slipped off one shoulder as she gripped the doorknob. Finn’s attention snagged briefly on the flash of her smooth, bare skin, and when he met her gaze again, her mouth curved into a bashful smile.
“Finn Crawford, whatever are you doing here?” She tilted her head, and a lock of hair curled against her exposed collarbone.
It took every ounce of Finn’s willpower not to reach out and wind it around his fingertips. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”
What was she doing in Montana…in Rust Creek Falls, of all places?
“I had business nearby, and since I was a bit intrigued by the charming town you’d told me all about, I thought I’d check it out while I was in the area.” That’s right—the last time they’d seen each other, he’d told her all about the plans to relocate the ranch. “It seemed like a nice place to escape for a few days.”
Finn nodded, even though her answer raised more questions than it answered, such as what exactly did she need to escape from?
“I actually thought about looking you up, but I wasn’t sure if I should,” she said.
He arched a brow. “Why not?”
Avery took a deep breath, and for a long, loaded moment, the space between them felt swollen with meaning. But then she just bit her lip and shrugged.
“Are those for me?” She smiled at the bouquet in his hand.
A wave of pleasure surged through him. Whatever her reason for being here, it was great to see her again. “They sure are.”
“How very gentlemanly of you. Thank you.” She took the flowers and held them close to her chest. Her soft brown eyes seemed lovelier than ever, mirroring the rich, dark centers of the sunflowers. “Do you want to come in while I put these in some water?”
She gestured toward the interior of the boarding house, which was the last place Finn wanted to be while Melba was around.
“Actually, since you seem so interested in the area, why don’t I show you around town for a bit? I can even give you a tour of the ranch if you like.”
“A tour of the ranch,” she echoed. The flowers in her grip trembled. “Your ranch?”
Finn paused, remembering what she’d told him in Oklahoma about the supposed feud between their families. Once upon a time, Oscar Ellington and Maximilian Crawford had been friends. Best friends, according to Avery’s father. They’d roomed together in college, both majoring in agriculture and ranch management. After graduation, they’d planned to go into business together, but at the last minute, Finn’s father had changed his mind. He pulled out of the deal, and the friendship came to its tumultuous end.
“Sure,” Finn said. He and Avery weren’t their parents. He saw no reason why he couldn’t take her to the Ambling A and walk the land with her, show her how the fall colors made the mountainside look as if it were aflame.
Although, if Oscar and Maximilian had turned their youthful dreams into a reality, the ranch wouldn’t be his. It would be theirs—his and Avery’s both.
Imagine that, he thought. Being tied to Avery Ellington for life.
He could think of worse fates.
But that would never happen. Ever. He wasn’t even sure why he was entertaining the notion, other than the fact that his dad and Viv Dalton were dead set on putting an end to his independence.
“All right, then,” Avery said, but her smile turned bittersweet. “Let’s go.”


Copper and gold leaves crunched beneath Avery’s feet as she and Finn walked from his truck to the grand log cabin overlooking acres and acres of ranch land and glittering sunlit pastures where horses flicked their tails and grazed on shimmering emerald grass.
Calling it a cabin was a bit of a stretch. It looked more like a mansion made of Lincoln Logs, surrounded by a sprawling patio fashioned from artistically arranged river stones. The Rocky Mountains loomed in the background, rugged and golden. Enemy territory was quite lovely, it seemed.
Finn slipped his hand onto the small of her back as he led her toward the main house, and she tried her best to relax. An impossible task, considering that her father would probably disown her if he had any idea where she was right now. Finding out about the baby was going to kill him.
But she couldn’t worry about that now. First, she had to figure out how to tell Finn, and that seemed more difficult than ever now that this little outing was beginning to feel like a date.
Does he have to be so charming?
It was the flowers—they’d completely thrown her off her game. Which was pathetic, considering how active Finn’s Montana social life had become. He probably got a bulk discount at the nearest florist.
“This place is gorgeous,” she said. “Do all your brothers live out here?”
Finn nodded. “Logan, Knox and Hunter have cottages on the property. Xander and his family just moved into their own ranch house in town. Wilder and I live in the main house with my dad.”
His dad.
So Maximilian Crawford was here somewhere. Great.
“You look a million miles away all of a sudden.” Finn paused on the threshold to study her. “Everything okay?”
No, nothing was okay. She felt huge and overly emotional, and he was still the same ridiculously handsome man, perfectly dashing in all his clueless daddy-to-be glory.
“Actually…” Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t swallow, much less form the words she so desperately needed to say.
Tell him. Do it now.
“Yes?” He tilted his head, dark eyes glittering beneath the rim of his black Stetson.
Meeting his gaze felt impossible all of a sudden, so she glanced at his plain black T-shirt instead. But the way it hugged the solid wall of his chest was distracting to say the least.
“I, um…” She let out a lungful of air.
“You’re beautiful, that’s what you are. A sight for sore eyes. Do you have any idea how glad I am to see you?” Finn reached up and ran his hand along her jaw, caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
It took every ounce of Avery’s willpower not to lean into his touch and purr like a kitten. Her body was more than ready to just go with the flow, but her thoughts were screaming.
Tell him, you coward!
“I’m relieved to hear you say that.” Butterflies took flight deep in Avery’s belly—or maybe it was their baby doing backflips at the sound of its daddy’s voice. She swallowed hard. “Because…”
Then all of a sudden, the front door swung open and she was rendered utterly speechless by the sight of her father’s mortal enemy standing on the threshold with an enormous orange pumpkin tucked under one arm.
She recognized him in an instant. His picture appeared every year in the Crawford Meats annual report, and he looked exactly the same as his slick corporate portrait. Same deep tan and lined face, same devil-may-care expression.
Maximilian Crawford stared at her for a surprised beat. Then he glanced back and forth between her and Finn until his eyes narrowed into slits. “Well, well. Howdy, you two.”
“Dad,” Finn said. There was a hint of a warning in his voice, but Maximilian seemed to ignore it.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what you’re doing keeping company with Avery Ellington?” The older man smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Maximilian Crawford had just smiled at her. She was surprised lightning didn’t strike her on the spot. If her father were dead, he’d be spinning in his grave.
“Avery’s just here for a friendly visit.” Finn’s hand moved to the small of her back again, and a shiver snaked its way up her spine. “I’m not sure you two have officially met. Avery, meet my dad, Maximilian.”
“Hello, sir.” She offered her hand.
He gave it a shake, but instead of letting go, he kept her hand clasped in his. “You’re Oscar’s little girl.”
He was going there. Okaaaay.
“One and the same,” she said, reminding herself that this man wasn’t just her father’s nemesis. He was also the grandfather of her unborn child.
“Right.” He gave her hand a light squeeze and then finally released it. “I’m not sure if your daddy ever mentioned me, but he and I go way back.”
Avery nodded. “I’m aware.”
She shot a quick glance at Finn. The night they’d slept together in Oklahoma, he didn’t seem to care much about any animosity between their families, but she’d wondered if he’d simply been downplaying things in order to avoid any awkwardness between them.
Not that she’d cared. She’d been more than ready to forget about anything that got in the way of their ongoing flirtation. Besides, they’d been miles away from Dallas. Just like the famous saying—what happens in Oklahoma stays in Oklahoma.
Unless it results in an accidental pregnancy.
“Interesting man, your father.” Maximilian’s expression turned vaguely nostalgic. “We were roommates back in the day. Almost went into business together. Truth be told, I occasionally miss those times.”
Finn sneaked Avery a reassuring grin as his father’s attitude softened somewhat.
“How’s he doing? And your mom?” Maximilian shifted his pumpkin from one arm to the other. “Good, I hope.”
Avery nodded. “They’re great.”
For now, anyway. Once she started showing, all bets were off.
“Avery’s in town for a few days, so I thought I’d show her around a little bit.” Finn eyed the pumpkin. “Tell me you’re not on the way out here to try to carve that thing into a jack-o’-lantern.”
“It’s October. Of course that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Dad, this isn’t Dallas. Halloween isn’t for a few weeks. If you leave a carved pumpkin outside, it’s going to get eaten up long before the thirty-first. The coyotes will probably get it before sunup.” Finn shrugged. “If the elk don’t get to it first.”
“Fine. I’ll take it inside after it’s done. I’ve got five more to carve after this one. We can line them up by the fireplace. I just thought the place could use some holiday flair.” Maximilian grinned. “Especially since we’re welcoming a new little one to the family.”
Avery coughed, and both men turned to look at her. “Excuse me. Little one?”
They couldn’t possibly know. Could they?
“My brother Logan is a new stepdad. He and his wife have a nine-month-old little girl, and my father suddenly wants us to believe he’s transformed from a cattle baron into a doting grandfather.” Finn narrowed his gaze at his dad.
“Oh.” This seemed promising. It almost made her wish she planned on raising the baby closer to Montana, but that would be insane. She had a job back in Dallas. A family. A life. “How sweet.”
Finn held out his hands to his father. “Why don’t you leave the pumpkin carving to us? Manual labor of any kind isn’t exactly your strong suit.”
Maximilian glanced at Avery and lifted a brow. “You’re willing to stick around long enough to help Finn with my mini pumpkin patch?”
Avery couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t naive enough to believe Maximilian was just a harmless grandpa. He was a far more complicated man than that. On more than one occasion, she’d heard Finn refer to him as manipulative.
Even so, she had a difficult time reconciling the man standing in front of her—the one who wanted to carve half a dozen jack-o’-lanterns for his new baby granddaughter’s first Halloween—with the backstabbing monster her father had been describing to her for as long as she could remember.
“I think that can be arranged,” she said.
She still planned to tell Finn about the baby today. Of course she did. But what different could a few more hours make?
“I like her,” Maximilian said as he handed the pumpkin over to Finn and slapped him hard on the back. “She seems like a keeper, son.”
What on earth was she doing here?
A keeper.
Nope. No way, no how. She could have a dozen babies with Finn, but she’d never, ever be a Crawford—not if her daddy had anything to do with it.


Avery set down her paring knife and wiped her hands on a dish towel so she could inspect the pumpkin she’d been attempting to carve. Its triangle-shaped eyes were uneven, and its wide, toothy grin was definitely lopsided. Overall, though, it was a decent effort.
Or at least she though it was until she took a closer look at what Finn had managed to produce in the same amount of time.
“Wait a minute.” She frowned at twin jack-o’-lanterns on the table in front of him. “When did you start on the second one?”
He glanced at her pumpkin and stifled a grin. “Somewhere around the time you decided to give yours a square nose.”
She swatted at him with the dish towel. The nose had started out as a triangle—she wasn’t quite sure how it had ended up as a square.
Finn laughed, ducking out of the way. He managed to catch the towel and snatch it away from her before it made contact with his head. His grin was triumphant, but it softened as he met her gaze.
“You’ve got a little something.” He gestured toward the side of his face. “Right there.”
Shocker. Avery wouldn’t have been surprised to discover she was covered head to toe in pumpkin guts. The jack-o’-lantern struggle had been very real.
She wiped her cheek, and Finn shook his head, laughter dancing in his eyes.
“I just made it worse, didn’t I?” she said, looking down at her orange hands.
“Afraid so. Here, let me.” He cupped her face with irritatingly clean fingertips and dabbed at her cheek with the towel.
It was a perfectly innocent gesture. Sweet, really. But Avery’s heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest, and she had the completely inappropriate urge to kiss him as his gaze collided with hers.
She cleared her throat and backed away. She blamed pregnancy hormones…and the insanely gorgeous surroundings. Finn had set up their pumpkin-carving station on one of the log mansion’s covered porches. It had a lovely, unobstructed view of the mountains, plus an enormous outdoor fireplace crafted from stone with a weathered wooden mantel. Any woman would have melted under the circumstances.
Avery kept having to remind herself that half the female population of Rust Creek Falls likely already had.
“You’re shockingly good at this.” She arched a brow at his two perfectly carved pumpkins in an effort to get her thoughts—and sensitive libido—back under control. “Do you have a degree in festive fall decorating I don’t know about?”
“No, but I suppose it’s fair to say there are indeed things you don’t know about me. After all, our interactions have been pretty limited to business gatherings.” Avery waited for Finn to crack a joke about their night together being the exception, but he didn’t.
She wasn’t altogether sure why that made her happy, but it did. “True.”
He seemed different here than he’d been back in Dallas, and it was more than just a switch from tailored business suits to worn jeans and cowboy boots.
“So you like it here in Montana?” she asked.
“I do.” Finn nodded and stared thoughtfully at the horizon, where a mist had gathered at the base of the mountain, creating a swirl of smoky autumn colors. “Life is different here. Richer, somehow. I always liked spending time on our ranch back in Texas, but somehow I never got out there much. I spent more time in boardrooms than I did with the herd. Does that make sense?”
Her face grew warm as he glanced at her. “It does.”
Avery couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to her own family ranch, much less spent any time with the herd. She’d spent more hours with Excel spreadsheets than she ever had with actual cattle.
Finn’s gaze narrowed, and as if he could see straight inside her head, he said, “When was the last time you hand-fed a cow?”
Laughter bubbled up her throat. “Seriously? Never.”
“Never?” He clutched his chest. “You’re killing me, Princess.”
Princess.
She usually hated it when he called her that, but she decided to ignore Finn’s pet name for her for the time being, mainly because it sort of fit, as much as she was loath to admit it.
He stood and offered her his hand. “Come on.”
She placed her hand in his as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he hauled her to her feet. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He winked, and it seemed to float right through her on butterfly wings. “You trust me, don’t you, Princess?”
That was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. “Should I?”
He gave her hand a squeeze in lieu of an actual answer, then shot her a lazy grin and tugged her in the direction of the barn.
Right. That’s what I thought.
Of course she couldn’t trust him. He might seem at home here on the farm in a way that made her think there was more to Finn Crawford than met the eye, but just because a man could carve a jack-o’-lantern and went all soft around the edges when he talked about animals didn’t mean he was ready for a family.
Avery slipped her hand from his and crossed her arms. “What about the pumpkins? Won’t coyotes come and devour them if we leave?”
Her mind had snagged on Finn’s casual reference to coyotes earlier, probably because the biggest threat to jack-o’-lanterns in her Dallas neighborhood were mischievous teens.
He glanced over her shoulder toward the porch, where Maximilian had begun cleaning up their mess and hauling the pumpkins inside.
Avery rolled her eyes. “And you call me a princess.”
He flashed a grin. “Touché.”
He took hold of her hand again, and she let him, because his rakish smile and down-home charm were getting to her. And honestly, considering she was pregnant with the man’s baby, it was a little late to be worried about hand-holding.
The barn was cool and sweet-smelling, like hay and sunshine. It reminded Avery of the horseback riding lessons she’d had as a little girl. She’d ridden English, of course. No rodeos or trail rides for the daughter of Oscar Ellington. Her childhood and teen years had been about posh country club horse shows and debutante balls.
Her thoughts snagged briefly on what might be in store for her unborn child. If she raised the baby by herself, in Dallas, she’d be setting her son or daughter up for the same type of upbringing she’d had. Her father would see to it.
But was that really what Avery wanted?
She wasn’t so sure, and suddenly she couldn’t seem to focus on the many difficult decisions she needed to address. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything except Finn’s cocky, lopsided grin and the cozy hayloft in the barn’s shady rafters. Wouldn’t it be nice to be kissed in a place like that?
For the last time, calm down, pregnancy hormones!
“It’s really lovely here,” she said, glancing around the sun-dappled space. Horses poked their heads over the tops of stable doors and whinnied as they walked past.
“It’s nice. We’ve got a lot more space than we had in Texas.”
“So your move here is permanent, then.” She held her breath. What was she saying?
Of course it was permanent. This was Finn’s new home.
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded and guided her toward the corner of the barn, where a few barrels were lined up along the wall.
Avery wondered how much of his enthusiasm for Rust Creek Falls had to do with his overactive dating life…and just how many women he’d brought out to the Ambling A for this quaint little tour. On second thought, maybe she was better off without that information.

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