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Maverick Christmas Surprise
Brenda Harlen
A Christmas gift he never expected!  Wilder Crawford never expected to find a baby on his doorstep! His baby? Maybe -and he intends to find out! But first he must prove to the baby’s aunt, Beth Ames, he is daddy material. But inviting Beth to stay he might just find something else… a family?


A GIFT THE COWBOY DIDN’T EXPECT
The last thing Wilder Crawford expected was to find a baby on his doorstep on Christmas morning. His baby? Maybe—and he intends to find out! Little Cody’s aunt, Beth Ames, thinks the steadfastly single rancher isn’t daddy material. But her objections only make Wilder dig in his spurs. He invites Beth to stay for the holidays, never dreaming he might fall for the earnest schoolteacher. Unless Santa’s intent was to turn the cowboy into a family man all along...
BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award–nominated national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, brendaharlen.com (http://www.brendaharlen.com)
Also by Brenda Harlen (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
The Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise
Her Seven-Day Fiancé
Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy
Claiming the Cowboy’s Heart
Double Duty for the Cowboy
One Night With the Cowboy
Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas! The
Maverick’s Midnight Proposal
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Maverick Christmas Surprise
Brenda Harlen


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09188-6
MAVERICK CHRISTMAS SURPRISE
© 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 (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
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To my MAC girls—Stacy, Freda, Elena & Jen—
with thanks for so many fabulous memories
(and in anticipation of many, many more!).
Contents
Cover (#uccd2e6b7-95a2-5a17-8486-7965744b554e)
Back Cover Text (#u2c858298-6aad-58ab-b1fa-5875300827ca)
About the Author (#u3f582d4b-0143-5e93-ba35-2e6d37e29a3d)
Booklist (#u3639c092-6ff8-5322-b1f8-5f881c505d69)
Title Page (#u55d0d49e-ef32-5769-aebe-7aaae0ef822d)
Copyright (#u57a0ab7b-2665-5c2f-bcc3-d37612b6a8b4)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u284bce03-868c-54f8-b1c4-1872bee05285)
Prologue (#u62cb2eed-5195-51ec-af09-dc4a92ddfe97)
Chapter One (#u56506463-a52b-54ea-828b-7f8823c4c556)
Chapter Two (#u0abae0a8-75f6-5369-9223-0acc8876e202)
Chapter Three (#uc16b50ab-4ff4-5d92-b24c-33a824c0a303)
Chapter Four (#u1126dd72-8444-5481-9fb1-271f2fad7776)
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)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
Dallas, Texas Christmas Eve
Beth Ames couldn’t help but sing along with the holiday song on the radio. Christmas had always been her favorite time of the year, and she was even more excited this holiday season because it was her nephew’s first. Four-month-old Cody was the love of her life, and she was grateful—if a little surprised—that her sister had invited her to celebrate the milestone occasion with them.
Over the years, the relationship between Beth and Leighton had been strained more often than not. While Beth might wish it wasn’t so, she couldn’t change the dynamic on her own, and her sister had always rebuffed her efforts to get closer. That had finally changed when Leighton confided to Beth that she was pregnant.
No doubt Leighton had been scared about the prospect of having and raising a child on her own, now that the baby’s father was no longer a part of her life. Of course, Beth had questions about the man, but Leighton refused to answer them. And the more she pushed, the more her sister resisted.
“I appreciate your support, but I don’t need your lectures,” she’d said. “So if you want to be there with me when the baby is born, you’ll stop asking about a guy who, I can assure you, has less than zero interest in being a dad.”
Beth wondered how her sister could be so certain of his disinterest if she hadn’t told him about her condition, but she bit her tongue. Because as much as she believed the father-to-be had a right to know, she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their tentative truce.
Instead, Beth had focused on doing what she could to support Leighton throughout her pregnancy. She’d coached her during sixteen hours of labor, and she’d spent every free minute with the new mom and her baby during the first few weeks—until Leighton had recovered enough to demand some space.
Still, she understood that motherhood was a big adjustment for her usually vivacious and fun-loving sister, and she tried to help without stepping on the new mom’s toes. But as the weeks turned into months, Leighton seemed increasingly worn out and unhappy.
Thankfully the onset of the Christmas season had revived her sister’s good spirits. She’d been so genuinely filled with holiday spirit that she’d invited Beth to spend Christmas Eve at her apartment and even stay over to share in the morning celebration.
So now here she was, with her back seat full of festively wrapped presents and a box of groceries to prepare the holiday meal.
She didn’t see her sister’s car in its assigned parking spot, but it wouldn’t be out of character for her to have forgotten something she needed to have before the stores closed. And since Leighton had given her a spare key, Beth didn’t hesitate to let herself in so that she could put the perishables in the fridge.
After the groceries were away, she plugged in the Christmas tree lights and turned on the radio, tuning it to her favorite station that had been playing “all holiday music, all the time” since the first of December.
Feeling excited, and a little impatient, Beth decided to call her sister to find out when she’d be home. She was surprised, when the phone started to ring, to hear an echo of the sound coming from the bedroom—where she discovered Leighton’s cell plugged into the charger on the bedside table.
Shaking her head over her sister’s forgetfulness, she started to turn away when she saw a note beside the charger with her name on it.
Beth,
Change of plans—sorry. I’ll explain when I can.
Merry Christmas.
XO
L
Change of plans?
What the heck was that supposed to mean?
Where had her sister gone?
And, more important, where was Cody?
Chapter One (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
Rust Creek Falls, MontanaChristmas Day
And another one bites the dust, Wilder thought, listening to the excited chatter of conversation around the table as everyone congratulated Hunter and Merry on their engagement.
But he kept a smile on his face, because his brother was grinning, the bride-to-be was glowing and six-year-old Wren was ecstatic that her Christmas wish for a new mommy had come true. He was happy for Hunter and Merry and the new family they were making together, but he was also grateful that he wasn’t shackled with the responsibilities of a wife or child.
Not that any of his siblings acted as if they were constrained by their relationships. In fact, his brothers Logan, Xander, Knox, Finn and now Hunter, too, seemed sincerely happy to have found a special someone to share their lives. But Wilder wasn’t in any hurry to follow in their footsteps. He was perfectly happy with his life the way it was right now. As the old saying went, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“I’m a lucky woman,” Merry said, responding to a comment from one of her future brothers-in-law.
“And Hunter’s a lucky man,” Max said, about his newly engaged son.
Wilder couldn’t help but notice that, in addition to the paternal pride on his father’s face, there was a look of smug satisfaction. When the family had moved from Dallas to Rust Creek Falls six months earlier, Max had set out to find romantic matches for all of his sons—even going so far as to enlist the services of a local wedding planner to act as a matchmaker and offering her a million-dollar bonus if she succeeded. With the announcement of Hunter and Merry’s engagement, he obviously felt as if he was well on his way to accomplishing his goal.
Five out of six was a pretty impressive success rate, Wilder acknowledged to himself. But his dad was doomed to disappointment if he expected to go six-for-six, because, at this point in his life, Wilder would rather be dead than wed.
“I’m lucky, too,” Wren piped up, eager to be part of the conversation.
“You certainly are,” Max agreed, and winked at his granddaughter before turning his attention back to the little girl’s father and Hunter’s fiancée. “And if there was any doubt about what was going on between you two, your daughter took care of that when she spilled the beans as soon as she ran into the house.”
Wren’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t spill anything, Gramps,” she said, obviously interpreting his remark literally. “I just said that Daddy’s gonna marry Merry, and I get to be in the wedding and then she’s gonna be my mom.”
Yep, five out of six was impressive.
And now that five of his sons were happily settled, Max would no doubt focus all his attention on the sole remaining holdout.
Oh, hell.
Wilder didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Hunter sternly admonished him with a single word: “Language.”
“Sorry,” he said, his apology automatic and sincere as he looked at each of the couples around the table. “But I just realized that I’m the last Crawford bachelor standing.”
His announcement of this uncomfortable truth was followed by several chuckles and teasing warnings from his siblings and their partners.
“I’m right there with you,” Max pointed out to his youngest son.
“Says the man paying to get us all married off,” Wilder noted dryly.
“Suck it up, kid,” Finn said, with absolutely no sympathy in his tone. Because why should he feel sorry for his little brother? Finn was happily married to Avery and anticipating the birth of his first child with his bride of two months.
Then Finn shifted his attention to Hunter and Merry. “I guess this means that you two will be the next Crawford couple to take on the mysterious diary.”
The book he was referring to had been discovered beneath a loose floorboard shortly after they’d moved into the two-story log home on the Ambling A Ranch. Apparently the “A” was for “Abernathy”—the name of the family who’d originally owned the property. A jewel-encrusted “A” was also on the front cover of the diary, suggesting the book had belonged to a member of the family.
Merry looked at her fiancé. “With everything going on, I almost forgot to tell you what I found out the night of Wren’s play.”
But whatever she’d learned would remain unknown to the rest of them a while longer, as an unexpected knock at the door interrupted her announcement.
Wilder’s gaze moved around the table again, confirming that everyone who was supposed to be there for the family meal was present and accounted for.
So who the heck would be visiting on Christmas Day?
He pushed his chair away from the table to find out. Hunter stood at the same time, and the brothers made their way through the kitchen toward the source of the summons.
As Hunter opened the door, Wilder’s attention was snagged by a blur of color on the driveway. By the time he registered that it was a red car, he was staring at taillights as the vehicle drove off. Fast. He squinted, trying to decipher the license plate, but the car was already too far away. The best he could do was to note that the plate was from Texas.
“I guess whoever knocked must have realized they were at the wrong place,” he decided, despite a niggling feeling that he should have recognized the departing car.
“Or they did what they came here to do,” his brother suggested.
Wilder glanced questioningly at Hunter, then followed the direction he was pointing and discovered an infant car seat on the porch—with a baby inside!
“What the—”
“There’s a note.” Hunter bent down to fish out a piece of paper pinned to the blue blanket wrapped around the sleeping baby.
He unfolded the page to reveal a handwritten message in a distinctly feminine scrawl and began to read aloud:
“‘Wilder—’” he glanced up from the page to give his brother a quizzical look before continuing “‘—this is your baby. I’ve done the best I could for four months and I can’t do it anymore. A boy needs a dad and you’re Cody’s, so it’s your turn now. Please take good care of him.’ It’s signed ‘L.’”
He looked at Wilder again. “Well, little brother, looks like you got a baby for Christmas.”
Wilder snatched the paper out of Hunter’s hand to read it for himself.
His brother said something else, but Wilder didn’t hear him.
He stared at the writing on the page, as if he could will the words to change—or at least make sense of them. But none of this made any sense to him. It simply wasn’t possible that he was the father of this kid.
Was it?
“What’s going on out here?” Max wanted to know, pushing his way between his sons. “Good Lord...it’s a baby.”
“Wilder’s baby,” Hunter said and, miming the act of washing his hands, retreated into the house where the rest of the family was gathered.
His father pinned Wilder with his gaze. “You want to explain this?”
“I wish I could,” he said. “But I’ve never seen the kid before. I’m as shocked by this as you are.”
“But it’s yours,” his father remarked.
It wasn’t a question.
“That’s what the note says,” Wilder acknowledged.
“You don’t believe it?” Max asked him.
“I don’t know what to believe. What to think.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, sincerely baffled by this turn of events. He wanted to believe it was a joke, though he wasn’t the least bit amused. “Who would abandon their kid on somebody’s doorstep in the middle of winter?”
“Not just somebody’s doorstep,” his father argued. “The baby’s father’s doorstep.”
He shook his head. “It’s not possible.”
“You’ve never been intimate with a woman?” Max challenged.
It was, of course, a rhetorical question. Though Wilder didn’t share details of his romantic encounters, he’d been caught—more than once—sneaking into the house the morning after he’d spent the night in a woman’s bed.
“I’m careful,” he assured his father. “Always.”
“Accidents happen,” Max said matter-of-factly.
It was a terrifying thought.
“The note says he’s four months old,” his father continued. “Adding nine months to that is thirteen, which means the baby would have been conceived sometime around November last year.”
“Okay,” Wilder said hesitantly.
“So who were you with last November?” Max pressed.
Last November? Seriously?
He shrugged. “How am I supposed to remember something that happened that far back?”
Which he immediately realized was not the right thing to say to his father under the circumstances.
“You should darn well remember a woman who shared your bed,” Max said, the low tone of his voice doing nothing to disguise the underlying anger and disappointment. “I don’t expect you to be in love with every woman you sleep with, but you should know and respect her enough to remember her name.”
“Give me a break,” Wilder pleaded. “My head’s spinning so fast, it’s a wonder I know my own name right now.”
“Well, there’s no doubt the baby looks like a Crawford.”
“The baby looks like a baby,” Wilder said. Because in his admittedly limited experience with infants, they all looked like bald, chubby-cheeked, squalling little monsters.
As if on cue, the one buckled into the car seat started to squirm and squall.
Wilder stepped back, an instinctive retreat.
“Pick him up and bring him inside,” Max said.
“Me?” Wilder was horrified by the very thought.
With a sigh, his father reached down and grabbed the car seat with one hand and the enormous diaper bag with the other.
“Hunter said there was a baby on the doorstep,” Avery said, entering the kitchen from the dining room at the same time that Wilder and Max came in from the porch.
Then she spotted the carrier in Max’s hand and her expression softened. “Ohmygod—it is a baby.” Her gaze shifted to Wilder. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you’re a daddy?”
“Because I’m not,” Wilder insisted. “There’s no way that kid’s mine.”
“He’s in denial,” Genevieve, his brother Knox’s wife, said. Because apparently Hunter’s announcement had drawn everyone away from the table.
“I think the baby’s hungry,” Lily said worriedly.
“You just want to feed everyone,” her husband Xander teased.
“He is gnawing on his fist,” Hunter noted. “And that’s a telltale sign of hunger.”
As Hunter was the only one of his brothers with significant daddy experience, Wilder was willing to defer to his expertise. But having the problem identified didn’t give him the first clue about how to solve it.
So when his brothers and their partners—and Wren—huddled around the baby, pushing Wilder and Max out of the way, Wilder didn’t object.
“He’s definitely hungry,” Sarah said, as the baby’s unhappy cries turned to sobs.
“Let’s see if there’s a bottle in the bag,” Merry suggested.
There were, in fact, two bottles—one premixed and one empty, plus a can of powdered formula.
Avery unbuckled the harness and lifted the infant out of his seat. His plaintive cries immediately ceased.
Everyone seemed to be talking at once, speculating about the note as they fussed over the little guy. Wilder took advantage of their preoccupation to study the baby—who didn’t seem quite so intimidating now that he was quiet—and realized, a little uneasily, that the baby was staring back at him.
Is it possible? he wondered. Can he be mine?
“Where’d the baby come from?” Wren wanted to know.
“Someone left him on the doorstep,” her dad explained.
“Maybe he’s a gift from Santa,” she suggested.
Hunter chuckled. “Unfortunately for Uncle Wilder, I don’t think the baby came with a gift receipt.”
“He does look a lot like Wilder’s old baby photos,” Logan, the eldest Crawford brother, noted.
“He does not,” Wilder denied, though without much conviction.
But no one was paying any attention to him, anyway.
Except his father, who sidled closer. “The note was signed with the letter ‘L,’” Max noted. “Does that jog your memory at all?”
He automatically started to shake his head, because he didn’t want his memory jogged. And if he was in denial—well, he was quite happy to stay there. Because in denial, his life was easy and carefree and he didn’t have the responsibility of an infant who’d been dumped into his lap—or, to be more precise, on his doorstep.
But somehow, in the midst of all the chaos going on around him, hazy memories slowly came into focus in Wilder’s mind. Memories of an early holiday party at Reunion Tower in Dallas, a few too many cocktails and a pretty—and very adventurous—blonde named Leighton Ames. And no, he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that her name started with the same letter that had been scrawled on the bottom of the note.
They’d had a good time together, not just that night, but for several weeks afterward. And then, just as suddenly as their relationship had started, it ended.
Her decision, Wilder remembered now.
Just after the New Year, she’d abruptly called things off. He’d been a little disappointed at first, but there were plenty of other women in the world. And truthfully, he hadn’t thought of her again—until now.
Was Leighton the baby’s mother?
Was it possible that he was the father of this baby who’d been abandoned on the doorstep?
But if she believed that to be true, why hadn’t she ever told him that she was pregnant?
Well, he could probably guess the answer to that one. Either Leighton wasn’t sure about the baby’s paternity, or she didn’t trust him to step up.
He would have, of course. He would have undoubtedly felt panicked and trapped, but he would have done the right thing. Not that she could have known that, because they hadn’t had the type of relationship where they talked about their future hopes and dreams. Their conversations had been more along the lines of “your place or mine?” And after that question had been answered, there had been even less talking.
But if she hadn’t trusted him to step up, why would she dump the baby on him now?
And how did she even know where to find him?
He’d had no communication with her in almost a year. And the last time they were together, he didn’t know that he’d be moving to Rust Creek Falls, so it was unlikely she could have tracked him down here.
Reassured by his own reasoning that it couldn’t have been Leighton who dropped the baby off—and conveniently ignoring the fact that his name was on the note—Wilder breathed a sigh of relief, confident that he was off the hook. But his father would require additional proof, so as the rest of the family went back into the dining room, he scrolled through the contacts in his phone to see if he still had her number.
Amazingly, he did, and tapped it to initiate the call.
“Hello?”
The female voice that immediately answered sounded frantic.
“Um...hi,” he said. “I’m trying to reach Leighton Ames.”
“You and me both,” she replied, sounding as if she was fighting tears.
He frowned at that. “Is this still her number?”
“Yes, but she forgot her phone when she left.” The woman on the other end of the line sighed. “Or maybe she didn’t forget it.”
Which didn’t make any sense to him, but all he said was: “Well, if you hear from her, can you ask her to call Wilder Crawford?”
“Why?” She sounded both curious and wary. “What business do you have with my sister?”
Sister?
He couldn’t recall Leighton mentioning a sister, but surely a sister would know if Leighton had had a baby. And if this was Leighton’s baby, that meant the woman on the phone was the baby’s aunt.
Before he could ask, she spoke again. “Wait a minute—did you say Wilder Crawford?”
“I did,” he confirmed.
“I found your name and a Montana address scrawled on a Post-it note in Leighton’s apartment,” she said. “I think she might be on her way to see you.”
The knots in his stomach tightened. “She might have been here already...and left something.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath. “What kind of something?”
“A baby,” he admitted. “Did she—”
“Cody!” she immediately interjected, not giving him a chance to finish. “You have Cody?”
“That’s the name in the note,” he confirmed.
“Note?” she echoed.
“The baby was left on my doorstep with a note.”
“I don’t understand. Why would she leave her baby?”
“I wish I knew,” he told her.
“Are you Cody’s father?” she guessed.
“Obviously your sister thinks so.”
“You haven’t seen her or talked to her?”
“Not in the past year.”
“But Cody’s with you? At the Ambling A Ranch in Montana?”
“That’s right,” he confirmed.
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised.
“Wait—”
But she’d already disconnected the call.
“What did you find out?” Max asked, when Wilder returned to the table where Lily had resumed serving dessert and Avery rocked the now quiet baby.
“The kid’s mom is Leighton Ames,” he said. “I spoke to her sister, but she doesn’t know where she is or why she left the baby here.”
“Because she wanted him to be with his dad,” Max suggested as an answer to the latter question.
Wilder hoped like hell his father was wrong.
“Do you want ice cream with your pie?” Merry asked him.
Because for the rest of the family gathered together, today was still a celebration—and it was time for dessert.
“Sure,” he said.
Though he wasn’t even sure he wanted the pie now, he didn’t want his family to know how freaked out he was about the arrival of the baby they were all happy enough to assume was his and turning down dessert would be a definite red flag.
“I want ice cream,” Wren piped up, pushing her bowl toward her soon-to-be-stepmother who was scooping it.
“You already had ice cream,” her dad reminded her, pulling the bowl back again before Merry could indulge the little girl’s request.
Wren pouted and dragged her spoon around the inside of the empty vessel.
Wilder took the plate Merry passed to him and murmured his thanks. Then he halved the scoop of ice cream with the side of his fork and slid half into his niece’s bowl.
Wren beamed at him; Hunter scowled.
“There’s a reason I’m the favorite uncle,” he said, and winked at the little girl.
“I’m finished with my dessert,” Finn said to his wife then, “if you want me to take the baby.”
“I can manage the baby,” Avery assured him. “If you want to be helpful, you can start clearing the table.”
As Finn began gathering empty plates and glasses, Wilder dug his fork into his pie, giving up the pretense of an appetite.
“Did you ask for a baby for Christmas, Uncle Wilder?” his niece asked, around a mouthful of ice cream.
“No.” His response was immediate and definitive.
“I guess you’re just lucky then,” Wren decided.
Lucky?
Oh yeah, he had a horseshoe so far up his butt he couldn’t swallow the pie that was stuck in his throat.


The house emptied quickly after dessert was finished and the cleanup complete, leaving Wilder and his father alone with the baby. Then Max took off, too, to pick up a crib he’d arranged to borrow from one of their many Crawford relatives in town.
Wilder had offered to make the trip, but his dad had insisted that he stay at the Ambling A to watch the baby. For the first half hour, there weren’t any major snags—because the kid slept. But when he woke up, he was not in a very good mood.
The baby didn’t cry. Not really. But his face was all scrunched up and he was squirming in his seat, and Wilder braced himself for the crying to start.
“Avery promised that you would sleep for a few hours,” Wilder said, trying to reason with the infant. “That was barely more than an hour ago.”
His words got the kid’s attention, though, and he fixed his big, blue eyes on Wilder.
“You can’t be hungry already,” he continued, in the same logical tone. “You sucked back a whole bottle before she left.”
The baby continued to fuss, clearly unconvinced and unhappy.
And his lower lip was starting to do that quivering thing that warned Wilder real tears and sobs likely weren’t too far behind.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t know what to do.”
“You could try picking him up.”
Wilder turned to see Hunter standing in the doorway. “I thought you’d gone home.”
“I did,” his brother confirmed. “And then I came back.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you might want to talk to someone who’s been where you are.”
On another day, Wilder might have made a snarky comment about not remembering when a baby had been left on Hunter’s doorstep, but right now, he was too grateful for his presence to risk saying anything that might prompt him to leave again.
“I think I need a manual more than a sounding board,” he confided.
“A manual would be useless,” Hunter said. “Because every baby is different.”
“So how am I supposed to know what’s wrong with this one?”
“He’s probably out of sorts because he doesn’t know where his mama is.”
“That makes two of us,” Wilder said.
“And when babies are out of sorts, they need to be comforted.”
He gestured to the infant in his carrier. “Feel free.”
But his brother shook his head. “You need to step up.”
“I would have stepped up months ago if Leighton had told me she was pregnant,” he said in his defense.
“So why are you hesitating now?” his brother challenged.
“Because I don’t have the first clue what to do with a baby.”
“No first-time parent has a clue in the beginning.”
His brother’s matter-of-fact statement was hardly reassuring.
And while they were talking, the baby was growing more distressed.
With a sigh of resignation, Wilder unhooked the strap and lifted him out of the seat.
The baby stopped fussing for a moment to stare at him, as if waiting for something else.
Something more.
Wilder looked at his brother. “I’m doing this wrong, aren’t I?”
“Babies generally like to be held closer than arm’s length,” Hunter told him.
Wilder pulled his arms toward his chest, so that he was almost nose-to-nose with the kid.
Hunter started to chuckle, but quickly covered it with a cough when Wilder glared at him.
“Closer,” he urged. “But to the side, with his head about level with your shoulder so he can see behind you. With newborns, you need to keep one hand on the bottom and the other on the head and neck, for support, but he’s obviously strong enough to hold his head up just fine.”
Wilder did his best to follow his brother’s instructions.
“That’s it,” Hunter assured him.
“He feels so tiny.” His whispered remark was filled with awe and wonder—and just a hint of the nerves that were tangled up inside him. “So fragile.”
“It’s normal to be scared. I was terrified the first time I held Wren in my arms,” his brother confided. “And she was a lot smaller than Cody is.”
“But you had nine months to prepare yourself for her arrival,” Wilder pointed out, though he wasn’t sure anything could have prepared him for this moment.
Hunter nodded. “True.”
Wilder patted the baby’s back gently, as he’d watched Sarah do, and was rewarded with a shockingly loud belch.
“Gas might have been another cause of his distress,” Hunter noted then.
“You think?” Wilder asked dryly.
“And now that it’s out of his system, you can try the cradle hold,” he said, and talked him through shifting the baby’s position so that he was tucked in the crook of Wilder’s arm. “Now sit down and relax.”
Relax? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to relax so long as there was a baby under his roof.
And though Leighton’s note had given no indication that she was planning to come back for the little guy, he had to believe that she would. After all, what kind of mom just left her kid?
Mine, he thought, then shoved the unpleasant twinge from his mind.
Hunter took another seat at the table, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front.
Obviously relaxing wasn’t a problem for him.
“Where’d Dad go?” he asked.
“To pick up a crib,” Wilder told him.
“Ah, right. He said he was going to try to rustle up some of the stuff you’d need from local relatives,” his brother recalled.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think one of those things is a nanny.”
Hunter chuckled. “No, he’s been pretty clear that your baby is your responsibility.”
“But we don’t even know for sure that he is my baby,” Wilder felt compelled to point out again.
“Obviously his mom is sure. Though I have to wonder, if you haven’t kept in touch with her, how did she know where to find you?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. My best guess is Malcolm,” Wilder said, naming a close buddy from Dallas. “When I talked to him a few weeks back, he’d mentioned that one of the girls we’d met at the holiday party before Christmas last year had shown up at his office to ask about me. But he told me that before Thanksgiving, and since nothing came of it...”
“Until now,” Hunter remarked.
“Until now,” he agreed.
“So the who and the how have been answered,” his brother noted. “But we still don’t know the why—beyond the obvious, of course.”
“What’s the obvious?” Wilder wondered.
“What ‘L’ wrote in her note—a boy needs a dad.”
“Which proves she doesn’t know me at all, or she’d know I’m not dad material.”
“Or maybe she knows you better than you know yourself,” Hunter suggested. “But since I’m not completely without sympathy, I’ll give you a crash course in diapering and feeding.”
“I can hardly wait,” he said dryly.
“Or I can let you figure it out on your own,” his brother suggested as an alternative.
“Please don’t,” he said, immediately remorseful. “I need all the help I can get.”
“You’re doing okay so far,” Hunter assured him.
“Because I’m not doing anything.”
“You’ve managed to relax,” his brother pointed out. “And that’s allowed Cody to relax, too.”
Wilder looked down at the little guy tucked in the crook of his arm, close to his body.
He did look relaxed. Content even, his eyelids heavy, as if he might—fingers crossed—drift off to sleep again. And Wilder felt a small measure of satisfaction that he’d been the one to put that look on his face, though the satisfaction wasn’t nearly strong enough to quell the rising tide of panic within him.
“I’m not ready for this,” he confided. “I figured I had another ten years of footloose and fancy-free living before I even thought about getting serious with a woman—and then a few more after that before I had to worry about becoming a dad.”
“There’s nothing more serious than parenthood, or more amazing and awe-inspiring,” Hunter told him.
The baby turned his head then, rubbing his cheek against the soft plaid of Wilder’s shirt, just about where he felt his heart swell inside his chest.
And Wilder knew that whatever happened next, he and the kid were in this together.
Chapter Two (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
Beth turned up the radio and lowered the window a couple of inches, just far enough to allow the icy December air to sweep through the interior of her car and jolt her weary brain and sleepy body awake. Eager to get to Rust Creek Falls, she’d left Dallas almost immediately after ending her telephone conversation with Wilder Crawford, making only brief stops to fill her gas tank and use the bathroom. Now, after almost twenty-eight hours on the road, she was tired and hungry but refused to give in to either before she reached her final destination—and Cody.
She’d looked into flights to Montana, but the last-minute airfares and required connections made it more logical to drive. And now her journey was finally nearing its end.
She couldn’t wait to see Cody again, to hold his chubby little body in her arms and breathe in his sweet baby powder scent. She’d been so worried when she found Leighton’s note, but after talking to Wilder Crawford, she had reason to believe the baby was okay. She had no clue about her sister. Though Leighton had always been adept at taking care of herself, she hadn’t quite been herself since the baby was born. Maybe it wasn’t Beth’s place to worry about her sister, but of course she was worried. And she was concerned that her sweet and innocent nephew was being used as a pawn in whatever game his mother was playing.
When Beth realized her sister was gone—likely headed to Montana, where one of the previously unidentified potential fathers of her baby apparently now resided—she’d considered that Leighton might want to reconcile with her ex. And she’d hoped, for Cody’s sake, that was her sister’s plan.
But if what Wilder Crawford had told her was true, Leighton hadn’t even spoken to the man in almost a year. So why would her sister travel all this way and then not see him? And why would she abandon her baby on his doorstep without any warning?
Maybe Leighton had decided that she needed a break from the day-to-day responsibilities of caring for Cody. But why not leave him in Dallas with his aunt? Why drive all the way to Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana—in the middle of winter, no less—and leave him with a stranger?
Even more than those questions baffled Beth’s brain, the insult wounded her heart. She’d made every effort to be there for Leighton since she’d learned of her sister’s pregnancy. She’d tried to offer support without judgment, help without expectation. And she’d cried tears of joy along with her sister when Cody drew his first breath—and let it out again as an indignant wail.
Beth would do anything for her nephew—including driving through the night and all the next day to get to him. Unfortunately she hadn’t considered the changes in weather that she would encounter en route, and the tires on her fuel-efficient hatchback had been slipping and sliding in protest against the snow and ice that had been her near constant companion since Colorado Springs.
But according to the faded “Welcome to Rust Creek Falls” sign posted at the side the highway, she had finally arrived. She checked her speed as she drove down Cedar Street, noting that the storefronts were all decked out for the holidays with boughs of evergreen and big red bows and twinkling lights. Of course, it was late on the day after Christmas, so the stores were closed, the roads mostly empty. No doubt all the town’s residents were huddled comfortably in their homes, basking in the holiday afterglow and enjoying time with family and friends.
Certainly that was how she’d anticipated spending her holiday—not driving 1700 miles on her own, worry growing with each tick of the odometer. But missing out on the holiday didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was Cody.
Once she was reunited with her nephew, she would think about how to track down her sister. Or maybe—fingers crossed—Leighton had already decided to return to Rust Creek Falls to pick up her baby and Beth would find her sister at the Ambling A when she arrived.
Continuing to follow the directions on her phone, she finally pulled into a long, winding drive that would supposedly lead her to the Ambling A. Assuming, of course, that her GPS wasn’t sending her into the middle of a field where she’d get stuck in the snow and find herself surrounded by angry cows.
The drive had been plowed, but it was still snow-covered, making everything appear blindingly white when her headlights cut through the blackness of the night. She drove slowly, carefully, following the tire tracks to ensure she didn’t veer off the road and end up in a ditch.
The dash clock read 10:14 when she finally saw the two-story log home. Parking behind a dark pickup, she felt a slight twinge of disappointment that she didn’t see Leighton’s car, but right now her main focus was Cody.
Still, she gave herself a moment to close her eyes that were burning with strain and fatigue. But only a moment, because any longer than that and she wasn’t sure she’d manage to open them again. And anyway, as exhausted as she was, her nephew was inside that house, and she couldn’t wait a minute longer to see him.
Grabbing her purse, she pushed open the door. The blast of frigid air was a stark reminder that she wasn’t in Dallas anymore. Stepping out of the car, she nearly lost her footing on the snow-covered ground as the short-heeled boots that were perfectly suitable for winter in Texas proved to be no match for the ice and snow of Montana.
She blinked in the sudden brightness as a floodlight activated. A motion sensor, she guessed, grateful for the illumination as she moved carefully over the frozen ground.
There were no lights on inside the house, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her now.
She noted the pine boughs draped over the railing of the porch and an enormous evergreen wreath decorated with a fancy velvet bow on the door—more reminders of the holiday she’d missed celebrating. She climbed the porch steps and, after a moment’s hesitation, bypassed the bell to knock on the door instead.
When there was no response, she knocked a little harder.
Then harder again.
Finally, a light came on overhead, the door was wrenched open from the other side, and Beth found herself face-to-face with an obviously irritated man.
Actually, she was face-to-chest with his gray T-shirt, so she didn’t see the scowl that furrowed his brow until she took an instinctive step back and lifted her gaze to his face.
In addition to the scowl, he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms low on his hips and the previously noted T-shirt that stretched across his muscular torso. He folded strong arms over his broad chest now and pinned her with a dark, piercing gaze, causing her to belatedly question the wisdom of showing up at a stranger’s door on an isolated ranch in the middle of the night.
Because she was certain that the sudden dryness of her throat and pounding of her heart were signs of fear and not an immediate and instinctive attraction to the prime male specimen in front of her.
“I don’t know where you’re from, honey, but ’round here, people don’t come visiting in the middle of the night,” he said.
The growly timbre of his voice made her shiver.
Or maybe it was just the frigid air temperature.
“Dallas,” Beth heard herself respond to what was obviously a rhetorical question. “And I’m not visiting—I’m here for my nephew.”
“You’re the woman who answered Leighton’s phone,” he concluded.
“Lisbeth,” she said. “But most people call me Beth. And you must be Wilder.”
He nodded and, after only a moment’s hesitation, stepped away from the door to allow her to enter.
She had a vague impression of a kitchen beyond the entranceway, though the interior was only dimly illuminated by the light that filtered through the window from the porch. She kicked off her boots and left them on the mat by the door and unbuttoned her thin coat as she followed Wilder further into a house that was toasty warm in contrast to the frigid air outside. “Where’s Cody?”
She sensed more than saw his frown this time. “Did your sister send you to get him?”
In retrospect, Beth would acknowledge that she should have answered his question with a firm and decisive yes. But in her agitated and sleep-deprived state, she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to see the obvious solution to her dilemma.
“No, I still haven’t heard from Leighton,” she admitted instead. “And I’m starting to worry that something might have happened to her.”
“I think what happened is that she got tired of being tied down by a baby,” he said, and handed her a piece of paper that he’d retrieved from the table.
As she unfolded the page, he turned on the light over the stove so that she’d be able to read it. Beth immediately recognized her sister’s handwriting, and her heart sank as she skimmed the brief words. Then she read them more carefully.
“I don’t understand,” she said, after she’d scanned the note a third time.
“That makes two of us.”
She looked at him again, noting the stubble that darkened his jaw and the overlong and tousled hair that suggested he’d just crawled out of bed. He was undeniably sexy with a slightly dangerous edge—exactly her sister’s type.
None of which explained why she felt a quiver low in her belly when she found him looking back at her. Of course, it was probably just that she was overtired and overwhelmed and worried about her nephew. It certainly wasn’t a visceral response to his nearness. It couldn’t be.
She cleared her throat as she refolded the note and handed it back to Wilder. “I want to see Cody now. Please.”
He hesitated, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But maybe he sensed that she wouldn’t be put off—and that, if he even tried, she’d raise enough ruckus to wake the whole house—because he finally nodded.
She followed him through the darkness, up a set of stairs, then down a hall until he finally paused in an open doorway. She glanced past him, into a room dimly illuminated by a nightlight plugged in beside a crib.
“It looks like maybe you were expecting him,” she noted.
He shook his head. “Maggie and Jesse—distant but local relatives—loaned us the crib. And the rocking chair.”
Beth tiptoed to the crib, exhaling a long, quiet sigh of relief when she gazed down at the sleeping baby.
“It’s okay, Cody. I’m here to take you home now.” She murmured the words softly as she reached down to lift him into her arms and cuddle him against her chest. He squirmed a little at first, but settled quickly again without making a sound of protest.
Wilder stepped in front of the door, as if to block her path, and crossed those strong arms over his impressive chest again. “What are you talking about?” Though he kept his volume low so as not to disturb the sleeping infant, there was no mistaking the steel in his words. “You’re not going anywhere with that baby.”
“Of course, I am,” she said. “I’m his aunt. He belongs with me.”
“If his mother believed that, why’d she drive halfway across the country to bring him to me?” he challenged.
Beth faltered. “I don’t know. But my sister’s done a lot of things in her life that I can’t begin to fathom.”
“Well, it seems obvious to me that there must be a reason Leighton didn’t want you caring for her baby.”
“Her baby?” she echoed. “You don’t think he’s your baby, too?”
“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “But I know that it’s late and this conversation should be tabled until the morning.”
“Morning?” she echoed. “I expected to be halfway back to Dallas by morning.”
“When was the last time you slept, Lisbeth?”
“It’s Beth,” she corrected automatically. “And...I’m not sure.”
He nodded. “That’s what I figured.” He pointed to the rocking chair beside the crib. “Sit there with the baby for a few minutes while I make up the bed in the spare room across the hall.”
“Oh. Um...thank you.”
She hadn’t expected an invitation to stay. Of course, his words had been more in the nature of a command than an offer, but still, she was grateful. So she lowered herself into the rocking chair and snuggled with her nephew.
There were no words to express how happy she was to have Cody in her arms again, how grateful she was to know that he was safe. Worry and desperation had fueled her throughout the trip from Dallas—along with regular infusions of caffeine. But now that she was here, she felt completely drained—physically and emotionally.
She was also relieved that she didn’t have to drive any further tonight, even if it was just back into town to rent a room at a local motel. Assuming there was a motel in this town.
In any event, it probably wasn’t a bad idea for her to catch some shut-eye before embarking on the return journey.


It didn’t take Wilder long to put sheets on the bed in the guest room. And yet, he wasn’t surprised to return to the spare room that had been turned into a temporary nursery to find Beth fast asleep in the rocking chair, her nephew still in her arms.
Though he had no reason to doubt her claim that she was Leighton’s sister, he couldn’t see any obvious family resemblance. Leighton was a spirited blonde, and his first impression of Lisbeth was of a solemn brunette. With her messy ponytail and shapeless coat, Beth bore no physical resemblance to her curvy sister with the infectious laugh and lust for life.
And yet, there was something about Beth that sparked an unexpected—and unwanted—awareness inside him. Or maybe it was her obvious connection to her nephew that tugged at him. She’d wasted no time in making the trip from Dallas to Rust Creek Falls when she learned that he was there, which made him wonder again why Leighton had made the same trip to leave her baby with him when she had a sister who obviously would have been happy to care for the kid.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get an answer to that question—or any other questions—tonight. So he reached for the baby, intending to return him to the crib. Beth’s arms instinctively tightened around the baby and her eyes flew open—a warrior ready to battle.
“I’m just putting him back in his bed so that you can go to yours,” he told her.
She blinked, and he noticed then that she had really pretty eyes—the color of dark chocolate and fringed by a sweep of long, dark lashes.
Those lashes fluttered again as the confusion slowly cleared from her gaze. “Oh. Okay.” She whispered her response as she finally relinquished her hold. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“You can sleep now,” he said, as she rose from the chair.
She nodded. “Thank you. For letting me stay here tonight.”
He didn’t point out that the offer had been born of necessity rather than kindness, because he couldn’t have her knocking on the door of Strickland’s Boarding House at this late hour. And the only other option nearby was Maverick Manor, but he’d heard the owner proudly remark that the hotel was fully booked through the holidays.
“Go.” He steered her toward the open doorway across the hall. “There’s an unopened toothbrush and toothpaste in the adjoining bathroom, if you need them.”
“Thank you,” she said again.
He turned back to peek at the baby again, exhaling a weary sigh of relief that the little guy was still sleeping soundly—at least for the moment—before starting toward his own room.
Thanks to the attention and efforts of his family, the baby had been well cared for the previous day. But eventually they’d all headed back to their own homes, leaving Wilder and his dad alone with the infant.
As a father of six boys, Max had had more than his fair share of experience with diapers and bottles, but he’d insisted that this baby was his youngest son’s responsibility. Wilder didn’t think it was fair that his father was willing to assume that he was the kid’s dad just because some woman had scrawled his name at the top of the note.
“And because you admitted that you had a relationship with the mother,” Max had explained, when Wilder challenged the assumption of paternity.
He couldn’t deny that argument had some merit. That it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility that he could be the father.
And that possibility scared the bejeezus out of him.
And if Leighton had paused long enough to consider the implications of that possibility before depositing her child at his door, it would have scared the bejeezus out of her, too.
What had she been thinking?
Unfortunately, the answer to that question was probably that she hadn’t been thinking.
By her own admission, she wasn’t much of a planner. It was more fun, she’d once told him, to live in the moment and embrace whatever surprises life had in store for her.
When Wilder had confided that he wasn’t a big fan of surprises, she’d surprised the heck out of him by inviting him back to her place.
And yeah, he’d liked that surprise.
This “surprise, you’re a daddy” thing—not so much.
And if he really was the kid’s dad...well, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little guy, because there was no chance Wilder was ever going to win a “Father of the Year” award.
Chapter Three (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
Beth didn’t remember her head hitting the pillow.
She fell asleep quickly and slept deeply, and when she opened her eyes again, the clock on the bedside table read 12:48 p.m.
Certain that number couldn’t be accurate, she pressed the button on the side of her watch to illuminate its face.
12:48.
She jolted upright, shocked to realize that she’d slept for almost fourteen hours!
Her first thought after that: Cody.
She immediately pushed back the covers and hurried across the hall. Her heart, which had been pounding furiously against her ribs, settled into a more normal rhythm when she found her nephew in the crib, sleeping soundly.
She didn’t believe for a minute that he was still sleeping. More likely, Cody had been up at 6 a.m.—as was his habit—and was now down for his second nap of the day. And because he was napping, she decided to steal a few more minutes for herself and indulge in a hot shower.
And it was an indulgence. She had no idea how old or new the house was, but it was apparent that the bathroom had been recently renovated with a mosaic tile floor and glass-walled shower. She stood for a long time beneath the rainfall shower head, letting the warm water wash over her body, easing the tension and aches in her muscles.
She used the shampoo and bodywash in the enclosure, as her own toiletries were in the duffel bag that she’d left in her car. Which meant that the change of clothes she’d packed for her overnight stay at her sister’s apartment was still in the car, too.
As she wrapped herself in a thick, fluffy towel from the heated rack, she considered that ranching was obviously a much more lucrative profession than teaching. Not that she’d ever trade her class of kindergarteners for a field of cows, but she suspected that her sister might not have been so quick to discount the idea of spending her life with a cowboy if she’d known Wilder was a wealthy cowboy.
Of course, thinking about Leighton led to worrying about Leighton, even though Beth knew it was an exercise in futility. She had no way of getting in touch with her sister, so all she could do was monitor her social media accounts, check in with her friends and wait for Leighton to contact her—and ensure that Cody was taken care of while he waited for his mom to come back.
Because Leighton would come back. Notwithstanding what she’d written in the note she’d left with Cody, Beth knew that her sister wouldn’t abandon her baby. She loved him too much.
Reassured by this internal pep talk, Beth toweled off and got dressed in her old clothes. As she finished towel-drying her hair, she heard voices across the hall in her nephew’s temporary bedroom.
No, only one voice, she realized.
Deep and masculine, murmuring in a quiet tone.
Wilder’s voice.
Her heart skipped a beat then, as it had the night before when he’d appeared in the door: six-feet-plus of rugged masculinity that, even in her worried and sleep-deprived state, she couldn’t help but respond to.
She’d had two brief conversations with him: the first on the telephone, when he’d called looking for Leighton, and the second last night, when she’d arrived at the ranch, unannounced and uninvited. Although she should have been expected, as she’d told him she’d be on her way to Rust Creek Falls to get her nephew as soon as possible. Regardless, Wilder had been more hospitable than she’d had any right to expect.
Or maybe he’d been relieved to see her. Because standing in the doorway of the room across the hall, it was obvious to Beth that this cowboy had absolutely no clue how to take care of a baby.
“I know you can’t do this on your own,” Wilder said to the baby. “But is it too much to ask for just a little bit of cooperation?”
Of course Cody didn’t respond, and Beth stayed quiet, too, watching as Wilder struggled to get the baby’s legs out of his sleeper, opting to stretch the fabric rather than attempt to bend his limbs.
When that was finally done, he unsnapped the fasteners of the onesie and peeled it back to reveal the diaper.
“Or maybe this is some kind of test that only someone worthy of being called Mommy or Daddy can figure out,” Wilder considered, as he opened the Velcro tabs. “And I think it’s pretty obvious to both of us by now that I’m not worthy.”
Beth wanted to say something then, to reassure the handsome cowboy that everyone struggled with parenting tasks in the beginning. But before she could find the right words, he pulled the diaper away and reached down to retrieve a clean one from the bag on the floor.
Cody responded as most baby boys would when his private parts were exposed to the fresh air, and Wilder yelped in surprise at the stream that fountained into the air.
Beth couldn’t help it—she laughed.
The sound caught the attention of Cody and Wilder, and they both turned to the doorway. But while the baby smiled in recognition, the man looked so miserably unhappy she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, at least a little.
She swallowed another chuckle as she stepped into the room. “Is this your first time changing a diaper?”
“No,” he denied, and blew out a breath. “I just don’t expect him to do that every single time.”
“You need to keep baby boys covered,” she told him.
“How am I supposed to keep him covered and change his diaper?” Wilder grumbled, rummaging through the bag again.
“It isn’t that difficult,” she said. “You just don’t remove the wet diaper until you have a dry one ready.”
He sighed wearily and shoved the diaper bag aside. “And apparently that was the last clean undershirt thing.”
“I packed some things for Cody before I left Leighton’s apartment,” Beth said. “But the bag’s still on the passenger seat in my car.”
“If you don’t mind keeping an eye on him for a few minutes, I’ll go get it for you,” Wilder said.
“The keys are in my coat pocket,” she told him.
He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
While he was gone, she stripped Cody out of his damp clothes and put a clean diaper on him, chatting with him the whole while. Or chatting to him, as her nephew didn’t respond except with happy gurgles and excited kicks. But those were enough for Beth to know that he was glad to see her.
After wrapping Cody in a blanket to keep him warm until Wilder returned, she sat with him in the rocking chair and rummaged through the diaper bag.
“It doesn’t look like your mama thought to pack you any toys or books,” she remarked. “Hopefully that’s because she doesn’t plan on being gone for too long.”
Although the note Leighton had written suggested otherwise, Beth refused to believe that her sister would leave Cody for more than a few days. It was more likely, she reasoned, that her sister had made the trip to Montana so that Cody could meet his dad, and the long journey with the baby had pushed her beyond the limits of her patience.
But Beth still didn’t understand what had compelled her sister to contact the man now. Or why she hadn’t mentioned her plans to Beth. Especially when they’d made arrangements to celebrate Cody’s first Christmas together.
“I couldn’t imagine any reason she would want to bring you to Montana,” Beth admitted. “But now that I’ve met the very handsome cowboy who might be your daddy, I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“So you do think I’m handsome.”
Beth glanced up then to see Wilder in the doorway, a cocky grin on his face, and felt her cheeks burn.
“It’s not my opinion so much as a simple fact,” she said, furiously attempting to backpedal from her own admission.
“But attraction is very much subjective,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t say I was attracted to you,” she denied hotly. “I was merely commenting that I could understand why my sister was attracted to you.”
“Sure. We’ll go with that,” he said, as he dropped the duffel bag on the floor beside the rocking chair. But the playful wink that followed his words told a different story.
She looked away to unzip the bag, then frowned as she rifled through the contents. “Everything is ice-cold.”
“The bag was in your car, overnight, in the middle of winter,” he pointed out reasonably.
“And, as I discovered yesterday, winter in Montana is a lot different than winter in Texas,” she acknowledged, as she pulled out a onesie, a pair of socks and a two-piece outfit. “Can you put these in the clothes dryer for a few minutes?”
He took the items from her hand. “They’re not wet.”
“No, but they’re cold,” she said again. “And a quick tumble in the dryer will warm them up to a more comfortable temperature for Cody.”
He shrugged but headed out to do her bidding. Or maybe he was grateful for any excuse to leave her with the baby that he didn’t believe was his.
Maybe he was right to be skeptical.
Maybe Leighton had been mistaken.
And maybe, after having spent a couple of days with Cody, he understood now how much time and attention a baby needed and would willingly accede to her request to take her nephew back to Dallas.
When Wilder returned with the warm garments, Beth quickly dressed the baby in a red top that had an appliqué reindeer head with Christmas lights looped around its antlers and a pair of dark brown corduroy pants.
“Very festive,” Wilder noted.
“He has a lot of holiday outfits,” she confided. “Every time I was out shopping, I seemed to find another one that I just couldn’t resist.”
“And all those Christmas gifts in the back seat of your car—more things you couldn’t resist?” he guessed.
“He’s my only nephew,” she said, by way of explanation. “And it’s his first Christmas.”
“Do you want me to bring the presents inside?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d rather celebrate with Cody at home. And since I’m rested now, thanks to you and your kind hospitality, we can be on our way.”
Now it was Wilder who shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You can’t want us to stay here,” she said.
“Nothing has been about what I want since Leighton left her baby on my doorstep,” he acknowledged.
“And considering what an inconvenience that’s obviously been for you, why would you object to us leaving?” she asked coolly.
“Because I still don’t know why your sister brought her baby to Rust Creek Falls instead of leaving him in Dallas with you,” he said.
“No one but Leighton knows what she was thinking,” Beth said.
“Maybe you don’t know, but you can probably guess,” he suggested.
Beth didn’t respond to that. Because yes, she probably could guess. But she had no intention of sharing her suppositions with this man who might or might not be Cody’s father and who, in any event, had no right to pry into the painful details of her often difficult relationship with her sister.
A relationship that she’d been certain was turning a corner—before recent events proved otherwise.
“And until you can answer that question to my satisfaction, the baby isn’t going anywhere,” Wilder said.
An assertion that, of course, put her back up.
“Who put you—a cowboy who clearly doesn’t have the first clue about parenting and might not even be Cody’s biological father—in charge?” she demanded.
“Your sister,” he answered. “When she left her kid with me.”
“My sister obviously wasn’t thinking clearly,” Beth said.
“I don’t disagree, but that doesn’t change the fact that she brought the baby here.”
She hated that he was right. Even more, she hated that Leighton hadn’t trusted her enough to talk to her about her plans. Instead, she’d snuck away, leaving only a cryptic note that did nothing to alleviate Beth’s worries. And thinking about it now only made her head hurt. She lifted a hand and pressed her fingertips to her temple, as if that might assuage the ache.
“You’re probably hungry,” Wilder said, his tone more conciliatory than confrontational now.
She frowned. “What?”
“I’m guessing that your head hurts because you haven’t eaten,” he clarified.
“How do you...oh.” She dropped her hand away.
“When did you last have a meal?”
“I grabbed a burger last night when I fueled up my car outside of Bozeman.” But she’d only managed to choke down a few bites of the tasteless patty before she’d wrapped it up again and tossed it back into the bag.
“Well, according to the schedule I was given, it’s time for the baby to have a bottle, so let’s get you something to eat, too,” he suggested.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, reaching for the duffel bag. “I just want to change my clothes first.”
“Did you want me to warm yours in the dryer, too?”
Though she didn’t relish the idea of wriggling into cold undergarments, it was preferable to handing her bra and panties to a stranger. Especially a sexy stranger who had undoubtedly removed sexier undergarments from her sister’s body.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” she told him.
“Okay, I’ll get started fixing the bottle.”
She didn’t ask him to take Cody and he didn’t offer. She did wonder if his reticence was a result of not knowing what to do to take care of a baby or not wanting to acknowledge that Cody might be his.
And she had no intention of pushing him outside of his comfort zone. As far as she was concerned, the sooner he realized that he couldn’t handle taking care of an infant, the sooner she could be on her way back to Dallas with her nephew.
When she was changed, she retraced her steps—as best she could recall—from the night before. But it had been dark then, and she’d been focused on Wilder’s form moving ahead of her, unable to see much of anything else. In the light of day, she could appreciate the warmth and design of the home that Wilder lived in with...well, she had no idea who else lived in this house. Obviously she had more questions about the man than answers, but hopefully that would change over lunch.
Her stomach growled in support of that plan.
She reached the bottom step and turned—apparently in the wrong direction. Because she found herself in a family room with a grouping of leather furniture around a stone fireplace and a towering Christmas tree that almost touched the vaulted beam ceiling.
“Look at that,” she said to Cody, her voice a reverent whisper as she moved closer. “It’s almost as big as the tree at the mall where we saw Santa.”
Of course, Cody didn’t understand what she was talking about and would have no memory of the event even if he did. By the time they’d got to the front of the line and it was his turn to see the jolly man in the red suit, he was fast asleep. Beth hadn’t wanted to wake him and risk ending up with a photo of an unhappy or crying baby. Instead, she had a beautiful photo of her nephew, decked out in a red velvet Santa sleeper and matching hat, peacefully tucked into the crook of Santa’s arm.
She’d bought two copies of the photo and had framed and wrapped the second one as a Christmas gift for her sister. Of course, she’d invited Leighton to go to the mall with them, but her sister had waved off the suggestion, insisting that Cody was too young to even care. It was undoubtedly true, and yet, Beth couldn’t let the occasion of his first Christmas pass without a visit to Santa.
She pushed the memory aside to focus on the tree in front of her now. It wasn’t just big, it was beautifully decorated in what she would call “country chic,” with burlap ribbon, handcrafted wooden ornaments, home-sewn felt shapes, crocheted snowflakes, tied clusters of dried fruit, sprigs of berries and striped candy canes.
And unlike the plastic tree in the mall, this one was real. She could smell the rich, fragrant scent of pine in the air.
“Did you get lost?”
She started, turned. “What?”
A smile twitched at the corners of Wilder’s mouth, somehow making him look even more unbelievably handsome, and making her wonder what was wrong with her that she could be so immediately and undeniably attracted to the man who might very well be her nephew’s father.
“I asked if you got lost,” he said.
“Oh, no. I mean, I took a wrong turn, and then...” She shrugged. “I got distracted. You have a beautiful home.”
“It’s got good bones,” he said, turning to exit the room, no doubt expecting her to follow. Which, of course, she did. “But it’s also been a lot of work to renovate and update.”
“Have you done the work yourself?” she asked, glancing at the framed photos on the sideboard as they passed through the dining room. She was tempted to pause and examine the pictures more closely, but her empty stomach growled to remind her that she had other priorities at the moment.
“Me, my brothers and our dad,” he said, handing her a ready-made bottle for the baby.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I would have mixed up his formula.”
“I just followed the instructions on the label.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, not wanting to appear ungrateful but needing to ask, “Did you use previously boiled water?”
“That’s what the instructions said to do,” he pointed out. “Plus Hunter, one of my brothers, gave me a crash course on basic childcare.”
“He has kids?” Beth guessed, testing the temperature of the formula by shaking a few drops onto the inside of her wrist.
“One. A six-and-a-half-year-old daughter.”
“There’s no better teacher than experience,” Beth said. “But in the absence of experience, there are some good childcare books that help. Leighton had about half a dozen beside her bed when she was pregnant.”
She didn’t tell him that she’d bought the books for her sister, or admit that Leighton hadn’t cracked the covers on most of them. Because her sister had never been a fan of book learning—preferring to figure things out as she went along.
“I have to admit, that surprises me a little,” he told her. “The Leighton I knew wasn’t really the maternal type.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, either,” she admitted, as she settled into a chair at the table to give Cody his bottle. “But everything changed when she found out she was pregnant.”
Wilder grabbed a mug from the cupboard and filled it from the carafe on a warming burner. “Are you a coffee drinker?” he asked.
“Only on days ending in a ‘y,’” she told him.
He chuckled at that as he reached for another mug, then filled it with the steaming brew.
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Cream, please.”
He opened the fridge to retrieve the carton, then added a splash to her cup and set it in front of her.
“Thanks.” She lifted the mug to her lips and sipped. “That’s good and strong.”
“It’s the only way my dad knows how to make it.”
“So this is his house?” she guessed.
Wilder nodded. “When we first moved to Rust Creek Falls, in the summer, Xander and Finn lived here, too. But Xander and Lily have their own place closer to town now, and Finn and Avery renovated a cabin on the far side of the property, so it’s just me and my dad left.”
“So you’ve got three brothers?” She wasn’t just making conversation; she was genuinely curious to learn more about his family, who might prove to be her nephew’s family, too.
“No, I’ve got five brothers.”
“Five?”
He nodded.
“Wow. Six boys. Your mom obviously had her hands full,” she remarked.
“Maybe that’s why she took off before my first birthday,” he noted.
Chapter Four (#u50532d5e-fe32-5fbf-a059-e2e4eb486586)
Beth winced. “I’m sorry.”
Wilder immediately waved off her apology. “No reason to be. You couldn’t know.”
“All the more reason not to speak without thinking.” Then, in an apparent effort to smooth over the awkwardness, she quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about your brothers.”
He responded readily, happy not to delve any deeper into the details of his mother’s abandonment—especially when he honestly didn’t know most of them. “Logan, the oldest, is married to Sarah. Hunter’s a year younger, the one with the six-and-a-half-year-old daughter, and now engaged to Merry—that’s with a capital ‘M’ followed by an ‘e,’” he clarified. “Although I suppose it’s also accurate the other way, too.
“Anyway, next after Hunter is Xander, who’s married to Lily. Then there’s Finn, who’s married to Avery and expecting a baby in the spring, and finally Knox, who’s married to Gen.”
“So all of your brothers are married or engaged,” she mused.
He nodded.
“You’re not feeling any pressure to follow in their footsteps?”
“Not at all. I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is,” he assured her.
Then his gaze slid in Cody’s direction, and when it shifted back again, the look on Beth’s face told him she knew that what he really meant was that he’d been perfectly happy with his life the way it was.
He turned to the fridge, away from her knowing expression. “I promised you food,” he said. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Oh, um, just some toast would be fine,” she said, as she settled into a chair at the table and positioned the bottle close to the baby’s mouth. Cody immediately latched onto the nipple and began sucking.
“How about a sandwich?” he suggested.
“That sounds even better,” she agreed.
“Do you like turkey?”
“Almost as much as coffee.”
He pulled a cellophane-covered platter from the refrigerator.
“That’s a lot of turkey,” she noted.
“We had a full house for the Christmas meal, so my dad insisted on two birds to ensure we’d have leftover for sandwiches,” he explained.
“I’d love a turkey sandwich—if you’re sure he wouldn’t mind sharing,” Beth said.
“There’s plenty.” He pulled the plastic wrap off the meat. “I guess you didn’t get to enjoy Christmas dinner, did you?”
She shook her head. “I mostly fueled myself on coffee and doughnuts.”
More coffee than doughnuts, Wilder guessed, with a glance at her thin frame. He generally preferred the women he dated to look like women, with curves rather than angles. Beth was all angles, and yet, there was something about her—an innate warmth and sweetness that appealed to him.
The observation made him frown. Because while he appreciated the female form in various shapes and sizes, Beth wasn’t a female to be ogled—she was Cody’s aunt. Leighton’s sister.
And definitely not his type.
“White or dark meat?” he asked, turning his attention back to his task.
“Either or,” she said. “And I can make my own sandwich.”
“You’re feeding the baby,” he noted. “And that’s something I’m not so good at.”
“Your brother didn’t give you a tutorial?” she teased.
“Apparently I’m not a very quick learner.”
Beth smiled at that. “You’re lucky your family is so supportive.”
“Is ‘supportive’ another word for ‘nosy and interfering?’”
“When it comes to family relationships, there’s often some overlap,” she acknowledged.
“Is your family supportive?”
“There’s just me and Leighton—and Cody—now,” she told him. “Our parents were killed during a bank robbery gone wrong almost ten years ago. Innocent bystanders.”
Though the words were spoken matter-of-factly, the flatness of her tone suggested that the passage of time had done little to dull the heartache. As someone who’d grown up without a mother, he understood how the pain of loss could linger and wished he could take back the question.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead, sounding and feeling awkward.
“Thanks.” She eased the nipple of the already empty bottle from the baby’s mouth and turned him onto her shoulder, gently rubbing his back.
Was it a maternal instinct that allowed women to anticipate and respond to an infant’s needs? Or was it, as his brother had suggested, a parenting instinct? In which case, it was an instinct that Wilder obviously lacked.
“He was hungry,” he noted.
“He always is,” Beth remarked.
“And so are you,” he remembered, refocusing on his task. “Cranberry or mayo?”
“Both.”
Wilder made a face but retrieved the condiments from the fridge.
“Coleslaw?” he asked, when he’d cut the sandwiches and set them on two plates.
Her stomach grumbled a response before she did. “Sure.”
He spooned some onto the plate beside her sandwich and set it on the table. After Cody had burped, she put him in his car seat and picked up her sandwich.
Wilder expected her to nibble around the crust, pretending more than eating, so he was surprised to see her take a hearty bite. And even more so when she closed her eyes and let out a blissful sigh that he was more accustomed to hearing in the bedroom than the kitchen.
“Oh. My. Goodness.” She chewed slowly, swallowed. “You make a really good turkey sandwich.”
It wasn’t the only thing he did really well. In fact, sandwich-making didn’t even crack the top ten list of things he did to please a woman, but he’d be happy to show her—
No. He immediately cut off his wayward thought, unwilling to go there with Beth, who wasn’t just a guest under his roof but the baby’s aunt.
He cleared his throat along with his mind. “I only assembled the ingredients,” he told her. “Lily worked her magic with the bird.”
“Lily is...married to Knox?”
He shook his head. “Xander. She runs her own business—Lily’s Home Cookin’—now, but she used to be a cook at Maverick Manor.”
“What’s Maverick Manor?”
“The only decent hotel between here and Kalispell. It was originally an enormous house, nicknamed Bledsoe’s Folly in honor of the man who built it. When he died, it stood dark and empty for a lot of years until Nate Crawford bought it and turned it into a hotel.”
“A relative of yours?” she guessed.
“Apparently.”
“Do you have a lot of family in Rust Creek Falls?” she asked.
“You can’t walk down Sawmill Street without bumping into a Crawford—or two or three,” he told her. “I thought I’d miss the anonymity of living in a big city, but there’s something about this place that makes it feel like home already.”
“Maybe the fact that you can’t walk down Sawmill Street without bumping into a Crawford,” she said, echoing his own words.
He chuckled. “That might be part of it.”
She picked up the second half of her sandwich. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I had turkey,” she told him. “But I’m sure I don’t remember it tasting this good.”
He popped the last bite of his own sandwich into his mouth. “Last Christmas?”
“What?”
“You said you couldn’t remember the last time you had turkey,” he reminded her. “I suggested that it was probably last Christmas.”

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