The Maverick's Secret Baby. Teri Wilson

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ