The Maverick's Secret Baby. Teri Wilson

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      “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

      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, СКАЧАТЬ