The Maverick's Secret Baby. Teri Wilson

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СКАЧАТЬ 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

      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 СКАЧАТЬ