by Teri Wilson
But was that really what Avery wanted?
She wasn’t so sure, and suddenly she couldn’t seem to focus on the many difficult decisions she needed to address. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything except Finn’s cocky, lopsided grin and the cozy hayloft in the barn’s shady rafters. Wouldn’t it be nice to be kissed in a place like that?
For the last time, calm down, pregnancy hormones!
“It’s really lovely here,” she said, glancing around the sun-dappled space. Horses poked their heads over the tops of stable doors and whinnied as they walked past.
“It’s nice. We’ve got a lot more space than we had in Texas.”
“So your move here is permanent, then.” She held her breath. What was she saying?
Of course it was permanent. This was Finn’s new home.
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded and guided her toward the corner of the barn, where a few barrels were lined up along the wall.
Avery wondered how much of his enthusiasm for Rust Creek Falls had to do with his overactive dating life...and just how many women he’d brought out to the Ambling A for this quaint little tour. On second thought, maybe she was better off without that information.
“Here we go.” Finn reached into one of the barrels and pulled out a few ears of colorful calico corn—sapphire blues, deep burgundies and ruby reds. It almost looked like he was holding a handful of gemstones.
He offered her a few ears, and she took them. “Pretty. Are we adding a little harvest decor to the jack-o’-lantern display for your niece?”
“No, my dad donated a big batch of harvest corn to the town for the autumn festival, and we’ve got a few barrels left over. So now what you’ve got there is a treat for the cattle.”
She glanced down at the corn and back up at Finn. He’d been dead serious about spending hands-on time with the herd. “You mean cow treats are a thing?”
“Everyone deserves a little something special now and then, don’t you think?” His eyes gleamed.
Avery was a firm believer in this sentiment. It was precisely how she ended up with her most recent Louis Vuitton handbag. It’s also how she’d ended up in bed with Finn Crawford on her last business trip.
She blinked up at him and prayed he couldn’t read her mind. “Absolutely.”
* * *
Finn couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about Avery. When he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, he realized the difference wasn’t just one thing. Everything about her seemed different somehow.
Then again, he’d never seen her this way before. Finn knew the proper, corporate Avery—Princess Avery, as he liked to call her, much to her irritation. He’d never seen the coppery highlights that fresh sunshine brought out in her tumbling waves of hair. He’d certainly never wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her close in a pasture while she tried to feed an overeager cow an ear of calico corn.
Every time the Hereford’s big head got close to her hand, she pulled it back and squealed. The poor confused cow glanced back and forth between Avery and Finn and then stared longingly at the ear of corn.
“Cows seems significantly bigger up close,” Avery said.
“This one’s harmless, I promise. She’s a gentle giant, wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He took hold of Avery’s hand and guided the corn toward the cow’s mouth.
The Hereford snorted in gratitude and wrapped her wide tongue around the corncob.
“Ahh! I’m doing it.” Avery laughed, and the cow’s ears swiveled to and fro.
The corn was gone within a matter of minutes, and Avery beamed at Finn over her shoulder. “Can I give her another one?”
“Sure.” He handed her another ear of the colorful corn.
Avery fed it to the cow all on her own this time, giggling in delight when the animal made happy slurping sounds.
“This is the most hands-on I’ve ever gotten with cattle.” She turned in his arms so she was facing him and shot him a conciliatory look. “You were right. It gives me a whole new appreciation for what we do.”
Finn had been a rancher all his life, and he’d never seen anyone take such sheer delight in feeding cattle before. It was a shame Avery’s father had never taken the time to teach her the ins and outs of hands-on ranch management in addition to crunching numbers and networking. But he wasn’t about to bring up Oscar Ellington and spoil the mood. The man hated him, apparently, although Finn probably never would have known as much if Avery hadn’t mentioned it over martinis in the darkened bar in Oklahoma.
“Then it’s a good thing I dragged you away from the boarding house,” he said.
Avery’s hands found their way to his chest, and their eyes met for a beat until she seemed to realize she was touching him.
“Right, but I should probably be getting back.” She took a backward step and collided with the cow.
She let out a loud moo, and Avery jumped back into his arms.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, Princess. Everything’s fine.”
“It’s really not.” She shook her head, but at the same time melted into him. And this time, when her hands landed on his pecs, they stayed.
Finn could feel her heart beating hard against his chest, and her eyes grew dark...dreamy...as her lips parted ever so slightly.
He’d never wanted to kiss a woman more in his life, but he was still a little thrown by her words.
It’s really not.
He had no clue what she meant. Everything certainly seemed fine. She felt so good in his arms. So soft. So warm. And he especially liked the way she was suddenly focusing intently on his mouth.
But he wasn’t about to kiss her if it wasn’t what she wanted. He inhaled a ragged breath and cast her a questioning glance.
“Honestly, I should go.” She lifted her arms and wound them around his neck.
“Avery.” He half groaned her name.
If he couldn’t kiss her, he was going to have to take her arms and unwind them himself. He wasn’t going to last another minute with her pressed against him, looking up at him like she wanted to devour him. He was only human.
But just as his fingers slipped around her wrists, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him so hard that she nearly knocked him over. Her mouth was warm and ready, and before he fully grasped what was happening, her fingertips slid into his hair, knocking his Stetson to the ground.
Finn didn’t give a damn about the hat. He didn’t give a damn about much of anything except the woman in his arms and the way she was murmuring his name against his lips, as if they were suddenly right back in the middle of that surreal, sublime night in Oklahoma.
He’d been thinking about that night for four long months, convinced their paths would never cross again. And now here she was, as beautiful and maddening as ever.
He nipped softly at her bottom lip and she let out a breathy sigh, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered again what exactly she was doing in Montana, so far off the beaten path. He wasn’t altogether sure he bought her business trip explanation. No one had business this far out. He didn’t dare ask, lest he ruin the moment.
But he didn’t have to, because the moment came to an abrupt end, thanks to an earsplitting chorus of hungry moos.
Their eyes flew open, and Avery blinked, horrified. Whether she was more shaken by the sight of half a dozen cows suddenly surrounding them in the pasture or the fact that she’d thrown herself at him, he wasn’t entirely sure. He hoped it was the former, but he wouldn’t bet his life on it.
“I, um...” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Avery, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
One of the cows nudged her, and she shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just... I’m sorry. I should really...”
“It’s okay.” He nodded, still thoroughly baffled but
getting nowhere amid a sea of cattle and half-eaten harvest corn. “I’ll take you home.”
The look of relief on her face was almost enough to make him think he’d imagined the fact that she’d just kissed him silly. Not quite, though.
Not quite.
Chapter Four
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Melba’s gaze cut toward Avery as she slid one foot to rest alongside her opposite ankle in a wobbly modified version of tree pose. The baby goat bleated in her arms.
Avery had to give Melba credit. She was really being a good sport about the whole goat yoga thing.
“People pay good money to do this in the city. I promise,” Avery said as she settled into her own tree pose.
Thanks in part to yoga with animals being all the rage on Instagram, her yoga studio in Dallas had held a special goat yoga fund-raiser after the most recent Texas hurricane and ended up raising thousands for storm relief. How a private fitness boutique in the luxury Highland Park neighborhood procured a dozen tiny goats for the day was a mystery Avery couldn’t begin to fathom. But her life in Rust Creek Falls seemed to be teeming with farm animals.
Avery placed her hands in prayer position and closed her eyes. “Think of it as pet therapy and yoga all rolled into one. It’s supposed to clear the mind and release loads of feel-good endorphins.”
Plus Avery just needed the company. Since her visit to the Ambling A with Finn two days ago, she’d practically been a hermit. She’d shut herself up in her room, poking her head out only for meals and a few speed-yoga sessions, lest Finn turn up at the front door again.
She wasn’t ready to see him—not after that kiss. Making out with the father of her baby before he even knew she was pregnant was definitely not part of the plan. Nor was making out with him afterward. Her mission was pretty straightforward: face her moral responsibility to tell Finn about the baby, then hightail it back to Dallas and get on with her life as a single-mom-to-be.
The plan involved zero kissing whatsoever.
The trouble was, when Finn dropped her off at the boarding house after she threw herself at him in the pasture, he’d asked if he could see her again and she’d said yes. How could she not? They still needed to have a very important conversation. But she needed some time to get her bearings first, and she definitely didn’t need to go back to the Ambling A. It was far too cozy over there, with all the pumpkin carving and the cows munching on harvest corn. What would happen next time? A moonlit hayride?
No.
Because there wouldn’t be a next time. She should have never set foot on Crawford property in the first place. Telling him about the pregnancy needed to take place on neutral territory. Someplace safe.
“Is your mind clear yet?” Avery cracked her eyes open to check on Melba.
The older woman gave her a blank look. The baby goat in her arms let out a warbly bleat, and Melba bit back a smile. “Afraid not, dear.”
That made two of them.
“Melba!” someone called from inside the house, and before either of them could respond, the door flew open and Old Gene strode onto the porch.
He took in the yoga mats, then glanced back and forth between their tree poses. “What in the world is going on out here?”
“What does it look like?” Melba sniffed. “Avery is teaching me some of her fancy yoga moves.”
“You’re doing yoga?” He gaped at her as if she’d just sprouted another head. “With the goat?”
“Avery says it’s a thing.” Melba glanced at her for confirmation.
“Indeed it is.” Avery nodded. “Very on trend.”
“I’m old, but I’m not dead. I can still learn new things. Besides, you’ve been gone all morning. Someone had to watch the wee thing.” Melba scratched the baby goat behind the ears. When she appeared to realize what she was doing, she stopped.
Her resistance was crumbling where the goat was concerned, much to Avery’s amusement. Not that she was surprised. Melba was a natural caretaker. It was what made the boarding house such a nice place to stay.
Avery, however, was still avoiding any and all hands-on interaction with the tiny creature. She knew next to nothing the about farm animals, her recent cattle experience notwithstanding. The one thing she did know, though, was that it should probably have a name by now.
“Have you thought of what you want to call the poor goat yet?” she asked Old Gene.
His gaze darted to his wife. “I thought Melba might want to do the honors.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She dumped the baby goat in Gene’s arms, where it landed in a heap of tiny hooves, soft bleats and furry orange coat. “If I name her, that means we’re keeping her. Nice try, but no.”
Melba gave her eyes a mighty roll and huffed off in the direction of the kitchen.
Okay, then. Namaste.
Avery smiled to herself as she bent down to roll up the yoga mats. “Give it a few more days, Gene. I think the little kid is growing on her. Where were you off to this morning?”
Old Gene had been notably absent at breakfast. For once, Claire’s homemade cinnamon rolls had lasted past 9:00 a.m. Avery had indulged in seconds, since she was eating for two.
“I was at a planning meeting for the upcoming autumn festival over at the high school, but then the delivery of hay for the hay maze arrived and needed unloading. The last time I tossed a hay bale around, I threw my back out. So I left that to the younger folks and scooted on home.” He set the goat on the ground, and the animal teetered toward the grass beyond Avery’s makeshift yoga area on the porch.
“That sounds like a wise choice,” Avery said. The thought of Melba taking care of an incapacitated Old Gene on top of the boarding house and an orphaned goat was too unnerving to contemplate. “So is this autumn festival a big thing around here?”
Finn had mentioned the festival, and her curiosity was definitely piqued.
Old Gene nodded and crossed his arms as he watched the baby goat bounce around the yard. “Yes, ma’am. It certainly is.”
“What’s it like?”
“Let’s see. The festival starts off with two weeks of fall-themed activities in the evenings and then ends with a Halloween party in the school gym. It’s a big family event. The kids dress up in costumes, there are always a lot of Halloween-themed games and Melba brings her famous caramel apples. You’d love it.”
Avery grinned.
She’d never been to a small-town festival before. And the last Halloween party she’d attended had been a stuffy masquerade ball at the country club. Adults only. The costumes had all been extravagant rentals and the guests dined on delicate hors d’oeuvres and cocktails. A quaint small-town Halloween did indeed sound lovely.
Old Gene dragged his gaze away from the goat and studied her for a moment. “You’ll still be here in two weeks, right?”
“Oh.” She straightened and hugged her yoga mat to her chest. “I’m not sure. It kind of depends...”
On how much longer I put off the inevitable.
“I doubt it,” she added.
She’d already been away from the office far too long. Her parents thought she was off on a spa getaway with friends. That excuse would wear thin eventually—sooner rather than later.
Old Gene refocused his attention on the goat, and Avery noticed his shoulders sag a little bit. “That’s too bad. Melba is going to worry about you when you’re gone. She has a soft spot for you, you know.”
Guilt nagged at Avery’s conscience. She’d known for weeks that Melba suspected she was on the run from a bad relationship, and she’d done nothing to alleviate such worries. Letting her believe in some fictional ex-boyfriend seemed so much easier than trying to explain the truth.
“I know.” An ache knotted in her throat.
She liked it here. She liked Melba and Old Gene. She even sort of liked the goat. She would have,
anyway, if its very presence didn’t remind her of her complete and total lack of maternal instincts. The real reason she’d yet to try to bottle-feed it was because she was afraid she’d mess everything up and the goat would reject her.
How sad was that?
“My wife wouldn’t try yoga for just anyone, especially not with this troublemaker.” Old Gene scooped the goat into his arms and stuck a foot out in front of him as if he were trying to kick an imaginary soccer ball. “What about me? Am I doing it right?”
Avery snorted with laughter. “You’re nailing it, Gene.”
“Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” He flashed a triumphant smile and carried the goat inside.
Its little head rested on Old Gene’s shoulder, and the animal fluttered its long eyelashes at Avery as they disappeared from view.
She wondered if the sentiment applied to herself, as well. She wasn’t exactly old, but aside from the fact that she wasn’t in a relationship with her baby’s father, she was woefully unprepared for motherhood. She’d never once changed a diaper. As an only child, she’d never spent much time around children, either. She hadn’t even babysat for extra money as a teenager. She hadn’t needed to. Her parents had always been more than happy to give her everything she wanted, including a job.
There was more truth to Finn’s nickname for her than she wanted to admit.
Princess.
She took a shaky inhale of crisp autumn air and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that her charmed existence was about to come to an abrupt end. Maximilian Crawford might have fond memories of her father, but the feeling definitely wasn’t mutual. Oscar Ellington was going to hit the roof when he found out she’d slept with Finn.
Ready or not, life as Avery knew it was about to change.
* * *
Finn leaned against the vast kitchen counter in the main house of the Ambling A while he stared at the screen of his iPhone and frowned. Four missed calls showed on his display, and not one of them was Avery.
He sighed, put the phone down and then picked it back up again just in case.
