A Man 0f His Word (Round-The-Clock Brides Book 4)

by Sandra Steffen

  Maximilian shook his head. “Absolutely not. We need Viv’s help now more than ever. It’s not going to be easy to make matches for you, Hunter and Wilder. Hunter hasn’t so much as looked at another woman since his wife died. Wilder is just...well, Wilder. And you can’t seem to focus on one woman to save your life. If you’re not careful, son, you’re going to wind up old, alone and lonely. Just like me.”

  A bark of laugher escaped Finn before he could stop it.

  “Please.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re far from lonely.”

  His father was rarely, if ever, alone. The business and living arrangements at their sprawling Ambling A Ranch pretty much assured that Maximilian saw each of his six sons on a daily basis. Plus, he was the biggest flirt Finn had ever set eyes on.

  His dad had been single for decades. Finn’s mother had abandoned the family when all six of her sons had been young. Maximilian might have remained single, but that hardly meant he lacked female companionship. His wallet alone was an aphrodisiac—plus he was something of a silver fox. Being in his sixties didn’t stop him from dating nearly as much as Finn did.

  Like father, like son.

  “Point taken.” Maximilian shrugged one shoulder. The corner of his mouth inched up into a half grin. “In any case, we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to find you a bride.”

  “Your son might need to adjust his standards,” Viv said, as if Finn wasn’t sitting right there in the room. “The sheer number of women he’s dated in the past three months should have guaranteed a good match.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to dredge up more women. It seems like the only solution.” Finn aimed his best sardonic smile directly at the wedding planner. She was really beginning to annoy him.

  Adjust his standards? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  “I’ve been calling around town to see if I’ve overlooked any single ladies. This morning alone I’ve tried all the day-care centers, the veterinary clinic, the medical center and Maverick Manor.” Viv tapped a polished fingernail on the pink notepad in front of her. “I thought maybe I could find a few datable, single women working in one of these locations whom I might not be acquainted with, some ladies living in one of the surrounding counties.”

  So now she was going to import women into town to date him? This whole ordeal was getting more absurd by the minute.

  “Any luck?” Maximilian said.

  “Not yet. But there’s still one place left on my list—Strickland’s Boarding House.”

  An ache took up residence in Finn’s temples. “That ramshackle Victorian mansion by the fire station?”

  Viv’s lips pursed. “It’s a town landmark.”

  “It’s purple,” Finn retorted.

  “Lavender gray, technically.” She smiled brightly at him. Jeez, this woman never gave up, did she? Maybe because your father is offering her a million dollars to marry you off...possibly more. “Just the sort of place a lovely single woman might choose to stay.”

  “That actually makes sense, son.” Maximilian waved a hand toward Viv’s list. “Go ahead and call over to the boarding house. We’ll wait.”

  Finn was on the verge of pulling his Stetson low over his eyes and taking a nap. No one here seemed to care much what he thought, anyway. But once Viv dialed the number, she put her phone on speaker mode, which made napping pretty much impossible.

  After two rings, an older man’s voice rattled on the other end. “Howdy, Strickland’s Boarding House.”

  Viv smiled. “Hello there, Gene. It’s Vivienne Dalton calling.”

  “Hi there, darlin’. What can Melba and I do for you today?” he said.

  In the background, Finn heard a woman—Melba, presumably—asking who’d called. When Old Gene supplied her with the information, she yelled out a greeting to Viv.

  Viv and Old Gene exchanged a few more pleasantries. Gene asked about her husband, and she inquired as to the well-being of the baby pygmy goat Gene and Melba were caring for.

  Of course there’s a baby pygmy goat. Finn suppressed a grin. Maximilian, however, was less charmed. He cleared his throat, prompting Viv to get on with the matter at hand.

  She took the hint. “Actually, Gene, I have a rather odd question for you. Do you happen to have any single young women staying at the boarding house who might be interested in a date with a handsome cowboy named Finn Crawford? I’m trying to help out a friend who’s new in town.”

  “Funny you should mention single young women,” Old Gene said. “We’ve had a darling young lady staying with us for a couple weeks now. A bit on the shy side, but sweet as pie.”

  Viv’s eyes lit up. “Really? What’s her name?”

  “Avery.”

  Finn narrowed his gaze at Viv’s phone.

  Avery?

  The only Avery he knew would never fit into a place like Rust Creek Falls. She couldn’t possibly be talking about...

  “Avery who?” Maximilian growled. “Please tell me you’re not talking about the daughter of that rat bas—”

  “Dad.” Finn shook his head. “Chill out.”

  As usual, Maximilian had a harsh word at the ready for anyone related to his old nemesis, Oscar Ellington.

  Finn was certain he didn’t need to worry. It just wasn’t possible. Oscar Ellington’s daughter lived over a thousand miles away, in Texas. Plus, with her pencil skirts, red-soled stilettos and designer handbags, she wasn’t exactly what Finn would describe as sweet. Considering they’d only shared one night together, she wasn’t exactly his, either.

  Still, what a night it had been.

  “Gene! Stop talking right this minute!” Melba’s voice boomed in the background again.

  Viv frowned down at her phone. “Is everything okay over there?”

  “Fine and dandy,” Gene said.

  Melba issued a simultaneous “No, it is not. Gene seems to have forgotten we shouldn’t be giving out guests’ private information.”

  “But she seems a little lonely,” Old Gene countered while Melba continued to balk.

  Again, Finn’s memory snagged on a sweet, sultry night on an Oklahoma business trip and the most electric kiss he’d ever experienced. The power had gone down, bathing the city in darkness. But when his lips touched Avery Ellington’s, they’d created enough sparks to light up the sky.

  How long had it been?

  Months.

  “Excuse me.” Finn leaned forward in his chair. He knew he was supposed to be a quiet observer at the moment, but he had to ask. “What exactly does this Avery woman look like?”

  The glare Viv aimed his way shot daggers at him.

  “Never mind,” she said primly. “Sorry to bother you, Gene. We’ll chat soon. Give that baby goat a kiss for me. Bye now.”

  She ended the call, and for a minute, Finn was seriously worried she might throw the phone at his head. “What does she look like? You can’t be serious.”

  Maximilian shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question.”

  Finn held up a hand. “Wait. That’s not what—”

  But Viv wasn’t having it. She cut him off before he could explain. “There are far more important things than looks when it comes to a potential life partner.”

  Agreed.

  Finn wasn’t looking for a life partner, though. He doubted he’d be looking for one for another decade or so. Besides, he’d simply been trying to figure out if they’d been talking about the same Avery. All Old Gene needed to say was long, lush brown hair and dark, expressive eyes. Then he would have known.

  Give it up. This is the opposite end of the country from Texas.

  Or Oklahoma, for that matter.

  Besides, Avery Ellington would stick out like a sore thumb in Rust Creek Falls. Surely he’d have run into her by now.

  “You’ve found all of Viv’s picks attractive so far,
son. I’m sure this Avery girl wouldn’t be any different,” Maximilian said.

  Finn let out a long exhale. How shallow could his father possibly make him sound? Maybe it was time to stop humoring the old man and dating every woman Viv Dalton threw at him.

  “Thank you for everything, Ms. Dalton, but I think it’s time to go.” Finn stood and turned toward Maximilian. “Dad?”

  His father didn’t budge.

  Fine. He could waste all the time and money he desired, but Finn was out of there. He tipped his hat to Viv and waded through all the pastel cupcake fluff toward the exit. All the while, his father’s words echoed in his head.

  I’m sure this Avery girl wouldn’t be any different.

  That’s where he was wrong.

  Finn had never met a woman quite like Avery Ellington.

  * * *

  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 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.

  Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  ISBN-13: 9781488042300

  A Man of His Word

  Copyright © 2019 by Sandra E. Steffen

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