Maverick Holiday Magic (Montana Mavericks: Six Brides For Six Brothers Book 5)

by Teresa Southwick

  “And he’s a lucky man.” Max wore an expression of fatherly pride on his face, but there was something else, too. It was the unmistakable satisfaction of a conspiracy. “But if there was any doubt about this engagement, your daughter took care of that when she spilled the beans as soon as she ran into the house.”

  “I didn’t spill anything, Gramps.” Taking the remark literally produced an expression of self-righteous indignation that his little girl had perfected. “I just said that Daddy was going to marry Merry. I get to be in the wedding and she’s going to be my mom.”

  Those words didn’t produce complete silence. There were some sniffles around the table, and not just from the women.

  “Oh, hell,” Wilder blurted.

  “Language,” Hunter reminded him.

  “Sorry. But I just thought of something.” He glanced around the table at all the couples and got only blank stares. “This means my brothers have all deserted me. I’m the last Crawford bachelor.”

  Max chuckled. “Don’t look now, son, but I’m right there with you.”

  If anything, Wilder’s tragic expression deepened. “Says the man paying to get us all married off. That doesn’t make me feel any better, Dad.”

  “Suck it up, kid,” Finn told him. Then he looked at Hunter and Merry. “You two will be the next Crawford couple to take on the mysterious diary.”

  “Oh—” Merry looked at Hunter. “What with everything going on I forgot to tell you. The night of Wren’s play I found out something—”

  There was a knock at the door, as loud and startling as a gunshot. Hunter wondered who it could be. The whole family was here and none of them would knock anyway. He and Wilder were closest and both of them stood at the same time.

  With Max right behind them, they hurried to find out who was there. Hunter opened the door and heard the sound of a car driving away. Then he looked down and what he saw shocked him to the core. It was an infant car seat with a sleeping baby inside. There was a note pinned to a blue blanket.

  Wilder, this is your baby. I’ve done the best I could for four months and I can’t do it anymore. A boy needs a dad and you’re Cody’s, so it’s your turn now. Please take good care of him.

  L

  Hunter looked at his brother and felt shock and a little bit of satisfaction. Wilder was the one who’d wanted Hunter to be his wingman at their brother’s wedding and help him hit on women. The same man who’d advised him to let off some steam even though he had a six-year-old daughter to take care of.

  “Well, little brother, looks like you got a baby for Christmas.” He didn’t know if this was karma or payback but either was a bitch. “Loosen up. You’re going to have to be a dirty diaper–changing kind of guy after all.”

  * * *

  Look for the next book in the new

  Harlequin Special Edition continuity

  Montana Mavericks:

  Six Brides for Six Brothers

  Maverick Christmas Surprise

  by award-winning author Brenda Harlen.

  On sale December 2019,

  wherever Harlequin books and ebooks are sold.

  And catch up with the previous

  Montana Mavericks titles:

  Her Favorite Maverick

  by New York Times bestselling author

  Christine Rimmer

  Rust Creek Falls Cinderella

  by Melissa Senate

  The Maverick’s Wedding Wager

  by Joanna Sims

  The Maverick’s Secret Baby

  by Teri Wilson

  Maverick Holiday Magic

  by Teresa Southwick

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Wyoming Christmas to Remember by Melissa Senate.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Special Edition story.

  You know that romance is for life. Harlequin Special Edition stories show that every chapter in a relationship has its challenges and delights and that love can be renewed with each turn of the page.

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  A Wyoming Christmas to Remember

  by Melissa Senate

  Chapter One

  “You’re my husband?” Maddie Wolfe asked.

  She tried to latch on to the word, for something, anything, to associate husband with the total stranger sitting at her bedside. The stranger holding her hand in both of his and looking at her with worried green eyes.

  “My name is Sawyer Wolfe,” he said. “We’ve been married for seven years.”

  “Sawyer Wolfe. Seven years,” she repeated. “And I’m Maddie Wolfe?” She hadn’t even known that until he’d told her when she’d woken up just a couple minutes ago with no idea who she was, where she was or who he was. Her mind, where her identity and memories should be, was a big blank nothing.

  She glanced from him to what was beside her bed—quietly beeping hospital machines, an IV pole. A television mounted on the beige-yellow wall. A long, wide window. A miniature Christmas tree decorated with garland and ornaments on the windowsill and so many poinsettia plants—pink, red, white—she couldn’t even count them. There were even more bouquets of flowers.

  I’m in a hospital, she realized, reaching up to the goose egg on her forehead and the deep scratch beside it. That would explain why her head felt so woozy and achy. And maybe why her mind was so blank. I’m...she thought, trying to come up with her name on her own. Maddie Wolfe? Didn’t ring a bell. She tried for her age. Nothing. Where she lived. But there was just that nothingness again.

  Sawyer Wolfe nodded, his eyes shimmering with tears, relief, concern. When her own eyes had fluttered open, the first thing she saw was him. He’d jumped up, shouted, “Maddie’s awake! My wife is awake!” and then grabbed a white call button attached to her bed and pressed it three times before sitting back down and taking her hand, kissing the back of it over and over.

  “Your wife?” she’d asked.

  He’d glanced up from the kissing of her hand, clearly confused. “Maddie?”

  “Maddie?” she’d repeated, more confused.

  He’d sat up very straight. “Maddie, do you know who you are? Who I am?”

  She’d looked at him long and hard, and believe you me, he was something to behold. But nothing about this man was familiar.

  She’d shaken her head, which had her reaching up to the goose egg, the deep scratch beside it.

  “Your name is Maddie Wolfe,” he’d told her. “I’m Sawyer Wolfe, your husband. You were in a car crash—it was snowing hard and you hit a guardrail.”

  Now, before she could ask him anything else, two women came rushing in, one in blue scrubs, the other in a white lab coat with a name tag: Dr. Louisa Addison.

  The nurse began taking her vitals: temperature, blood pressure.

  “Maddie doesn’t seem to know her name or who I am,” Sawyer said to the doctor.

  Dr. Addison asked her a bunch of questions she didn’t know the answers to. What is your name? What year is it? Who is the president of the United States?

  As the doctor jotted things down on her chart, Maddie wondered how she knew what a chart was if she didn’t know what year it was. She glanced at the four pink poinsettias on the windowsill, clearly knowing what those were. Her gaze moved to the little Christmas tree. There were two Woodstock ornaments—the little yellow bird from Peanuts, Snoopy’s buddy. Why would she know that but not even know it was Christmastime if the tree hadn’t clued her in?r />
  Ow, my head, she thought, letting the questions, the confusing buzz go. The blankness came back, and she instantly felt better.

  She glanced at the man—six-two, maybe six-three, dark hair, a scar above his left eyebrow. If she thought he looked worried before, it didn’t come close to the concern on his face now.

  “My mind is blank,” she said to both of them. “Why is my mind blank?” She tried to think what day it was, but as she ran through the days of the week, none registered as the right one. She bolted upright. “Why don’t I know my name? Sawyer said I was in a car crash?”

  Dr. Addison nodded. “You’ve sustained a head injury that seems to have affected your memory. But rest assured, you’re in good hands. You are Maddie Wolfe, thirty-two years old. Your husband, Sawyer Wolfe, is right here—he’s the chief of police in Wedlock Creek. You’re in Brewer County Hospital in Wyoming, transferred here from the Wedlock Creek Clinic.”

  No memory: amnesia. She knew what that was. It explained why her mind was full of holes. She grasped on to what she was told. My name is Maddie Wolfe. My husband is Sawyer Wolfe. Police chief. Wedlock Creek.

  Nothing. Her own name was unfamiliar. Her husband was a stranger.

  She swallowed, glancing over at the Woodstock ornament. She kept her focus on the little yellow bird, and for some reason, it comforted her.

  “Maddie,” Dr. Addison said, “Sawyer hasn’t left your side in the two days since you were brought in.” The doctor offered an encouraging smile to both Maddie and the man. “Your parents and sister were here this morning and said they’d be back this afternoon.”

  Parents and a sister! She couldn’t even remember her own family.

  “I’ll go text them that you’re awake,” Sawyer said, leaping up and heading near the door, where he pulled out his phone.

  As the doctor typed instructions into a computer monitor against the wall and the nurse checked her IV, Maddie stared at Sawyer. Surely if he were her husband, she would remember something. A familiarity. A flash of their wedding day. The two of them at home. Something, anything.

  “Will my memory return?” Maddie asked the doctor.

  Dr. Addison turned to her. “Amnesia is a tricky thing. There are a few different kinds, and yours is likely caused by trauma. We’ll have to wait and see. I did have a patient a few years ago who’d suffered temporary amnesia from a bad fall. His memory returned to full function within three weeks.”

  “Three weeks?” she repeated. “I might not remember anything about myself for three weeks?”

  Dr. Addison gave her a reassuring smile. “Could be sooner. But we’ll run some tests, and based on how well you’re doing now, I don’t see any reason why you can’t be discharged later today.”

  Discharged where? Where did she live?

  With your husband, she reminded herself.

  She bolted upright again, her gaze moving to Sawyer, who pocketed his phone and came back over, sitting down and taking her hand in both of his. “Do I—do we—have children?” she asked him. She couldn’t forget her own children. She couldn’t.

  “No,” he said, glancing away for a moment. “Your parents and Jenna will be here in fifteen minutes,” he said. “They’re ecstatic you’re awake. I let them know you might not remember them straightaway.”

  “Jenna?” she asked.

  “Your twin sister. You’re very close. To your parents too. Your family is incredible—very warm and loving.”

  That was good.

  She took a deep breath and looked at her hand in his. Her left hand. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He wore one, though—a gold band. So where was hers?

  “Why aren’t I wearing a wedding ring?” she asked.

  His expression changed on a dime. He looked at her, then down at his feet. Dark brown cowboy boots.

  Uh oh, she thought. He doesn’t want to tell me. What is that about?

  Two orderlies came in just then, and Dr. Addison let Maddie know it was time for her CT scan, and that by the time she was done, her family would probably be here.

  “I’ll be waiting right here,” Sawyer said, gently cupping his hand to her cheek.

  As the orderlies wheeled her toward the door, she realized she missed Sawyer—looking at him, talking to him, her hand in his, his hand on her face. That had to be a good sign, right?

  Even if she wasn’t wearing her ring.

  * * *

  Almost exactly the same time that the orderlies wheeled Maddie back into her hospital room, her family arrived. Sawyer had been hoping for some time alone with Maddie, but he’d get that later at home. Right now, her family needed to see her.

  The MacLeods—pronounced MacLoud—all hovered around her bed. They lived up to their name and then some.

  “Maddie!” April MacLeod shouted, throwing her arms around her daughter. “Oh goodness, I’m not squeezing any sore spots, am I? Let me look at you. Oh my, that’s some goose egg. But that’ll go down, lickety-split. We brought you chicken noodle soup from that fancy gourmet place you like in Brewer. You love chicken noodle.” She stared at Maddie, then waved her hand in the air. “Did I even tell you who I am? I’m your beloved mother, that’s who. You and your sister here are my world. And this guy—” she slung an arm around her tall, gray-haired husband’s shoulder “—married thirty-four years next Saturday.”

  “Glad you’re awake, Maddie-girl,” Ace MacLeod said, giving his daughter a gentle hug. Tears shone in his blue eyes and he blinked them back. “You scared us half to death.”

  Jenna MacLeod Spinner leaned down to hug her twin as best she could—her sixth-months-pregnant belly didn’t let her get as close as she clearly wanted. “So word is that you don’t remember anything. Trust me, we’re unforgettable. It’ll come back to you.”

  Maddie gave a shy smile. “I hope so. You definitely seem like people I’d like to know.”

  April laughed her huge, throaty, I-used-to-smoke laugh. “You adore us. Can’t get enough of us. But you take it easy until the doctor says otherwise. I know you’ll try to come back to work, and I won’t hear of it. Not until you’re cleared.”

  Maddie tilted her head. “Work? What do I do?”

  “You manage the family business—MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.”

  “A multiples emporium?” Maddie repeated. She couldn’t even guess what that was.

  “Wedlock Creek, our hometown, is famous for its multiples,” April explained. “The Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel has a legend attached to it—for a hundred years now. Those who marry there will have multiples in some way, whether through luck, a little help from science or through marriage.”

  “Which one are Jenna and me?” Maddie asked with a grin.

  “Pure luck,” her mom said. “Multiples run on both sides of the family. And since there are so many multiples in town, we started a business devoted to twins and triplets and quads and quints twenty-five years ago. Gift baskets, layettes, baby shower accoutrements, personalized gifts, anything anyone could want to celebrate all things multiples.” She glanced at Sawyer, then smiled down at Maddie. “Well, Maddie-girl, we’re going to let you get out of here. Sawyer will take you home, and we’ll call later to see how you are.”

  Maddie gave a quick smile and nod, and it was strange how Sawyer couldn’t read her expressions anymore. He knew her so well. But now that she didn’t even know how she felt about anything or anyone, all her reactions were new to him.

  An hour later, after eating a light lunch and having her vitals checked again, Dr. Addison ran through some instructions, handed over the discharge papers and Maddie was free to leave.

  “Earlier I asked your mom to stop by the house and bring you clothes to change into,” Sawyer said. “And your favorite boots.” He handed her an overnight bag.

  “Ah, thank you. I’ll just be a bit.” She headed into the bathroom with the bag.

>   Why aren’t I wearing my wedding ring?

  He hadn’t answered that question, and he was sure she was going to ask again. But he didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to talk about any of that.

  He shouldn’t be almost glad that she’d forgotten what had made her drive away from him the morning she’d crashed her car. He couldn’t take back what he’d said, even if he hadn’t meant it, even if he’d said it in anger and frustration. He had said it—and Maddie couldn’t remember.

  He was going to have to tell her the truth.

  His phone pinged with a text. His rookie, Justin Mobley.

  Hey, Chief. Annie Potterowski’s beagle swiped a hot pretzel out of a kid’s hand by the chapel earlier, and the parents want to file a formal complaint. Apparently, it’s the second time in a month. I’ll handle it.

  Sawyer texted back.

  Just what I like to hear.

  Welcome to Wedlock Creek, where food-snatching beagles accounted for half the crime. The other half was the usual—expired car registration, vandalism, the odd burglary, car accidents, teenagers up to old tricks, fights and occasionally more serious issues. Sawyer had lived in Wedlock Creek his entire life, and very little surprised him. Except what had come out of his mouth the morning of Maddie’s crash. And the crash itself. And the memory loss.

  His wife didn’t remember any of it. The past few months and how hard things had been. Maddie grabbing her cool-gel pillow and stomping from their bedroom to the living room to sleep on the sofa. The conversations that always ended in arguments and then stalemates. She didn’t remember any of that.

  It’s like we can have a fresh start, he thought. Unfairly. Because Maddie was who she was and wanted what she wanted. And she would regain her memory—within a few weeks, if that long. And then what? They would be in exactly the place they were before she’d driven off—and hit the guardrail.

  She came out of the bathroom looking more like herself—her beautiful long light brown hair was out if its ponytail, and she’d exchanged the hospital gown for an off-white sweater and jeans. And her favorite footwear, red cowboy boots.