by Teri Wilson
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.
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, warbly bleat. Meeeeeeehhhhhhhh.
Avery narrowed her gaze at its little ginger head. Was the animal taunting her now?
Melba cleared her throat. “Don’t look so sad, dear. If you really want to help out around here, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“I do. Honestly, I’ll try anything.” Except maybe bottle-feeding the goat. That was a hard no.
Melba consulted the to-do list tacked to the refrigerator with a Fall Mountain magnet. “I need to make a run to the general store. Would you like to come along?”
Avery’s heart gave a little leap. She was much better at shopping than cleaning toilets. She excelled at it, quite frankly. A closetful of Louboutins didn’t lie. “Shopping? Yes, count me in.”
“You’re sure?” Melba gave her one of the gentle, sympathetic glances that had convinced Avery the older woman thought she was running from some kind of danger. “You haven’t wanted to get out much.”
Avery nodded. She was going to have to leave the boarding house at some point. Besides, the odds of running into Finn Crawford or his notorious father at the general store were zero. Not a chance. They weren’t the sort of men who ran errands. They had employees for that kind of thing. How else would Finn have time to wine and dine every eligible woman in town?
“We’re just going to the general store, right? Nowhere else? I have a...um...conference call later, so I shouldn’t stay out too long.” There was no conference call. At least not that Avery knew of. She hadn’t checked in to the office for days. Another first.
If she called in, her father would surely pick up the phone. She’d been a daddy’s girl all her life, through and through. That would change once he found out she was carrying Finn’s baby. Oscar Ellington would rather she have a child with the devil himself.
“Straight to the general store and back.” Melba made a cross-my-heart gesture with her fingertips over the pinafore of her apron.
“Super! I’ll run upstairs and change.” Avery beamed and scurried up to her corner room on the third floor of the rambling mansion.
Along the way, she heard Old Gene cursing at the clogged toilet, and she winced. The wincing continued as she tried—and failed—to find something presentable that she could still manage to zip or button at the waist.
It was no use—she was going to have to stick with her yoga pants and slip into the oversize light blue button-down shirt she’d borrowed from Old Gene. Lovely. If by some strange twist of fate Finn did turn up at the general store, he probably wouldn’t even recognize her.
Any lingering worries she had about running into him were instantly kicked into high gear when she and Melba reached the redbrick building on the corner of Main and Cedar Streets. Melba said something about the amber and gold autumnal window display, but Avery couldn’t form a response. She was too busy gaping at the sign above the front door.
Crawford’s General Store.
Did Finn’s family own this place?
“Avery?” Melba rested gentle fingertips on her forearm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She pasted on a smile. “I just noticed the name of the store—Crawford’s. Does it belong to the family you mentioned earlier?”
“Heavens, no. The general store has been here for generations. The Mon
tana Crawfords have lived in Rust Creek Falls for as long as I can remember. The new family is from Texas.”
I’m aware.
Seriously, though. Finn’s family was huge, and Rust Creek Falls was very small. Quaint and cozy, but rural in every way. Their addition to the population must mean that half the town had the same last name all of a sudden.
“I see,” Avery said.
She tore her gaze away from the store’s signage long enough to finally take in the window display, with its garland of oak and maple leaves and towering pile of pumpkins. They’d walked a grand total of two blocks, and already she’d seen enough hay bales, woven baskets and gourds to make her wonder if the entire town was drunk on pumpkin spice lattes.
Autumn wasn’t such a big thing in Texas. The warm weather back home meant no apple picking, no fall foliage and definitely no need for snuggly oversize sweaters. It was kind of a shame, really.
But here in Montana, fall was ushered in with a lovely and luminous harvest moon, smoky breezes that smelled of wood fire and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Avery had never experienced anything like it.
“Maybe we should get some ingredients for caramel apples and make them for my great-granddaughter Bekkah’s kindergarten class. I always bring some to the big Halloween dance, but the children might like an early taste.” Melba glanced over her shoulder at Avery as she pushed through the general store’s entrance. “What do you think?”
“I think that’s a marvelous idea.” Avery had never made caramel apples before, but there was a first time for everything.
Apples...autumn...babies.
She glanced past the dry goods section near the front of the store and spotted a rack of flannel shirts, quilted jackets and cable-knit cardigans. It wasn’t exactly Neiman Marcus, but she was going to have to bite the bullet and invest in a few things that actually fit her changing body.
“Good morning, ladies. Is there anything I can help you with?” A slim woman with dark wavy hair, big brown eyes and a Crawford’s General Store bib apron greeted them with a wide smile.
“Yes, please.” Melba pulled a lengthy shopping list out of her handbag and plopped it onto the counter. Then she gestured toward Avery. “Nina, I’d like you to meet Avery. She’s one of our boarders.”
