by Teri Wilson
Had Finn Crawford just waltzed into Melba Strickland’s home and announced he was going to cook? Oh, this was going to be good. Such a bold move was sure to either win her over or make her an enemy for life.
Old Gene’s eyebrows shot clear to his hairline. Avery had to the bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“What do you say, Mrs. Strickland?” Finn shot the older woman his most devastating bad-boy grin, and against all odds, it worked.
“Fine.” She untied her apron and handed it to Finn. “If you insist. But you’ll need to clean up after yourself. Claire and I won’t abide a messy kitchen.”
She paused a beat, then added, “And call me Melba.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Finn’s grin widened as he tied the frilly apron around his waist.
He looked utterly ridiculous in his boots, jeans and Melba’s lacy kitchen attire, but then again, Avery was still snug in her flannel pajamas.
“Come on, dear.” Old Gene folded the newspaper he’d been reading into a neat square and pushed back from the kitchen table. “Let’s leave these two young things alone for a spell.”
Melba cast a questioning glance at Avery, and she nodded. “Go put your feet up. We’ll let you know when the pancakes are ready.”
The thought of Melba actually putting her feet up was almost laughable, but with a little added encouragement from Gene, she finally vacated the kitchen.
“I think she’s starting to like you,” Avery said after the swinging door closed behind the Stricklands.
“Good.” Finn cocked his head. “Should I be worried about why she didn’t like me to begin with?”
That would be due to your reputation as a serial womanizer.
Avery picked up the box of pancake mix and stared intently at the directions. She wasn’t about to comment on Finn’s overactive social life. Although, since she’d run into him at the general store, he hadn’t had time to go on any dates. He seemed to be spending all of his free time with her.
Not that she was complaining. She’d definitely been enjoying his company. Truth be told, she enjoyed it far too much—hence the rather embarrassing habit she’d developed of kissing him whenever the mood struck her. Which was often.
But Avery had to give Finn credit. He still hadn’t tried to get her into bed again, which she considered a major point in his favor. Instead of assuming they’d take up right where they’d left off in Oklahoma, he was wooing her.
And it was working. Melba wasn’t the only one around the boarding house who’d developed a soft spot for Finn.
You’re not supposed to be dating him. It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?
The box of pancake mix slipped through Avery’s fingers, and Finn caught it before it hit the floor.
“Whoa there, butterfingers,” he said, but affection glowed in his eyes. He gave her a lopsided grin, and her heart pounded with such force that she wondered if he could hear it beneath the thick layer of her flannel pajama top.
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to kiss him again, right there in the boarding house kitchen.
She grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on—Claire’s favorite cast-iron skillet—and held it in front of her. A shield. “You need some help with those pancakes, cowboy?”
“Not really.” He reached toward her and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “But I’d never turn down a beautiful woman in pj’s.”
So I’ve heard.
She forced a smile. “All right, then. Let’s do this.”
* * *
Even though Finn’s hands were occupied pouring batter and flipping pancakes, he was having serious trouble keeping them to himself.
Avery danced around him in her plaid pajamas, giving the batter an extra stir here and there, and there was something about her high, swinging ponytail and slippered feet he found adorably irresistible. He even found himself fantasizing that his mornings could start like this every day if he and Avery were a real couple.
If they were married, for example.
“Oops.” Avery winced. “I think you’re burning that one.”
Finn blinked and refocused his attention on the cast-iron skillet in front of him, where smoke had begun rising from the lopsided circle of batter in its center. Oops indeed.
He scooped up the smoldering remains with a spatula and dumped them in the trash. “We’ve still got a pretty good stack going.”
“Good, because I think there’s only enough batter for a few more.” She handed him a semi-full measuring cup.
Finn took it, emptied it into the pan and handed it back to her, arching a brow when her fingertips brushed against his. Did she feel it, too? That little jolt of electricity that happened every time they touched?
The sudden flush of color in her peaches-and-cream complexion told him that indeed she did. “If you keep looking at me like that, cowboy, you’re going to burn the next one, too.”
He didn’t much care. He wasn’t even hungry, and there was already a towering stack of pumpkin-spiced goodness for Avery and the Stricklands.
The pancakes had been an excuse to see her again. That, and an attempt to get on Melba’s good side, since she apparently had decided he wasn’t good enough for Avery. When it came right down to it, he tended to agree. Avery was out of his league. She was the kind of woman who deserved to be wined and dined, whisked off to Paris for a romantic weekend getaway, swept off her feet with a surprise proposal.
Finn frowned down at the frying pan. For a man who had absolutely no interest in marriage, the antiquated institution certainly seemed to be occupying a large portion of his thoughts all of a sudden. He blamed his father. And Viv Dalton. And his brothers, three of whom had already fallen like dominoes. Being surrounded by so much marital bliss was messing with his head in a major way.
Things with Avery were exactly as he’d described them to Maximilian earlier. Casual. They were just enjoying each other’s company until she went back to Texas.
Sure you are. Because playing house like this is just the sort of thing you usually do with women you’re dating.
He flipped the last pancake on top of the stack and tried not to think about what the other Crawford men would say if they could see him now. Truthfully, he didn’t much care what they thought. He was enjoying getting to know Avery better.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t counting down the minutes until she was back in his bed. He definitely was, and the minutes felt like they were getting longer and longer. But he and Avery were under the watchful gaze of Rust Creek Falls now, not on their own in the middle of Oklahoma. The Stricklands were old-fashioned folks, and as much as he wanted to, scooping Avery into his arms and carrying her upstairs to bed simply wasn’t an option. Neither was asking her to spend the night at the Ambling A, for obvious reasons.
He wiped his hands on Melba’s apron, and before he could stop himself, he said, “Will you go away with me next weekend?”
“Um. You want to go away together?” Avery’s eyes went wide. Perhaps he should have removed the frilly apron before suggesting a romantic getaway. “Where?”
Anywhere, damn it.
“A nice B&B someplace. I can take a look around and find someplace special.” He ditched the spatula, took a step closer and planted a hand on the counter on either side of her, hemming her in. “What do you say, Princess?”
She narrowed her gaze at him, but he could see the pulse booming at the base of her throat. Could hear the hitch in her breath when his attention strayed to her mouth—so perfectly pink.
“You weren’t kidding about the pj’s, were you?” she said, her voice suddenly unsteady. “You really do like them.”
He ran his fingertips over her cheek. “Princess, where we’re going, you won’t need flannel.”
He leaned closer, so close that her breath fanned across his lips and a su
rge of heat shot through him, so intense, so molten that he nearly groaned. What the hell was he doing? They were in the Stricklands’ kitchen and he was on the verge of kissing her so hard and so deep that she’d forget all about the silly grudge her daddy had against his family.
“Is that a promise?” She lifted her chin ever so slightly, an invitation.
Finn’s body hardened instantly. He didn’t need to be asked twice. He could practically taste her already—perfectly tempting, perfectly sweet. All sugar and spice and everything nice.
She made a breathy little sound and it was nearly his undoing, but in the instant before his mouth came crashing down on hers, the door to the kitchen flew open.
“It smells delightful in here. Is breakfast ready?” Melba said.
Finn and Avery sprang apart like they were teenagers who’d just been caught behind the bleachers in high school.
“Yes. We were just about to come find you,” Finn said, a blatant lie if he’d ever told one.
“That’s exactly what it looked like you were about to do,” Old Gene deadpanned.
Melba elbowed her husband in the ribs, and he flinched but shot Avery and Finn a wink when she wasn’t looking.
Chapter Six
On Friday, Melba sat in the rocking chair on the shaded porch of the boarding house with the baby goat in her lap and eyed Avery’s overnight bag.
“You’re sure about going off alone for the weekend with Finn?” she said, looking mildly disapproving, as if she suspected that Avery’s pajamas were still folded neatly in her dresser upstairs.
“Not the whole weekend.” Avery held up a finger. “Just one night.”
She had, in fact, packed her pajamas. Because her night away with Finn at the B&B wasn’t going to be about sex...not all about sex, anyway. The main reason she’d agreed to spend the night with him in the nearby town of Great Gulch was so she could finally tell him she was pregnant.
The secrecy had gone on long enough. It was past time she told him the truth, and she definitely couldn’t go to bed with him until he knew about the baby...no matter how very badly she wanted to.
“Your room will be right here waiting for you when you come back.” Melba shifted, and the goat let out one of her loud, warbly bleats.
“The little one sounds hungry,” Avery said.
The little one.
Her throat grew dry.
“Doesn’t she always?” Melba stood, and the tiny animal’s cries grew louder. “Hold on to her while I go get a bottle warmed up, will you, dear?”
“What? I... No...” Avery held up her hands in protest, but before she could come up with a reasonable excuse, she suddenly had an armful of kicking, squirming goat.
“I’ll be right back.” Melba pushed through the door into the boarding house, seemingly oblivious to Avery’s distress.
She stared at the goat, and it stared back.
Meeeeeehhhhhhh.
“Shhh,” Avery murmured. “Everything’s fine, I promise. Or it will be as soon as Melba gets back.”
The goat blinked its long eyelashes as if it was really listening to what she was saying. Its little ears twitched.
“You like it when I talk to you?” Avery smiled tentatively.
This wasn’t so bad, really. It was sort of like holding a puppy.
Meeeeeehhhhhhh.
“I know. I heard you the first time,” she said, then turned at the sound of a car door slamming shut.
Finn grinned as he strode from his truck toward the front steps of the porch, a dimple flashing in his left cheek. “Now here’s a sight I never thought I’d witness.”
“What’s that?” she asked, rocking slightly from side to side as the goat relaxed into her arms.
Finn arched a challenging eyebrow. “Corporate princess Avery Ellington holding a goat.”
Right. The only thing that might be less likely was the sight of her holding a baby.
Oh, God.
She didn’t even know what to do with a baby farm animal. How was she going to succeed as a single mother?
“You should take her.” She thrust the animal toward Finn. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“Don’t be silly. Sure she does.” He reached to scratch the goat behind one of her ears.
“You think so?”
“Yeah. You just need to relax a little bit.” Finn shrugged, as if he’d just suggested the easiest thing in the world.
Relax...while holding a goat and pretending not to be secretly pregnant. No problem.
She took a deep breath. If a goat didn’t like her, what hope would she have with a baby? Since the animal seemed to enjoy being rocked, she swayed softly from side to side. Seconds later, she was rewarded with a yawn and then some really sweet snuffling sounds.
“See? There’s nothing to it,” Finn whispered as the goat’s eyes drifted closed.
To her embarrassment, Avery realized she was blinking back tears. She sniffed. “Of course. Easy peasy.”
Finn regarded her more closely. “Princess?”
She staunchly avoided his gaze, focusing intently on the goat’s soft, ginger-colored fur with a swirl of white on its forehead. “Hmm?”
“Hey, talk to me.” Finn brushed her hair from her eyes, the pad of his thumb coming to rest gently on the side of her face. “What’s wrong? Are you having second thoughts about going to Great Gulch?”
“No, not at all.” She shook her head. Second thoughts? God, no. She couldn’t wait to spend time alone with him, except for the part where she needed to tell him he was going to be a father. But maybe that could wait just a tiny bit longer. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise.”
Liar.
No more waiting. She was getting weepy over bonding with a goat. Finn clearly knew something was going on.
“Actually...” She cleared her throat. Maybe she should go ahead and tell him right here and right now. Just get it out. “I...”
“Oh, hello, Finn.” Melba bustled out onto the porch with a bottle in her hand. She glanced back and forth between them. “I suppose you two are ready to head off on your...adventure.”
Finn’s lips tugged into a half grin. “Yes, ma’am. But do you want some help with that first?”
Avery went still as he reached for the bottle. What was he doing? She knew he was trying to stay in Melba’s good graces, but surely she wasn’t going to have to try to operate a baby bottle for the very first time while Finn and Melba watched.
“Be my guest.” Melba handed him the bottle and reclaimed her place in the rocking chair. “Gene should be doing this himself, but as usual, he’s found something else to do and left me in charge of this troublemaker.”
“Do you want to do the honors, or should I?” Finn jiggled the bottle in Avery’s direction.
Her heart jumped straight to her throat. She hadn’t been this nervous since she’d taken her admissions exam before applying to graduate schools for her MBA.
Her panic must have been obvious, because Finn gently prodded the bottle’s nipple toward the baby goat’s mouth. “Like this, see?”
Within seconds, the goat was happily sucking at the bottle. Finn winked at her over the animal’s fuzzy little head, and slowly, carefully he transitioned the bottle to her hand. Avery held her breath, but the switch didn’t seem to bother the goat in the slightest. She felt herself grinning from ear to ear as the kid slurped up the rest of her formula.
“You’re a natural,” Finn said, and something about the sparkle in his warm brown eyes made her blush.
“That you are.” Melba slipped her a curious glance. “You know what, dear? I think you’re right. It’s high time that wee one had a name.”
“Oh, good.” Avery handed Finn the empty bottle so she could set the goat down. Her hooves clip-clopped on the wooden planks of the porch. “What name did you choose?”<
br />
“I didn’t.” Melba shook her head. “I thought you might like to pick one.”
“Me?” Avery’s hand flew to her throat.
Melba shrugged. “If you’d rather not...”
“Pumpkin.” It flew out of Avery’s mouth almost before she knew what she was going to say.
“Pumpkin?” Finn laughed.
“It fits. Look at her.” Avery gestured toward the tiny animal, kicking and bucking up and down the porch steps on her little orange legs.
“I think it’s perfect.” Melba nodded. “Pumpkin, it is.”
* * *
An hour later, Avery stood beside Finn as he slipped the key into their room at the bed-and-breakfast cottage in Great Gulch.
The tiny town was only about thirty miles from Rust Creek Falls, but it may as well have been in a different hemisphere. Avery hadn’t spotted a familiar face since they’d crossed the county line, and after spending weeks in a place where everyone knew your name—and a fair amount of your personal business—it was a welcome relief.
She loved Rust Creek Falls. She loved Melba and Old Gene. She’d even developed a soft spot for Pumpkin, much to her own astonishment. But giving Finn such private news in a town where gossip was one of the local pastimes only added to her sense of dread about the whole thing. At least here if he reacted badly to the revelation that he was about to be a father, the only witnesses to his meltdown would be strangers.
But that wouldn’t happen. Surely not. He’d been so sweet bottle-feeding the little goat. Avery could suddenly see him helping care for a newborn baby... loving his child.
Maybe even loving her.
“Here we are.” Finn smiled down at her as held the door open.
Avery stepped into the room and gasped. A fireplace glowed in the corner of the room, bathing the space in glimmering gold light. The antique furniture was all crafted from dark cherry, the most spectacular piece being the four-poster bed covered in delicate lace bedding. Fairy lights were strung along the canopy, and an array of scented candles covered every available surface.
“Finn, this is lovely.” She turned to face him, her head swimming with the rich, dreamy aroma of cinnamon and cloves mixed with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Vanilla, perhaps.
