Her Favorite Maverick (Montana Mavericks: Six Brides For Six Brother Book 1)

by Christine Rimmer

  “I stopped by your office. Your mom gave me your card.” Dear Lord in heaven, his voice. It was so smooth, like raw honey. She pictured it pouring from a mason jar, all sweet and thick and slow. And then he added, “Your mom and dad are obviously very happy together.”

  Sarah felt her face go hot. Stifling an embarrassed groan, she answered drily, “Yeah. I try to be out of the office as much as possible.” Then she changed the subject. “Logan, I’m flattered you went to all that trouble just to get my number, but really, I meant what I said. I hardly have time to wash my hair lately. I’m not dating anyone, not even you.”

  “I get it. I called on business.”

  “Oh.” Did she sound disappointed? Well, she wasn’t. Not at all.

  He said, “We’re just getting moved in at the Ambling A and frankly, the accounts are a mess. We need a professional to get the books on track. We want to hire local. And that means Falls Mountain Accounting.”

  Her heart rate had accelerated at just the idea of being near him as she gathered the information to whip those books of his into order—but no. She needed to keep her distance from him, which meant he would have to work with her dad. “Did you meet with my dad yet? He’s the best. I know you’ll be happy you hired him.”

  “Sarah.” He made her name into a gentle reproach. “Your dad seems to have his hands full—with your mom.”

  She did groan then. “I do not believe you said that.” He didn’t immediately respond and she suddenly had a burning need to speak, fill the silence between them. Bad idea. But she did it anyway. “They never used to be like that, I swear. I don’t know what happened. I haven’t asked. I doubt I ever will.”

  “I understand.”

  “Yeah,” she grumbled. “Sure, you do.” He made a soft, amused sort of sound. “Did you just chuckle, Logan? I swear to God I heard you chuckle.”

  His answer was actually more of a demand. “You, Sarah. I intend to hire you.” He was just so...commanding. She’d never liked bossy men, but she found herself longing to make an exception in his case. In a strictly professional sense, of course.

  And she might as well be honest—at least with herself. It was a definite ego boost to have this hot rancher so interested in her, even if she would never let it go anywhere.

  Plus, well, he’d insisted he wanted to work with her. If she said no, he would go elsewhere. It wasn’t good for business to turn away work.

  “All right, Logan. Have it your way.”

  “I love it when you say yes. How about I meet you at your office?”

  Her office, where there was no telling what her parents might be up to? “Er, no. I’ll come out to the Ambling A.”

  “That’s even better. I feel I should warn you, though, it’s kind of a mess, old records all over the place. Some are on floppy disks, believe it or not. There are even some dusty, leather-bound ledgers that go back to the fifties.”

  “It will be fine, don’t worry. Mostly, I need the current stuff.”

  “Well, I’ve got that, too.”

  She quoted her hourly rate.

  “That works. Today?”

  “Logan, it’s almost five. I need to go home, feed my baby, maybe even stretch out on the sofa and veg out to the new season of GLOW.”

  “You’re tired.” He actually sounded as though he cared. “Tomorrow, then.”

  “All right. I have a nine o’clock that should go for an hour, two tops. After that, I’m flexible. Is it all right if I call you when I’m ready to head over to the Ambling A?”

  “Works for me. Call me on this number.”

  She said goodbye and then sat behind the wheel for a moment, thinking how she would have to watch herself tomorrow, make sure she kept things strictly business. In the back seat, Sophia made a soft, happy sound in her sleep, and that had Sarah thinking how good Logan was with the baby.

  Too good, really. The last thing she needed was him being charming and wonderful with Sophia. That could weaken her already shaky defenses.

  Sarah bent her head over her phone again and texted her dearest friend since childhood, Lily Hunt.

  Hey. You on the job at the Manor tomorrow?

  Lily was an amazing cook and worked at Maverick Manor as a part-time chef.

  Not tomorrow. Why?

  Now, that was a long story. One she didn’t really want to get into via text—or in a phone call or face-to-face. Because what was there to say, really? Nothing had happened between her and Logan and nothing was going to happen.

  I have to go visit a new client, Logan Crawford. He and his dad and five brothers have bought the Ambling A. I think things will go more smoothly if I’m not trying to take care of Sophia while I’m setting up their accounts. So how ’bout a cushy babysitting gig at my house?

  There. That sounded simple and reasonable without giving away too much. She hit Send.

  And Lily took it at face value: You’re on. Tell Sophia that Aunt Lily can’t wait. When to when?

  Be at my place at 8:30. I should be back by two or three.

  I’ll be there. But I want something from you in return.

  What? You think I won’t pay you?

  Sarah, I know you’ll pay me. You always do. If I didn’t take the money, you would chase me up Pine Street waving a handful of bills.

  Very funny.

  These are my terms. Saturday at 6. Dinner at the Manor. You and me, my treat. A girls’ night out. We deserve it. Get your mom to take Sophia. That’s what grandmas do. Come on, it will be fun.

  It did sound kind of fun. Sarah hadn’t been out to dinner in so long, she couldn’t remember the last time. And Lily didn’t get out enough either, really.

  Sarah, I meant it. Ask your mom.

  Grinning, Sarah replied, Okay. I’ll ask her.

  Yes! See you tomorrow morning, 8:30 sharp. And don’t put it off, call your mom now.

  Sarah did call her mom. Flo answered on the first ring. “Honey, I’m so glad you called. Here you are back in town and we’re all working together—and yet, somehow, we hardly see you. How’s my sweet grandbaby?”

  “Asleep at the moment.”

  “She is an angel—oh, and by the way,” her mom began much too coyly, “a handsome cowboy showed up at the office this morning looking for you.”

  Who are you and what have you done with my real mother? Sarah thought but didn’t ask. Florence Turner used to be quiet and unassuming. A nice person, but a grim one. Not anymore. When she wasn’t disappearing into her husband’s office for a quickie, Flo bounced around Falls Mountain Accounting full of energy and big smiles. It had been that way since Sarah moved home from Chicago a month ago. Who knew when it had started?

  Sarah was afraid to ask.

  Her mom prompted, “Did he call you?”

  “Logan Crawford, you mean?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Yes, he called me.”

  “Honey, that is one fine-looking hunk of a man, a complete hottie, I don’t mind telling you.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen him. Thanks, Mom.”

  “You should snap that one up.”

  “Mom. He wants me to straighten out his accounts, that’s all.”

  “Oh, I think he’s hoping to have you straighten out a lot more than his accounts.”

  “Mom!”

  “Sweetheart, don’t be a prude. Life is beautiful and so are you. You deserve the best of everything—including a tall, hot cowboy with gorgeous blue eyes.”

  “Yes, well. I didn’t call to talk about Logan. I was wondering if you would watch Sophia Saturday night. Lily and I want to get together for dinner.”

  “Honey, at last!”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’ve been home for weeks and this is the first time you’ve asked me to take Sophia for you.”

  “Oh, w
ell, I...” Sarah didn’t know what to say. Her mom had offered, but it had never really been necessary.

  “It’s all right,” Flo reassured her. “I’m just glad you’ve finally asked me—and yes, I would love to.”

  “Perfect.” Sarah thanked her and ended the call before her mother could say another word about Logan Crawford and his hotness.

  * * *

  Armed with her laptop, her business tote and the steely determination not to be seduced by a sweet-talking cowboy, Sarah arrived at the Ambling A at eleven the next morning.

  Logan was waiting for her on the long front porch of the giant log-style house. He wore faded jeans that fit his strong legs much too perfectly and a dark blue shirt that clung to his lean chest and arms and brought out the color of his eyes. He dropped his hat on one of the porch chairs and came down the steps to open her car door for her.

  “Where’s Sophia?” he asked. She’d just picked up her laptop from the passenger seat. He reached in and took it from her, tucking it under his arm as he offered his hand to help her from her car.

  She hardly required assistance to get out from behind the wheel and she really was trying not to let him get too close. But to refuse him just seemed rude.

  “The baby?” he asked again as his warm, slightly rough fingers closed around hers. His touch felt way too good. She grabbed her giant leather tote with her free hand and hooked it over her shoulder.

  “Sophia’s at home today.” She emerged from the car into the late-morning sunlight. “My friend Lily was free and agreed to babysit.” They stared at each other.

  His fine mouth twitched at one corner as he quelled a smile. “I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to another lively game of peekaboo.”

  Just like the other day at the train depot, she had to remind herself to ease her hand from his.

  He led her inside, where there were moving boxes stacked in the front hall.

  “It’s a great house,” she said, staring at the wide, rustic staircase that led up to a gallery-style landing on the second floor. “I vaguely remember the Abernathy family. They owned the place first and built the house, but they left a long time ago.”

  “We got a hell of a deal on the place from the last owners, I’ll say that much.” He put his hand on the fat newel post. “The house needs work, but we’ll get around to that eventually. Right now, we’re just trying to get everything unpacked—my dad and Xander and me. My other brothers will be showing up in the next couple of days. Then we’ll be focused on buying more stock. The barn and stables need repair. Lot of ditches to burn and fences to mend. Fixing up the house is low on the list of priorities.”

  She should move things along, tell him she needed to get going on the work he had for her. But she was curious about him. “So, you’re from Texas, I think your dad said?”

  He nodded. “We had a ranch near Dallas. Me and my brothers grew up there.”

  “You had a ranch?”

  “We put it on the market when we decided on the move here.”

  “So, you’ve always been a rancher, huh?”

  He shook his head. “I went to college for a business degree and then moved to Seattle. Been there ever since.”

  “Seattle.” She remembered then. “That’s right. Your dad said you were in real estate.”

  “Property development, to be specific. I got there just in time for the boom years, and I did well. But then my dad got this wild hair to move to Montana, get us all together working a new spread. The timing was right for me. I’d been thinking that I was ready to try something different.” He was looking at her so steadily. She liked having his gaze focused on her. She liked it way too much.

  Then he asked, “How ’bout you? Where did you go to college? Have you always lived in Rust Creek Falls?”

  His questions were perfectly reasonable.

  Her response took her completely by surprise.

  All of a sudden, her throat was too tight and there was pressure behind her eyes.

  Really, what was the matter with her? Out of nowhere, she hovered on the verge of bursting into tears, right here in the front hall of the Ambling A ranch house with this too-handsome, charming man looking on.

  Crying? Seriously? She wasn’t a cryer. Crying was pointless and completely uncalled-for in this situation.

  And yet still, she wanted to put her head in her hands and bawl like a baby over all the ways her life hadn’t turned out as she’d planned, just stand here sobbing right in front of this superhot guy. A guy who seemed hell-bent on seducing an overworked, constantly exhausted single mom who wanted nothing more to do with the male of the species, thank you very much.

  She gulped the ludicrous tears down and managed an answer. “I went to Northwestern and then I worked in Chicago for a while.”

  Now he was frowning at her, a worried sort of frown. Those eyes of his seemed to see way too much. “Sarah, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She pasted on a wobbly smile. “Really. And don’t you have a mountain of records and receipts to show me?”

  He gave her a long look, a look both considering and concerned, as though he was trying to decide whether to push her to confess what was bothering her or back off. She breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Right this way.”

  They went down a central hallway, past a big living room and a kitchen that could use a redo to an office at the back of the house.

  By then, she’d pulled herself together. “You weren’t kidding.” She gave a low laugh as she approached the big mahogany desk that dominated the room, its surface piled with old ledgers, dusty CDs and floppies.

  “Most of this is probably meaningless to us, I realize,” he said, setting her laptop on a side chair.

  She put her tote down beside it. “Yeah, it’s doubtful I’ll need any of the records generated by the former owners.”

  “If you don’t need them, we can just toss them out.”

  “I might need them. I can’t say until I look through all the current records. And you might want to look through it all later. You might find out you own something you didn’t even know you bought.”

  “Even the floppies? They would need converting just to read them, wouldn’t they?”

  She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to keep them for a while. If you decide at some point you want to go through them, we have a guy in Kalispell who will convert them for you.”

  “That sounds really exciting.” He put on a dazed expression, even crossing his eyes. His playfulness made her grin and caused a flare of warmth in her belly. The man was way too appealing. But at least she was no longer about to cry and he’d stopped looking worried that she might have a meltdown right in front of him.

  She said, “What I’ll need to set you up are your current records, including whatever you’ve got up till now of the Ambling A’s inventory, income and expenses.”

  “Income?” He chuckled. “Not hardly. Not yet.”

  “Well, okay then. Just your expenses and whatever inventory you have of machinery, equipment and livestock—including your best judgment of their value. I’ll need the documents you received from the title company when you closed the sale. I’ll put it all together using a basic accounting program that should be easy to keep current. That will be a few days to a week of work for me here at the ranch, if that’s all right?”

  “Sounds good to me.” He had that look, like he was talking about a lot more than bookkeeping.

  She pretended not to notice what a shameless flirt he was. “I’ll be in and out because I need to keep up with my other clients, too. But if I do the work here, I can come right to you with any questions I have about the records you’ve given me. We can clear up any issues on the spot.”

  “Works for me.” He said it in a low rumble that stirred a bunch of butterflies to life in her belly.

  She tried valiantly to keep a pr
ofessional tone as she rattled off more suggestions. “After you’re all set up, you’ll need someone to post transactions regularly. I have a couple of local people who can do that. Or you can just put in the time every week or so and do it yourself. I suggest you reconcile the bank balance and the general ledger at least once a month.”

  “Sure. And I’ll hire whoever you suggest. What about tax time?” he asked.

  “I’ll be happy to do your taxes.”

  “Good.” He arched an eyebrow and teased, “How ’bout an audit?”

  She laughed. “Very funny. You know I can’t audit my own work.”

  “Damn. Busted.” He tipped his head to the side, his gaze lazy and warm. It felt so good just to have him looking at her, to be staring right back at him, thinking all kinds of naughty thoughts as she went through her stock suggestions for keeping accounts in order.

  Really, this was getting out of control. They were more or less having sex with their eyes. If she didn’t watch out, she would do something crazy, like throw herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her.

  Uh-uh. It needed to stop.

  “I should get to work,” she said.

  “Right.” He pointed at the piled-high desk. “I think everything you need is there, including that big manila folder jammed with receipts, the inventory lists and the packet from the title company. You can tell the current stuff by the lack of dust.”

  “Okay, then.” She moved behind the desk and pushed the records she would be using to one side. That left the piles of ledgers and old disks.

  He got the message. “You need space to work.”

  “Do you have another desk you want me to use? A table works fine, too.”

  “The desk is yours for as long as you need it. I’ll box up the old records, get them out of your way.”

  There were empty boxes waiting against one wall. Together, they started putting the ledgers in one box and piling the old disks in another.

  She’d straightened from the boxes and was turning to the desk to grab another handful of disks when she spotted Max leaning in the open doorway to the back hall. He looked like some old-time gunslinger in black jeans, black boots, a white shirt and a black Western-cut jacket.