The Maverick's Secret Baby. Teri Wilson

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.”

      Nina offered Avery her hand. “Welcome to Rust Creek Falls. I’m Nina Crawford Traub.”

      Seriously. Did everyone in this town have the same last name?

      “Hello.” Avery shook Nina’s hand, then dashed off to grab a few warm, roomy items of clothing while the other women tackled Melba’s list of supplies.

      By the time she returned, the counter was piled high. It looked like Melba was buying out the entire store.

      “Wow.” Avery’s eye widened. She clutched her new flannels close to her chest, because there wasn’t enough space to set them down. “This is…”

      “Impressive,” someone behind her said. There was a smile in his voice, a delicious drawl that Avery felt deep in the pit of her stomach. “Here’s hoping you’ve left some stuff for the rest of us.”

      Don’t turn around, her thoughts screamed. She knew that voice. It was as velvety smooth as hot buttered rum and oh, so familiar.

      But just like the last time she’d been in the same room with the bearer of that soulful Texas accent, her body reacted before her brain could kick into gear. Sure enough, when she spun around, she found herself face-to-face with the very man she so desperately needed to speak to—Finn Crawford, the father-to-be, looking hotter than ever wearing a black Stetson and an utterly shocked expression on his handsome face.

      Avery realized a second too late what was about to happen. Trouble.

      So.

      Very.

      Much.

      Trouble.

       Avery?

      Finn blinked. Hard.

       No way… No possible way.

      He was hallucinating. Or more likely, simply mistaken. After all, the brunette beauty who’d just spun around to stare at him might bear more than a passing resemblance to Avery Ellington, but she was hugging a stack of flannel shirts like it was some kind of security blanket. The Avery he knew wouldn’t be caught dead in plaid flannel. She might even be allergic to it.

      It had to be her, though. On some visceral level, he just knew. Plus he’d recognize those big doe eyes anywhere.

      Avery Ellington. Warmth filled his chest. Well, isn’t this a fine surprise.

      Finn glanced at the older woman beside her—Melba… Melba Strickland, as in the owner of Strickland’s Boarding House. So Old Gene’s “darling young lady” that Viv Dalton wanted to set him up with was indeed the Avery he knew so well.

      He burst out laughing.

      Avery’s soft brown eyes narrowed. She looked like she might be contemplating dropping the flannel and using her hands to strangle him. “What’s so funny?”

      “This.” He gestured back and forth between Avery and Melba. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but an hour or so ago, we were almost set up on a blind date.”

      “I might have heard something about that,” Avery said, clearly failing to find the humor in the situation.

      She seemed a little rattled. If Finn didn’t know better, he would have thought she was unhappy to run into him. But that couldn’t be right. The last time they’d seen one another had been immensely pleasurable.

      For both of them.

      Finn was certain of it. Plus, they’d parted on good terms.

      “It’s incredibly good to see you. What on earth are you doing in Rust Creek Falls?” He arched a brow. She was awfully far away from her daddy’s ranch in Texas.

      Melba interjected before Avery could respond, “Avery is a guest at the boarding house.”

      Finn nodded, even though they’d already covered Avery’s local living arrangements. It still didn’t explain what she was doing clear across the country from home.

      He swiveled his gaze back to Avery. She looked beautiful, but different somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what had changed. Maybe it was the casual clothes or her wind-tossed hair, but her usual cool elegance had been replaced with a warmth that made him acutely aware of his own heartbeat all of a sudden.

      “How’s the little one?” he said with a smile.

      “Um.” Avery blinked like an owl. “How did you—”

      Finn shrugged. “Everyone in town is talking about it. There’s nothing quite as cute as a baby goat.”

      “The goat. Right.” Avery swallowed, and he traced the movement up and down the graceful column of her throat.

      Was it his imagination, or did she seem nervous?

      “The goat’s cute, but she’s a handful. I don’t know what Old Gene was thinking.” Melba rolled her eyes. “She has to be bottle-fed every four to five hours, round the clock. It’s almost like having a real baby again, but maybe a little less noisy.”

      Avery turned toward Melba with an incredulous stare. “Less noisy?”

      Melba shrugged. “Sure. You know how babies are.”

      Avery shifted from one foot to the other as she glanced at Finn and then quickly looked away.

      Melba’s eyes narrowed. “How exactly do you two know each other?”

      Why did the question feel like a test of some sort?

      Finn gave her