Mummy and the Maverick. Meg Maxwell

sure hoped so.

      “I can’t believe I missed the picnic!” Abby’s expression turned all dreamy, and if Marissa wasn’t mistaken, cartoon hearts were shooting out of her chest. “So you’re dating him? That’s so exciting!”

      Marissa glanced at her mother, whose expression was its usual granddaughters-are-watching-and-listening neutrality. Roberta Rafferty would let Marissa know her opinion loud and clear later, when the girls were in bed.

      “Abby, Autry Jones and I are not dating. We’re...friends. New friends, at that.”

      “He does magic tricks,” Kaylee said. “Grandma, Grandpa, Mr. Autry made a little orange appear on my head!”

      Her parents laughed, and mentally, Marissa thanked Kaylee for breaking the tension.

      “So everyone knows him but me?” five-year-old Kiera asked, pushing her long brown hair behind her ears. “No fair.”

      “Well, Mr. Autry did offer to come over tomorrow night and make a special dinner,” Marissa told her middle daughter. “Steaks and potatoes on the grill. Who wants to help make dessert for after?”

      “Me-e-e!” a chorus of three trilled.

      Again Marissa felt her mother’s eyes on her. She added potatoes to her plate, despite not having much appetite. “Tomorrow is your night to cook, Mom, so it’ll be nice for you to have a night off.” Marissa, her mom and her great cook of a dad took turns feeding the family of six every night. She tried to imagine Autry Jones wearing an apron. Flipping steaks on the grill. Sitting down to a meal with her entire family.

      “Oh, I’m very much looking forward to grilled steak and potatoes,” Roberta said. “And meeting Autry Jones.”

      Roberta’s chin was a bit high, her eyes a bit narrowed, her expression a bit...motherish. A millionaire Jones brother in town for three weeks and mysteriously making dinner for the whole family tomorrow night? Marissa could read her very smart mother like a good book.

      There was only one reason why such a man would do such a thing. Because he was physically attracted to Marissa. If and when the notch on his belt was made, his grilling days for the Fuller-Raffertys would be over.

      Her mother did have a cynical streak that she defended as “reality,” and quite frankly, so did Marissa. She was no one’s fool. She knew when a man was attracted to her, and Autry Jones clearly was. But unless she’d suddenly turned naive—and after all she’d been through in life, she doubted it—Autry Jones wasn’t a user, wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. Her gut said so, anyway, and any time Marissa stopped listening to her gut, she paid the price.

      Yes, indeed she, too, was looking forward to Autry coming over tomorrow. Maybe a little too much.

      * * *

      The next afternoon, Autry sat in a leather club chair in the lobby bar of Maverick Manor. He wished there were a Maverick Manor in all the destinations he found himself in. Autry had always been a glass and marble guy, appreciating clean lines and craftsmanship. Who knew he’d love a log-cabin-style hotel, albeit one that was pure luxury, bringing in big-sky country with great architectural detail and all the amenities? Maverick Manor soothed something inside of him, something he hadn’t even been aware of. Out the windows was a breathtaking view of the Montana wilderness, and across the room a massive stone fireplace that almost made him wish it were winter. He glanced up at the mural above the reception desk featuring residents of Rust Creek Falls. The focus on community and family appealed to Autry, which surprised him. But then again, the call of family unity was really why he was in town in the first place instead of scuba diving at an Australian reef or working on his tan on the French Riviera.