Mummy and the Maverick. Meg Maxwell

thick dark blond hair and sparkling, intense blue eyes, his designer shirt clearly costing more than her three kids’ wardrobes for a year, had to be a Jones. They were millionaires, yes, but also rare men who looked like they belonged both in Montana and a big city. There was something about the cut of the Western shirt, the premium leather cowboy boots, the belt buckle on which was carved the initials AJ and the trim fit of low-slung dark jeans. Since her daughter knew who Walker and Hudson were, the girl had to be talking about the one in the middle. Abby was right. He was sexy.

      “They look like they should be in an ad for men’s cologne,” Marissa quipped. “Or on a movie poster. But pick for what?” she asked her daughter.

      Abby grinned and leaned close. “To be your boyfriend.” The girl giggled and ran back to her seat next to her best friend.

      Anne burst into laughter, but Marissa sighed. This was not the first time Abby had brought up the b word.

      “Isn’t she a little young to be this boy crazy?” Marissa asked her friend. “I mean, it’s one thing for Abby to be putting up posters of 2LOVEU on her bedroom wall. It’s another for her to be sizing up every man she sees as a potential love interest for her own mother.”

      Anne smiled but sighed, too. “Janie’s the same. I hear her say good-night to the lead singer of 2LOVEU before bed. We weren’t much different with our posters when we were kids.”

      “Except we can’t remember being kids because we’re a hundred years old,” Marissa pointed out.

      Anne laughed. “Exactly.”

      Marissa found herself staring at the gorgeous stranger again. She had to hand it to her daughter—the girl had amazing taste. Marissa loved the way his blond hair swooped up and back like a Hemsworth brother’s. The few crinkles at the edges of his blue eyes suggested he was a bit older than her. Early thirties, she’d say. And those shoulders. Those arms. The way his waist narrowed down to those delicious jeans, which—

      Oh my God.

      He raised his beer glass at her and winked.

      He’d caught her staring!

      Mortifying!

      “Can the floor open up and swallow me?” Marissa said, wishing the woman at the table in front of her had bigger hair so she could block Marissa and her cheeks, which had to be bright red.

      “And miss the start of The Great Roundup?” Anne said with an evil grin. “Go talk to him! Hurry. You only have a few minutes.”

      “What? Talk to that? That absolute gorgeous specimen of man? He barely looks real he’s so hot.”

      Anne laughed. “The waitresses are so busy we’ll never get served before the show starts. Go get us two drafts and order a platter of something yummy. Perfect excuse to meet His Hotness. I heard Lindsay mention that her brother-in-law Autry was due in town this week and that Autry has been to just about every country in the world. How exciting is that? The man is a jet-setter. And gorgeous. Go get him.”

      A tiny bit of Marissa, who was trying to be more “in the moment,” per a magazine article, wanted to do just that.

      But come on. Marissa was a widowed mother of three young daughters and living with her parents. She might seem attractive across a room when he knew nothing about her, but she had no doubt that the man would run all the way back to Tulsa, where she’d heard the Jones brothers hailed from, the moment he discovered what her life was.

      “I can just see that very expensive-looking man plucking green beans out of Kiera’s ears,” Marissa said. “Not. He’s nice to look at, but come on. I’m going to be on my own until Kaylee’s out of high school.” Which was only, gulp, fifteen more years.

      “Marissa Fuller!” Anne chastised her with a smile. “What did Brenna and Travis’s crazy whirlwind romance teach us? That you just never know. If you’re open to it, if you’re there, love just might show up.”

      Marisa was so touched by how positive Anne always was—and Anne was the divorcee who’d never, ever gotten over her first love, Daniel Stockton. She wrapped her friend in a hug. “Maybe we’ll both find love again,” Marissa said.

      “Well, if I were you, I’d march over to the bar before some other single woman does.”

      But Marissa stayed put, an eye on Abby and her thoughts back home. Yes, a night out was sorely needed, but Marissa missed putting her little ones to bed and wishing them sweet dreams. That was her life. Not hot men in thousand-dollar cowboy boots.

      But this particular one sure was nice to fantasize about.

       Chapter Two

      Autry watched the brunette with the dark eyes try to snag the waitress’s attention at least five times. She wasn’t having any luck. Which gave him his perfect in. He asked the bartender for two of the finest craft beers and got an eye roll and two drafts on tap.

      “I keep telling you, Autry,” his brother Walker said. “This is Rust Creek Falls. And a dive bar in Rust Creek Falls. We don’t do twelve-dollar bottles of beer here.” His brother’s wedding band glinted in the dim lighting.

      “And two beers?” Hudson asked with a grin. “You got here, what? Five minutes ago? And you already have your eye on someone?”

      Autry smiled. “I’m in town for three weeks. That’s a long time. And you two have wives now and lives outside Jones Holdings. I need something to fill the hours.”

      “Careful, brother,” Walker said, running a hand through his dirty-blond hair. “There’s something in the water here. It got me. It got Hudson. It’s gonna get you.”

      “Not a chance,” Autry said, his gaze on the luscious brunette beauty. Had a woman in jean shorts and a yellow T-shirt ever been so stunning? “End of August, I’ll be in Paris. As single as ever.”

      “If you say so,” Hudson said, raising his beer glass at Autry.

      Autry caught the smirk Hudson gave Walker. No matter what, it sure was nice to see Walker and Hudson together. Joking, laughing, sharing a beer. Once, back when they were all kids, Walker and Hudson had been close. But they hadn’t been for years. Looked like being neighbors had changed that some.

      A woman standing next to them with a baby in her arms turned to Walker. “Hey, Walker, will you hold Jackson for me for a moment while I go hug my aunt and uncle?”

      “You bet, Candace,” Walker said, taking the baby as if he did this sort of thing all the time.

      Walker Jones. The Third. With a baby in his arms. Bouncing it a bit and making baby talk. “Who’s a cute one?” Walker said, nuzzling his nose at the tiny tot.

      Good Lord. What planet was Autry on? Was Rust Creek Falls in another dimension?

      And there really were babies everywhere. Even in bars. Though, granted, tonight was a special occasion. From the looks of the place, the entire town had turned up to watch The Great Roundup. With all the buzz Autry had heard about the show in the ten minutes he’d been in the Ace in the Hole, he was excited to watch. Cowboys competing for a million bucks? Hell yeah. That was his kind of TV. The Jones family might be millionaires, but they were cowboys at heart. Autry’s first memory was of being on the back of a horse. And the first gift he’d ever gotten? A “piggy” bank in the shape of a stallion. Money and horses were two hallmarks of the Jones family.

      The baby’s mother returned and held out her arms for little Jackson. “You’re a peach,” she said to Walker.

      Walker, a peach? Autry couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

      Hudson grinned. “Trust me. If peachhood got Walker and me, you’re next. You’re here.”

      “I’m immune,” Autry said.

      “Sure, bro,”