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“Are you afraid of the rumor mill?” Clay asked.

“Well, it has chewed me up and spit me out before,” she admitted.

What could be juicier than pregnant and unwed Antonia Wright out on a date (Can you imagine? In her condition?) with the sexy cowboy who was staying out at her ranch? (What could he possibly see in her? And is he really sleeping in the boardinghouse—or in her bed?)

“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who would let one punch take her down.”

“I’m also not the type of woman who would let a man goad—or seduce—me into going out with him,” she informed him.

“Are you saying no to my invitation?”

“No, I’m saying yes—but because I want to go, not because I was coerced or challenged.”

“I only care about the yes,” he said, and brushed his lips against hers.

And when he kissed her like that, Antonia couldn’t imagine saying no to anything …

Dear Reader,

The Maverick’s Ready-Made Family isn’t a traditional family. Clayton Traub is a single father, Antonia Wright is an expectant mother and neither is looking for any kind of romantic entanglement. But sometimes love has other ideas …

This story held particular appeal for me because I also come from an untraditional family that, in addition to my mother and father and sister, includes a stepfather, half-brother, stepmother, two stepbrothers and a stepsister, and numerous in-laws. Consequently, holidays in my family are rarely traditional—but they’re always interesting.

I hope you’ll find Clayton and Antonia’s story just as interesting and that you enjoy this addition to the latest MONTANA MAVERICKS series.

Happy reading!

Brenda Harlen

About the Author

BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mom and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner—to Mills & Boon.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with real people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com or by snail mail c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, USA.

The Maverick’s
Ready-Made
Family
Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the authors of the Montana Mavericks series, past and present, for creating a fabulous world that readers want always to return to.

Prologue

“Arriving at destination on right.”

Clayton Traub turned and followed the long gravel drive until he saw a sign above the doorway of a two-story building that read Wright’s Way, confirming that the vehicle’s navigation system had been correct. Not that he’d doubted the device’s capabilities—not really. He just believed in covering all of his bases.

In the case of following his brother, Forrest, on a three-hundred-mile road trip from Rust Creek Falls to Thunder Canyon, Montana, there were a lot of bases. Especially considering that Forrest had been more than a little … distracted since his return from Iraq.

Clay parked his Dodge Ram Quad Cab and assessed the residence. The clapboard siding looked as if it had been recently painted, the windows shone in the late-afternoon sun, and there were pots of bronze-colored mums flanking the entranceway. The cursory perusal assured him that it didn’t look like a bad place to spend a few weeks, and he didn’t plan on staying any longer than that.

He headed up to the main house, following the instructions of a ranch hand who’d told him that Tony would take care of the registration and give him the key.

A housekeeper answered his knock at the door and directed him to an office. It wasn’t until Clay peeked into the room that he realized “Tony” was actually “Toni.”

Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, except that along with the realization came an intense jolt of basic masculine appreciation.

His first glimpse was of her profile, as she was seated at a desk and working at the computer. Her nose was straight, her chin slightly pointed and long, dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. Slender, graceful fingers moved expertly over the keys and though those fingers never faltered, she must have sensed his presence in the doorway because she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. And his heart actually skipped a beat.

Toni Wright was very definitely female—and exquisite.

“Can I help you?”

It took a moment for her words to penetrate the fog that had suddenly enveloped his brain, and another moment for Clay to get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. It had been a long time since he’d had such a purely visceral reaction to the sight of a woman. A very long time.

“Clayton Traub,” he finally said. “I’m checking in.”

“Welcome to Wright’s Way.” Her tone was pleasant, her smile natural, but there was more than a hint of reserve in the depths of her green eyes. “Do you know how long you plan to stay?”

Focus, Traub. The reprimand was silent but stern. He was here because he needed a break and because his mother wanted him to keep an eye on his brother while Forrest was rehabbing in Thunder Canyon. The absolute last thing he needed was to let himself be distracted by a pretty face. On the other hand, this trip to Thunder Canyon suddenly promised to be a whole lot more interesting.

“A few weeks, at least,” he finally responded to her question.

“The rent is paid weekly, in advance.”

“That’s not a problem,” he assured her, unfazed by her all-business attitude.

She passed him a page with Rental Terms & Conditions noted across the top. “Please review this and sign at the bottom.”

He scanned the document, nothing giving him any cause for concern—until he got to paragraph eight. He tapped a finger on the page, beside the relevant clause. “What exactly does it mean by ‘no overnight visitors allowed’?”

“It means that only registered guests are allowed to stay overnight on the premises,” she told him.

“That could be a problem.”

She shrugged. “Then there’s a motel in town, The Wander-On Inn, that might be more to your liking.”

“That wouldn’t please my cousin, Dax, who recommended your boarding house. He said he went to school with Hudson Wright. I’m assuming he’s your brother?”

“And another brother, Jonah, was in D.J.’s grade,” she told him.

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Three, but the number has no relevance to your issue with paragraph eight. Like the rest of the rules, it’s intended to protect the comfort and safety of our boarders. We can’t be responsible for unregistered guests wandering the halls of the boarding house or—”

“He wouldn’t be wandering far,” Clay promised. “In fact, he’s just started to crawl.”

Her brow furrowed. “He?”

“My son,” he explained.

The firm set of her mouth softened, the edges curved. “You have a little boy?”

“A baby,” he clarified. “Five months old. His name’s Bennett.”

The last of her reserve melted away. When she smiled at him this time, the impact hit the center of his chest like a wrecking ball. Lord, this woman could be dangerous.

“A baby,” she echoed softly. Then, with a note of obvious concern in her voice, “Where is he now?”

“He fell asleep in the truck, so my brother, Forrest, is keeping an eye on him.”

“I’d love to meet him.” She pushed her chair back from the desk. “Let me just grab your keys and …”

Whatever else she said was drowned out by the sudden screaming of alarms inside his head warning of imminent danger. Because when Toni Wright stood up, Clay saw that she wasn’t just female and gorgeous—she was extremely pregnant!

Chapter One

Five weeks later

Damn pregnancy hormones!

It was becoming a familiar curse to Antonia Wright, because as thrilled as she was that she was going to be a mother, she was completely unprepared to deal with the increasingly frequent surges of hormones through her system. Surges that had been nonexistent through the first six months of her pregnancy, but had become more regular and insistent over the past few weeks. Since Clayton Traub had taken up residence at Wright’s Way, in fact.

But Antonia refused to believe that the link between his presence and her hormones was anything more than a coincidence. Most of the books she’d read had warned that sexual desire was likely to decrease in the last trimester, but Antonia was finding just the opposite to be true. Of course, nothing that she’d experienced since learning that she was going to have a baby had been what she expected. At least not since the initial excitement of having her pregnancy confirmed was usurped by the panic of realizing she was going to be a single mother.

Maybe having a baby without a father anywhere in the vicinity wasn’t an ideal situation, but she was making the best of it. And she was genuinely excited about the opportunities and challenges that motherhood would entail, but she hadn’t expected the hormones.

Because that was the only explanation she could come up with for the way her pulse raced every time she saw Clay in the dining room. And the way her knees got all weak and wobbly if he passed close to her. And the way her skin felt all hot and tingly whenever he even looked at her.

But she’d learned her lesson after Gene hightailed it out of town. She had no intention of ever following her heart again, and she definitely would never get involved with a boarder again.

Which only proved that her physiological reaction to Clayton Traub had less to do with her heart than her hormones. She didn’t even know the guy, really, so it was ridiculous to think that she might have any kind of emotional attachment to him. But she was definitely attracted. The warm and achy feeling deep inside all of her womanly places confirmed that fact. Or maybe she was just severely sexually deprived.

It had been exactly seven months, one week and four days since she’d had sex. In the first six and a half of those months, she hadn’t missed the physical intimacy. She hadn’t even thought about it really, because she’d been too busy trying to come to terms with her pregnancy and anticipate the demands of impending motherhood.

But ever since Clay Traub had shown up at the Wright Ranch, she’d found herself thinking about how very long it had been since she’d been held or kissed or touched. How very long it had been since she’d been wanted.

Not that any man in his right mind would want her now, with a belly that was rounder than her breasts. And so big that it was sometimes hard for Antonia to believe that she still had another seven weeks to go before she delivered her baby. As eagerly as she was counting down to the day that she would hold her child in her arms, her trepidation was growing along with her excitement.

What did she know about taking care of a baby? Not very much. And she was terrified that she was going to screw up. If only she could talk to her own mother—but that option had been taken away from her more than two years earlier when Lucinda had succumbed to a massive stroke. Nothing had been the same since her death—not Antonia’s father, not her brothers, not even the ranch.

Or maybe it would be more accurate to say especially not the ranch. Devastated by the loss of his beloved wife, John Wright had started to neglect his responsibilities, which had resulted in the loss of some business and, consequently, trouble paying the bills. Antonia’s brothers had taken over most of the day-to-day operations, and she had convinced them to turn the former bunkhouse into a boarding house to generate additional revenue. Most of the rental units had sat vacant for a while—certainly long enough to give her cause for concern—but once they’d taken in their first boarders and those boarders started chatting in town about the comfort of the accommodations and the quality of the meals, the rooms had begun to fill.

Now it was rare for any room to sit empty for more than a week or two, allowing Antonia to breathe a sigh of relief that she hadn’t made a mistake with this venture. Especially considering that she’d given Peggy, the Wright’s longtime housekeeper and cook, a raise to compensate for the additional meal prep that was required, and had recently hired Nora, a high school student who lived up the road, to help serve dinner.

Because now that she was in her third trimester, Antonia had finally acknowledged that she no longer had the energy to be on her feet sixteen hours a day. And when those days started at 5:00 a.m., as hers had this morning, she was usually feeling the first signs of fatigue before the breakfast crowd had gone.

“Good morning, Toni.”

She recognized his voice immediately, and adrenaline rushed through her veins as her cheeks filled with color. There was just something about the way he said her name that actually made her knees weak.

“Good morning,” she replied, deliberately focusing on the baby in his arms rather than looking into the warmth of Clayton Traub’s dark brown eyes. “And how are you doing this morning, handsome?”

Bennett gave her a gummy smile and reached his arms out to her, and Antonia wanted nothing more than to scoop him up. Unfortunately, she had a full coffeepot in one hand and a trio of mugs in the other.

“Typical male,” she mused. “Wanting yet one more thing from a woman who already has her hands full.” But since she couldn’t give Bennett a cuddle, she gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, then finally chanced a glance at his father. “I’ll bring his breakfast as soon as you get him settled.”

“No hurry,” he assured her. “He had some oatmeal about an hour ago.”

“We start serving breakfast here at six,” she reminded him. She’d given him a dining schedule along with the rest of the paperwork when he’d checked in, and for the first several days, he had brought the baby to the dining room early. But then the time of their arrival had started getting later and later, until they were showing up near the end of the breakfast shift rather than the beginning.

“And at six, you usually have a pretty full house,” Clay noted.

“A lot of the men need to get an early start because they have jobs in town or elsewhere that they have to get to.” Which made her wonder how her handsome boarder was occupying his time in Thunder Canyon. Of course, as long as his checks didn’t bounce, his employment—or lack thereof—wasn’t any of her concern.

Not that she was completely in the dark about Clay. He might have been “one of the Rust Creek Falls’ Traubs” but he was related to the Thunder Canyon Traubs, which meant that a fair amount of information about him was circulating around town. Including that he was one of six sons and had previously worked on the family ranch in Rust Creek Falls with four of his brothers. Only Forrest had opted for a different career, choosing to enlist in the military and fight for his country. He’d returned from the war in Iraq with an injured leg that was being treated by Dr. North at Thunder Canyon General Hospital. And PTSD, according to some whispers.

Since moving into the boarding house, both Clay and Forrest had been the subjects of as much admiration as speculation. The female population, in particular, seemed curious about these “real” cowboys who had come to town and were eager to get to know them better. Antonia didn’t think either of the brothers had encouraged the attention, but she couldn’t blame the women for their interest. Clayton and Forrest were both sinfully good-looking but, from day one, her heart had been firmly ensnared by Bennett.

“That’s why we like to come later,” Clay said, drawing her attention back to their conversation. “So Bennett can flirt with his favorite girl.”

“You need to raise your standards,” she told the little boy. Then, to his father, “And I really need to get this coffee into the dining room—where Forrest is already seated at your usual table.”

“Of course.” He stepped back so that she could move past him into the dining room.

As she did, she was conscious of his gaze following her. Or maybe she was just imagining it. Because why would Clay be watching her? Why would any man look twice at a woman whose belly entered a room ten seconds before the rest of her body did?

Okay, she knew she wasn’t really as enormous as she felt, but having to sneak into her father’s closet to find a shirt that would button over her baby bump made her feel huge and unattractive. Having a man pay any amount of attention to her was a boost to her battered ego—and when that man was as incredibly good-looking as Clayton Traub, well, she could probably be forgiven for letting her imagination run away.

Because even if he didn’t have any kind of romantic interest—and again, she’d be more shocked if he did—she enjoyed the brief conversations they occasionally shared over breakfast or dinner. Even after five weeks, she wouldn’t say she knew him well, but she did know him well enough to appreciate his straightforward manner and easygoing personality.

Mostly she appreciated that he didn’t ask too many questions. Having been the subject of so many whispers and rumors since her pregnancy became public knowledge, she was happy to talk to someone who didn’t want to know or seem to care about the father of her baby. And it warmed her heart immeasurably to witness the obvious affection between Clay and his son.

Obviously some men were able to embrace the joys and responsibilities of fatherhood. Unfortunately for Antonia, the father of her baby wasn’t one of them.

There had been more than a hint of fall in the air when Clay made his way to the main house for breakfast, reminding him that he’d already been in Thunder Canyon for longer than the few weeks he’d originally planned to stay. As he settled Bennett into the high chair that Toni had set at one end of the long table, it occurred to him that maybe it was time to go back to Rust Creek Falls and the family ranch. But he wasn’t ready to leave Thunder Canyon, not just yet.

He felt more than a little guilty that he’d bailed on his father and his responsibilities at the ranch—even if he’d done so with his mother’s blessing. Of course, Bob Traub was more than capable of handling things on his own. Hell, he’d been managing the whole spread since long before any of his sons had even been born, and he’d be the first to take issue with anyone who suggested that he wasn’t still capable of doing so.

He certainly hadn’t tried to prevent Clay from leaving. In fact, he’d agreed that it was a good idea for him to get away from Rust Creek Falls for a while. But when he’d encouraged his son to head west, Clay suspected that he meant a little farther west than Thunder Canyon—no doubt hoping that he would track down Delia in California and convince her to marry him so that their son would have a proper family.

Bob and Ellie Traub had raised their sons with traditional values and a strict moral code of behavior, and Clay believed in accepting responsibility for his actions. But he did not believe that marrying Delia was the answer, and he wanted something better for his son than a woman who clearly wasn’t interested in being a mother.

But until he figured out what that was, he was enjoying his time in Thunder Canyon. He liked the town and he had no complaints at all about the accommodations at Wright’s Way. The only real problem, from his perspective, was the inexplicable attraction he felt whenever he was around his landlady.

His very pregnant landlady, as he continually had to remind himself. Because any man could be forgiven for thinking lustful thoughts about an attractive woman—and Toni was no doubt an extremely attractive woman—but she was also an expectant mother, and contemplating any such ideas about a mother-to-be just seemed wrong.

Of course, that knowledge and even his own internal reprimands didn’t stop the thoughts from forming in his mind. And seeing Toni at the family-style breakfast she prepared for the boarders every morning somehow only further fanned the flames of his desire. A realization that, as he settled into the chair beside his son and across from his brother, continued to baffle him.

He’d always appreciated the company of women and, in the past, he’d enjoyed countless casual dates and numerous carefree liaisons. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He had a child to consider now—as would Toni in the very near future.

Clay had never imagined himself as a father. Not that he’d precluded the possibility from his future, he simply hadn’t thought he was ready for the responsibility at this point in his life. Delia showing up on his doorstep with a baby had taken that choice out of his hands. And while he would fight tooth and nail to protect his child, the little boy was all the responsibility Clay could—or wanted to—handle at this point in his life. He certainly didn’t want or need the complication of a personal relationship right now, and hooking up with a woman who had a baby of her own on the way would just be crazy.

No one had ever had cause to question Clay’s sanity in the past, so why was he so drawn to this particular woman? Why now?

Toni set a plastic bowl on the tray of Bennett’s high chair, and the little boy immediately reached into it, wrapping his fist around a handful of scrambled egg and then shoving his fist into his mouth.

She ruffled his hair and smiled. “You’re a hungry little guy today, are you?”

Bennett’s only response was to reach into the bowl with his other fist.

“He’s got a healthy appetite,” Clay told her.

“Growing boys need to eat,” Antonia noted.

“So do grown men,” Forrest pointed out.

Toni shifted her attention to the man seated on the other side of the table, her cheeks flushing as she took the empty platter from his hands.

“Coming right up,” she promised.

Clay scowled at his brother. “Don’t you think that was a little rude?”

“What was rude? Interrupting your flirting?” Forrest asked.

“I wasn’t flirting.”

His brother snorted.

“I wasn’t,” Clay insisted, though he wondered why he bothered. Because even if he had been flirting—which he wasn’t—he didn’t care what his brother thought. But he also didn’t want Toni overhearing their conversation and thinking that he had a thing for her. Because he didn’t.

“Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said something about men who protested too much?” Forrest challenged.

Bennett banged his hands on his tray, giving Clay an excuse to turn his attention to the little boy and ignore his brother’s comment.

“How’s your breakfast?” he asked.

The baby responded by offering a fistful of scrambled egg.

Clay nudged the little boy’s hand toward his mouth. “Bennett, eat.”

And he did, happily.

Toni returned with a platter laden with scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, browned sausages and savory fried potatoes in one hand and a full coffeepot in the other. She set the platter on the table and filled Clay’s and Forrest’s mugs before making her way down the table, offering refills to the other boarders who were lingering at breakfast.

Forrest loaded up his plate, then immediately focused his attention on his meal. Clay scooped up a forkful of eggs, but found his gaze following Toni as she made her way back to the kitchen.

“Transference,” Forrest said.

Clay looked up, startled by the abrupt pronouncement. “What?”

“Transference,” his brother said again. “It’s the redirection of emotions, usually in the context of a therapist-patient relationship but also occurring in other situations.”

Clay wasn’t sure he was following. Although he knew that one of the reasons Forrest had chosen to come to Thunder Canyon was to continue working in a therapy group with Annabel Cates and her dog, Smiley.

“Are you saying that you have feelings for your therapist?”

His brother snorted. “I’m talking about you, not me.”

Now Clay was even more confused. “You think I have feelings for your therapist?”

“I think you’re still feeling guilty about not being there for Delia when she was pregnant—”

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” he interrupted to remind his brother.

“—and you want to make up for it by demonstrating an interest in the stages of pregnancy, resulting in your infatuation with our expectant landlady.”

“I’m not infatuated with our landlady.”

Forrest continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The fact that she doesn’t have a husband just makes her a more obvious target of your attention.”

“What’s obvious to me is that you have too much time on your hands if these are the scenarios you’re dreaming up.”

“‘That looks heavy, Toni,’” Forrest said, mimicking his brother. “‘Let me get it for you.’ ‘I’m going into town, Toni. Do you need me to pick anything up?’”

Clay scowled at his sibling, although he was more annoyed because he realized that Forrest was right. “Is there something wrong with wanting to be helpful?”

“Not at all,” Forrest denied. “So long as you’re aware of the rationale behind your actions.”

Clay thought he understood his rationale far better than his brother did, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Toni’s pregnancy. Truthfully, every time he caught a glimpse of her rounded belly, his mind started, because when he looked at his gorgeous landlady, the absolute last thing on his mind was that she was a mother-to-be.

No, his feelings for Toni Wright had absolutely nothing to do with any latent parental instincts he might possess and everything to do with simple masculine appreciation. He was a man, she was a beautiful woman, and he wanted to get her naked.

“But what do I know?” Forrest said now, a teasing note in his voice. “I’m not a father. Maybe you want to double your diapers, double your fun.”

Clay shook his head emphatically. “Bennett gives me more diaper changes than any man should have to handle.”

As if in response to his name, the little boy looked up from the egg he was smearing on his tray and smiled, and Clay actually felt his heart squeeze inside his chest.

Maybe he hadn’t thought too much about having children before Delia showed up at his door with Bennett, and maybe he’d denied—instinctively, and perhaps a little too vehemently—that he could be the baby’s father, and maybe his offer to let Delia and the child stay with him had been made more grudgingly than willingly. But living with a woman and her child, even temporarily, had been a huge adjustment for Clay, especially considering that his relationship with Delia had been, by mutual agreement, a strictly no-strings arrangement.

But a child wasn’t just a string. The possibility that he might actually be the boy’s father had felt like a noose around his neck. A noose that grew tighter with every day that passed until he woke up one morning to the sound of a screaming baby and realized that Delia was gone. He’d almost accepted that he might be Bennett’s father and had started to think about the practicalities of shared parenting, then suddenly, there was no one around to share any of the responsibilities.

Delia had the benefit of nine months to come to terms with the fact that she would have a baby—nine months to prepare for the arrival of her child and the realities of motherhood. But she’d shown up on his doorstep without any kind of warning and, not even giving him nine days to accept the fact that he was a father, ran off, abandoning the baby into his care. And with the realization that she was well and truly gone, the noose had pulled so taut that Clay could hardly breathe.

It was Bennett’s frantic cries that had finally penetrated the chaotic thoughts swirling through his brain, that made him realize he didn’t have the luxury of panicking or falling part because there was a tiny person who needed him. And with Delia well and truly gone, there was no doubt that Bennett needed him, so Clay stepped up to the plate.

The first time Bennett’s tiny fist had curled around his finger, Clay had been lost. The wave of affection for the little boy had knocked him flat with all the subtlety of a freight train. And the first time that Bennett had smiled at him, just a few weeks later, Clay had vowed to his son that he would never let Delia take him away. By the time he got the report from the lab, he’d realized that the DNA results didn’t even matter.

It was his mother who had encouraged him to open the envelope, anyway. Ellie Traub had accepted the baby more quickly and easily than he had done. In fact, from day one, she’d positively doted on the child, which was why she’d insisted he had to know what legal status he had with respect to the little boy. She was as thrilled as she was relieved to have scientific proof that Bennett was her grandson—and none too happy when Clay first told her of his plans to leave town with the baby.

Truth be told, Clay had vacillated for weeks before making the decision. As much as he wanted to get out of Rust Creek Falls for a while—and away from the nosy gossipers who liked to offer unsolicited suggestions to the new dad—he’d worried that he wouldn’t be able to manage on his own with the baby. His mother had been an enormous help, offering not just her own tried-and-true baby care advice, but giving him hands-on assistance whenever he was feeling overwhelmed. Which, over the first few months, was quite frequently.

As if on cue, the phone he’d tucked into his jacket pocket began to vibrate. He checked the display and smiled as he connected the call.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Where’s your brother?”

He glanced across the table. “Why are you calling my cell if you’re looking for Forrest?”

The brother in question shook his head and pushed away from the table, pointing to his watch and miming his intention to drive into town.

“Because he doesn’t answer his phone,” Ellie complained.

“Maybe he’s driving,” Clay suggested.

“Maybe,” she allowed. “Or maybe he’s ignoring my calls.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he hasn’t been very communicative since he got back from Iraq.”

Watching his brother make a hasty escape from the dining room, he couldn’t deny that was true. “He just needs some time, Mom.”

“I’ve tried to be patient,” Ellie said. “But I need to know that he’s doing okay.”

“He is,” Clay assured her. “I promise.”

“Well, I want to see for myself, and I need a grandbaby fix, so your dad and I are thinking about making a trip to Thunder Canyon this weekend.”

“We’d love to see you.”

“Good. I’ve already spoken to Allaire. She promised to pull some strings to get the private dining room at D.J.’s Rib Shack for the whole family. Friday night at seven.”

“That works for me,” Clay told her.

“Make sure it works for your brother.”

“I’ll try,” he said, unwilling to make any promises on Forrest’s behalf.

“I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that,” she allowed. “Now tell me how my grandson’s doing.”

Clay was happy to regale his mother with details about Bennett’s growth and development and everything else he’d been doing over the past few weeks.

He didn’t tell Ellie that the little boy seemed to have developed a major crush on their landlady at Wright’s Way—because he was afraid that Bennett wasn’t the only one.

Chapter Two

Antonia usually waited until most of the boarders had left before she started clearing the tables, and when she returned to the dining room today, she saw that aside from Clay and his son the room was completely empty. As she began to stack plates, she could tell that Clay was on the phone, and though she wasn’t trying to listen in, she couldn’t help overhearing bits and pieces of his conversation.

And then she heard him say, “I love you, too.”

The words, spoken with easy affection, made her pause with a handful of cutlery in her fist. But before she could even begin to speculate about who might be on the other end of the line, he added, “Mom,” and she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

It wasn’t any of her business, of course. And she really hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. But when she glanced over as he disconnected the call, his gaze met hers and she knew that she’d been busted. Her cheeks filled with color.

He pushed his chair back as she picked up the stack of plates. “Let me get those for you.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

“They’ve got to be heavy.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ve been working on this ranch since I was a kid. Before I got pregnant, I was mucking out stalls and training horses. I think I can handle a stack of plates.”

“You’ve been carting plates and platters from the kitchen since 6:00 a.m.,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?”

“Because these dishes won’t put themselves in the dishwasher.”

Bennett banged his cup on his tray, then held it out to her.

“I think somebody wants more juice.” Just a couple of weeks earlier, Clay had told her that he’d introduced the little boy to apple juice diluted with sterile water. Since then, Antonia had ensured she always had some on hand. “Can I get him a refill?”

“Sure,” Clay agreed.

The baby smiled at her as she took his cup, and her heart melted.

“Coming right up,” she promised.

While she was in the kitchen refilling Bennett’s drink, Clay gathered up the rest of the dishes still on the table.

“Are you trying to get me fired?” she asked, when she returned with the juice.

“I don’t think you’ll lose your job because you let someone else carry a few plates into the kitchen,” he chided.

He was right, of course, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that she was used to doing things for herself—she preferred doing things for herself. And she’d learned a long time ago that if she didn’t depend on anyone else, she didn’t have to worry about being disappointed.

Bennett took the cup and yawned.

“Are you ready for a nap already?” she asked.

His only response was to lift his arms up to her.

She hesitated, because every time she picked him up, she never wanted to let him go again. But Bennett was clearly tired of being strapped in his chair and, based on the sounds emanating from the kitchen, Clay was thoroughly occupied with the dishes and not planning to return to the dining room anytime soon.

With a sigh that was more resignation than reluctance, Antonia removed the tray from Bennett’s chair, unfastened his belt and lifted him into her arms. He curled into her easily, his head dropping against her shoulder, his eyes already drifting shut.

She’d never thought it was possible to fall in love so quickly and completely, but since the doctor had confirmed the news of her pregnancy, Antonia had realized that none of the usual rules applied to babies. She didn’t know if it was their innocence and vulnerability or her own maternal instincts, but she’d always had a weakness for children. From the moment she first suspected that she was pregnant, she’d been overwhelmed by emotion. And the first time Bennett had looked at her with his big blue eyes, she’d been hooked.

Now, with the slight weight of his body in her arms and the subtle scents of baby powder and shampoo teasing her nostrils, that hook snared her heart even more deeply.

She ventured into the kitchen and confirmed that Clay was loading up the dishwasher. Not with the skill or efficiency of someone who had a lot of experience, but he was getting the job done.

“Why don’t you take Bennett back to your room for a nap and let me do that?” she suggested.

“He doesn’t sleep for more than fifteen or twenty minutes after breakfast,” Clay told her. “So if you could sit with him for a little bit while I finish up here, that would be great.”

“Why don’t you sit with him while I finish cleaning up?” Antonia countered.

“Because I’m almost done here,” he pointed out.

His logic was indisputable and, with a sense of relief she refused to let him see, Antonia settled into one of the wooden ladder-back chairs beside the old kitchen table.

Bennett snuggled in, rubbing his cheek against her shirt, and Antonia’s heart gave another squeeze.

She didn’t know anything about the little boy’s mother—who she was or where she was. She only knew that in the five weeks that had passed since Clayton Traub had showed up at Wright’s Way with his son, she hadn’t heard a single word about the woman who’d given birth to the darling little boy. And she had to admit, the lack of information made her curious.

Not any of your business, she mentally admonished herself.

Just like information about her baby’s father was no one’s business but her own.

“He’s never taken to strangers,” Clay noted. “But there’s no doubt that he likes you.”

And because it was too good an opening to resist, she ignored her own admonition to herself and said, “Maybe I remind him of his mother.”

“Not likely,” Clay said. “Considering that he hasn’t seen her since he was two weeks old.”

She looked up, startled by this revelation. “Why not?”

“She decided a baby was too much to handle and she left him with me and moved to California.”

Antonia was stunned.

She couldn’t imagine any mother choosing to walk away from her child. Her baby wasn’t even born yet and she knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him or her. But of course she didn’t say any of that to Clay, she said only, “Why California?”

“To be a movie star.”

“She was an actress?”

“A much better one than I ever suspected,” he noted wryly.

She didn’t have any trouble picking up on the undercurrents in that response. “It must have been difficult—to be on your own with a newborn.”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” he admitted. “I hadn’t planned on becoming a father at this point in my life and I knew absolutely nothing about babies. In fact, I’m not sure either Bennett or I would have made it through the first few weeks without my mom.”

In many ways, Clay’s story was similar to her own. She hadn’t planned on becoming a mother at this point in her life, either, and while she wouldn’t say she knew “absolutely nothing” about babies, her experience was limited. But unlike Bennett, her baby wouldn’t have a grandmother to help them through the rough patches.

She shifted her gaze away, so Clay wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “You’re lucky to have her,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot that your mother passed away.”

She nodded. “Two years ago.”

“I bet you miss her.”

“Now more than ever,” Antonia admitted.

Lucinda Wright had been more than a parent. In a lot of ways, she’d been her best friend, and Antonia missed her gentle guidance and sage advice. Mostly she missed the way her mother always knew when she was worried about something, she missed the comforting weight of the arm she would put across her daughter’s shoulders and the confidence in her voice when she promised that everything would work out for the best.

As her baby shifted in her belly, Antonia wanted desperately to believe her mother’s promise, but right now she didn’t have a clue what would be best for her baby.

Clay didn’t see his brother again until later that night. Aside from the twice weekly group therapy sessions at the hospital, he wasn’t sure what Forrest did to occupy all the hours in his day. Then again, some people probably wondered what Clay did to fill his days, but anyone who had ever been responsible for the full-time care of a baby wouldn’t need to wonder. Bennett kept his daddy hopping 24/7.

He was in the common room on the main floor of the boarding house, watching a National League playoff game, when Forrest came in with a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of beer. Sometimes the room was so crowded it was impossible to find a chair, but most of the boarders started work early in the morning and, consequently, retired to their rooms early at night—particularly at the beginning of the week. So tonight, Clay had been alone with the ball game until his brother joined him.

He accepted the bottle Forrest handed to him and took a long swallow before setting it on the coffee table beside the baby monitor.

“Ben’s asleep already?”

“It’s almost ten o’clock,” Clay pointed out.

Forrest looked disappointed.

Clay hadn’t been thrilled when his brother enlisted, but he understood that Forrest wanted to serve his country and that it was his decision to make. But when he came home, it was apparent to everyone that the injury to his leg wasn’t the deepest of his wounds.

And yet there had been rare moments when Clay caught glimpses of the easygoing brother he remembered. There had been a few more of those moments since they’d come to Thunder Canyon, illustrated by good-natured teasing and dry humor. But the clearest evidence was in his brother’s interactions with Bennett. The little boy was the only one—at least so far—who had proven capable of breaching all of Forrest’s defenses.

“There was a time when he didn’t settle down until midnight,” Forrest recalled.

“Then I wised up and stopped letting him nap after dinner.”

“If you kept him up later at night, he wouldn’t be awake so early in the morning.”

Clay shrugged. “I’m used to starting the day early.”

“Do you miss it?”

Forrest was asking about the work he’d done on the family ranch back in Rust Creek Falls, and Clay nodded. “I miss the physical labor, the satisfaction that comes from getting a job done, and I feel guilty as hell for leaving Dad, Dallas, Braden, Sutter and Collin with all the work.”

“You didn’t have to come to Thunder Canyon to babysit me,” Forrest told him.

“I didn’t come to babysit you,” Clay told him. “I came because I couldn’t stand being the center of attention every time I took Bennett into town. It was as if no one had ever known anyone who was a single father before.”

“Try being the wounded war hero,” Forrest told him. “People tiptoed around me as if my gimp leg was contagious—or maybe it’s the rumors of my PTSD that freaked them out.”

“Not everyone was freaked out,” Clay reminded him. “In fact, Marla James only wanted to show her appreciation for the sacrifice you made for our country.”

Forrest tipped his bottle to his lips, but Clay saw the color rise in his brother’s cheeks.

“I still haven’t decided whether I should thank you or kick your ass for deflecting her attention,” he finally said.

Clay just grinned.

Marla James’s crush on Forrest had been something of a legend in Rust Creek Falls. Her family had moved into town the summer before she started fifth grade, and on the first day of school, she’d set her sights on Forrest Traub and had never looked back. It didn’t matter how many times he brushed her off or how many other girls he dated, she remained adamant that they would one day be together. When Forrest returned from Iraq, she decided that day had finally come.

She stopped by the Traub Ranch at least once a day to check on her injured hero. Forrest—wounded more deeply than the scars on his leg—wasn’t even kind in his dismissal of her efforts, but Marla refused to be dissuaded. Not until Clay, with feigned embarrassment and reluctance, implied that his brother’s injury had affected more than his leg and that he wasn’t able to appreciate what she was offering.

Marla had cried genuine tears over that, but her lifelong love for Forrest clearly was not as strong as her sexual desires.

“You could always call Marla up and tell her you’re all better now,” Clay teased.

“If only that were true,” Forrest said.

And Clay knew his brother’s comment had nothing to do with the fabricated injury. Which was why Ellie was so worried about her son, and why Clay had to do everything he could to keep his promise to his mother.

“Bennett and I are going to take a drive to Billings for a farm auction in the morning to check out a tractor that’s on the block. Did you want to come with us?”

Forrest just shook his head and munched on a handful of popcorn.

“Okay,” Clay said easily. “How about dinner at D.J.’s Friday night?”

His brother looked up at that, his gaze narrowing. “Friday is three days from now,” he noted. “Since when do you plan that far ahead?”

So much for thinking that he could slip anything past Forrest. But instead of answering the question directly, he only shrugged, as if his brother’s response was of no concern to him. “If you’ve got a hot date and don’t want to go, just say so.”

Forrest lifted a brow. “Well, I’ve had so many hot dates recently I’d have to check my calendar to know for sure.”

“You do that,” Clay advised.

His brother mimed thumbing through a little black book. “I have Skinny Ginny penciled in, but I can reschedule. At least at D.J.’s, I’ll get some meat on my ribs.”

“I’m glad to see your sense of humor is still intact,” Clay noted. “Even if it’s deeply buried most days.”

Forrest looked away. “Just ‘cause I said I’d go out with you Friday night doesn’t give you the right to turn this into some touchy-feely moment.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clay assured him.

“Good.” Forrest tipped the bottle to his lips and shifted his gaze back to the television.

D.J.’s Rib Shack in the Thunder Canyon Resort was usually busy, especially on a Friday night. While Antonia waited for her friend Catherine to arrive, she glanced around the restaurant with its sepia-toned pictures of cowboys and an extensive mural that depicted a visual history of the town. But more than the décor, it was the scent of D.J.’s famous sauce thick in the air that assured the customers packed into the benches and booths that they would enjoy genuine Western barbecue.

Antonia breathed in deeply, inhaling the rich aroma, and the baby kicked in approval—or maybe it was demand. If Antonia was hungry, it was a good bet that her baby was, too.

“I feel like Pavlov’s dog,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “I just walk through the door of this place, and my mouth starts to water.”

Antonia laughed and hugged her friend. “I know what you mean.”

The hostess led them to a booth against the back wall.

When the waitress came, they ordered right away, both familiar enough with the menu to know what they wanted. Fifteen minutes later, they were digging into plates laden with saucy ribs, fresh-cut fries and tart coleslaw. Antonia had considered ordering the daily vegetable option rather than fries, but the baby wanted fries and she’d learned not to ignore the baby’s demands. If she indulged now, she wouldn’t find herself raiding the fridge at three o’clock in the morning.

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” Antonia admitted, popping a fry into her mouth. “Which proves that it’s been way too long.”

“I’m glad you finally hired someone else to serve dinner at the ranch,” Catherine said. “We haven’t had a girls’ night out in far too long.”

“You’ve been even busier than I have. As if getting Real Vintage Cowboy up and running wasn’t enough, you had to go and fall in love with Cody Overton and get married.”

Catherine grinned. “I guess I have been busy.”

Antonia sat back, licking rib sauce off of her fingers, and assessed her friend. Tonight she was wearing a lacy white blouse over a long, flowing skirt with well-worn cowboy boots on her feet. Her long, dark hair hung loose over her shoulders and her chocolate-colored eyes glowed with a happiness that seemed to radiate from deep within her.

“But you look happy, Mrs. Overton. As if married life agrees with you.”

“I am happy,” Catherine agreed.

“And I’m glad that Cody turned out to be the real deal,” Antonia said, and meant it.

She was genuinely thrilled that her friend had everything she’d always wanted—both professional success and personal happiness. But seeing the vibrant glow on Catherine’s face, Antonia couldn’t deny that she felt a twinge of something that might have been envy.

She had no cause for complaint. She was content with her life, grateful that things had started to turn around at the ranch so that their finances weren’t stretched quite as tight as they’d been a few months earlier. But she was also conscious of the fact that, despite living with her father and her brothers and with a baby of her own on the way, she was alone.

“I just wish you could find someone like him,” her friend said. “Someone genuinely wonderful and kind and smart and sexy.”

“I don’t think there is anyone else like Cody.” But even as Antonia said the words, she realized that there was another man who at least came close. A man who doted on his son, who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty in the kitchen, and who had an easy sense of humor and a quick smile. A man whose mere presence made every nerve-ending in her body stand up and take notice.

And then Clayton Traub walked into the restaurant with Bennett in his arms.

Not just Clay, she realized, but his brother, Forrest, too. But Antonia knew there could have been a parade of men, all of them tall and handsome, and it still would have been Clay who drew her attention.

“There’s someone out there for you,” Catherine insisted. And then, aware that her friend’s attention had wandered, she turned her head to see the two men making their way to the private dining room in the back.

“Oh, my,” she said in a reverent whisper. “Or maybe there’s someone in here for you.”

Antonia couldn’t blame Catherine for her reaction. The first time she’d set eyes on Clayton Traub, she’d felt the exact same way. And neither time nor familiarity had done much to dim her reaction. But she had learned to ignore the physiological response—most of the time, anyway.

“I swear, the testosterone level in here just shot through the roof.” Catherine turned back to her friend. “So tell me—which one of those very sexy cowboys caught your eye?”

Antonia felt her cheeks flush. “Neither of them.”

“Liar.”

“I do know them,” she finally admitted. “Clay and Forrest Traub. They’ve been staying at Wright’s Way.”

“Now I know why you haven’t been coming into town very often. The scenery is obviously much better at the ranch than I remembered.”

“They are nice to look at,” Antonia acknowledged.

“Nice?” her friend scoffed. “Those are real vintage cowboys.”

“How do you know?”

“You can tell by the way they carry themselves—the strength, the confidence, the swagger.” She fanned her cheeks. “Those men have it in spades. And there’s just something about a man with a baby in his arms that somehow enhances his masculinity.”

“Newlywed,” Antonia reminded her friend.

“Newly and blissfully wed,” Catherine agreed. “But the ring on my finger hasn’t rendered me blind.”

“Proven by the fact that you did notice the baby he was carrying.”

Catherine winced. “His?”

Antonia nodded.

“Married?”

She shook her head.

“Then what’s the problem?” her friend demanded. “He’s a single dad, you’re a soon-to-be single mom—”

“Yeah, and I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be attracted to me.” Antonia’s dry tone was accompanied by a pointed glance at her round belly.

“Are you kidding? Do you ever look in the mirror? You’re gorgeous, Antonia.”

“And that’s why you’re my best friend,” she told Catherine. “Because you can actually say things like that with a straight face.”

Catherine sighed. “Okay, tell me about him.”

“I don’t know a lot,” she admitted. “Just that he’s from Rust Creek Falls, he came to Thunder Canyon in September and he has an adorable six-month-old son named Bennett.”

“His brother’s the one who started that dog therapy group for veterans, isn’t he?”

“Along with Annabel Cates, soon-to-be Annabel North,” Antonia clarified.

“Love has definitely been in the air in Thunder Canyon,” Catherine mused. “And maybe, if you just took the time to breathe …”

“I’ve got a baby on the way that I already love more than I ever could have imagined,” Antonia told her friend. “I don’t want or need anything more than that.”

“Don’t you think it’s important for a child to have a daddy?” Catherine asked.

“In a perfect world, of course,” she agreed. “But right now, I’m more concerned about being the best mother that I can be than finding a father for my baby.”

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” her friend assured her.

Antonia hoped she was right, but she had so many questions and doubts—and no one she could talk to the way she’d always been able to talk to her mother. Catherine was great, of course, but her friend didn’t have any experience when it came to pregnancy or childbirth, so she couldn’t know anything about the worries and insecurities that plagued Antonia.

A mother’s worries never went away.

Ellie Traub could attest to that. Even when her boys were grown—as all of hers were—she never stopped worrying about them. She’d had moments with respect to each of her boys, although Clayton had always given her more cause for concern—at least until Forrest had shipped out to Iraq, but that was something she wouldn’t let herself think about right now.

Right now, she was focused on Clayton and her plan to get him back to Rust Creek Falls. The fourth youngest of her six sons and just as handsome as his brothers, Clay had done well in school, excelled at sports and had been popular with the girls. Maybe too popular.

He was a hard worker, she’d give him that, and he’d happily toiled on the family ranch alongside his father and brothers. He’d also boasted a very active social life, dating a lot of women over the years, although not any one woman extensively or exclusively. Certainly he’d never brought anyone home to meet the family, and when he hit his twenty-ninth birthday, Ellie had begun to despair that he never would settle down.

She’d only voiced her concerns to him once, at which time he’d confirmed that he was enjoying life too much to think about getting married or starting a family. And then an ex-girlfriend had shown up with a baby in tow.

There were worse things, Ellie knew very well, than having a son who’d fathered a child out of wedlock. But she worried that Clay’s refusal to marry the mother of his child was further proof that he wasn’t ever going to grow up and take responsibility. On that point, he’d quickly and definitively proven her wrong.

She couldn’t fault him for making his son his number one priority, but now that he’d proven to be so intently focused on his child, she did worry that he was ignoring other aspects of his life. A man needed a wife—and Bennett needed a mother—and she doubted that Clayton was going to find any prospects to fulfill either role while he was living as a recluse at some boarding house on the outskirts of town.

She had Bennett in her arms and was returning to the back room that D.J. had reserved for their family gathering when she saw the little boy’s eyes light up and his arms stretch out as if reaching for something. Curious, she turned to see what had caught his attention, and found the answer wasn’t a “what” but a “who”—a very attractive female who.

“You’ve got an eye for the pretty ladies, just like your daddy, don’t you?” she murmured.

But Ellie noticed that the pretty lady was looking right back at the baby and smiling. She gave a little wave. “Hi, Bennett.”

Ellie moved closer to her table. “I guess you know my grandson.”

The young woman nodded. “I’m Antonia Wright. Your sons and grandson are staying at my family’s ranch. And this is my friend Catherine.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Ellie said, instinctively noting that while Catherine’s left hand displayed an exquisite diamond solitaire and matching wedding band, Antonia’s hand was bare.

She found herself wondering why neither Clay nor Forrest had mentioned that there was a gorgeous, unattached woman living at the ranch where they were staying. A woman who had obviously bonded with Clay’s infant son.

Actually, she was sure that Forrest was oblivious to both Antonia’s beauty and her gender. She was equally sure that Clay was oblivious to neither. And she started to think that it might not be such a bad idea for Clay and Bennett to stay in Thunder Canyon a little while longer.

“Do you know what? I think I forgot my lipstick in the ladies’ room,” she said to Antonia. “Would you mind if I left Bennett with you for a sec while I go back to get it?”

“Of course not,” the young woman agreed, rising from her seat to take Bennett into her arms.

It was then that Ellie realized the situation might be a little more complicated than she’d thought.

Because while Antonia Wright might not have a ring on her finger, she definitely had a baby in her belly.

Chapter Three

Clay hadn’t objected to his mother’s offer to take Bennett to the ladies’ room to wash him up while they waited for their food to arrive. He knew how much Ellie missed her grandson and anytime she wanted to help out with the baby, he was willing to let her. But he did wonder, after more than ten minutes had passed, what was taking her so long. When the food was delivered before she’d returned, he slipped out of the private dining room to track her down and saw Ellie handing his little boy over to … Toni?

He hadn’t expected to see her here tonight, and his pulse gave a quick little jolt. He could lament the instinctive response as much as he wanted, but he couldn’t deny it. The bigger surprise came when he watched his mother walk away, leaving Bennett with their landlady.

Clay wasn’t worried—he trusted Toni implicitly. But he knew her; his mother didn’t. And he couldn’t help but be a little suspicious about Ellie’s willingness to relinquish her beloved grandson to a stranger.

In a few quick strides, Clay was standing beside Toni’s table. Bennett smiled at him but didn’t lift his head off of Antonia’s shoulder. Not that Clay could blame his son for choosing a beautiful woman over his daddy and, in this case, Bennett had the attention of two beautiful women.

“Small world,” he said to Toni, and smiled.

“I’m not sure about the world, but Thunder Canyon is,” she replied.

“Even so, there isn’t anyone anywhere who can top D.J.’s ribs,” her dinner companion chimed in.

“Can’t argue with that,” he replied, then offered his hand. “Clayton Traub.”

“Catherine Clif—I mean, Overton,” she said, then grinned and wiggled the fingers on her left hand. “I’m still getting used to the new name.”

“Congratulations,” Clay said.

“Thanks. But that reminds me, I should be getting home to my hubby.”

Toni narrowed her gaze at her friend. “I thought you said Cody wasn’t going to be home from Billings until late.”

“That’s what I thought, but—” Catherine held up her phone “—he just sent me a text to say he was home.”

Toni’s gaze shifted to the instrument in her hand, as if she didn’t believe her friend was being entirely truthful about the message. In fact, she looked as if she might have snatched the phone from her friend’s hand to verify the claim, if not for the fact that her own hands were full of baby.

“It was nice meeting you,” Catherine said to Clay. Then, to Toni, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

And with a quick wave over her shoulder, she was gone.

Clay slid into the seat she’d vacated. “I think your friend just stuck you with the bill.”

“It was my turn to pay, anyway,” she told him.

“And somehow you got stuck with my child again, too.”

She smiled at that. “Your mom had to pop back into the ladies’ room.”

His mother had barely let Bennett out of her sight since she’d arrived in Thunder Canyon, so Clay was still suspicious of Ellie’s motivations.

“You met my mom?”

“Bennett introduced us,” she said, which didn’t really explain anything, but Clay let it go.

“Do you want to come and meet the rest of the family?”

Toni immediately shook her head; he laughed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to seem so adamant. It just looks like you’ve got some kind of family reunion going on, and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion,” he assured her.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I should be getting back to the ranch. Morning—and the breakfast crowd—comes early.”

“It’s pancakes on Saturdays, isn’t it?” he asked hopefully, rising to his feet again.

“It is,” she agreed.

“Then we will be there.” He reached for his son, sighed when he saw that the little guy had fallen asleep on her shoulder again. “If I can get him up in the morning. Unfortunately, a half hour nap at this time of day will keep him up till midnight.”

“Sorry,” Toni apologized as she shifted the baby to him. “I didn’t know I was supposed to keep him awake.”

“You weren’t supposed to do anything,” he assured her. “That was my mother’s self-appointed task. But thank you again for stepping in.”

She tapped a fingertip to Bennett’s nose. “It was my pleasure.”

As Clay watched her walk away, he couldn’t help but think that every moment he spent with Toni Wright was very much his pleasure.

The house was dark and mostly quiet when Antonia returned home—the only light and sound being that which emanated from the television in the living room. Her brothers had headed to Bozeman for a bachelor party for a friend of Hudson’s and wouldn’t be back until Sunday, so it had to be her father who was home.

The Wright brothers worked hard during the week, and partied harder on the weekends. The Hitching Post used to be their favorite hangout and, in the past, they’d been known to drink beer and hustle pool there until all hours. Unfortunately, the establishment had gone out of business the previous spring after the owner passed away, forcing the locals to find other watering holes—at least temporarily. But shortly after The Hitching Post shut down, local boy Jason Traub bought the property and planned to reopen the renovated establishment later in October.

If that timetable held, Antonia’s brothers—and a lot of other Thunder Canyon residents—would be very happy.

Moving farther into the living room, Antonia saw that her father had fallen asleep in front of the television with a bottle of whiskey and highball glass on the table beside him. She sighed softly. For as long as she could remember, John Wright had always liked a glass of whiskey in the evening, but he’d rarely indulged in more than one glass. All of that had changed when his beloved wife passed away. John had turned to the bottle with increasing frequency, seeking solace in its contents, refusing to accept that there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to drown his sorrow.

But over the past few months, Antonia had gotten the impression that his drinking had lessened somewhat. Apparently that had just been wishful thinking on her part.

Except that when she reached for his glass, intending to take it to the kitchen, she noticed that the whiskey bottle still looked full. On closer inspection, she saw that the seal around the cap hadn’t even been cracked.

She lifted the empty glass, sniffed.

It was clean.

She set the glass down again. She didn’t understand why he’d taken the bottle out if he wasn’t drinking, but she didn’t care. It was only the not drinking part that mattered.

With a combination of relief and genuine affection, she touched her lips gently to his forehead, intending to slip out of the room and up to her own bed. In the past, if he’d drunken himself into a stupor, his only response would have been a snort or a snore. Tonight, he shifted, his eyes flickered open. Eyes that were weary but clear.

“Antonia?”

“Sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he told her. “Where are you comin’ in from so late?”

She smiled. “It’s not that late, and I was out for dinner with Catherine.”

“You missed a good meal right here,” he told her. “Peggy made roast pork tonight.”

She’d known what was on the menu, of course, since she and Peggy planned the week’s meals together every Sunday. And she wondered, not for the first time, if John Wright had any idea what she did around the ranch, how many responsibilities she’d taken on to make sure the bills got paid.

At one time, she’d thought he was proud of her. Since she got pregnant, she wasn’t so sure. And all she said now was, “I’m glad you enjoyed the pork.”

“You had a good meal? It’s important to eat right—” he cleared his throat “—for you and the baby.”

She thought again about her choice of fries rather than veggies but refused to feel guilty. Besides, she figured the glass of milk she’d had with her dinner helped balance out the indulgence.

“Lucinda craved the most unhealthy foods when she was pregnant,” her father told her now. “Especially when she was expecting you.”

Antonia’s breath caught in her throat at his mention of her mother. In the two years since Lucinda had been gone, she could count on one hand the number of times that he’d spoken his deceased wife’s name. The fact that he’d mentioned her now—maybe even in an effort to connect with his daughter?—was the most precious gift to Antonia.

“What kind of unhealthy foods?” she asked, mentally crossing her fingers that he would keep talking, that her question wouldn’t cause him to shut down.

“French fries, potato chips, ice cream.” He sent a pointed look in her direction, no doubt to let her know that he’d found her stash in the freezer.

“Ice cream is a dairy product,” she said, just a little defensively.

He smiled. “Just wait until your child uses that same line of logic on you.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“We’re never as ready as we think we are,” he told her.

A familiar sadness clouded his eyes, and she knew that he was thinking of his wife again, but this time, the memories weren’t nearly as happy.

“Life is so much easier when you have someone to share the ups and downs with,” he said. “I just wish you had someone by your side.”

“I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”

“I know you don’t,” he agreed. “You’ve always been so strong and independent. But sometimes it’s nice to know there’s a hand there—just in case.”

She understood that he was only trying to be helpful, but she didn’t agree. Experience had taught her that the only person she could truly rely on was herself.

Clay and Bennett didn’t come to the dining room for breakfast the next morning.

It wasn’t a big deal, really. Breakfast and dinner were part of the package at Wright’s Way, but there was no obligation on anyone to eat in the dining room or announce their intentions to do so. But Antonia was surprised by their absence because Clay had made a point of saying that he was looking forward to her pancakes.

Still, she didn’t dwell on it while she finished cleaning up the kitchen. And when she sat at the table with a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, she certainly didn’t expect he would show up in the doorway. But he did, just as she was popping a spoonful of the frozen decadence into her mouth.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw what she was eating, but didn’t comment, gesturing instead to the half-full coffeepot. “Mind if I steal a cup?”

She swallowed quickly, then winced at the ice cream headache which burned across her forehead. “Help yourself.”

He found a mug in the cupboard and filled it with French roast.

“Sugar’s on the counter beside the pot, cream’s in the fridge.”

“Black is fine.”

He settled across from her at the table, and her heart started beating double-time. Damn hormones.

“Sorry we missed your pancakes, but my parents insisted on taking Bennett and me to the Mountain Bluebell Bakery for breakfast this morning.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Antonia assured him. “If someone offered to take me there for breakfast, I’d go, too. Lizzie’s pastries are to die for.”

“Then I should take you sometime, if only to make sure you aren’t eating ice cream for your morning meal.”

“I had breakfast,” she told him. “This is a snack.” She scooped up another spoonful. “What did you have?”

“A breakfast sandwich—and then a sticky bun,” he admitted. “And somehow Bennett ended up stickier than me.”

She smiled at that. “Where is the little guy?”

“Still with my parents. My mom has been suffering from serious baby withdrawal since we came to Thunder Canyon, so she asked if she could keep him for the afternoon.”

“Lucky you.”

“Except that I’m so used to organizing my time around Bennett, I don’t have the first clue what to do without him,” he admitted.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Well, when we were at the bakery this morning, someone mentioned there’s a movie theater in New Town.”

She nodded. “New Town Cinema, behind the mall. There are some pretty good movies playing now, too.”

“Anything you’d be interested in seeing?”

“Sure,” she said, scraping the bottom of the bowl. “But I rarely find the time—”

“Toni,” he interrupted.

She looked up.

“I’m asking you to go see a movie with me this afternoon.”

“Oh.” She honestly didn’t know what else to say. It was as if her mind had gone completely blank.

Amusement glinted in his deep brown eyes. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Um … yes?”

He reached for The Thunder Canyon Nugget that was on the table, found the Arts & Entertainment page of the newspaper and offered it to her. “Check the listings and let me know what you want to see.”

Screen number one was showing a new romantic comedy that had been getting good reviews, but Antonia didn’t want to send Clay the wrong message by immediately choosing that one. Unfortunately, the only other option was a horror movie that she had less than zero interest in seeing.

She wrinkled her nose. “I really hate slasher films.”

“Then we’ll see something else,” he said agreeably.

“There’s nothing with car chases or nuclear explosions,” she warned.

“I’ll chance it if you will. Are you in?”

There was just a hint of a challenge in his voice. Just enough to entice her to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m in.”

There were a lot of things Clay could have done with a free afternoon. He could have saddled up one of the horses and gone for a ride, or he could have curled up in his bed and indulged in a long uninterrupted nap, and both of those options held a certain amount of appeal. But when he sat down and tried to figure out what he wanted to do, only one thing was clear—he wanted to see Toni.

Maybe the answer had surprised him, but he didn’t let it worry him. He didn’t think there was any need to overanalyze the impulse. He liked Toni. She was smart and funny; she had her own opinions and wasn’t afraid to share them. She was also beautiful and sexy—so beautiful and sexy that he frequently forgot that she was seven months pregnant.

But he wasn’t going to forget that anymore. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking that today was about anything more than two adults spending a few hours together because they both had time on their hands.

They chatted easily on the drive into New Town, moving from one topic of conversation to the next without any awkward silences between them. Clay thought it was interesting that he’d seen this woman every day for the past month and a half and they still hadn’t run out of things to talk about.

Of course, a lot of their discussion centered on Bennett, with Clay sharing anecdotes of his son’s adventures and Toni marveling over his talents. And throughout their conversation, neither one pressed for information that the other wasn’t willing to confide. It was as if, by unspoken agreement, they each respected the other’s established boundaries, for which he was extremely grateful.

Toni pulled out her wallet at the ticket window, but he shook his head. “I invited you to come, so this is my treat.”

“Then I’ll get the popcorn,” she told him. “Right after I make a quick trip to the ladies’ room.”

He didn’t know if her determination to pay her share was a way of proving her independence or intended to assert—loudly and clearly—that this was not a date. Just in case he might have any illusions to the contrary.

And he was just perverse enough to want to make an issue of it, which he did by purchasing their snacks while he was waiting for her to return.

Toni scowled when she saw the armload of boxes and cups he carried. “I said I was going to get the popcorn.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “This is for me.”

She stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he was serious. Then she shrugged and started toward the counter.

He stepped in front of her. “I was kidding.”

“Oh.”

He handed her a cup. “I figured you’re probably trying to limit your caffeine intake so I got you an uncola.”

“I am. Thanks.”

“But I went for butter on the popcorn,” he confessed. “Because it was actual butter and not that fake topping stuff you get in some of the chain movie theaters.”

“Did you get extra napkins, too?”

“I did,” he concurred. “And Milk Duds.”

Her eyes actually lit up. “Milk Duds?”

Clay chuckled. “I guessed that you’d want some sweet to balance the salty.”

“Good guess,” she said.

They’d started toward the doors for screen number one when a female voice called out, “Antonia?”

The easy smile on Toni’s face slipped, just a little, before she secured it back in place and turned to face the speaker.

“Hello, Vanessa.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you. Oh, my god, you look like you’re about ready to burst.”

Toni shrugged casually, unfazed by the insensitive remark. “Not quite. I’ve still got several weeks to go.”

“Really? Wow. I couldn’t imagine letting my body expand like that for a baby.”

“No, I don’t imagine you could,” Toni replied.

It was a subtle zing, and Clay had to fight a smile as he watched the comment fly right over Vanessa’s shallow head.

“So,” the other woman said, her cool, blue gaze giving Clay a leisurely once-over, “who’s your friend?”

“Clayton Traub,” Toni said, making the introductions with obvious reluctance. “Clay, this is Vanessa Wallace, a … friend from high school.”

Vanessa blinded him with a smile. “Hel-lo, Clay-ton.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with cool politeness.

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