A single mom, her baby girl...

And maverick make three!

Logan Crawford might just be the perfect man. From the top of his Stetson to his pointy-toed boots, he is 100 percent cowboy. A girl would have to be a fool to turn him down. Or a coward.

Sarah Turner thinks she might be both. But the single mom has no time for love and no inclination to be the sexy rancher’s “just for now.” Logan, however, is determined to steal her heart!

CHRISTINE RIMMER came to her profession the long way around. She tried everything from acting to teaching to telephone sales. Now she’s f nally found work that suits her perfectly. She insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining ‘life experience’ for her future as a novelist. Christine lives with her family in Oregon. Visit her at christinerimmer.com

Also by Christine Rimmer

The Nanny’s Double Trouble

Almost a Bravo

Same Time, Next Christmas

Switched at Birth

Carter Bravo’s Christmas Bride

James Bravo’s Shotgun Bride

Ms. Bravo and the Boss

A Bravo for Christmas

The Lawman’s Convenient Bride

Garrett Bravo’s Runaway Bride

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Her Favourite Maverick

Christine Rimmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09126-8

HER FAVOURITE MAVERICK

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Thanks to the brilliant and beautiful Kimberly Fletcher,

who named the sweet white kitten in this story.

Kimberly suggested I call the kitten Opal—and I did.

I love that name so much! As a thank-you, I offered

to dedicate this book to Kimberly. She asked instead

that I give her a different kind of dedication...

Her Favourite Maverick is dedicated to Wildflower and

Miss Clack and to everyone who has survived cancer.

Kimberly would also like to dedicate this story to

those who live with a cancer survivor and to anyone

who has suffered the loss of a loved one to cancer.

Cancer touches all of us in one way or another.

Fight hard, reach out to those you love

and know that you are not alone.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

As Sarah Turner emerged from the tiny back-room office of the former train depot, Vivienne Shuster Dalton glanced up from a worktable covered in fabric swatches, to-do lists, project folders and open sample books.

“There you are,” said Viv.

“Just giving it all one more look.” Sarah tried for a light tone, but going over the books yet another time hadn’t changed a thing. The news was not good.

“Please tell us you’ve found a solution to our problem.”

If only.

Viv’s business partner, Caroline Ruth Clifton, stood across the worktable from her. Caroline turned her big dark eyes on Sarah and asked hopefully, “We can swing it, right?”

The answer was no.

And for Sarah, whether she was trying to claw her way up the food chain at the biggest accounting firm in Chicago or working in her dad’s little office right here in Rust Creek Falls, Montana, her least favorite part of the job remained the same. She hated telling clients that they were in trouble—especially clients she liked and admired.

Viv and Caroline were a couple of dynamos. They’d even opened a second location down in Thunder Canyon, Montana. Caroline spent most of her time there.

And here in Rust Creek Falls, all the brides flocked to the old train depot to get Viv to create their perfect wedding.

Unfortunately, both the rustic train depot and Viv’s primary local wedding venue—the brick freight house nearby—needed new roofs. All new. They couldn’t just slap a fresh layer of shingles on. Both buildings required tear-outs and rebuilds. Plus, there were structural issues that would have to be addressed. Viv had collected bids. She knew what the work would cost.

It was a lot.

And the wedding planners had already stretched every penny to the limit.

Gently, Sarah laid it out. “I’m sorry. I’ve been over and over the numbers you gave me. The money just isn’t there. You need a loan or an investor.”

“A loan against what?” Viv was shaking her head. “The buildings and the land belong to Cole’s family.” Her husband, Cole Dalton, was a local rancher. Cole and his large extended family owned a lot of the land in the Rust Creek Falls Valley. “I can’t take a loan against my in-laws’ property. We’re doing great, but, Sarah, you already know it’s all on a shoestring—and frankly, I struck out on my own so that I could do this my way.” Viv’s big green eyes shone with sheer determination. “An investor is going to want a say in how we run things.”

“Not necessarily. Some investors just want a percentage of—”

The little bell over the front door cut Sarah off midsentence.

“Good morning, ladies,” boomed a deep male voice. The imposing figure in the open doorway swept off his black Stetson to reveal a thick head of silver hair. “Maximilian Crawford, at your service.” The man plunked his big hat to his heart. Tall and powerfully built, with a handsome, lived-in face and a neatly trimmed goatee and mustache, the guy almost didn’t seem real. He reminded Sarah of a character from one of those old-time TV Westerns. “I’m looking for Vivienne Dalton, the wedding planner,” he announced.

“I’m Viv.” Viv started to step out from behind the worktable.

But Maximilian was faster. In five giant strides, he was at her side. He took Viv’s hand and kissed it. “Such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things.” He turned to Caroline, kissed her hand and then took Sarah’s and brushed his mustache across the back of it, too.

Viv, who’d looked slightly stunned when the older man bowed over her hand, recovered quickly and made introductions. “Maximilian, this is Caroline, my partner, and Sarah Turner, with Falls Mountain Accounting.”

“So happy to meet you, all three of you—and please call me Max. My sons and I have bought the Ambling A Ranch east of here. We’re newly arrived from the Dallas area, but we have Crawford relatives here in Rust Creek Falls. We’re putting down roots in your fine community.”

“Welcome to town, Max.” Viv cut to the point. “How can we help you?”

“I have an important job that needs doing. And, Vivienne, I know you are the one to tackle it.”

“Well, if it’s a wedding you’re after, you’ve come to the right place. I take it you’re the groom?”

Max threw back his silver head and let out a booming laugh. “Sorry, Viv. Not me. I’ve had enough of wedded bliss to last me three lifetimes. But my boys are another story. I’ve got six, each one better lookin’ than the one before. Goodhearted, my boys, if a bit skittish on the subject of love and marriage. As we speak, all six are single.” He shook a finger. “You ask me, that goes against the laws of God and man. It’s about time my boys settled down.”

Caroline wore a puzzled frown. “So, then, what you’re saying is that all six of your sons are engaged?”

Max let out a low, rueful chuckle. “No, pretty lady. What I’m saying is that my boys need brides. And, Viv, that’s where you come in. I want you and the lovely Caroline here to find each of my boys the perfect woman to marry—for a price, of course. A very nice price.”

A silence followed. A long one. Sarah, who’d moved back from the worktable to let the wedding planners do their stuff, couldn’t help wondering if maybe Max Crawford was a few bucking broncs short of a rodeo. And judging by their carefully neutral expressions, Viv and Caroline also had their doubts.

However, the train depot roofs weren’t going to replace themselves. Viv needed a large infusion of cash, stat. And if Max was for real, cash was exactly what he offered—too bad he was ordering up services Caroline and Viv didn’t provide.

“But, Max,” Viv said patiently, “we plan weddings. We aren’t matchmakers.”

“And why not? Matchmaking is an honest, time-honored practice. A lucrative one, too—at least it will be for you, with me as your client.”

Viv slowly shook her head. “I’m so sorry. But we just don’t—”

“A million,” Max cut in, bringing a trio of stunned gasps from Viv, Caroline and Sarah, too. Max nodded at Viv. “You heard me right. A million dollars. You find my boys wives and the money is yours.”

“Max.” Viv let out a weak laugh. “That’s just crazy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve made my fortune thinking outside the box. And that makes me living, breathing proof that anything can be achieved if you’re willing to make your own rules.”

Sarah took another step back from the worktable. She couldn’t have disagreed more. Rules mattered. And as much as she would like for Max to be the solution to Viv’s money troubles, fast-talking men were dangerous. Sarah had learned that sad lesson the hard way.

Viv wasn’t going for it, either. “Are you asking us to set up six arranged marriages? No. Definitely not. Caroline and I could never do that.”

“Arranged?” Max huffed out a breath. “No way. My boys would never go for that. They’ll choose their own brides. All I’m asking is that you find the perfect woman for each of them.”

“Right,” Viv scoffed. “Easy peasy.”

“Love isn’t something you can force.” Caroline added her quiet voice to Viv’s mocking one. “It really does have to develop naturally and—”

“Caroline, darlin’.” Max patted her shoulder. “I couldn’t agree with you more. We’re on the same page. You won’t be arranging anything. You won’t need to. I’ve heard all about Rust Creek Falls. Love is everywhere you turn around here and the percentage of pretty women is satisfyingly high. You set my boys up and they are bound to fall.”

Sarah took another step back. How could they believe a word the guy said? He talked too fast and he’d openly admitted that he made his own rules.

As if he’d sensed her retreat, the big man shifted his glance to Sarah. “So how ’bout you, darlin’?”

Sarah straightened her shoulders and hitched up her chin. “What about me?”

“Are you looking for the right guy to marry?”

She was looking for anything but. “Excuse me? You want to marry me off to one of your sons?”

“Sweet, sweet Sarah, just say yes.” Max actually winked at her. “You won’t regret it.”

“Sorry, but I’m not on the, um, market.”

“Got a sweetheart already, then?”

“No. I’m simply not interested.”

Max heaved a big sigh. “That’s a crying shame, and I mean that sincerely. You’re a beautiful woman with a sharp brain, I can tell. You’d be just perfect for—”

“Dad. What are you up to now?” At the sound of another commanding male voice, Sarah whirled toward the open door.

“Patience, Logan,” Max replied. “Just give your old man a few minutes more.”

“They plan weddings here, Dad. You don’t have a fiancée, so you don’t need a wedding. Xander and I are getting tired of waiting in the truck.”

Sarah tried not to stare. But really, who could blame her? The cowboy in the doorway was hot—tall and lean, with thick brown hair and a mouth that would have just about any girl thinking of long, scorching kisses.

At the moment, though, that gorgeous mouth was scowling at Max. “What’s going on here?”

As he spoke, another fine-looking cowboy entered behind him. The second guy said, “Whatever you think you’re pulling, Dad—don’t.”

Max only laughed. “Come on over here, boys. Let me introduce you to Viv, Caroline and Sarah.” His big white teeth gleamed as his smile stretched wide again. “What did I tell you, ladies? Meet my oldest son, Logan, and third-born, Xander.”

The first cowboy, Logan, flicked a glance in Sarah’s direction—and froze. Now he was staring right at her. “Hello, Sarah,” he said low. Intimately. As though they were the only two people in the room.

And then he was on the move again, coming straight for her. He stopped a foot away, right up in her space. The breath fled her lungs. The guy was even hotter up close. It should be illegal to have eyes so blue.

With a little shiver of unwelcome delight, she took his offered hand. His big, warm fingers engulfed hers. More shivers skittered up her arm.

Absurd. Sarah Turner had no time for the shivers. Not anymore. No way was she letting a pair of bedroom eyes lead her astray again.

But Logan wasn’t making it easy for her. He stared at her like she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

Why? She so didn’t get it. She was not at her best and hadn’t been for way too long now. A year and a half ago, she’d been hot...ish.

Now, though? She wore her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way and didn’t bother with makeup beyond a swipe of mascara and maybe some lip gloss. On a good day, she made it all the way to dinnertime without getting spit-up on her shirt.

Max just kept talking. “Boys, Viv and Caroline here not only plan weddings, they also serve as the Rust Creek Falls dating service.” Such a liar, that Max. He wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the butt. “And Sarah is not only gorgeous—she’s got a mind for figures, works as an accountant right in town. Falls Mountain Accounting, I believe. Have I got that right, Sarah?”

Logan still held her hand. She really ought to pull away. But she didn’t. “I’m a CPA, yes,” she said as she continued to stare into Logan’s blue eyes.

“I think I need an accountant,” said the killer-handsome cowboy in that deep, smooth voice of his, never once letting go of her gaze—or her hand. “And a dating service works for me. Sign me up. I’ll take you, Sarah. To dinner. Tonight.”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” She laughed, playing it off, as her traitorous heart flipped cartwheels inside her chest.

Ridiculous. Impossible. She had no time for dates. If she had any extra time, she would spend it sleeping. And never again would she believe the lies of a handsome, smooth-talking man.

Max was still talking. “Sarah, Logan here is a self-made man. He grew up on our ranch in Texas, but he couldn’t wait to get out on his own. Earned his fortune in Seattle, in real estate.”

Logan chuckled. “Shut up, Dad.”

Max didn’t miss a beat. “Son, why don’t you and Sarah go on into town? Take her to the donut shop. You can firm up your dinner plans over bear claws and coffee.”

Sarah opened her mouth to give both father and son a firm no when a baby’s cry from the back room did it for her.

“Huh?” Max blinked in surprise. “That sounds like a—”

“Excuse me.” Sarah pulled her hand free of Logan’s warm grip and managed a breezy smile. “My little girl wants her mother.” Turning neatly on her heel, she headed for the back room.

Was she disappointed that a certain dreamboat of a man was bound to lose interest fast when faced with a crying baby?

A little, maybe. But not that disappointed.

Really, it was for the best.

* * *

Logan Crawford watched Sarah’s bouncing ponytail as she trotted away from him. What was it about her? Those big golden-brown eyes, all that shining bronze hair? That smile she had that was shy and devilish simultaneously? Damned if that smile didn’t dare him to kiss her.

He would take that dare at the first opportunity.

Was she married?

He hadn’t seen a ring—and yeah, the baby kind of gave him pause.

But not that much of a pause. He could work around the baby. As long as she was single, well, why shouldn’t the two of them have a little fun? Nothing lasted forever and he liked it that way.

It was chemistry, pure and simple. Sexual attraction. And damn, it felt good.

His dad was still talking to the other two women, while Xander just stood there looking midway between vaguely intrigued and slightly annoyed by what they were saying.

Logan, on the other hand, felt downright invigorated. He hadn’t felt like this in years. Maybe never. Lately, he’d been kind of off his game when it came to women. He just had no drive to hook up and hadn’t been with anyone in months.

But everything had changed the minute he set eyes on Sarah.

Just let her be single. That was all he asked.

She emerged from the back room with a backpack-style diaper bag hanging off one shoulder, a giant leather tote dangling from one hand and a pouty-faced infant in a baby carrier on the other arm. “Sorry, everyone. We’ll just be going.”

Uh-uh. Not yet. In four strides, Logan reached her. “Here. Let me help you.” The baby stuck a fist in her mouth and stared up at him, wide-eyed.

“No, really.” Sarah seemed flustered. Her cheeks had turned the sweetest shade of pink. “There’s no need. I’m good.”

He ignored her objections and eased the diaper bag off her shoulder. “What’s her name?” He took hold of the tote. For a moment, she held on like she wouldn’t let him take it.

But then she let go. “Sophia,” she said. “Her name is Sophia.”

“Pretty name. How old is she?” He wiggled his eyebrows at the baby, who had a pink cloth flower tied around her mostly bald head.

“Five months,” said Sarah.

The baby took her slobbery hand out of her mouth long enough to announce, “Ah-da!” and stuck it right back in.

Behind him, his dad started flapping his jaws again, apologizing for trying to set them up. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I didn’t see a ring on your finger and I assumed—”

“You assumed right,” Sarah responded coolly. “I’m not married.”

Excellent. “But are you engaged?” Logan rattled off the pertinent questions. “Living with someone? Dating exclusively?”

“None of the above,” she replied. “It’s just me and Sophia.” As if on cue, the little girl let out a goofy giggle around the fist in her mouth. Sarah added, delectably defiant, “Just us. And we like it that way.”

So she’s free. It was all Logan needed to know.

Unfortunately—and for no reason Logan could understand—Max moved in next to him. “Son, Sarah has to go. Give her back her things.”

Not happening. Not yet. “Give us a minute, would you, Dad?” He turned his back on his father and moved in closer to Sarah and little Sophia. That caused Sarah to retreat a step. Logan closed the distance. The process repeated—Sarah retreating, Logan eliminating the space she’d created—until they reached the door.

A glance over his shoulder revealed that Max had started talking to the wedding planners again. His dad and the blonde wedding planner shook hands. Logan made a mental note to find out what that was about as he turned his attention back to the irresistible brown-eyed girl.

She said, “I really do have to go.”

Logan held on to her tote and diaper bag and started talking, pulling out all the stops, flirting shamelessly with both the woman and her baby. He made silly faces at Sophia as he coaxed information from Sarah, learning that she’d moved back to Rust Creek Falls a month before and had a cottage in town.

“Truly, Logan.” Sarah’s pretty white teeth nibbled nervously at her plump lower lip, driving him just a little bit crazy. He wanted to nibble on that lip himself. “I’m not interested in dating. I’m way too busy for anything like that.”

He nodded. “I understand. Let me help you out to your car.”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

“Yeah, it is. You’ve got too much to carry and I’ve got a couple of perfectly good free hands.”

Her sweet mouth twisted with indecision—and then she gave up. “Well, um, okay. Thank you.”

He walked her out to her white CR-V and waited while she strapped the baby’s carrier in the back seat, handing her the giant bag and backpack when she was ready for them. She set them on the floor, shut the door and went around to the driver’s door. Admiring the view, Logan followed after her.

“Well,” she said with an overly bright smile as he held open the door for her. “Good luck, then—with the ranch and all.”

“’Preciate that,” he replied. She jumped in behind the wheel, her denim skirt riding up a little, giving him a perfect glimpse of one smooth, shapely thigh. “Drive safe,” he said and shut the door.

She waved as she pulled out. He stood in the warm June sunlight, watching her drive away, thinking that he would be good for her, that she needed to get out and have some fun.

Sarah Turner deserved a little romance in her life and Logan Crawford was just the man to give her what she deserved.

Chapter Two

“Logan, it’s a bad idea,” his father said. “You need to forget about Sarah Turner.”

It was past six that evening. Logan, his dad and Xander were out on the porch of the ranch house at the Ambling A enjoying a beer after spending a few hours plowing through the stacks of boxes that weren’t going to unpack themselves. At some point, one of them needed to go inside and hustle up a meal. But for now, it was nice out and the beer was ice-cold and refreshing.

Logan stared off toward the snow-tipped mountains. The sky was cloudless, perfectly blue. “I like her, Dad. And it’s not your call.” He didn’t point out that he was a grown-ass man and would do what he damn well wanted to do. Max ought to know that by now. “I’m curious, though. She’s single, smart and pretty. She works for a living. She’s got it all going on as far as I can see. What have you got against her?”

“Nothing,” Max answered gruffly. “You’re right. She seems like a fine person.”

Xander rocked back in his chair and hoisted his boots up onto the porch rail. “So what’s the problem then, Dad? I was standing right there when you struck that crazy deal with the wedding planners to find us all brides for a cool million bucks. To me, that means you want us all to get married. Whether that’s ever gonna happen is another question entirely. But the way I see it, if Logan’s found a girl already, you should count your blessings.”

A million dollars to marry them off? Logan hadn’t heard that part. Sometimes his dad came up with the wildest ideas. Logan had no plans to marry anybody. But that wasn’t the point. He followed Xander’s lead. “Yeah, Dad. You were eager enough to hook Sarah and me up until the baby started crying.”

Max sipped his beer. “I do want you boys married. It’s about damn time. But when kids are involved, well, things get too complicated.” He pointed his longneck at Logan. “Take my word for it, son. You don’t need that kind of trouble. Viv will find you someone perfect—someone sweet and pretty without a baby hanging off her hip.”

“I’ll say it again, Dad. I like Sarah and I’m going to move on that.”

“I don’t want you—”

“Stop. Listen. There is no problem here. You don’t want me marrying Sarah Turner? Great. I’m not going to marry her—or anyone. The last thing I want right now is a wife, with or without a baby in the bargain, so you can save that million bucks. When my time comes to tie the knot—if it ever does—I’ll find my own bride. I don’t need anyone setting me up.”

Xander recrossed his boots on the railing. “That’s too bad. Because Dad’s got that wedding planner setting us all up.”

Logan leveled a warning look on his dad. “Are you listening? Because you ought to know your own sons better than that. I think I can speak for all six of us when I say that we’re not letting anyone choose brides for us—not you, Dad, and not those two wedding planners back at the train depot.”

“Nobody’s choosing for you,” Max insisted. “Viv and Caroline are just going to be introducing you to some lovely young single ladies. You should thank me for making it so easy for you to develop social connections in our new hometown.”

Xander grunted. “Social connections? You’re kind of scaring me now, Dad.”

“I just don’t get it,” Logan said to Max. “For years, you’ve been going on about how marriage is a trap—and now suddenly you’re shelling out a million bucks to make sure we’ve each got a wife?”

“Yeah.” Xander scowled. “Seriously, Dad. You need to cut that crap out.”

“Don’t get on me, boys.” Max assumed a wounded expression, but he didn’t say he would give up his matchmaking scheme.

Not that Logan really expected him to. Unfortunately, once Maximilian Crawford got an idea in his head, telling him to cut it out wouldn’t stop him.

They would have to warn their brothers that Max had brokered a marriage deal for all of them and they shouldn’t be surprised to find a lot of “lovely single ladies” popping up every time they turned around.

Just then, a quad cab rolled into the yard. A tall, solidly built cowboy got out.

Max stood from his chair. “Nate Crawford. Thanks for coming.”

The guy did have that Crawford look about him—strong and square-jawed. He joined them on the porch. Max offered him a beer. They made small talk for a few minutes.

Nate, Logan learned, was a mover and shaker in Rust Creek Falls. He owned controlling interest in the upscale hotel just south of town called Maverick Manor. Logan thought Nate seemed a little reserved. He couldn’t tell for sure whether that was because Nate was just one of those self-contained types—or because Max’s reputation had preceded him.

Logan loved his dad, but Max was no white knight. The man was a world-class manipulator and more than a bit of a scamp. Yeah, he’d made himself a fortune over the years—but there was no doubt he’d done more than one shady deal.

Yet people were drawn to him. Take Logan and his brothers. They were always complaining about Max’s crazy schemes. Yet somehow Max had convinced each one of them to make this move to Montana.

For Logan, it was partly a matter of timing. He’d been between projects in Seattle and ready for a change. When Max had offered a stake in a Montana cattle ranch, Logan had packed his bags and headed for Big Sky Country.

If nothing else, he’d thought it would be good for him to get some time with his brothers. And yeah, he couldn’t help wondering what wild scheme his dad might be cooking up now.

Never in a thousand years would Logan have guessed that Max had decided to marry them all off.

Max clapped Nate on the shoulder. “I really do appreciate your dropping by. Wanted to touch base, you know? Family does matter, after all. And now that me and the boys are settling in the area, we’d like to get to know you and everyone else in the family here.”

“How about this?” Nate offered. “Saturday night. Dinner at Maverick Manor. The Rust Creek Falls Crawfords will all be there.”

“That’ll work,” said Max. “My other four boys will be up from Texas with the breeding stock by then. Expect all seven of us.”

“Looking forward to it.” Nate raised his beer and Max tapped it with his.

* * *

The next morning at nine sharp, Logan paid a visit to Falls Mountain Accounting.

The door was unlocked, so he walked right in.

Inside, he found a deserted waiting room presided over by an empty front desk with a plaque on it that read, Florence Turner, Office Manager. The door with Sarah’s name on it was wide open. No sign of his favorite accountant, though.

The door next to Sarah’s was shut. The nameplate on that one read Mack Turner, Accountant. Something was going on inside that office. Faintly, Logan heard muffled moans and sighs.

A woman’s voice cried softly, “Oh, yes. Yes, my darling. Yes, my love. Yes, yes, yes!”

Logan debated whether to turn and run—or stick around just to see who emerged from behind that door.

Wait a minute. What if it was Sarah carrying on in there?

It had damn well better not be.

He dropped into one of the waiting room chairs—and then couldn’t sit still. Rising again, he tossed his hat on the chair and paced the room.

What was this he was feeling—like his skin was too tight and he wanted to punch someone?

Jealousy?

Not happening. Logan Crawford had never been the jealous type.

He was...curious, that’s all, he reassured himself as he marched back to his chair, scooped up his hat and sat down again.

The sounds from behind the shut door reached a muted crescendo and finally stopped.

A few minutes later, a flushed, dewy-eyed older woman who looked quite a bit like Sarah emerged from Mack Turner’s office. Her brown hair needed combing and her silky shirt was half-untucked.

“Oh!” Her blush deepened as she spotted Logan. “I, um...” She tugged in her shirt and patted at her hair. “I’m so sorry. Just, um, going over the calendar for the day. I’m Florence Turner.”

Hiding his grin, he rose again. She marched straight for him, arm outstretched.

“Logan Crawford,” he said as they shook.

“Please just call me Flo. I manage the office. We’re a family business, just my husband, our daughter, Sarah, and me.” Flo put extra heavy emphasis on the word husband. Apparently, she wanted to make it perfectly clear that whatever he’d heard going on behind Mack Turner’s door was sanctioned by marriage. “Are you here to see Mack?”

“I’m waiting for Sarah.”

“Oh! Did you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly.” He tried a rueful smile.

“Well, I apologize for the mix-up, but Sarah has meetings with clients—all day, I think she said.”

“Really? That’s inconvenient.” He patted his pockets. “I seem to have lost my phone.” He’d left it in the truck, but Flo didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sarah’s mom said.

“Unfortunately, that means now I don’t have Sarah’s cell number...” Okay, yeah. He’d never had a cell number for her. But it was only a little lie.

And it worked like a charm. Flo whipped out Sarah’s business card. It had her office, home and cell numbers on it.

“You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

“Any time, Logan—and you’re more than welcome to use the phone on my desk.”

“Uh, no. I need a coffee. I’ll use the pay phone at the donut shop up the street.”

That was another lie. He called her from his truck as soon as he was out of sight of Falls Mountain Accounting.

* * *

Sarah was with a client when the call came in from an unknown number. She let it go straight to voice mail. The day was a busy one, appointments stacked up one after the other.

When she finally checked messages in the late afternoon, she found one from Logan.

“Hello, Sarah. It’s Logan Crawford. Call me back when you get a minute.”

She played it through twice, sitting in her white CR-V with Sophia snoozing in the back seat. His voice, so calm and commanding, made her feel strangely breathless.

The truth was, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him, of the way he’d looked at her, like she was the only person in the room, of the way he’d kept hold of her hand when there was no excuse for him to be holding it beyond the fact that he wanted to. She’d loved how he’d been so sweet to Sophia and that he’d insisted on carrying her diaper bag and tote out to the car.

Plus, well, he was way too good-looking and she hadn’t been with a man in over a year.

The plan was to give up men, after all. At least for a decade or so—maybe longer.

And really, hadn’t she made her unavailability perfectly clear to him?

Annoyed and flustered and oddly gleeful all at the same time, she called him back.

“Hello, Sarah.”

“Hi, Logan. How did you get my number?”

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

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

“I get it. I called on business.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand.”

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

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

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

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

“All right, Logan. Have it your way.”

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

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

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

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

“Well, I’ve got that, too.”

She quoted her hourly rate.

“That works. Today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey. You on the job at the Manor tomorrow?

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

Not tomorrow. Why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

What? You think I won’t pay you?

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

Very funny.

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

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

Sarah, I meant it. Ask your mom.

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

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

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

“Asleep at the moment.”

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

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

Sarah was afraid to ask.

Her mom prompted, “Did he call you?”

“Logan Crawford, you mean?”

“That’s him.”

“Yes, he called me.”

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

“Yeah, I’ve seen him. Thanks, Mom.”

“You should snap that one up.”

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

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

“Mom!”

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

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

“Honey, at last!”

“What do you mean by that?”

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You had a ranch?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His questions were perfectly reasonable.

Her response took her completely by surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be happy to do your taxes.”

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

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

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

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

Uh-uh. It needed to stop.

“I should get to work,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The lovely Sarah,” the older man said. “What a surprise.” Something in his tone made her uneasy, some faint edge of...what? Mistrust? Disapproval?

But why?

“Hi, Max.” She gave him a big smile.

He didn’t smile back or even give her a nod, but turned to Logan as though she wasn’t even there. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Can’t it wait? Sarah and I were just—”

“Go.” Sarah faked an offhand tone. She felt completely dismissed by Max and that had her emotions seesawing again the way they had in the front all. There was absolutely no reason she should care if Logan’s dad didn’t like her. But she did care. There was a clutch in her throat and a burning behind her eyes as her totally inappropriate tears threatened to rise again. She waved Logan off. “Talk to your dad. I’ll finish clearing the desk and get to work.”

* * *

Impatient to return to his favorite accountant, Logan reluctantly followed Max out to the back porch.

The old man leaned on one of the posts that framed the steps down to the yard. He stared out at the ragged clumps of wild bunchgrass that extended to the back fence. Like too many fences on the property, it needed repair.

Logan braced a shoulder against the other post. “Okay, Dad. What’s so important we have to deal with it right this second?”

Max’s gaze remained on the backyard. He took a long count of ten to answer. “I can see now why you suddenly decided we needed to get the books in order.”

Why deny it? “You know I like Sarah. It shouldn’t be a surprise—and we do need someone to set up a system to keep track of everything.”

“You’ve got a fancy business degree. You can do all that yourself.”

“Dad, I didn’t come to Montana to take up bookkeeping. Sarah is equipped to do it fast and efficiently.”

Max slanted him a narrow look. “Maybe you don’t trust your old dad. You think you need a professional to tell you that everything’s on the up-and-up.”

Logan snorted out a dry laugh. “Oh, come on. I wouldn’t have signed on for this if I thought you were up to something you shouldn’t be. Still, it never hurts to have a professional putting a good system in place, keeping everyone honest.”

“So you’re telling me she’s only here for her bookkeeping skills? You’ve got absolutely no interest in those big amber eyes and that pretty smile?”

This conversation was a complete waste of time—time he could be spending with the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. “I’m thirty-three years old,” Logan said flatly, “long past the age I have to run my personal choices by you. I’ll date who I want to date.” At least, I will if I can somehow convince Sarah to give me a shot.

“A woman with a child, Logan. It’s a bad idea. If it doesn’t work out, the kids are always the ones who suffer.”

Logan had had about enough. He straightened from the porch post and turned to face his father directly. “What is it with you all of a sudden? Are you talking about Sheila?” Sheila was his mother. She’d left them when Logan was seven. It had taken him several years to accept that she was no mother to him in any way that mattered. Even saying her name made a bitter taste in his mouth. Max shot him a bleak glance, but then, without a word, he turned and stared off toward the fence again.

“You dragged me out here,” Logan prodded. “Talk. I’m listening.”

But Max only waved a dismissive hand and continued to stare at nothing. Fed up with him, Logan went back in the house.

When he entered the office, Sarah glanced up sharply from behind the desk. He didn’t like the look on her face, a tense look, kind of teary-eyed, a look a lot like the one she’d had in the front hall earlier.

He pushed the door shut behind him. If Max had more to say, he could damn well knock. “What’s wrong?”

She had her laptop open and the big packet of sale documents spread out in front of her. Shutting the laptop, she rose. “You know what? I should go.” She swiftly lined up the stack of papers and closed the packet. “I know of a perfectly good bookkeeper in Kalispell. I’ll text you his number.”

“Sarah.”

She didn’t answer, just scooped up her laptop and took a step out from behind the desk. Logan stopped her by blocking her path, causing her to clutch the laptop to her chest and stare up at him defiantly. “Excuse me, please.”

“Sarah.”

She hitched up her pretty chin. “You are in my way.”

“What’s the matter?” It took everything he had not to touch her, not to grab her good and tight in his arms. “Talk to me.”

Her soft lips trembled. “It’s, um, quite obvious that your dad doesn’t want me here.”

“It’s not about you, not really.”

“Of course you would say that.”

“Look. Sometimes I don’t think he knows what he wants. He gets these wild ideas, that’s all. You can’t take him seriously. Bottom line, we need the accounts in order and that means we need you.”

“But I just don’t understand. It’s like he thinks I’m after you or something, trying to trap you into—I don’t know, putting a ring on my finger, I guess. And I’m not. I swear I’m not. I’ve got no interest in marriage. I don’t want to trap anyone.” She stared up at him through eyes swimming in barely held-back tears, so earnest, so very sincere. “Especially not, um, you.”

He tried to tease her. “You know, if you keep talking that way, you’re bound to hurt my feelings. I’m a very sensitive guy.” And he did dare to touch her then. Clasping her shoulders, he held her gaze.

“I...oh, Logan.” She looked absolutely miserable and he should probably just let her go. But he held on.

What was it that she did to him? He didn’t get it. He felt like ten kinds of selfish jerk to be putting her through this. But still, he just stood there, hands holding her slim shoulders, keeping her in place.

Finally, she spoke again. “See, the thing is, it hasn’t worked out for me, to get involved with a man. So I promised myself I wouldn’t. Not for years. Maybe never. And then you show up and, well, frankly, Logan, you really tempt me.”

This was bad news? “Excellent.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s not excellent in the least. All it does is confuse me to feel this way about you. I don’t need it, all this confusion. I’m already overworked and exhausted. The last thing I need is a sexy cowboy in the mix.”

“Hold on,” he said tenderly. “So then, what you’re saying is you think I’m tempting and sexy?”

She huffed out a frustrated breath. “That is so not the point.”

“Maybe not. But you can’t blame me for being pleased to hear how you feel.” He wanted to kiss her, just pull her close and put his mouth on hers. But he wasn’t sure how she would react to that. She seemed really upset and he didn’t want to make her any more so.

“It’s all too much, don’t you get it?” she cried. “I’m just plain on overload.” And then, as if to illustrate her point, a single tear got away from her. It slipped over the dam of her lower eyelid and traced a gleaming trail down her cheek.

“Sarah. Damn it.” He let her go, but only so he could get his hands on the laptop she clutched so tightly. When he tried to take it, she resisted. “It’s okay,” he coaxed. “Come on, now. Let go.” And she did. When she gave in and released it, he plunked it down on the desk and took her shoulders again. “Sarah, don’t cry.”

Another tear escaped. And another after that. “Too late,” she said in a tiny voice.

“Aw, Sarah...” He pulled her close and she let him, collapsing against him, her soft arms sliding around his waist.

For a too-short span of perfect seconds, she clung to him. He breathed in the clean scent of her silky hair, wondered what she’d done to him, hoped that whatever it was, she would never stop.

But then she looked up again, her eyes wet and so sad, a tear dripping off the end of her pretty nose.

“Here,” he said. “Sit down.” He pushed her gently back into the old leather desk chair and looked around for a tissue. There weren’t any.

She sniffled. “Give me my tote, please.” He went around the desk to grab it from the chair where she’d left it and handed it to her. She pulled out a travel pack of tissues, took one and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m a mess,” she said.

“No.” A hank of her hair had escaped from her ponytail. Gently, he guided it back behind the shell of her ear. Retreating, but only a little, he hitched a leg up on the corner of the desk. “You’re tired and overworked. And completely gorgeous.”

She gave a little snort-sniffle at that. “Yeah, right.”

He put up a hand, like a witness about to swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. “You’re gorgeous,” he said again. “And I mean that sincerely.”

She started to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m just so tired, you know? Tired of working nonstop and trying to be a decent mom to Sophia and really not doing either all that well. I don’t get it, I really don’t. How did everything go so wrong?”

He leaned closer. “What went wrong? Sarah, come on. Tell me. I need to know everything that’s bothering you.”

She scoffed. “Why?”

“So I can try to make it better.” He actually meant that, he realized as he said it. He wanted to be with her—for as long as it lasted. And during that time, he wanted to be good for her. When they parted, he wanted her to remember him as a good guy who had treated her well.

She shook her head slowly. “If you keep pushing, I’m just going to go ahead and unload it all on you. My whole life story, all the ways I messed up. It will be a lot. It will be a really bad case of extreme oversharing and you will wish you’d never asked.”

“No, I won’t.”

She scoffed. “Yes, you will. Believe me. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Uh-uh. For you to talk to me about what made you cry is exactly what I want.” And he did want it. He really did. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

She stared at him, considering. “You’re sure?”

“I am. Talk to me, please.”

“Logan, I—”

He stopped her with a shake of his head. “Tell me.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him. And then, at last, she let it all out.

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