pricked her eyes, and she blinked them away.
Get a grip.
She had more important things to dwell on than an orphaned goat. Far more important, like how on earth she could possibly explain to Melba and Old Gene that the last thing she wanted was to be set up with Finn Crawford when she was already four months pregnant with his child.
No amount of downward dogs could calm the frantic beating of Avery’s heart. She tried. She really did. But after an hour on her yoga mat, she felt more unsettled than ever.
Probably because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Finn Crawford’s handsome face and his tilted, cocky smirk that never failed to make her weak in the knees.
She huffed out a distinctly nonyogi breath, scrambled to her feet and rolled up her mat. So much for the quiet, peaceful space she’d managed to carve out for herself in Rust Creek Falls. Her little time-out was over. She could no longer ignore the fact that she’d come here to find her baby’s father—not when fate had nearly thrown her right back into his path.
“Finished already, dear?” Melba said when Avery pushed through the screen door and back into the kitchen of the boarding house. She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you young girls enjoy twisting yourselves into pretzels.”
Melba’s apron was dotted with flour, and a fresh platter of homemade biscuits sat on the kitchen island. The baby goat snoozed quietly on a dog bed in the corner by the window.
“Yes. I think I’m getting a little stir-crazy.” She needed a nice distraction, something to completely rid her mind of Finn Crawford until she worked out exactly how to tell him he was going to be a daddy. “Maybe I could help clean some of the guest rooms again?”
Back home in Dallas, Avery typically put in a sixty-hour workweek. Fifty, minimum. She couldn’t remember having so much free time on her hands. Ever. When she’d first arrived in Montana, all the unprecedented free time had been a dream come true. Pregnancy hormones had been wreaking havoc on her work schedule. The day before she’d left town, she’d actually nodded off in the middle of a marketing meeting. She’d needed a respite. A work cleanse.
Staying at the boarding house had given her just that. And it was lovely…
Until the morning she couldn’t force the zipper closed on her favorite jeans—the boyfriend-cut ones that were always so soft and baggy. Faced with such painful evidence of the life growing inside her, Avery had experienced a sudden longing for her old life. She didn’t know the first thing about babies or being pregnant, so she’d thrown herself into helping out around the boarding house in an effort to rid herself of her anxiety. Unfortunately, she knew as much about cleaning as she knew about caring for an infant.
“Oh. Well. That’s certainly a kind offer.” Melba picked up a dishcloth and scrubbed at an invisible spot on the counter. “But I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Old Gene is upstairs, still trying to unclog the toilet in the big corner room.”
Avery’s face bloomed with heat. The clogged toilet had been her doing. But what were the odds she’d accidentally flush another sponge?
The baby goat let out a long, warbly bleat. Meeeeeeehhhhhhhh.
Avery narrowed her gaze at its little ginger head. Was the animal taunting her now?
Melba cleared her throat. “Don’t look so sad, dear. If you really want to help out around here, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“I do. Honestly, I’ll try anything.” Except maybe bottle-feeding the goat. That was a hard no.
Melba consulted the to-do list tacked to the refrigerator with a Fall Mountain magnet. “I need to make a run to the general store. Would you like to come along?”
Avery’s heart gave a little leap. She was much better at shopping than cleaning toilets. She excelled at it, quite frankly. A closetful of Louboutins didn’t lie. “Shopping? Yes, count me in.”
“You’re sure?” Melba gave her one of the gentle, sympathetic glances that had convinced Avery the older woman thought she was running from some kind of danger. “You haven’t wanted to get out much.”
Avery nodded. She was going to have to leave the boarding house at some point. Besides, the odds of running into Finn Crawford or his notorious father at the general store were zero. Not a chance. They weren’t the sort of men who ran errands. They had employees for that kind of thing. How else would Finn have time to wine and dine every eligible woman in town?
“We’re just going to the general store, right? Nowhere else? I have a…um…conference call later, so I shouldn’t stay out too long.” There was no conference call. At least not that Avery knew of. She hadn’t checked in to the office for days. Another first.
If she called in, her father would surely pick up the phone. She’d been a daddy’s girl all her life, through and through. That would change once he found out she was carrying Finn’s baby. Oscar Ellington would rather she have a child with the devil himself.
“Straight to the general store and back.” Melba made a cross-my-heart gesture with her fingertips over the pinafore of her apron.
“Super! I’ll run upstairs and change.” Avery beamed and scurried up to her corner room on the third floor of the rambling mansion.
Along the way, she heard Old Gene cursing at the clogged toilet, and she winced. The wincing continued as she tried—and failed—to find something presentable that she could still manage to zip or button at the waist.
It was no use—she was going to have to stick with her yoga pants and slip into the oversize light blue button-down shirt she’d borrowed from Old Gene. Lovely. If by some strange twist of fate Finn did turn up at the general store, he probably wouldn’t even recognize her.
Any lingering worries she had about running into him were instantly kicked into high gear when she and Melba reached the redbrick building on the corner of Main and Cedar Streets. Melba said something about the amber and gold autumnal window display, but Avery couldn’t form a response. She was too busy gaping at the sign above the front door.
Crawford’s General Store.
Did Finn’s family own this place?
“Avery?” Melba rested gentle fingertips on her forearm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She pasted on a smile. “I just noticed the name of the store—Crawford’s. Does it belong to the family you mentioned earlier?”
“Heavens, no. The general store has been here for generations. The Montana Crawfords have lived in Rust Creek Falls for as long as I can remember. The new family is from Texas.”
I’m aware.
Seriously, though. Finn’s family was huge, and Rust Creek Falls was very small. Quaint and cozy, but rural in every way. Their addition to the population must mean that half the town had the same last name all of a sudden.
“I see,” Avery said.
She tore her gaze away from the store’s signage long enough to finally take in the window display, with its garland of oak and maple leaves and towering pile of pumpkins. They’d walked a grand total of two blocks, and already she’d seen enough hay bales, woven baskets and gourds to make her wonder if the entire town was drunk on pumpkin spice lattes.
Autumn wasn’t such a big thing in Texas. The warm weather back home meant no apple picking, no fall foliage and definitely no need for snuggly oversize sweaters. It was kind of a shame, really.
But here in Montana, fall was ushered in with a lovely and luminous harvest moon, smoky breezes that smelled of wood fire and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Avery had never