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