The Maverick's Baby-In-Waiting

Ah, Jensen thought, disappointment socking him in the gut. That was it. That was what was so unusual about his interest. She probably wasn’t used to attention from a man with so many commas in his bank account.

Another gold digger? Oh, hell, what did it matter if she were? Jensen wasn’t going there—never again. His heart wasn’t up for grabs. Mikayla Brown was gorgeous, not wearing a ring, and he had a few days to enjoy her company—around town and in bed. He’d wine and dine her, she’d give him her full attention and then they’d both go their separate ways, maybe hooking up once or twice a year when he came to Rust Creek Falls to visit his brothers. Perfect.

The more he looked at her, the more he had another thought: Forget Kalispell. I’m whisking her away to Ibiza or a Greek island for the weekend. No harm in a decadent no-strings weekend romance if they were both for it, right?

She was staring at him. About to say yes. Of course she was. C’mon.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m your type, Mr. Jones,” Mikayla said. She took another bite of her donut, a hint of pink tongue catching a flick of errant custard.

He held her gaze, able to feel his desire for her in every cell of his body. “Trust me. You are.”

She took a breath, lifted her chin and stood up.

Which was when it became obvious that she was very pregnant.

Chapter Two (#ue3fb771d-8fa9-59da-b4de-87dec4dd3042)

Mikayla gave the guy five seconds to run screaming out the door of Daisy’s Donuts. Maybe even three.

A wealthy, hot man with a diamond-studded belt buckle, slicked-back movie-star blond hair and intense blue eyes glittering with desire and challenge? Yeah, he’d run as soon as he realized he was coming on to a pregnant woman.

All six feet two inches of muscular millionaire cowboy froze, those gorgeous blue eyes on her seven-months-pregnant belly.

She would have burst out laughing if a tiny part of her wasn’t a bit angry. A minute ago she’d been his biggest fantasy—apparently. Now, not so much.

Reality always won.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re...”

Ding, ding, ding. “Pregnant.”

“I...I didn’t mean to intrude on your time together,” he said quickly, slowly backing away with his coffee and what was left of his donut. “Enjoy your afternoon. It was very nice meeting you both.”

So, eight seconds. He was out the door and probably stopped around the corner, catching his breath from actually having been flirting with a pregnant woman.

“Why is every Jones brother better-looking than the last?” Eva asked, coming over with extra napkins.

The man was beyond good-looking. He was the kind of gorgeous that was hard to draw your gaze from, and Mikayla had felt a connection, a tiny little spark of chemistry that went beyond just the physical. There had been something sweet under the sizzling in their two-minute conversation—before her belly had introduced itself.

But he was gone. As expected. And as it should be! Mikayla Brown wasn’t looking for a man. Or a savior. Or a father for her baby. That wasn’t how life worked. If she met someone and they fell in love and he was wonderful and father material, okay, fine.

Now she did burst out laughing. Ha ha ha. Like that would happen.

She’d been burned bad by the father of her baby, which hurt like hell. She’d cried her eyes out, wished until she’d marked every star, and she’d still been abandoned, her baby unwanted by the man who’d helped create him or her. She hated that with every fiber of her being. And she didn’t understand it. But that was when that handy word came in again: reality. Things were what they were, and she damned well was going to make the best of them. She had a baby to consider, a life to bring forth, a child to raise. She was going to be the best mother she could be.

And anyway, the silver lining? She’d noticed Jensen Jones. Could imagine herself kissing Jensen Jones. Which meant that flicker of hope and faith was still alive inside her. Her ex had taken himself out of the equation, but his loss hadn’t taken the red-blooded woman out of her. Score one for Mikayla.

Her hundredth pep talk issued, Mikayla took a sip of her decaf iced mocha. “Well, at least he liked the top half of me. Which includes my brain. So that’s something.” She took another bite of her donut.

“If only he could have seen your feet,” Amy said, “And the sparkly blue pedicure I gave you last week. That would have hooked him.”

“Jensen Jones doesn’t strike me as a man who’d like sparkly blue toenails,” Mikayla said. “Did you know that Jackie Kennedy Onassis once said that fingernails should be the color of ballet slippers and toes a classic red? He seems like one to agree. Too highfalutin for me, anyway. I’m an eat-ribs-with-my-fingers and blue-toenail-polish kind of woman.”

Amy laughed. “We all should be that woman.”

Eva came over with a tray of samples. “Want to try my new red velvet donut holes? Fresh out of the oven.”

Mikayla adored Eva, who not only baked for Daisy’s, worked the counter when they were understaffed and had recently finished business school, but was letting her stay at Sunshine Farm. “Ooh, of course,” Mikayla said, snatching one and popping the heavenly treat into her mouth. This would have to be her last bite or she’d gain a hundred pounds in this final trimester.

Eva sat down. “Mikayla, you were great today, you know that, right? Standing up like that was hilarious. I’ve never seen a man stammer without saying a word quite like that.”

“Poor guy,” Amy said, sipping her iced latte. “Did you see the way he looked at Mik? He was clearly swooning over her.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Mikayla asked. “Not that I care.”

Both women smirked at her.

Mikayla smiled. “I definitely would have remembered meeting him at your and Luke’s party, Eva, but there was so many people and I left a bit early. He has how many brothers?”

“Four,” Amy said. “All rich beyond belief. They’re from Tulsa and all work as major bigwigs in the corporation their father started. Hudson and Walker—you know them from town—still work for Jones Holdings. They opened a satellite office here in town. And Autry whisked a widowed mom and her three little girls to Paris for the year, but they’re due back. There’s another brother, Gideon, who was at the party, too, since he was visiting Hudson and Walker that week, but I didn’t meet him. Put the five Jones millionaires in a row at a party and women start swooning. Even if three are taken.”

“No one knows much about Jensen,” Eva said. “Other than he’s rich and I heard he’s a workaholic. He’s in town working a deal, I think.”

“Well, sometimes a gal needs a donut and some eye candy, and I got both, so I’m good for a while,” Mikayla said. “I’m not looking for anything. I have great new friends and a great place to live. I’m set.”

Eva squeezed Mikayla’s hand. “It’s so nice having another woman at Sunshine Farm. I’m so glad you’re living in the house with us.”

Eva Armstrong Stockton was so kind and generous. She and her husband were thinking about officially starting a guesthouse at the ranch. There wasn’t much in terms of places to stay in Rust Creek Falls. There was a boardinghouse and a high-end hotel that was more Jensen Jones’s speed. Mikayla knew that the Stocktons hoped to turn the cabins on their property into little guesthouses, the kind of place that people could come to when they needed somewhere to go, somewhere like home. People like Amy, who’d reconnected with her first love in Rust Creek Falls. And people just like Mikayla.

She was temporarily in flux. The Stocktons had told her she was welcome to stay in their ranch house as long as she liked, even when she had her baby, who was sure to wake everyone up a few times a night. She’d have friends and support and community. She knew she was lucky.

So was it wrong that she couldn’t stop thinking about that tiny spark of something wonderful that had ignited between her and Jensen Jones? She’d have to fill her nights somehow, so fantasizing about him was really quite smart.

* * *

Walker and Hudson were belly-laughing so hard in the lobby of Maverick Manor that Hudson actually had to stand up and catch his breath.

What was so hilarious, apparently, was the idea of their parents coming to Rust Creek Falls for a surprise fortieth anniversary party.

“A planned party wouldn’t get them here,” Walker said, running a hand through his blond hair. “God, I needed that laugh. Thanks, Jensen.”

“They hate this town,” Hudson said, sitting back down in his club chair, an expanse of Montana wilderness visible through the floor-to-ceiling window behind him. He picked up his beer and took a drink. “They showed up for our weddings, then turned around and flew home, grumbling all the way about Jones-stealing women and Rust Creek Falls not even being on the map.”

“Those Jones-stealing women are their daughters-in-law. Jeez,” Jensen said, sipping his scotch. “You’d think Mom especially would like some women in the family after five sons.”

Walker popped a walnut from the dish on the table into his mouth. “I tried—hard. I talked to Dad about how much I like Rust Creek Falls, that we can easily work from the Jones Holding satellite building we built in town, that we’re—wait for it—happy, and he just doesn’t get it. Or want to hear it.”

“Lost cause,” Hudson said, shaking his head. “I’m over it. You have to be. It’s the only way to move on.”