Maverick Christmas Surprise

A GIFT THE COWBOY DIDN’T EXPECT

The last thing Wilder Crawford expected was to find a baby on his doorstep on Christmas morning. His baby? Maybe—and he intends to find out! Little Cody’s aunt, Beth Ames, thinks the steadfastly single rancher isn’t daddy material. But her objections only make Wilder dig in his spurs. He invites Beth to stay for the holidays, never dreaming he might fall for the earnest schoolteacher. Unless Santa’s intent was to turn the cowboy into a family man all along...

BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, RITA® Award–nominated national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up-to-date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, brendaharlen.com

Also by Brenda Harlen

The Sheriff’s Nine-Month Surprise

Her Seven-Day Fiancé

Six Weeks to Catch a Cowboy

Claiming the Cowboy’s Heart

Double Duty for the Cowboy

One Night With the Cowboy

Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas! The

Maverick’s Midnight Proposal

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Maverick Christmas Surprise

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09188-6

MAVERICK CHRISTMAS SURPRISE

© 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.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To my MAC girls—Stacy, Freda, Elena & Jen—

with thanks for so many fabulous memories

(and in anticipation of many, many more!).

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

Dallas, Texas Christmas Eve

Beth Ames couldn’t help but sing along with the holiday song on the radio. Christmas had always been her favorite time of the year, and she was even more excited this holiday season because it was her nephew’s first. Four-month-old Cody was the love of her life, and she was grateful—if a little surprised—that her sister had invited her to celebrate the milestone occasion with them.

Over the years, the relationship between Beth and Leighton had been strained more often than not. While Beth might wish it wasn’t so, she couldn’t change the dynamic on her own, and her sister had always rebuffed her efforts to get closer. That had finally changed when Leighton confided to Beth that she was pregnant.

No doubt Leighton had been scared about the prospect of having and raising a child on her own, now that the baby’s father was no longer a part of her life. Of course, Beth had questions about the man, but Leighton refused to answer them. And the more she pushed, the more her sister resisted.

“I appreciate your support, but I don’t need your lectures,” she’d said. “So if you want to be there with me when the baby is born, you’ll stop asking about a guy who, I can assure you, has less than zero interest in being a dad.”

Beth wondered how her sister could be so certain of his disinterest if she hadn’t told him about her condition, but she bit her tongue. Because as much as she believed the father-to-be had a right to know, she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their tentative truce.

Instead, Beth had focused on doing what she could to support Leighton throughout her pregnancy. She’d coached her during sixteen hours of labor, and she’d spent every free minute with the new mom and her baby during the first few weeks—until Leighton had recovered enough to demand some space.

Still, she understood that motherhood was a big adjustment for her usually vivacious and fun-loving sister, and she tried to help without stepping on the new mom’s toes. But as the weeks turned into months, Leighton seemed increasingly worn out and unhappy.

Thankfully the onset of the Christmas season had revived her sister’s good spirits. She’d been so genuinely filled with holiday spirit that she’d invited Beth to spend Christmas Eve at her apartment and even stay over to share in the morning celebration.

So now here she was, with her back seat full of festively wrapped presents and a box of groceries to prepare the holiday meal.

She didn’t see her sister’s car in its assigned parking spot, but it wouldn’t be out of character for her to have forgotten something she needed to have before the stores closed. And since Leighton had given her a spare key, Beth didn’t hesitate to let herself in so that she could put the perishables in the fridge.

After the groceries were away, she plugged in the Christmas tree lights and turned on the radio, tuning it to her favorite station that had been playing “all holiday music, all the time” since the first of December.

Feeling excited, and a little impatient, Beth decided to call her sister to find out when she’d be home. She was surprised, when the phone started to ring, to hear an echo of the sound coming from the bedroom—where she discovered Leighton’s cell plugged into the charger on the bedside table.

Shaking her head over her sister’s forgetfulness, she started to turn away when she saw a note beside the charger with her name on it.

Beth,

Change of plans—sorry. I’ll explain when I can.

Merry Christmas.

XO

L

Change of plans?

What the heck was that supposed to mean?

Where had her sister gone?

And, more important, where was Cody?

Chapter One

Rust Creek Falls, MontanaChristmas Day

And another one bites the dust, Wilder thought, listening to the excited chatter of conversation around the table as everyone congratulated Hunter and Merry on their engagement.

But he kept a smile on his face, because his brother was grinning, the bride-to-be was glowing and six-year-old Wren was ecstatic that her Christmas wish for a new mommy had come true. He was happy for Hunter and Merry and the new family they were making together, but he was also grateful that he wasn’t shackled with the responsibilities of a wife or child.

Not that any of his siblings acted as if they were constrained by their relationships. In fact, his brothers Logan, Xander, Knox, Finn and now Hunter, too, seemed sincerely happy to have found a special someone to share their lives. But Wilder wasn’t in any hurry to follow in their footsteps. He was perfectly happy with his life the way it was right now. As the old saying went, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

“I’m a lucky woman,” Merry said, responding to a comment from one of her future brothers-in-law.

“And Hunter’s a lucky man,” Max said, about his newly engaged son.

Wilder couldn’t help but notice that, in addition to the paternal pride on his father’s face, there was a look of smug satisfaction. When the family had moved from Dallas to Rust Creek Falls six months earlier, Max had set out to find romantic matches for all of his sons—even going so far as to enlist the services of a local wedding planner to act as a matchmaker and offering her a million-dollar bonus if she succeeded. With the announcement of Hunter and Merry’s engagement, he obviously felt as if he was well on his way to accomplishing his goal.

Five out of six was a pretty impressive success rate, Wilder acknowledged to himself. But his dad was doomed to disappointment if he expected to go six-for-six, because, at this point in his life, Wilder would rather be dead than wed.

“I’m lucky, too,” Wren piped up, eager to be part of the conversation.

“You certainly are,” Max agreed, and winked at his granddaughter before turning his attention back to the little girl’s father and Hunter’s fiancée. “And if there was any doubt about what was going on between you two, your daughter took care of that when she spilled the beans as soon as she ran into the house.”

Wren’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t spill anything, Gramps,” she said, obviously interpreting his remark literally. “I just said that Daddy’s gonna marry Merry, and I get to be in the wedding and then she’s gonna be my mom.”

Yep, five out of six was impressive.

And now that five of his sons were happily settled, Max would no doubt focus all his attention on the sole remaining holdout.

Oh, hell.

Wilder didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Hunter sternly admonished him with a single word: “Language.”

“Sorry,” he said, his apology automatic and sincere as he looked at each of the couples around the table. “But I just realized that I’m the last Crawford bachelor standing.”

His announcement of this uncomfortable truth was followed by several chuckles and teasing warnings from his siblings and their partners.

“I’m right there with you,” Max pointed out to his youngest son.

“Says the man paying to get us all married off,” Wilder noted dryly.

“Suck it up, kid,” Finn said, with absolutely no sympathy in his tone. Because why should he feel sorry for his little brother? Finn was happily married to Avery and anticipating the birth of his first child with his bride of two months.

Then Finn shifted his attention to Hunter and Merry. “I guess this means that you two will be the next Crawford couple to take on the mysterious diary.”

The book he was referring to had been discovered beneath a loose floorboard shortly after they’d moved into the two-story log home on the Ambling A Ranch. Apparently the “A” was for “Abernathy”—the name of the family who’d originally owned the property. A jewel-encrusted “A” was also on the front cover of the diary, suggesting the book had belonged to a member of the family.

Merry looked at her fiancé. “With everything going on, I almost forgot to tell you what I found out the night of Wren’s play.”

But whatever she’d learned would remain unknown to the rest of them a while longer, as an unexpected knock at the door interrupted her announcement.

Wilder’s gaze moved around the table again, confirming that everyone who was supposed to be there for the family meal was present and accounted for.

So who the heck would be visiting on Christmas Day?

He pushed his chair away from the table to find out. Hunter stood at the same time, and the brothers made their way through the kitchen toward the source of the summons.

As Hunter opened the door, Wilder’s attention was snagged by a blur of color on the driveway. By the time he registered that it was a red car, he was staring at taillights as the vehicle drove off. Fast. He squinted, trying to decipher the license plate, but the car was already too far away. The best he could do was to note that the plate was from Texas.

“I guess whoever knocked must have realized they were at the wrong place,” he decided, despite a niggling feeling that he should have recognized the departing car.

“Or they did what they came here to do,” his brother suggested.

Wilder glanced questioningly at Hunter, then followed the direction he was pointing and discovered an infant car seat on the porch—with a baby inside!

“What the—”

“There’s a note.” Hunter bent down to fish out a piece of paper pinned to the blue blanket wrapped around the sleeping baby.

He unfolded the page to reveal a handwritten message in a distinctly feminine scrawl and began to read aloud:

“‘Wilder—’” he glanced up from the page to give his brother a quizzical look before continuing “‘—this is your baby. I’ve done the best I could for four months and I can’t do it anymore. A boy needs a dad and you’re Cody’s, so it’s your turn now. Please take good care of him.’ It’s signed ‘L.’”

He looked at Wilder again. “Well, little brother, looks like you got a baby for Christmas.”

Wilder snatched the paper out of Hunter’s hand to read it for himself.

His brother said something else, but Wilder didn’t hear him.

He stared at the writing on the page, as if he could will the words to change—or at least make sense of them. But none of this made any sense to him. It simply wasn’t possible that he was the father of this kid.

Was it?

“What’s going on out here?” Max wanted to know, pushing his way between his sons. “Good Lord...it’s a baby.”

“Wilder’s baby,” Hunter said and, miming the act of washing his hands, retreated into the house where the rest of the family was gathered.

His father pinned Wilder with his gaze. “You want to explain this?”

“I wish I could,” he said. “But I’ve never seen the kid before. I’m as shocked by this as you are.”

“But it’s yours,” his father remarked.

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s what the note says,” Wilder acknowledged.

“You don’t believe it?” Max asked him.

“I don’t know what to believe. What to think.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, sincerely baffled by this turn of events. He wanted to believe it was a joke, though he wasn’t the least bit amused. “Who would abandon their kid on somebody’s doorstep in the middle of winter?”

“Not just somebody’s doorstep,” his father argued. “The baby’s father’s doorstep.”

He shook his head. “It’s not possible.”

“You’ve never been intimate with a woman?” Max challenged.

It was, of course, a rhetorical question. Though Wilder didn’t share details of his romantic encounters, he’d been caught—more than once—sneaking into the house the morning after he’d spent the night in a woman’s bed.

“I’m careful,” he assured his father. “Always.”

“Accidents happen,” Max said matter-of-factly.

It was a terrifying thought.

“The note says he’s four months old,” his father continued. “Adding nine months to that is thirteen, which means the baby would have been conceived sometime around November last year.”

“Okay,” Wilder said hesitantly.

“So who were you with last November?” Max pressed.

Last November? Seriously?

He shrugged. “How am I supposed to remember something that happened that far back?”

Which he immediately realized was not the right thing to say to his father under the circumstances.

“You should darn well remember a woman who shared your bed,” Max said, the low tone of his voice doing nothing to disguise the underlying anger and disappointment. “I don’t expect you to be in love with every woman you sleep with, but you should know and respect her enough to remember her name.”

“Give me a break,” Wilder pleaded. “My head’s spinning so fast, it’s a wonder I know my own name right now.”

“Well, there’s no doubt the baby looks like a Crawford.”

“The baby looks like a baby,” Wilder said. Because in his admittedly limited experience with infants, they all looked like bald, chubby-cheeked, squalling little monsters.

As if on cue, the one buckled into the car seat started to squirm and squall.

Wilder stepped back, an instinctive retreat.

“Pick him up and bring him inside,” Max said.

“Me?” Wilder was horrified by the very thought.

With a sigh, his father reached down and grabbed the car seat with one hand and the enormous diaper bag with the other.

“Hunter said there was a baby on the doorstep,” Avery said, entering the kitchen from the dining room at the same time that Wilder and Max came in from the porch.

Then she spotted the carrier in Max’s hand and her expression softened. “Ohmygod—it is a baby.” Her gaze shifted to Wilder. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you’re a daddy?”

“Because I’m not,” Wilder insisted. “There’s no way that kid’s mine.”

“He’s in denial,” Genevieve, his brother Knox’s wife, said. Because apparently Hunter’s announcement had drawn everyone away from the table.

“I think the baby’s hungry,” Lily said worriedly.

“You just want to feed everyone,” her husband Xander teased.

“He is gnawing on his fist,” Hunter noted. “And that’s a telltale sign of hunger.”

As Hunter was the only one of his brothers with significant daddy experience, Wilder was willing to defer to his expertise. But having the problem identified didn’t give him the first clue about how to solve it.

So when his brothers and their partners—and Wren—huddled around the baby, pushing Wilder and Max out of the way, Wilder didn’t object.

“He’s definitely hungry,” Sarah said, as the baby’s unhappy cries turned to sobs.

“Let’s see if there’s a bottle in the bag,” Merry suggested.

There were, in fact, two bottles—one premixed and one empty, plus a can of powdered formula.

Avery unbuckled the harness and lifted the infant out of his seat. His plaintive cries immediately ceased.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once, speculating about the note as they fussed over the little guy. Wilder took advantage of their preoccupation to study the baby—who didn’t seem quite so intimidating now that he was quiet—and realized, a little uneasily, that the baby was staring back at him.

Is it possible? he wondered. Can he be mine?

“Where’d the baby come from?” Wren wanted to know.

“Someone left him on the doorstep,” her dad explained.

“Maybe he’s a gift from Santa,” she suggested.

Hunter chuckled. “Unfortunately for Uncle Wilder, I don’t think the baby came with a gift receipt.”

“He does look a lot like Wilder’s old baby photos,” Logan, the eldest Crawford brother, noted.

“He does not,” Wilder denied, though without much conviction.

But no one was paying any attention to him, anyway.

Except his father, who sidled closer. “The note was signed with the letter ‘L,’” Max noted. “Does that jog your memory at all?”

He automatically started to shake his head, because he didn’t want his memory jogged. And if he was in denial—well, he was quite happy to stay there. Because in denial, his life was easy and carefree and he didn’t have the responsibility of an infant who’d been dumped into his lap—or, to be more precise, on his doorstep.

But somehow, in the midst of all the chaos going on around him, hazy memories slowly came into focus in Wilder’s mind. Memories of an early holiday party at Reunion Tower in Dallas, a few too many cocktails and a pretty—and very adventurous—blonde named Leighton Ames. And no, he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that her name started with the same letter that had been scrawled on the bottom of the note.

They’d had a good time together, not just that night, but for several weeks afterward. And then, just as suddenly as their relationship had started, it ended.

Her decision, Wilder remembered now.

Just after the New Year, she’d abruptly called things off. He’d been a little disappointed at first, but there were plenty of other women in the world. And truthfully, he hadn’t thought of her again—until now.

Was Leighton the baby’s mother?

Was it possible that he was the father of this baby who’d been abandoned on the doorstep?

But if she believed that to be true, why hadn’t she ever told him that she was pregnant?

Well, he could probably guess the answer to that one. Either Leighton wasn’t sure about the baby’s paternity, or she didn’t trust him to step up.

He would have, of course. He would have undoubtedly felt panicked and trapped, but he would have done the right thing. Not that she could have known that, because they hadn’t had the type of relationship where they talked about their future hopes and dreams. Their conversations had been more along the lines of “your place or mine?” And after that question had been answered, there had been even less talking.