Maverick Christmas Surprise

But if she hadn’t trusted him to step up, why would she dump the baby on him now?

And how did she even know where to find him?

He’d had no communication with her in almost a year. And the last time they were together, he didn’t know that he’d be moving to Rust Creek Falls, so it was unlikely she could have tracked him down here.

Reassured by his own reasoning that it couldn’t have been Leighton who dropped the baby off—and conveniently ignoring the fact that his name was on the note—Wilder breathed a sigh of relief, confident that he was off the hook. But his father would require additional proof, so as the rest of the family went back into the dining room, he scrolled through the contacts in his phone to see if he still had her number.

Amazingly, he did, and tapped it to initiate the call.

“Hello?”

The female voice that immediately answered sounded frantic.

“Um...hi,” he said. “I’m trying to reach Leighton Ames.”

“You and me both,” she replied, sounding as if she was fighting tears.

He frowned at that. “Is this still her number?”

“Yes, but she forgot her phone when she left.” The woman on the other end of the line sighed. “Or maybe she didn’t forget it.”

Which didn’t make any sense to him, but all he said was: “Well, if you hear from her, can you ask her to call Wilder Crawford?”

“Why?” She sounded both curious and wary. “What business do you have with my sister?”

Sister?

He couldn’t recall Leighton mentioning a sister, but surely a sister would know if Leighton had had a baby. And if this was Leighton’s baby, that meant the woman on the phone was the baby’s aunt.

Before he could ask, she spoke again. “Wait a minute—did you say Wilder Crawford?”

“I did,” he confirmed.

“I found your name and a Montana address scrawled on a Post-it note in Leighton’s apartment,” she said. “I think she might be on her way to see you.”

The knots in his stomach tightened. “She might have been here already...and left something.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. “What kind of something?”

“A baby,” he admitted. “Did she—”

“Cody!” she immediately interjected, not giving him a chance to finish. “You have Cody?”

“That’s the name in the note,” he confirmed.

“Note?” she echoed.

“The baby was left on my doorstep with a note.”

“I don’t understand. Why would she leave her baby?”

“I wish I knew,” he told her.

“Are you Cody’s father?” she guessed.

“Obviously your sister thinks so.”

“You haven’t seen her or talked to her?”

“Not in the past year.”

“But Cody’s with you? At the Ambling A Ranch in Montana?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed.

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised.

“Wait—”

But she’d already disconnected the call.

“What did you find out?” Max asked, when Wilder returned to the table where Lily had resumed serving dessert and Avery rocked the now quiet baby.

“The kid’s mom is Leighton Ames,” he said. “I spoke to her sister, but she doesn’t know where she is or why she left the baby here.”

“Because she wanted him to be with his dad,” Max suggested as an answer to the latter question.

Wilder hoped like hell his father was wrong.

“Do you want ice cream with your pie?” Merry asked him.

Because for the rest of the family gathered together, today was still a celebration—and it was time for dessert.

“Sure,” he said.

Though he wasn’t even sure he wanted the pie now, he didn’t want his family to know how freaked out he was about the arrival of the baby they were all happy enough to assume was his and turning down dessert would be a definite red flag.

“I want ice cream,” Wren piped up, pushing her bowl toward her soon-to-be-stepmother who was scooping it.

“You already had ice cream,” her dad reminded her, pulling the bowl back again before Merry could indulge the little girl’s request.

Wren pouted and dragged her spoon around the inside of the empty vessel.

Wilder took the plate Merry passed to him and murmured his thanks. Then he halved the scoop of ice cream with the side of his fork and slid half into his niece’s bowl.

Wren beamed at him; Hunter scowled.

“There’s a reason I’m the favorite uncle,” he said, and winked at the little girl.

“I’m finished with my dessert,” Finn said to his wife then, “if you want me to take the baby.”

“I can manage the baby,” Avery assured him. “If you want to be helpful, you can start clearing the table.”

As Finn began gathering empty plates and glasses, Wilder dug his fork into his pie, giving up the pretense of an appetite.

“Did you ask for a baby for Christmas, Uncle Wilder?” his niece asked, around a mouthful of ice cream.

“No.” His response was immediate and definitive.

“I guess you’re just lucky then,” Wren decided.

Lucky?

Oh yeah, he had a horseshoe so far up his butt he couldn’t swallow the pie that was stuck in his throat.

The house emptied quickly after dessert was finished and the cleanup complete, leaving Wilder and his father alone with the baby. Then Max took off, too, to pick up a crib he’d arranged to borrow from one of their many Crawford relatives in town.

Wilder had offered to make the trip, but his dad had insisted that he stay at the Ambling A to watch the baby. For the first half hour, there weren’t any major snags—because the kid slept. But when he woke up, he was not in a very good mood.

The baby didn’t cry. Not really. But his face was all scrunched up and he was squirming in his seat, and Wilder braced himself for the crying to start.

“Avery promised that you would sleep for a few hours,” Wilder said, trying to reason with the infant. “That was barely more than an hour ago.”

His words got the kid’s attention, though, and he fixed his big, blue eyes on Wilder.

“You can’t be hungry already,” he continued, in the same logical tone. “You sucked back a whole bottle before she left.”

The baby continued to fuss, clearly unconvinced and unhappy.

And his lower lip was starting to do that quivering thing that warned Wilder real tears and sobs likely weren’t too far behind.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t know what to do.”

“You could try picking him up.”

Wilder turned to see Hunter standing in the doorway. “I thought you’d gone home.”

“I did,” his brother confirmed. “And then I came back.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought you might want to talk to someone who’s been where you are.”

On another day, Wilder might have made a snarky comment about not remembering when a baby had been left on Hunter’s doorstep, but right now, he was too grateful for his presence to risk saying anything that might prompt him to leave again.

“I think I need a manual more than a sounding board,” he confided.

“A manual would be useless,” Hunter said. “Because every baby is different.”

“So how am I supposed to know what’s wrong with this one?”

“He’s probably out of sorts because he doesn’t know where his mama is.”

“That makes two of us,” Wilder said.

“And when babies are out of sorts, they need to be comforted.”

He gestured to the infant in his carrier. “Feel free.”

But his brother shook his head. “You need to step up.”

“I would have stepped up months ago if Leighton had told me she was pregnant,” he said in his defense.

“So why are you hesitating now?” his brother challenged.

“Because I don’t have the first clue what to do with a baby.”

“No first-time parent has a clue in the beginning.”

His brother’s matter-of-fact statement was hardly reassuring.

And while they were talking, the baby was growing more distressed.

With a sigh of resignation, Wilder unhooked the strap and lifted him out of the seat.

The baby stopped fussing for a moment to stare at him, as if waiting for something else.

Something more.

Wilder looked at his brother. “I’m doing this wrong, aren’t I?”

“Babies generally like to be held closer than arm’s length,” Hunter told him.

Wilder pulled his arms toward his chest, so that he was almost nose-to-nose with the kid.

Hunter started to chuckle, but quickly covered it with a cough when Wilder glared at him.

“Closer,” he urged. “But to the side, with his head about level with your shoulder so he can see behind you. With newborns, you need to keep one hand on the bottom and the other on the head and neck, for support, but he’s obviously strong enough to hold his head up just fine.”

Wilder did his best to follow his brother’s instructions.

“That’s it,” Hunter assured him.

“He feels so tiny.” His whispered remark was filled with awe and wonder—and just a hint of the nerves that were tangled up inside him. “So fragile.”

“It’s normal to be scared. I was terrified the first time I held Wren in my arms,” his brother confided. “And she was a lot smaller than Cody is.”

“But you had nine months to prepare yourself for her arrival,” Wilder pointed out, though he wasn’t sure anything could have prepared him for this moment.

Hunter nodded. “True.”

Wilder patted the baby’s back gently, as he’d watched Sarah do, and was rewarded with a shockingly loud belch.

“Gas might have been another cause of his distress,” Hunter noted then.

“You think?” Wilder asked dryly.

“And now that it’s out of his system, you can try the cradle hold,” he said, and talked him through shifting the baby’s position so that he was tucked in the crook of Wilder’s arm. “Now sit down and relax.”

Relax? He wasn’t sure he’d be able to relax so long as there was a baby under his roof.

And though Leighton’s note had given no indication that she was planning to come back for the little guy, he had to believe that she would. After all, what kind of mom just left her kid?

Mine, he thought, then shoved the unpleasant twinge from his mind.

Hunter took another seat at the table, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front.

Obviously relaxing wasn’t a problem for him.

“Where’d Dad go?” he asked.

“To pick up a crib,” Wilder told him.

“Ah, right. He said he was going to try to rustle up some of the stuff you’d need from local relatives,” his brother recalled.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think one of those things is a nanny.”

Hunter chuckled. “No, he’s been pretty clear that your baby is your responsibility.”

“But we don’t even know for sure that he is my baby,” Wilder felt compelled to point out again.

“Obviously his mom is sure. Though I have to wonder, if you haven’t kept in touch with her, how did she know where to find you?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. My best guess is Malcolm,” Wilder said, naming a close buddy from Dallas. “When I talked to him a few weeks back, he’d mentioned that one of the girls we’d met at the holiday party before Christmas last year had shown up at his office to ask about me. But he told me that before Thanksgiving, and since nothing came of it...”

“Until now,” Hunter remarked.

“Until now,” he agreed.

“So the who and the how have been answered,” his brother noted. “But we still don’t know the why—beyond the obvious, of course.”

“What’s the obvious?” Wilder wondered.

“What ‘L’ wrote in her note—a boy needs a dad.”

“Which proves she doesn’t know me at all, or she’d know I’m not dad material.”

“Or maybe she knows you better than you know yourself,” Hunter suggested. “But since I’m not completely without sympathy, I’ll give you a crash course in diapering and feeding.”

“I can hardly wait,” he said dryly.

“Or I can let you figure it out on your own,” his brother suggested as an alternative.

“Please don’t,” he said, immediately remorseful. “I need all the help I can get.”

“You’re doing okay so far,” Hunter assured him.

“Because I’m not doing anything.”

“You’ve managed to relax,” his brother pointed out. “And that’s allowed Cody to relax, too.”

Wilder looked down at the little guy tucked in the crook of his arm, close to his body.

He did look relaxed. Content even, his eyelids heavy, as if he might—fingers crossed—drift off to sleep again. And Wilder felt a small measure of satisfaction that he’d been the one to put that look on his face, though the satisfaction wasn’t nearly strong enough to quell the rising tide of panic within him.

“I’m not ready for this,” he confided. “I figured I had another ten years of footloose and fancy-free living before I even thought about getting serious with a woman—and then a few more after that before I had to worry about becoming a dad.”

“There’s nothing more serious than parenthood, or more amazing and awe-inspiring,” Hunter told him.

The baby turned his head then, rubbing his cheek against the soft plaid of Wilder’s shirt, just about where he felt his heart swell inside his chest.

And Wilder knew that whatever happened next, he and the kid were in this together.

Chapter Two

Beth turned up the radio and lowered the window a couple of inches, just far enough to allow the icy December air to sweep through the interior of her car and jolt her weary brain and sleepy body awake. Eager to get to Rust Creek Falls, she’d left Dallas almost immediately after ending her telephone conversation with Wilder Crawford, making only brief stops to fill her gas tank and use the bathroom. Now, after almost twenty-eight hours on the road, she was tired and hungry but refused to give in to either before she reached her final destination—and Cody.

She’d looked into flights to Montana, but the last-minute airfares and required connections made it more logical to drive. And now her journey was finally nearing its end.

She couldn’t wait to see Cody again, to hold his chubby little body in her arms and breathe in his sweet baby powder scent. She’d been so worried when she found Leighton’s note, but after talking to Wilder Crawford, she had reason to believe the baby was okay. She had no clue about her sister. Though Leighton had always been adept at taking care of herself, she hadn’t quite been herself since the baby was born. Maybe it wasn’t Beth’s place to worry about her sister, but of course she was worried. And she was concerned that her sweet and innocent nephew was being used as a pawn in whatever game his mother was playing.

When Beth realized her sister was gone—likely headed to Montana, where one of the previously unidentified potential fathers of her baby apparently now resided—she’d considered that Leighton might want to reconcile with her ex. And she’d hoped, for Cody’s sake, that was her sister’s plan.

But if what Wilder Crawford had told her was true, Leighton hadn’t even spoken to the man in almost a year. So why would her sister travel all this way and then not see him? And why would she abandon her baby on his doorstep without any warning?

Maybe Leighton had decided that she needed a break from the day-to-day responsibilities of caring for Cody. But why not leave him in Dallas with his aunt? Why drive all the way to Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana—in the middle of winter, no less—and leave him with a stranger?

Even more than those questions baffled Beth’s brain, the insult wounded her heart. She’d made every effort to be there for Leighton since she’d learned of her sister’s pregnancy. She’d tried to offer support without judgment, help without expectation. And she’d cried tears of joy along with her sister when Cody drew his first breath—and let it out again as an indignant wail.

Beth would do anything for her nephew—including driving through the night and all the next day to get to him. Unfortunately she hadn’t considered the changes in weather that she would encounter en route, and the tires on her fuel-efficient hatchback had been slipping and sliding in protest against the snow and ice that had been her near constant companion since Colorado Springs.

But according to the faded “Welcome to Rust Creek Falls” sign posted at the side the highway, she had finally arrived. She checked her speed as she drove down Cedar Street, noting that the storefronts were all decked out for the holidays with boughs of evergreen and big red bows and twinkling lights. Of course, it was late on the day after Christmas, so the stores were closed, the roads mostly empty. No doubt all the town’s residents were huddled comfortably in their homes, basking in the holiday afterglow and enjoying time with family and friends.

Certainly that was how she’d anticipated spending her holiday—not driving 1700 miles on her own, worry growing with each tick of the odometer. But missing out on the holiday didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was Cody.

Once she was reunited with her nephew, she would think about how to track down her sister. Or maybe—fingers crossed—Leighton had already decided to return to Rust Creek Falls to pick up her baby and Beth would find her sister at the Ambling A when she arrived.

Continuing to follow the directions on her phone, she finally pulled into a long, winding drive that would supposedly lead her to the Ambling A. Assuming, of course, that her GPS wasn’t sending her into the middle of a field where she’d get stuck in the snow and find herself surrounded by angry cows.

The drive had been plowed, but it was still snow-covered, making everything appear blindingly white when her headlights cut through the blackness of the night. She drove slowly, carefully, following the tire tracks to ensure she didn’t veer off the road and end up in a ditch.

The dash clock read 10:14 when she finally saw the two-story log home. Parking behind a dark pickup, she felt a slight twinge of disappointment that she didn’t see Leighton’s car, but right now her main focus was Cody.

Still, she gave herself a moment to close her eyes that were burning with strain and fatigue. But only a moment, because any longer than that and she wasn’t sure she’d manage to open them again. And anyway, as exhausted as she was, her nephew was inside that house, and she couldn’t wait a minute longer to see him.

Grabbing her purse, she pushed open the door. The blast of frigid air was a stark reminder that she wasn’t in Dallas anymore. Stepping out of the car, she nearly lost her footing on the snow-covered ground as the short-heeled boots that were perfectly suitable for winter in Texas proved to be no match for the ice and snow of Montana.

She blinked in the sudden brightness as a floodlight activated. A motion sensor, she guessed, grateful for the illumination as she moved carefully over the frozen ground.

There were no lights on inside the house, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her now.

She noted the pine boughs draped over the railing of the porch and an enormous evergreen wreath decorated with a fancy velvet bow on the door—more reminders of the holiday she’d missed celebrating. She climbed the porch steps and, after a moment’s hesitation, bypassed the bell to knock on the door instead.

When there was no response, she knocked a little harder.

Then harder again.

Finally, a light came on overhead, the door was wrenched open from the other side, and Beth found herself face-to-face with an obviously irritated man.

Actually, she was face-to-chest with his gray T-shirt, so she didn’t see the scowl that furrowed his brow until she took an instinctive step back and lifted her gaze to his face.

In addition to the scowl, he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms low on his hips and the previously noted T-shirt that stretched across his muscular torso. He folded strong arms over his broad chest now and pinned her with a dark, piercing gaze, causing her to belatedly question the wisdom of showing up at a stranger’s door on an isolated ranch in the middle of the night.

Because she was certain that the sudden dryness of her throat and pounding of her heart were signs of fear and not an immediate and instinctive attraction to the prime male specimen in front of her.

“I don’t know where you’re from, honey, but ’round here, people don’t come visiting in the middle of the night,” he said.

The growly timbre of his voice made her shiver.

Or maybe it was just the frigid air temperature.

“Dallas,” Beth heard herself respond to what was obviously a rhetorical question. “And I’m not visiting—I’m here for my nephew.”

“You’re the woman who answered Leighton’s phone,” he concluded.

“Lisbeth,” she said. “But most people call me Beth. And you must be Wilder.”

He nodded and, after only a moment’s hesitation, stepped away from the door to allow her to enter.

She had a vague impression of a kitchen beyond the entranceway, though the interior was only dimly illuminated by the light that filtered through the window from the porch. She kicked off her boots and left them on the mat by the door and unbuttoned her thin coat as she followed Wilder further into a house that was toasty warm in contrast to the frigid air outside. “Where’s Cody?”

She sensed more than saw his frown this time. “Did your sister send you to get him?”

In retrospect, Beth would acknowledge that she should have answered his question with a firm and decisive yes. But in her agitated and sleep-deprived state, she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to see the obvious solution to her dilemma.

“No, I still haven’t heard from Leighton,” she admitted instead. “And I’m starting to worry that something might have happened to her.”

“I think what happened is that she got tired of being tied down by a baby,” he said, and handed her a piece of paper that he’d retrieved from the table.

As she unfolded the page, he turned on the light over the stove so that she’d be able to read it. Beth immediately recognized her sister’s handwriting, and her heart sank as she skimmed the brief words. Then she read them more carefully.

“I don’t understand,” she said, after she’d scanned the note a third time.

“That makes two of us.”

She looked at him again, noting the stubble that darkened his jaw and the overlong and tousled hair that suggested he’d just crawled out of bed. He was undeniably sexy with a slightly dangerous edge—exactly her sister’s type.

None of which explained why she felt a quiver low in her belly when she found him looking back at her. Of course, it was probably just that she was overtired and overwhelmed and worried about her nephew. It certainly wasn’t a visceral response to his nearness. It couldn’t be.

She cleared her throat as she refolded the note and handed it back to Wilder. “I want to see Cody now. Please.”

He hesitated, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse. But maybe he sensed that she wouldn’t be put off—and that, if he even tried, she’d raise enough ruckus to wake the whole house—because he finally nodded.

She followed him through the darkness, up a set of stairs, then down a hall until he finally paused in an open doorway. She glanced past him, into a room dimly illuminated by a nightlight plugged in beside a crib.

“It looks like maybe you were expecting him,” she noted.

He shook his head. “Maggie and Jesse—distant but local relatives—loaned us the crib. And the rocking chair.”

Beth tiptoed to the crib, exhaling a long, quiet sigh of relief when she gazed down at the sleeping baby.

“It’s okay, Cody. I’m here to take you home now.” She murmured the words softly as she reached down to lift him into her arms and cuddle him against her chest. He squirmed a little at first, but settled quickly again without making a sound of protest.

Wilder stepped in front of the door, as if to block her path, and crossed those strong arms over his impressive chest again. “What are you talking about?” Though he kept his volume low so as not to disturb the sleeping infant, there was no mistaking the steel in his words. “You’re not going anywhere with that baby.”