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
