Chapter Four
Ambling A RanchRust Creek Falls, Montana
Hunter Crawford knew what his father was up to.
It was common knowledge that Max had hired the local wedding planner to find wives for his six sons. Four of them were now off the marriage market and the target on Hunter’s back was getting bigger. That’s why he was suspicious of the old man pushing this big destination wedding for their brother Finn in Rustler’s Notch, Colorado. Hunter was pushing back. He’d much rather stay here on the Ambling A Ranch, where he was more insulated from his father’s meddling.
There were four cabins on this sprawling property—the big house, where his father and his brother Wilder lived, and three smaller places.
Hunter lived in one of them with his six-year-old daughter, Wren, and loved the two-story log house. It had four bedrooms, two baths, a great room and kitchen. The place wasn’t huge, but it had enough room for the two of them. The biggest selling point was that it had no bad memories from the past clinging to it. He was doing his best to keep the vibe pure of pain, for Wren’s sake. Although that could change.
His instinct was telling him that this wedding was somehow going to threaten his resolve to maintain his bachelor designation. The way he saw it, everyone had one great love in their life and he’d had his. Losing her had nearly destroyed him. He was determined not to put himself in a position where that could happen to him again. But his father and Wilder weren’t taking no for an answer and had come to give him a hard sell.
He’d reluctantly opened the door to them and they followed him into the kitchen. Might as well get this over with, he told himself as he took a breath and faced them. “I’m not going to the wedding.”
Maximilian Crawford stood beside the circular oak table and stared him down. He was a tall, handsome, distinguished man in his sixties. Tan and rugged looking, his lined face suggested a life spent outdoors—and it had been. Now he left the physically taxing ranch work to Hunter and his brothers. His hair had once been brown like his sons’ but now it was gray and earned him the nickname “Silver Fox.” He was accustomed to getting what he wanted by any legal means necessary, but Hunter had inherited his father’s stubborn streak. So neither of them blinked.
Finally, his father said, “Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“It’s important to me that the whole family is there. Your brothers and their new wives are looking forward to a little vacation in Rustler’s Notch.” The older man looked at his youngest son, a “don’t just stand there” expression in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Wilder said. “You could use a vacation, bro.”
“I’m good,” Hunter said.
“It’s actually not you I’m worried about.” Wilder settled his hands on his lean hips. “The truth is, I could use your help. The two of us are the only single Crawford men left. It’s Colorado in November. Can you say ‘snow bunnies’? It pains me to say this, but I need a wingman.”
Hunter glared at him. “Did someone drop you on your head when you were a baby?”
“Maybe.” Wilder glanced at their father, then shrugged. “Why?”
“Just to make sure I’ve got this right...” He paused for dramatic effect. “At this family outing, your primary goal is to hit on every single woman between the ages of twenty and forty?”
“Yes.”
It wasn’t easy to get under his brother’s skin. Hunter wasn’t even sure why he tried. “Even if I was interested in partying, which I’m not, I have a six-year-old daughter. Wren and I would cramp your style.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we bring Wren.” Wilder stopped for a moment, clearly thinking that over. “Although, a single father with a kid could be a chick magnet.”
“Don’t even go there,” Hunter warned. “And no, you can’t borrow her.”
“That’s low,” his brother said. “I would never use my niece like that.”
“He was just kidding,” Max cut in.
“Yeah, lighten up, big brother. It would do you good to let off some steam.”
“How would you know?” Hunter asked. “All you think about is your next score. You have absolutely no responsibilities. And no idea what I’ve gone through.”
“That’s true,” Wilder acknowledged. “But it’s been six years since your wife died. Everyone else has been tiptoeing around the subject but I’m already in the doghouse with you so what the heck.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Lara wouldn’t want you to be like this. There’s no law against moving on. And your
