suffocating humidity, but that particular weekend had been especially brutal. A heat wave swept through the area, causing widespread power outages as the temperature soared. The gala’s luxury hotel was plunged into darkness. Even after they got the generator up and running, the crystal chandeliers were barely illuminated, and heady, scented candles were scattered over every available surface.
He remembered Avery saying something about the animosity between their families, and true, his father had never uttered a kind word about Oscar Ellington. Quite the opposite, actually. There was definitely bad blood between the Crawford and Ellington patriarchs. But Finn and Avery had always managed to get along. And something about the darkness made their little flirtation seem not so low-key anymore, so over laugher and dry martinis at the bar, they’d agreed to set aside any familial difficulty.
She’d looked so damned beautiful in the candlelight, all soft curves and wide, luminous eyes. He’d taken a chance and leaned in…
He swallowed hard at the memory of what came next. It had been like something out of a dream. A perfect night—so perfect he hadn’t taken another woman to bed since, despite his popularity in Montana. And now Avery was right here, less than an arm’s length away, when he’d thought he’d never see her again.
“Please,” he said. “Dinner, or even just coffee? For old times’ sake.”
He’d been neck-deep in women for the past three months, and now he was begging for an hour of Avery Ellington’s time. Wonderful.
Melba cut in again before she could give him an answer. “Look at the time! Sorry to interrupt, but we simply must be going. Avery, how could you let me forget? We have to stop over at the Dalton Law Office to pick up those papers for Gene.”
Avery’s expression went blank. “What papers?”
“Those very important papers. You know the ones.” Melba took the flannel shirts from Avery and handed them to Nina, who shoved them into a bag.
Avery crossed her arms, uncrossed them and crossed them again. Finn’s gaze snagged on her oversize blue button-down. Was that a man’s shirt she was wearing?
His jaw clenched. They hadn’t even spoken since that simmering night in June, but Finn didn’t like the thought of her with another man. Not one bit.
Overreacting much? It was one night, not an actual relationship. Maybe he wasn’t such a fine Southern gentleman, after all.
“Come on, now. We don’t want to keep Ben Dalton waiting.” Melba shoved one of her five shopping bags at Avery and then linked elbows with her.
“Right. Of course we don’t.” Avery glanced at him one last time as Melba practically dragged her out of the store. “It was good seeing you, Finn. Goodbye.”
He stared after them, wondering what in the hell had just happened.
“Can I help you find anything, Mr. Crawford?” Nina said from behind the counter.
Finn dragged his gaze away from the scene beyond the shop window and Avery’s chocolate-hued hair, whipping around her angelic face in the wind like a dark halo.
He smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “No, thank you.”
For some strange reason, he almost felt like he’d already found what he needed. And now he’d just watched her walk away.
Again.
“Where are we going, exactly?” Avery gripped her shopping bag until her knuckles turned white and did her best to resist the overwhelming urge to glance over her shoulder for another glimpse of the general store.
Of Finn.
She almost wanted to believe she’d imagined their entire awkward encounter just now. Since the moment she’d first spotted the two tiny pink lines on the drugstore pregnancy test she’d taken in her posh executive washroom at Ellington Meats, she’d tried to imagine what she’d say to Finn the next time she saw him. Somehow she always imagined she’d be able to utter more than two stuttered words.
Had she managed to string a whole sentence together at all? Nope, she was pretty sure she hadn’t. So much for being a strong, independent woman and facing the situation head-on.
“We’re not going anywhere, dear. I thought you were going to faint when you saw Finn Crawford. I made something up to get you out of there.” Melba gave her hand a comforting pat.
So her panic had been that obvious? Fabulous.
“Oh, thank you. But I was surprised, that’s all.” Shocked to her core was more like it.
Which was really kind of ridiculous, since the whole reason she’d come to Rust Creek Falls was to tell him about the baby. Get in, drop the baby bomb and get out. That had been the plan. It was just so much harder than she’d imagined. And now here she was, a couple weeks later, still secretly pregnant.
“Finn is an old friend.” She stared straight ahead as they walked back to the boarding house. What had just transpired at the general store was a minor setback, not a total disaster. It’s not like she could have told him she was pregnant right then and there.
Hey, so great to see you. FYI, I’m having your baby, and I’m planning to raise it on my own. Just wanted to let you know. I’ve got to pay for my pile of flannel now. Have a nice life.
Beside her, Melba snorted. “Well. He seems to have a lot of friends, if you know what I mean.”
Avery’s steps slowed as her heart pounded hard in her chest. “I don’t, actually.”
“It seems pretty obvious that you aren’t ready to jump into a relationship. In any event, from what I’ve heard, Finn Crawford wouldn’t be a great candidate.”
Avery concentrated hard on putting one foot in front of the other as she turned Melba’s words over in her mind. She was almost afraid to ask for more information, but she had to, didn’t she? If the father of her baby was an ax murderer or something, that seemed like vital information to have. “Melba, what exactly have you heard?”
The older woman shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a right charming fellow—possibly too charming. He’s dated practically everyone in Rust Creek Falls since his family moved to town. It’s sweet that he asked you to dinner, but Finn isn’t right for a nice girl like you.”
A nice girl like you.
What on earth would Melba think if she knew the real story?
Avery took a deep breath. The air smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg, courtesy of the decorative cinnamon brooms so many of the local business included in the fall pumpkin displays decorating the sidewalk. But the cozy atmosphere couldn’t get her mind off a troubling truth—Finn might not be a serial killer, but apparently, he was a serial flirt. Somehow she didn’t think a baby would fit neatly into a carefree lifestyle like the one Melba had just described.
But that was fine. More than fine, really. She didn’t need Finn’s help. If she could run the business division of a Fortune 500 company, she could certainly raise
