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A Maverick And A Half
Marie Ferrarella
TEACHING THE RANCHER HIS L-O-V-E's!Readers, it’s back-to-school time in Rust Creek Falls, and new single mama Marina Laramie has returned to her classroom for the first time since baby Sydney was born. Did you hear about her parent-teacher conference with handsome ranching dad Anderson Dalton? Seems they bonded over his young son Jake, and now we here at the Gazette are hearing there is a marriage in the works!A rancher, a schoolteacher, a grade-schooler and a baby: it does paint a lovely picture. But is it too good to be true? Those in the know whisper this is a marriage of convenience to help Anderson gain custody of his son. We, however, are rooting for something more. Raise your hands, hopeful romantics, if you think Marina and Anderson’s "arrangement" has the makings of a grade-A love match!
Teaching The Rancher His L-O-V-E’s!
Rust Creek Ramblings
Readers, it’s back-to-school time in Rust Creek Falls, and new single mama Marina Laramie has returned to her classroom for the first time since baby Sydney was born. Did you hear about her parent-teacher conference with handsome ranching dad Anderson Dalton? Seems they bonded over his young son, Jake, and now we here at the Gazette are hearing there is a marriage in the works!
A rancher, a schoolteacher, a grade-schooler and a baby: it does paint a lovely picture. But is it too good to be true? Those in the know whisper this is a marriage of convenience to help Anderson gain custody of his son. We, however, are rooting for something more. Raise your hands, hopeful romantics, if you think Marina and Anderson’s “arrangement” has the makings of a grade-A love match!
“Why was he kissing you?” Jake wanted to know, regarding them suspiciously, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not his father was telling him the truth.
“People kiss without getting married, Jake,” Marina told him, her voice deliberately breezy. “It happens all the time.” She spared Anderson a look. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
Anderson couldn’t tell if she was letting him off the hook because of Jake, or if she was really being serious and putting him on notice that the kiss had meant less than nothing to her.
Either way, he knew he should be relieved—except that he wasn’t. He felt guilty because he was fairly certain that there were still hurt feelings involved. He was really sorry if there were, but there was nothing he could do about that—at least not without compromising himself in front of his son.
This was getting way too complicated. He had more than he could handle just trying to navigate these new turbulent fatherhood waters. He had no room for the kind of baggage having a girlfriend created. Never mind that she could be something more than that, that somewhere in his misbegotten soul he might even want her to be more than that.
Get a grip, man. If you’re not careful, you’ll be going down for the third time.
* * *
Montana Mavericks:The Baby Bonanza Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy!
Dear Reader (#ulink_dbfb26ba-268a-5480-9e60-0f3c48476849),
When I was a kid, one late-November afternoon, the entire east coast lost power. The blackout went on for hours. Nine months later, a whole slew of babies joined the population (with no TV and no power to light anything, what else was there to do?).
Rust Creek Falls experienced its own baby boom after the spiked punch at last year’s July Fourth wedding caused a lot of people’s inhibitions to take a backseat to their desires. This is the story of one such little dividend, a baby born to a fifth-grade teacher, one Marina Laramie, whose beloved bailed on her the moment he discovered she was pregnant. Marina’s experience has soured her on men, but definitely not on children. When rancher Anderson Dalton’s newly discovered son, eleven-year-old Jake, winds up in Marina’s class, she can see that the introverted video-game player is really very lost and lonely. She goes out of her way to reach him and bond with the boy. By doing so, she forms a bridge for both herself and his father, bringing them both back to the land of the living, where love makes everything worthwhile.
I hope you find your visit back to Montana Maverick country as enjoyable as I found writing this story of two lost souls finding each other. As always, I thank you for taking the time to read one of my stories, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
With love,
A Maverick and a Half
Marie Ferrarella
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred and fifty books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com (http://www.marieferrarella.com).
To
Megan Broderick,
Welcome to the Fun House!
Contents
Cover (#uf13f16ac-ba73-5571-85e3-73d9ff87434d)
Back Cover Text (#u745464bd-db7d-5da4-9116-417f17bf0ddf)
Introduction (#uf3207a1f-7b5c-5810-b7c4-56e313ad7608)
Dear Reader (#ulink_89cb621d-fba4-53f1-9eaa-af842d917bb1)
Title Page (#u8952ebb1-32dc-5e4e-ab4a-722b24b5864c)
About the Author (#ufe93b158-1f56-5d58-a25e-4dde1dd62542)
Dedication (#uc8d2789c-3f89-5714-aa46-2b0e92304fcb)
Chapter One (#ube6be367-f847-5ca3-af8a-a3b821c69587)
Chapter Two (#u33594b0d-4569-5138-88f3-432c71fd543c)
Chapter Three (#ued4288fd-c131-560b-952c-f5230da8ff6b)
Chapter Four (#u69408d0d-bb52-5eca-bc1b-f45e5f84ad13)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_be205c96-bff0-55a9-808b-3edab4d1d317)
All he had come in for was a glass of water.
Ranching was hard, sweaty work, even in September. Granted, if he was so inclined, he could have easily spent his days just sitting on the porch, delegating work to a myriad of ranch hands and no one would have said anything, but that just wasn’t his way.
As far back as he could remember, Anderson Dalton had loved working on the family ranch, loved being one with the land as well as the animals that were kept here. Ranch work wasn’t a hardship for him, but he had to admit that there were times, when he got too caught up in what he was doing, that he did wind up working up a powerful thirst.
Walking into the kitchen and wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist, Anderson made his way to the sink.
But he’d made the mistake of absently glancing toward the wall. Specifically, the wall where the old, faded off-white landline was mounted.
That was when he saw it.
The red light blinking at him like the bloodshot eye of an aging dragon way past its prime but still a force to be reckoned with in its own right.
Anderson kept the landline with its answering machine in service because out on the range cell phone signals had a habit of playing hide-and-seek with him. Not to mention he had a tendency to lose his cell phone while riding and doing the thousand and one chores that a large ranch required. Because he was now a father, he had taken to keeping one close by despite all this.
When he saw the pulsing red light, Anderson’s first reaction was just to ignore it and walk out again. But a nagging voice in his head urged him to listen to the message.
You never know. It might be important.
Now that he had an eleven-year-old son to take care of—albeit temporarily—everything was different. He had to be more responsible, more cautious, more aware of things than he’d ever been before.
Fatherhood at best was a hard thing to get used to. Instant fatherhood to an eleven-year-old was a whole different ball game altogether. He’d been discovering that firsthand since this July when Lexie James, the woman he’d had a casual one-night stand with twelve years ago, showed up on his doorstep asking him to take temporary custody of their son while she “worked some things out.”
Eager to finally get to know his son, Anderson had agreed without a second’s hesitation. He hadn’t realized that being a father demanded years of on-the-job training. It wasn’t something that happened overnight. But he was trying his best.
Downing the glass of water he’d come in for in three quick gulps, Anderson crossed to the wall phone in a few long strides and hit the Play button.
“You have one new message. First new message,” the machine metallically announced. The next moment, the machine’s robotic-sounding voice was replaced with a very melodic one.
“Mr. Dalton, this is Ms. Laramie, Jake’s teacher. We need to talk. Please call me back so we can make an appointment.” She proceeded to leave Rust Creek Falls Elementary’s phone number before terminating her call.
Anderson stood there, staring at the answering machine.
“We need to talk.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Anderson closed his eyes. Glimmers of déjà vu flashed through his mind, propelling him back to his own school days all over again. He’d certainly been a bright enough kid, but his mind was always wandering, going in all different directions at once, most of which were not scholastic in nature. That didn’t make him the best student in the classic sense of the word.
His mouth curved a little. Obviously the son whose existence he’d only discovered a year ago was a chip off the old block.
He’d only gotten temporary custody of Jake this July and school had just been in session for a couple of weeks now. How much trouble could the boy be in? Anderson couldn’t help wondering.
If it was something major—like accidentally blowing up the boys’ bathroom, he thought, remembering an incident out of his own past—wouldn’t Paige have alerted him? The fourth-grade class that his younger sister taught was located right across the hall from his son’s fifth-grade classroom and he was fairly certain that if anything actually bad had happened, he would have known it by now. Paige would have called to tell him.
Fairly certain, but not completely certain.
Muttering a few very choice sentiments about thin-skinned teachers under his breath, Anderson tapped out the numbers that connected him to his sister’s cell phone.
On the third ring he heard what he assumed was his sister taking his call. But before he could say a word, he heard, “Hello, you’ve reached Paige Traub. Between teaching a class of energized fourth graders and chasing after my two-year-old fireball, I’m too busy to answer my phone. Please leave a message. If I’m still breathing, I’ll call you back.”
Anderson frowned. He hated talking to an inanimate recording—so he didn’t.
Terminating the call, he could feel himself getting worked up. What right did this Ms. Laramie have to judge his son? She’d only been his teacher for two weeks. How could she find fault in the kid so fast? Besides, Jake was a good kid. He didn’t mouth off, didn’t act out. Hell, he hardly made any sound at all. Just his thumbs, hitting the keys on the controller of those damn video games he was so hooked on.
Considering that two and a half months ago, Jake was living in Chicago and now he was here, in Rust Creek Falls, Montana, the middle of nowhere by comparison, the kid had made a great adjustment. Just what did that woman want from his son?
Lily!
His brother Caleb’s daughter Lily was in Jake’s class, he remembered. The thought hit Anderson like a thunderbolt. Maybe she knew what was going on.
It took Anderson a minute to remember Caleb’s number—but he might as well have spared himself the trouble. He had the same results when he called Caleb as he’d had with Paige’s phone, except that this time, he didn’t wait for the recorded message to go through its paces. He terminated the call before his brother’s message was over.
Two strikes. Now what?
This Ms. Laramie had said to call to set up an appointment but if he found himself on the receiving end of yet another answering machine recording, he knew he’d probably yank his phone right off the wall. He didn’t want to risk blowing up or losing his temper.
But he couldn’t very well ignore the woman, either. After all, she’d said she wanted to talk to him about Jake. She’d probably get bent out of joint if he didn’t get in contact with her.
Besides, he knew he wasn’t going to have any peace of mind until this thing with the thin-skinned lady teacher was resolved.
That left him only one option. School was almost over for the day, but the last class was still in session. He’d signed Jake up for after school basketball, so that gave him a little extra time. He was going to go down to that school and have it out with that woman before this thing blew any more out of proportion.
With that, Anderson stormed out of the house, the memory of every teacher who’d ever found fault with him all those years ago spurring him on.
* * *
If someone had told Marina Laramie five years ago that she would simultaneously be juggling a teaching career and single motherhood—which entailed taking care of an infant in creative ways she’d never dreamed possible—she would have said that it just couldn’t happen. The very idea of doing both wasn’t feasible.
Yet here she was, fifteen minutes after her fifth graders had filed rowdily out, homeward bound, and instead of contemplating a fun evening out the way she would have only a couple of short years ago, she was hovering over her desk, trying to change Sydney’s rather pungent diaper as quickly as possible.
Marina sighed, shaking her head. This was not quite the carefree life she’d once pictured for herself—but even so, she wouldn’t have traded this life for anything in the world.
“Lucky for you I like kids, muffin-face,” Marina said, addressing her very animated daughter, who apparently hadn’t yet grasped the concept of lying still. The embodiment of perpetual motion, Sydney was all arms and legs and Marina had to be vigilant to keep the five-month-old from literally propelling herself right off the desk that had been temporarily transformed into a changing station. “Even stinky ones,” Marina teased as she succeeded in separating her daughter’s bottom from what was now a considerably used diaper.
Moving swiftly, she cleaned Sydney off and then slipped a fresh diaper under her. The old diaper had been tightly packed into itself like an unusual origami creation.
“Are you timing me?” she asked the baby. Reacting to the sound of her voice, her daughter seemed to cock her head and stare at her with her bright blue eyes. “I’m getting better at this. Yes, I am,” Marina informed her daughter with conviction. “And I’d be better still if you could find it in that heart of yours not to wiggle all over the place quite so much.”
