The Maverick's Ready-Made Family

He hadn’t expected to see her here tonight, and his pulse gave a quick little jolt. He could lament the instinctive response as much as he wanted, but he couldn’t deny it. The bigger surprise came when he watched his mother walk away, leaving Bennett with their landlady.

Clay wasn’t worried—he trusted Toni implicitly. But he knew her; his mother didn’t. And he couldn’t help but be a little suspicious about Ellie’s willingness to relinquish her beloved grandson to a stranger.

In a few quick strides, Clay was standing beside Toni’s table. Bennett smiled at him but didn’t lift his head off of Antonia’s shoulder. Not that Clay could blame his son for choosing a beautiful woman over his daddy and, in this case, Bennett had the attention of two beautiful women.

“Small world,” he said to Toni, and smiled.

“I’m not sure about the world, but Thunder Canyon is,” she replied.

“Even so, there isn’t anyone anywhere who can top D.J.’s ribs,” her dinner companion chimed in.

“Can’t argue with that,” he replied, then offered his hand. “Clayton Traub.”

“Catherine Clif—I mean, Overton,” she said, then grinned and wiggled the fingers on her left hand. “I’m still getting used to the new name.”

“Congratulations,” Clay said.

“Thanks. But that reminds me, I should be getting home to my hubby.”

Toni narrowed her gaze at her friend. “I thought you said Cody wasn’t going to be home from Billings until late.”

“That’s what I thought, but—” Catherine held up her phone “—he just sent me a text to say he was home.”

Toni’s gaze shifted to the instrument in her hand, as if she didn’t believe her friend was being entirely truthful about the message. In fact, she looked as if she might have snatched the phone from her friend’s hand to verify the claim, if not for the fact that her own hands were full of baby.

“It was nice meeting you,” Catherine said to Clay. Then, to Toni, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

And with a quick wave over her shoulder, she was gone.

Clay slid into the seat she’d vacated. “I think your friend just stuck you with the bill.”

“It was my turn to pay, anyway,” she told him.

“And somehow you got stuck with my child again, too.”

She smiled at that. “Your mom had to pop back into the ladies’ room.”

His mother had barely let Bennett out of her sight since she’d arrived in Thunder Canyon, so Clay was still suspicious of Ellie’s motivations.

“You met my mom?”

“Bennett introduced us,” she said, which didn’t really explain anything, but Clay let it go.

“Do you want to come and meet the rest of the family?”

Toni immediately shook her head; he laughed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to seem so adamant. It just looks like you’ve got some kind of family reunion going on, and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion,” he assured her.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I should be getting back to the ranch. Morning—and the breakfast crowd—comes early.”

“It’s pancakes on Saturdays, isn’t it?” he asked hopefully, rising to his feet again.

“It is,” she agreed.

“Then we will be there.” He reached for his son, sighed when he saw that the little guy had fallen asleep on her shoulder again. “If I can get him up in the morning. Unfortunately, a half hour nap at this time of day will keep him up till midnight.”

“Sorry,” Toni apologized as she shifted the baby to him. “I didn’t know I was supposed to keep him awake.”

“You weren’t supposed to do anything,” he assured her. “That was my mother’s self-appointed task. But thank you again for stepping in.”

She tapped a fingertip to Bennett’s nose. “It was my pleasure.”

As Clay watched her walk away, he couldn’t help but think that every moment he spent with Toni Wright was very much his pleasure.

The house was dark and mostly quiet when Antonia returned home—the only light and sound being that which emanated from the television in the living room. Her brothers had headed to Bozeman for a bachelor party for a friend of Hudson’s and wouldn’t be back until Sunday, so it had to be her father who was home.

The Wright brothers worked hard during the week, and partied harder on the weekends. The Hitching Post used to be their favorite hangout and, in the past, they’d been known to drink beer and hustle pool there until all hours. Unfortunately, the establishment had gone out of business the previous spring after the owner passed away, forcing the locals to find other watering holes—at least temporarily. But shortly after The Hitching Post shut down, local boy Jason Traub bought the property and planned to reopen the renovated establishment later in October.

If that timetable held, Antonia’s brothers—and a lot of other Thunder Canyon residents—would be very happy.

Moving farther into the living room, Antonia saw that her father had fallen asleep in front of the television with a bottle of whiskey and highball glass on the table beside him. She sighed softly. For as long as she could remember, John Wright had always liked a glass of whiskey in the evening, but he’d rarely indulged in more than one glass. All of that had changed when his beloved wife passed away. John had turned to the bottle with increasing frequency, seeking solace in its contents, refusing to accept that there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to drown his sorrow.

But over the past few months, Antonia had gotten the impression that his drinking had lessened somewhat. Apparently that had just been wishful thinking on her part.

Except that when she reached for his glass, intending to take it to the kitchen, she noticed that the whiskey bottle still looked full. On closer inspection, she saw that the seal around the cap hadn’t even been cracked.

She lifted the empty glass, sniffed.

It was clean.

She set the glass down again. She didn’t understand why he’d taken the bottle out if he wasn’t drinking, but she didn’t care. It was only the not drinking part that mattered.

With a combination of relief and genuine affection, she touched her lips gently to his forehead, intending to slip out of the room and up to her own bed. In the past, if he’d drunken himself into a stupor, his only response would have been a snort or a snore. Tonight, he shifted, his eyes flickered open. Eyes that were weary but clear.

“Antonia?”

“Sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he told her. “Where are you comin’ in from so late?”

She smiled. “It’s not that late, and I was out for dinner with Catherine.”

“You missed a good meal right here,” he told her. “Peggy made roast pork tonight.”

She’d known what was on the menu, of course, since she and Peggy planned the week’s meals together every Sunday. And she wondered, not for the first time, if John Wright had any idea what she did around the ranch, how many responsibilities she’d taken on to make sure the bills got paid.