by Hayes, Somer
Beau
Mavericks of Montana Creek — Book Two
Somer Hayes
Contents
Important!
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Connect With Us!
About the Author
Acknowledgments
COPYRIGHT 2018 PRISM HEART PRESS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COVER DESIGN © Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs
EDITING: Booktique Editing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume and responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.
E-books are not transferrable. They cannot be sold, given away, or shared. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in Federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr).
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Important!
If you did not obtain this book via Amazon or Kindle Unlimited, it has been stolen. Downloading this book without paying for it is against the law, and often times those files have been corrupted with viruses and malware that can damage your eReader or computer or steal your passwords and banking information. Always obtain my books via Amazon and Amazon only.
Thank you for your support and for helping to combat piracy.
For my biggest fan, my mom.
Description
Beau Maverick has a great life—a close family, a thriving veterinary practice, and the privilege of being a Maverick in Great Falls, Montana. Despite all that, he fights a feeling of hollowness. After the death of his beloved mother, he throws himself into her role of charitable and philanthropic duties in the community. He was least interested in being on the chair of the local symphony, but when the feisty new director comes to town, he finds the challenge brings with it a spark of life.
Grace Sutherland is devastated at the news that the Manchester Philharmonic in her hometown in New Hampshire has voted to relocate her to assist one of their lesser known symphonies in a small town in Montana. Her unconventional methods, while effective, were at odds with their traditions. However, she accepts the challenge and is determined to regain her standing and get out of Montana as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for her, the chair of her new board might make that difficult.
1
Grace
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“I’m afraid I am, Grace.”
I shot out of my chair and began pacing.
“Please sit down,” my grandmother said, her voice as cool and emotionless as ever. I ignored her.
“How can they do this to me after everything I’ve done for them?”
“They’re doing this because of everything you’ve done for them,” she replied, droll.
I stopped in my tracks. “Someone has to make the difficult decisions around here. Heaven knows none of them are capable.” I began pacing again.
“No one is saying you’re ineffective. They’ve just decided they need someone more…” She waved her hand in a circular motion as she chose her words. “Tactful.”
I snorted. “You mean a pushover. They want a politician, not a director.”
I was aware the board of the Manchester Philharmonic in New Hampshire had given me this chance not because of my accomplishments, but because my father and grandmother were not only two of the longest standing members of the orchestra, but also amongst their biggest donors. I’d grown up in this world. I loved the orchestra more than anything, and my drive was born from that passion. At twenty-six, I was the youngest ever director and had made some unconventional and unpopular decisions in my time in this role, but I stood by them. If this organization wanted to remain relevant, then we needed to embrace change.
“Granted, our board of directors is more conservative than others in the area, but you knew that when you took the job. I warned you to take it slow.”
I stopped long enough to put my hands on my hips and level her with a glare. She had the audacity to laugh.
“I know. You’ve never done anything slowly. But unfortunately, in this case, the board feels your differences are just too great.”
“So that’s it? I’m out? Fired?” I could barely say the word without the all-too-familiar feeling of anxiety associated with the thought of failure. As a perfectionist born into a family of overachievers, it was something I’d struggled with my entire life. I tried to swallow the rising panic.
“Not fired, dear. Reallocated.”
“Reallocated?” I screeched. “Like I’m nothing more to them than a surplus of office supplies?”
“The board feels as though your particular talents would be put to better use elsewhere.”
My eyes narrowed as realization dawned. “The Foundation.”
She inclined her head but said nothing. Her silence was my answer. My hands found the back of a chair, and my chin fell to my chest. The Philharmonic is the administrator of a charitable foundation that funds symphonies in, ahem, less cultured areas. They’d been known to send misfit employees to remote locations to “develop leadership skills,” but usually the outcasts gave up and quit before they were invited to come back.
I squared my shoulders. That wouldn’t be me. I would go to whatever godforsaken orchestra they’d found, whip it into shape, and prove that I was worthy of this position. “Challenge accepted.”
Her lips ticked slightly upward, the closest she ever came to smiling. “Atta girl.”
So, she still had my back. I felt strangely encouraged and vindicated holding that knowledge. “So how bad is it?”
She plucked a piece of paper from the neat stack in front of her and offered it to me.
Please don’t be Kansas… Please don’t be Kansas…
I looked at the sheet of paper in my hand and blinked. It was even worse than I’d imagi
ned.
“Montana?”
“The Great Falls Symphony,” she said.
“Montana has a symphony?” My mind reeled. “Montana has… anything?”
She lifted a trim shoulder. “Evidently.”
“That’s it?” I asked incredulously. “You’re willing to send your only granddaughter off to some godforsaken wilderness you know nothing about?”
“You know nothing about it either, dear. How do you know God has forsaken it?”
In a rush, the fight drained from my body, and I collapsed into a chair. “They really want to be rid of me that badly?”
My grandmother rose from her seat and rounded her desk to stand in front of me. Her tiny stature didn’t require her to bend to grasp my chin in her hands and force my eyes to hers. “This is simply a test, Grace, and I know it’s one you can pass. Take this assignment, kick its ass, rub their faces in it. If you prove you can handle yourself in a situation such as this, they’ll have no ammunition left against you. Sure, your methods may be unconventional, but if you can show them they work, they’ll reinstate you. I know it.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked.
She straightened. “They think you’ll give up and quit, but I know better.”
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Her steely gray eyes sparkled. “Atta girl.”
2
Beau
“Good girl,” I murmured.
“You know she doesn’t understand you,” my brother, Tripp, drawled from somewhere over my shoulder.
“You shut up. Of course, she does.” I ran my hand down the neck of the mare that had just given birth to a beautiful chestnut foal. “Can’t you, darling?” I could feel Tripp’s eyes rolling, but I ignored him. I finished my examination and straightened. “Everything looks fine.”
“Good. Thanks for coming by to check on her.”
“Any time. You know that.”
“You staying for dinner?”
I couldn’t help but grin. Now that Tripp’s Hannah had moved in with him and was cooking for the ranch full-time, it seemed that man’s entire schedule revolved around his stomach.
“What’s on the menu for tonight?”
“I don’t know, but it’s sure as hell going to be better than whatever you were planning to reheat in the microwave.”
“Fair enough.” We mounted our horses and rode together to the bunkhouse where most of the ranch hands gathered for their meals. As we rode, I looked around at all the natural beauty surrounding us and hated that it didn’t fill me with the same amount of awe and wonderment it once did. It was something I’d noticed more and more recently, this lack of fulfillment. It was like a tiny hole had opened up in my middle and grew with each passing day.
I had no reason to feel this way. I had a great family I loved being with, my veterinary practice was successful, and I enjoyed my work. After the loss of my mother, I’d assumed her various philanthropic roles and stayed busy in the community.
I had a great life. So why did I feel so empty inside?
Buck up, cowboy. I heard the voice of my mother in my head. I sat straighter in my saddle. She was right, of course. I was being ridiculous, and I needed to pull myself out of this funk.
We arrived at the bunkhouse and left our horses with the others already there grazing. We went around to the back door that led into the kitchen and let ourselves in. I was immediately hit with the mouth-watering scents of baked bread and what I hoped was lasagna.
The door had barely closed behind us when Hannah came flying out of the dining room and flung herself at Tripp. He caught her easily and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply.
A spurt of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy hit me in the gut. But that couldn’t be right. I loved my brother, and Hannah had been good for him. I was happy for them, not jealous.
I moved past them grumbling something about finding a room and went to the fridge to grab a beer. Popping the top, I went to the dining room and sat down with the guys. To avoid watching Tripp and Hannah suck on each other’s face, I asked Bill, Tripp’s ranch manager, how the cattle were doing this year. I half paid attention, more interested in getting the beer in me to dull the unusual and uncomfortable feelings.
Growing up, my brothers always accused me of being the most sensitive, and I suppose they were right. The four of them took after my father, Rhett, while I was definitely my mother’s son. Still, I was unaccustomed to having so many… feelings.
I cursed under my breath and drained my beer.
Buck up, cowboy.
3
Grace
“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself for the hundredth time today. The first time was when the plane had landed, and I saw nothing but open fields, cattle, and distant mountains. Where were all the buildings? The cars? The people? The sounds? It was like I’d landed in an entirely different world.
This time, it was because my driver had stopped at a little, um, house, I guess I should call it. It was like an upside down ‘V’ had landed in a patch of grass and grown a deck.
“Need help with your bags?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay,” I mumbled, eyes glued to the place the Philharmonic had rented for me on an open-ended lease.
“You sure?” I glanced back at the denim-clad driver who seemed harmless enough, but my father’s lecture about steering clear of uncultured mountain men was still painfully clear.
“I’ve got it,” I said and got out of the car. The driver popped the trunk, and I struggled to haul my luggage out. Once I had all the suitcases on the side of the road, I waved him off. I grabbed the handle of the biggest bag and headed toward the front door. My heels and the wheels of the suitcase slid and tripped over the cobblestone path, and by the time I reached the door, I felt like cursing.
I dug around in my purse and found the key to the rental and unlocked the door. I pushed it open and peeked inside. It smelled clean—that was a good sign. To my left was a living area furnished with leather furniture and rugs of red and turquoise. There was even a stone fireplace with a log mantle. To my right was a surprisingly modern kitchen. I took a tentative step inside. A set of open stairs near the back of the living area led to a loft, and I could make out a bed and some dressers. Another step, and I found a bathroom and laundry area in the hallway leading to the back door.
It was charming in a rustic, girl scout camp sort of way. I left the suitcase just inside the door and went back out for another load, fighting the stone path the entire way. Once I finally had everything hauled into the house, I kicked off my heels and let out that curse word I’d been trying to hold in all day.
Then I went to the kitchen, found a glass, and chugged some water. I’d have preferred something stronger at that moment, but I had work to do.
First order of business, get moved in. I needed to feel organized in my new home before I could begin my work at the symphony. I’d learned early on that having a quiet, comfortable place to go to at the end of a busy workday was key for me to avoid burnout. I was grateful this place came fully furnished. All I needed to do was unpack my clothes and toiletries, and then I could get to work.
It took less than an hour to get everything put away, then I changed into some comfier clothes and pulled out the portfolio I’d started for the Great Falls Symphony. From what they’d provided me, I was giving this project six months, tops.
Hah, I thought with a smug sense of satisfaction. I’ll have this place whipped into shape in no time.
I’d only been here a matter of hours, but I was already itching to get back home and show the board what I was made of.
4
Beau
“Dr. Maverick?”
I glanced up at Nancy, my head veterinarian technician. “Nancy. How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Beau.”
“I just wanted to remind you that you need to leave a little early today to make it to your board meeting.” The middle
-aged woman was not only my longest-employed staffer, but she had made it her business to act as my personal secretary.
I glanced at the screen on my desk and didn’t find anything on my calendar. “Which board?”
“The Great Falls Symphony,” she said.
“Ah, crap.” I looked at the stack of paperwork in front of me and sighed. “Can I blow it off?”
“I wouldn’t. The new director started this week.”
Oh, right. Apparently, the town wasn’t running the charity funds well enough for the orchestra gods, and they sent someone in from the big city to tell us how to run ours. Even though I couldn’t care less about the orchestra, the thought of an outsider telling us how to do business grated on me.
I pushed away from my desk, grumbling. “Fine.” I hung my white coat on the rack next to the door and traded it for a light leather jacket. The weather was finally starting to turn in Great Falls, and I welcomed the cooler temps.
“Nancy?” I called.
She popped her gray head around the corner, and I noticed for the first time the set of scrubs she was wearing—puppies licking ice cream cones. “Yes, Dr. Maverick?”
