Beau: Mavericks of Montana Creek — Book Two

by Hayes, Somer

  “You’re okay locking up tonight?”

  She answered me with an eye roll. “I think I can handle it.”

  Sometimes I forgot she had been here longer than I had. I’d purchased the clinic from my mentor after completing my residency.

  “Thanks. And remember we have uniform scrubs here now. And call me Beau.”

  “The kids like these better. And no.”

  “And please add a memo to my calendar to fire my office manager and hire one who listens to me.”

  “I’ll get right on that, Doctor.”

  Grumbling, I left the office and went to my truck. I knew investment in my community was paramount to its success, and I was trying hard to fill my mother’s philanthropic shoes, but I had a load of work to do and couldn’t care less about the symphony or their new director.

  I flew across town to the old theater on Main Street that even I had to admit did need some work. I found a parking spot in the front and stomped my way to the conference room, boots echoing loudly throughout the open space. I threw the door open and greeted the other board members who had already arrived, a mostly older and artsy crowd. I didn’t fit in here. At all. I was more comfortable outdoors getting my hands and boots dirty working with animals. I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and took a seat at the far end of the table. Glancing around the room, I thought my presence must make them as uncomfortable as I was by being here. If I were able to catch anyone’s eye, I got either a tight smile or a shift and awkward throat-clearing.

  Meh. Fine by me.

  I tapped my heel impatiently as a couple more people filtered in. I acknowledged them with disinterest, my mind back at the clinic and the pile of paperwork I’d have to head in early tomorrow to complete before my first appointment of the day.

  I glanced at the clock. It was almost six. Where was this guy?

  On the dot, the door opened. Not a guy.

  The opposite of a guy. A beautiful woman in a smart suit with dark hair bouncing around her shoulders. Her heels clicked loudly, and she dropped a briefcase on the table. Her hands rose to rest on her hips as she looked around the room taking each of us in individually.

  “I’m Grace Sutherland. I’ve been sent by the Manchester Philharmonic to get your symphony back on track.”

  She popped the locks on the briefcase and passed a stack of papers to the woman on her right.

  “I’ve outlined the strategy for the next six months in the packets going around the room now. I’ll give you a moment to look through it and then stand for any questions.”

  With that, she took a chair and patiently waited while the packets made their way to everyone, and the board members began flipping through the pages. I took a packet but didn’t bother opening it. Instead, I studied the intriguing new director while she seemed to be studying each of us in turn. When her eyes found me, and she caught me staring at her, she had no reaction. She just calmly returned my gaze and then moved on to my neighbor.

  I’ve been told I inherited the infamous Maverick stare-down. Passed down by my father, legend has it a scathing look from a Maverick could make a grown man cry. But this girl didn’t even bat an eye under the intensity of my stare. Interesting.

  Silence filled the room as the other board members read their packets, eyebrows furrowed, hasty glances sent toward Grace. I didn’t need to read it to know that whatever her plan was for us, it was making the board uncomfortable.

  One by one they finished reading and set the papers on the table in front of them, but no one said a word.

  “No questions?” Grace asked, and I decided I didn’t like her tone.

  “I have one,” I began. “Who do you think you are?” I could feel the tension in the room ratchet up but didn’t care. “This board has worked hard to support this symphony, and I think the least you could offer is the common courtesy of learning their names and understanding their function before coming in here and telling them they’re doing it wrong.”

  She blinked and then smiled slowly. Dammit if the effect of those red lips framing perfect white teeth didn’t shoot straight to my groin.

  “You’re Beau Maverick,” she said. Before I could respond, she continued. “And you are Rob McKnight. You’re Tilly Marshall. Greg Hurst…” She went around the table correctly ticking off everyone’s names. Then her eyes landed back on mine. “And I have been sent here because clearly the way you have been functioning isn’t working. If it were, I wouldn’t need to be here.” She spread her hands wide in explanation and then clapped them together. “So, now that we’re all acquainted with each other and the new plan, we can get busy. I’ll send everyone an email with the updated schedule. Meeting bi-monthly is unacceptable.” She stood. “Thank you all for coming. I look forward to working with you.”

  Then she took her briefcase and clipped out of the room. The room fell silent once again. My eyes narrowed on her retreating and perfectly formed backside.

  Being on this board had just become interesting.

  5

  Grace

  Like candy from a baby, I thought smugly as I walked out of the meeting. These yokels didn’t know the first thing about the symphony let alone how to run a successful one. I was pretty sure this board would do what I said with no pushback as long as I could wrangle the mouthy one. Which I could. I might get out of here even sooner than I’d hoped.

  The thought put a little extra bounce in my step until I heard a voice from behind me call, “Ms. Sutherland?”

  I turned and found the board member I’d just been plotting against. “Yes, Mr. Maverick?”

  “Actually, it’s Dr. Maverick.”

  I’d done my research, learned the faces and names of each of my board members. Did veterinarians get to be called doctor? I wasn’t so sure.

  “What can I help you with, Dr. Maverick?”

  “As chairman of the board, I wanted to let you know we won’t be needing these.” He handed me the strategy packet I’d created.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The board’s function is to direct and lead this organization. We’re your boss, not the other way around.”

  “I’m well aware of the relationship between a director and her board,” I began, but to my chagrin, he cut me off.

  “Oh, good. We agree, then.”

  I reared back. “No, sir. We do not.”

  He crossed his arms over his substantial chest. “No? What exactly is it that’s confusing you?”

  The nerve of this guy!

  I crossed my arms to mimic his stance. “The only thing confusing me is your resistance to a plan you haven’t read yet.”

  He took a step closer to me, but I held my ground. “I don’t need to read it to know that it makes the rest of my board uncomfortable, and therefore, we won’t be using it.”

  I stepped closer to him and hated that I had to crane my neck to hold eye contact. “It should make them uncomfortable because what they’ve been doing hasn’t been working.” His jaw clenched when realization dawned. I smiled up at him. “They? You realize you haven’t included yourself even once when you refer to the board? Pretty telling, I’d say.” I cocked my head. “Why are you so worked up about my strategy when you don’t even care whether or not you sit on the board?”

  His eyes flickered. Ha! Pegged him. He leaned forward and glared at me. I assumed he was trying to be intimidating, and that amused me.

  “Why I’m here is none of your concern. What you should be concerned about is the fact that I’m not going anywhere.” He grinned, and I felt my confidence falter for a moment, but I rallied and returned his smirk.

  “Got news for you, Maverick…” I paused for effect. “Neither am I.” Then I turned and spun on my heel. I refused to let him have the last word.

  But as I walked away from him, I couldn’t help but acknowledge he’d rattled me. And that I’d noticed his eyes—an unusual shade of blue—and that he smelled good.

  Wait. What?

  I shook my head to clear it
of the stupid, pointless thoughts. Dr. Maverick was not attractive.

  He was my newly sworn nemesis.

  6

  Beau

  I felt the slow grin claim my face as I watched Grace Sutherland storm away from me. I enjoyed the view just as much as when she’d stomped out of the conference room. I was suddenly glad Nancy had forced me to come to the meeting. I had expected the new director to be a balding older man sporting a bow tie, not the gorgeous, brazen creature I’d just encountered.

  I was still standing there dumbstruck when some of the other board members began filing out of the conference room.

  A tiny woman wearing a straw hat with flowers dotting the brim softly touched my elbow. “Did you speak with her?”

  I looked down and smiled at her. “I did.”

  “What did she say?”

  I pulled in a breath. “I think she’ll come around.”

  The sweet little lady patted my arm and then shuffled away. A few other members stopped to say good night on their way out, and when the last one had left, I made my way outside and went to my truck. I felt oddly amped up and didn’t like the idea of going home to my empty house. But I didn’t feel like going back to work either. I considered calling up to the ranch to see what Hannah was making for dinner, but I didn’t think I was in the mood to watch her and Tripp be all in love, either.

  So, I did the only other thing I could think of. I drove myself over to Murphy’s Pub, an Irish-themed place with an eccentric and entertaining owner. There were several other cars in the parking lot. I found a space and pulled in, then opened the door to the dim and noisy bar.

  “Tripp!”

  My eyes found the owner, Murphy, behind the bar where he was waving a towel in my direction.

  “Wrong Maverick, Murph.”

  “Gage? That you?”

  Gage was my younger brother. The middle son of the Maverick clan and the one most likely to hang out in bars like this one.

  “It’s Beau.”

  “Something wrong? Don’t see you here very often.”

  “Nope. Just thought a beer sounded good.”

  “Beer I’ve got. Want some nachos, too?”

  “No thanks. Just the beer.”

  “Okay. I’ll make you some nachos, anyway.”

  “Oh… okay.”

  He plopped a bottle of beer in front of me and then wandered off into what I assumed was the kitchen. I took a swig and looked around nodding at a few people I recognized.

  The jukebox was playing in the background, and I could have laughed out loud when I realized what song was playing. Difficult Woman by Paul Kelly.

  How very apt, I thought.

  The clatter of a plate being dropped on the counter in front of me caught my attention. Murphy had just delivered a plate full of… something.

  “Uhh, what do you call this masterpiece?” I asked him.

  “Next Day Nachos,” he replied, pride tinging his voice.

  I looked down at the pile of chips and tater tots covered in a strange, gray colored sauce. “What all goes in your recipe?”

  “Anything I don’t sell the current day gets turned into fixins for Next Day Nachos.”

  I took a closer inspection. He wasn’t exaggerating. I identified a lone buffalo wing, a few mini corn dogs, and what appeared to be some lettuce. “What’s this sauce?”

  “Gravy.”

  “Of course. The secret ingredient to any great nacho dish,” I told him.

  “See? You get it!”

  The front door opened behind me and light cascaded through the dimly lit bar giving me a better look at my meal. I shuddered in reaction.

  “Grab a seat anywhere,” Murphy called to the new arrival.

  The sound of heels clicking against the floor caught my attention, and I turned to see Grace Sutherland striding into the bar. She caught my eye and paused just long enough to let me know she recognized me. Then she made a point of ignoring me and went to a stool at the other end of the bar.

  I watched her with open interest. For someone who seemed as prissy and uptight as she did, Murphy’s Pub seemed an odd choice. She inspected her chosen barstool and the surrounding area, then to my utter amusement went around the edge of the bar and helped herself to a roll of paper towels, wet them in the sink, then wiped down the whole area. Once she was satisfied with her work, she sat down, smoothed her long hair behind her shoulders, and smiled sweetly at Murphy who was staring at her with a slack jaw.

  “Gin and tonic, please.”

  Her order jarred Murphy out of his stupor, and he sprang into action. “You want some nachos with that?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Okay, I’ll make you some, anyway.”

  “That’s not necessary…”

  Murphy waved her comment away. “You’ll love ‘em. Trust me.”

  “Oh. Okay…”

  I chuckled into my bottle and decided then was a good time to head out. I drained the beer, left some cash on the counter, scribbled a note on a napkin, and left it for Murphy.

  7

  Grace

  Of course, he’s here, I grumbled to myself. The sole reason I needed a drink was sitting at the bar I’d just walked into. For a split second, I thought about turning around and finding somewhere else to go, but then I remembered this was the only bar I’d spotted so far.

  And I needed that drink.

  I felt it the moment Beau turned to look at me. His eyes made a lazy sweep from my nose to my toes. I glanced over at him but refused to give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. Instead, I continued my journey into the dingy little bar. A quick look around told me I didn’t want to join any of the locals, so I found a seat at the bar as far away as I could possibly get from Beau Maverick.

  After a quick wipe-down of my surroundings, I caught the eye of the bartender, a reddish man with hair the consistency of cotton candy and ordered a drink. I spared a glance at Beau and inwardly scoffed at the pile of barf he was eating for dinner.

  Then my own arrived.

  “Gin and tonic and nachos, m’lady.” He delivered my drink and a plate full of… something with a flourish of his towel.

  “Thank you?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it did.

  “Go on and take a bite. I want to watch you enjoy it.” He propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. It was strangely endearing.

  My eyes fell to the plate in front of me, and I tried to stifle a shudder. Chips, fried cheese sticks, and pickles were covered in what appeared to be gravy. Why he was calling this nachos was beyond me. I located a tortilla chip that seemed least affected by the rest of the ingredients and held it to my mouth.

  He nodded his encouragement.

  I took a deep breath and ate the chip. It was salty and soggy and gross, but he was looking at me with such big eyes that I gave him a thumbs-up and an exaggerated “yummm…”

  “See? I knew you’d like it,” he said and then wandered off.

  I grabbed my drink and took several long pulls to wash down the ‘nacho.’ Once I’d rinsed the taste out of my mouth, I risked a glance at Beau. I was surprised to find he’d left. I was definitely not disappointed. But my mouth did quirk when I saw he’d left his plate full of barf nachos. I had to guess his had been forced on him as mine had.

  Still, I didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the strange yet sweet little man, so I poked around at the plate and did my best to make it look like I’d eaten. The second I’d finished my drink, he delivered another one in front of me. I considered refusing, but the first had gone down so easily that I changed my mind and accepted. As soon as I’d finished it, he produced a third. By then, it seemed like a great idea, and I sipped and swayed along with the country music playing in the background.

  I realized my eyes were beginning to feel heavy, and I asked the bartender, who had introduced himself as Murphy, for my bill.

  “It’s been taken care of,” he said.

  I blinked. He gr
inned.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “Beau Maverick told me to give you whatever you wanted and said he’d cover it.”

  My mind was just foggy enough to be suspicious. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I’m just the bartender. Learned long ago it’s better not to ask questions.”

  “Hmm…” I intoned and grabbed my purse. I was glad I’d decided to walk because I was feeling just tipsy enough to know I shouldn’t be driving. I stomped my way down the sidewalk and turned down my street to the little rental. After fumbling with my keys in the door, I shoved it open and fell face first into the couch.

  The next thing I knew, I was jarred awake by the alarm on my phone going off. I cracked open my eyes and was surprised to see sunlight streaming in the windows. How had I managed to sleep on the couch the entire night?

  I sat up and groaned. Oh right… gin.

  I blinked at the phone in my hand and tried to comprehend what the calendar was trying to tell me.

  Investors meeting?

  Oh, shit!

  In a horrifying rush, I recalled setting an early morning meeting with current and potential investors. I had fifteen minutes to put myself together and get to the theater. I ran to the bathroom, fought a wave of nausea, brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair, and threw on a slip dress. Then I was out the door.

  My eyes were glued to the clock on my dash as I did my best to navigate my way to the theater by memory. I’m never late. I’m never unprepared. And now here I was with the group of investors I had hand selected and invited to coffee at the symphony, and I was going to be late.

  Shit, shit, shit…

  I flew into the parking lot and cringed when I saw how many cars were already there. The car had barely come to a stop before I jumped out and ran into the building. I took one second to smooth my hair and push it behind my shoulders, then I opened the door to the conference room, and a dozen faces turned to look at me.