by Hayes, Somer
“Great! I’m sure you’re a very busy man, but would you have any time this week? I’d like to get approval as soon as possible so we can begin the implementation phase.”
“I’m just about to see my last client of the day. Would you want to swing by the clinic? Six o’clock?”
“Perfect, see you then.” She hung up.
“Goodbye to you, too,” I murmured into the dead line.
I went to the waiting room and called for Brutus, then tried to keep my face straight when I saw that Brutus’ mom had put him in a diaper.
“I didn’t want him to make a mess in your waiting room,” she explained as I led her to an exam room.
“We appreciate it very much,” I replied and began my litany of questions to try to make a diagnosis. In the end, since it had been less than twenty-four hours, I recommended a diet of boiled chicken and rice and urged her to call me if he didn’t get better in the next forty-eight hours.
I had just sent them off with the vet tech when Nancy came to tell me my six o’clock appointment had arrived. She had an odd smile on her face.
“What?” I asked.
“Just couldn’t help but notice your after-hours appointment didn’t bring an animal.”
I gave her a look. “Grace is the interim director of the symphony. This is business.”
She held her hands up. “Of course, Doctor.”
“Beau.” I went to my office and traded my white coat for a jacket, washed my hands, went to get Chip, and then went to the waiting room where Grace stood stiffly in the middle of the room.
“Dr. Maverick,” she took a step closer to me and extended her hand. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
I accepted her handshake and was surprised to find her palm soft and warm. Part of me had expected her to be as physically cold as her personality seemed to be. “No problem at all. This is Chip.” I gestured to the panting furball at my feet.
“That dog is overweight,” she informed me.
“Is he?” I looked down at him like I was seeing him for the first time. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“His belly is practically dragging the floor,” she said and pointed.
“You have a bad habit of telling people their business, you know that?”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “So I’ve been told.”
“Come on,” I said. “You can fill me in on our walk.”
“Our walk?”
“Chip and I walk to and from the office every day as part of his exercise regimen.”
“So you’re aware he’s overweight?”
“I’d be a pretty shitty vet if I wasn’t.”
“And you just let me tell you about it as though you’re an idiot?”
“Seems to be your favorite thing to do.”
“Listen, it’s just that…”
“It’s just that you think you know more than everyone else.” I glanced down so I could watch her cheeks flush.
Instead, her eyes flashed. “In most cases, I do.”
“Do you count it even when you’re just stating the obvious?” I gestured at Chip.
She sniffed. “I wasn’t wrong.”
“But just saying things out loud that you see shouldn’t count.”
She shrugged in a flippant manner that aggravated me. “Still. I was right.”
I ground my teeth but let it drop and led her outside. I followed the sidewalk to the right and encouraged Chip to keep a steady pace. Grace trotted along next to us, heels clicking against the concrete. “So, you wanted to talk about the symphony?” I asked.
“Yes. I took a look at the plan your board put together this afternoon,” she began.
“Finally got around to that, eh?”
She continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “And I can admit there are some good ideas in there.”
“How big of you.”
“However, you’re thinking too small. We’ll never reach our goals by planning carnivals and hayrack rides.”
“But Great Falls loves that kind of stuff.”
“Be that as it may, we need to think bigger.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I think we should seek sponsorships for events and sell the hell out of anything we can renaming the theater, personalized bricks in the re-designed front entrance, season tickets. Since you haven’t done any of that yet, we’ve got a ton of possibilities.”
I turned the thought over in my mind and had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea.
“Who do you suggest takes on that workload?”
“I’ll take the lead, but I would hope the board members would offer their time as well.”
That was fair. “How do you propose we decide which patrons and businesses to target?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “That’s where you come in.”
“Oh, she needs us now,” I teased.
“It appears being a Maverick is a pretty big deal around here,” she said with a wry look. “Maybe you could help me narrow down some leads.”
“I suppose if it’s in the best interest of the symphony, I could offer my services.” I felt the leash tug and looked down. “Aw, hell.” Chip had decided he was done with his walk and had flopped down and rolled over onto his back. “Chip. Up. We’re almost there.” No movement. I muttered a curse under my breath and bent down to scoop him up. “You are way too heavy for this,” I told him but continued on our walk.
We only had about another block and a half to go, so I headed that direction, and Grace clicked along beside me. When we reached the gate to my house, I sat Chip down, and he miraculously found the energy to jump excitedly to get into the yard.
“Come on in,” I told Grace and pushed the gate open.
“Where are we?”
“My house.”
11
Grace
His house?
I’d passed this monstrosity a few times during my short time in Great Falls and had assumed it was a courthouse or maybe a library. It never occurred to me that the block-long, four-story building could be a residence.
Guess Etta hadn’t exaggerated about Maverick money.
I looked at it anew and took in the ornate details of the old home. I wondered if it was classified as Victorian or Gothic. I wondered if Beau knew. Or cared.
He held the wrought iron gate open for me, and I followed the fat little dog up the paved walkway to a massive front porch and heavy doors. Beau punched a code into a keypad next to the door, and it swung open.
“Come on in,” he said, and I followed him into the most beautiful space I’d ever been in. The entryway was open through all four stories, and the ceiling soaring above our heads was a dome made of stained glass. Two curving staircases covered in rich carpet ran opposite of each other kissing each floor, then moving on to the next. Everywhere I looked was ornate antique furniture and intricate works of art.
“Your home is beautiful,” I told him.
“Oh, thanks,” he replied. “I sit on the local board of the National Register of Historic Places. This place had fallen into disrepair, and a real estate developer came in and wanted to break it up and turn it into a bunch of low-rent apartments.” He tossed his keys and wallet on the table next to the front door. “A slum lord, basically. So, I decided to buy it and fix it up. Been here ever since.” He shrugged easily like we weren’t standing in the middle of what could have just as easily been a museum as a home.
“Just like that, huh?”
He smiled without apology and took off down the hall waving for me to follow him. He didn’t brag about his wealth, but he didn’t apologize for it either. Interesting.
“Come on back.”
I followed him down a long hallway covered in rich wood and tasteful works of art unable to stop myself from taking in every lovely detail.
“Do you ever not wear heels?” he asked.
“Huh?” I asked, looking down at my stilettos.
He stopped and turned, pointing to my feet
. “I’ve known you for a matter of days, but I can always tell it’s you by the loud clicking of your shoes.”
Only then did I become aware of how loudly my heels echoed throughout the cavernous space. “Do you want me to take them off?”
“No. I was just curious if you ever relaxed.”
I shifted my stance to appear more at ease. “I’m relaxed.”
“Right,” he replied and continued his walk. Eventually, the hallway opened up into what I understood was a kitchen, but my brain had trouble taking it all in. Gleaming granite combined with shining stainless-steel appliances provided a beautiful contrast against the dark wood of the floors and cabinets. Three crystal chandeliers hung over an island the size of my rental house. Beau went to the industrial-size refrigerator and opened it. “What can I get you? Water? Tea? A beer?”
I peeled my eyes away from the mural painted on the ceiling to look at Beau. “Whatever you’re having.”
He shook his head with a chuckle. “Since when are you easy to get along with?”
I bristled, but then remembered why I was here in the first place—because I’m not easy to get along with. “Just shut up and give me that beer.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and popped the top before handing me the cold bottle.
I took a seat at the massive island and pulled a notebook out of my purse. I had revised my plan to include some of the smaller, more local ideas and hoped he wouldn’t ask me about the numbers from Manchester again. I could probably scrape something together, but I doubted it would be impressive or help my cause.
“Will you take a look at this?” I asked and slid him the paperwork.
He cocked a hip against the island and took a swig of his beer before picking up the papers. He flipped through them, unhurried, sipping his beer as he read. I cleared my throat and took another drink to fill the awkward silence that didn’t seem to affect him.
His fat little dog moseyed into the room and plopped down between us staring up at me and breathing hard. I gave him a friendly nod and then looked out the window above one of the kitchen sinks. I jumped and squeaked when I felt something warm and wet slide its way up my ankle. I looked down, and the dog’s tongue was affixed to my leg.
“He likes you,” Beau observed. “Or at least the way you taste.”
I reached down and gave the dog a firm pat on the head before moving my leg away from his mouth. He scooted up and licked me again. I moved again. He followed.
“You didn’t grow up with animals,” Beau said.
“I had a bird once,” I told him, distracted by the tongue that was back on my ankle. He glanced up at me with a look I couldn’t discern.
“C’mere, Chip.”
The dog labored up and over to Beau’s feet and laid down resting his head on one of his boots, but I swear he kept one ravenous eye on my ankle.
Beau finished reading my proposal and sat it on the counter. He looked at me with those unusual blue eyes and took a slow drink. I was learning that Beau Maverick was not a man who got in a hurry for much, nor did he let much influence him as evidenced by the way he grinned at me when I began tapping my fingernails against the countertop and arched an eyebrow at him.
Finally, he spoke. “It’s not bad.”
“Not… bad?” I replied through gritted teeth. “I rewrote the whole damn thing and included most of your board’s ridiculous demands.”
“That,” he said, “is not how I would present this to them.”
I threw my hands up. “Thanks for the advice. Do you think they’ll pass it or not?”
He pursed his lips in a way that made that damn dimple stand out. “Yeah.”
I stood. “Thanks for your time. Your ‘yeah’ and ‘not bad’ were very helpful.”
He smiled in earnest then. “Anytime, Ms. Sutherland.”
12
Beau
I grinned down at Chip as I listened to Grace’s clipped steps echo down my hallway and out the front door. I’d been impressed with how quickly she’d adapted and rewritten the proposal for the board, but it was much more fun giving her a hard time and making her think she’d have to work for it.
“How’d she taste?” I asked Chip.
His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.
“I thought so,” I replied.
I couldn’t deny that my physical attraction to her had been instantaneous, but that her challenging personality had only added fuel to the fire. The fact that she was as intelligent and driven as she was proving to be an almost deadly combination for me.
As I gazed down at Chip and his happy, drooly smile, I wondered what it would take to get my mouth on her. I was aware that every time I intentionally pissed her off, I was making it more difficult for myself, yet some part of me thought it would make the end result that much better.
She had a fire in her that was almost visible to the naked eye. I found myself thinking of more and more reasons to stoke it. I wanted to see what she would do next, what she would say, how she would react. She hadn’t once failed to surprise, and that was such a rare thing for me that all I could think about was how to get more.
Unfortunately, I had a previous engagement I had to get to. I looked down at Chip again. “Wanna come with me?”
He yawned and waddled over to his bed which was near his food and water bowls and the doggy door that led to the backyard. Ugh, I wished I could join him, but Nancy had been pestering me to take her niece on a date for months, and I’d finally relented just to get her off my back.
I drained my beer and went upstairs to shower and get dressed, my mood souring by the minute. Nancy assured me her niece was fun and sweet and smart, but I’d become jaded after years of unsuccessful dating and would rather stay home with a movie and fridge full of beer.
Instead, I stamped my feet into a pair of jeans and threw on a button-up. I found my favorite pair of boots, and ten minutes later, I was out the door. I pulled up the text from Nancy with her niece’s address.
Crap. What’s her name, again?
I scrolled up. Kim. Easy enough to remember for a night. I decided to take the Jeep, thinking it was nice enough outside to leave the top off. Backing out of the carriage-house-turned-garage, I punched the gas and drew in a deep breath. The breeze was cool and crisp, the air fragrant with the earthy scents of early fall. Maybe getting out tonight had been a good idea after all.
I cruised through town, Willie Nelson serenading me the entire way. My phone directed me to an apartment complex near downtown which was handy. It would give us several options if Kim turned out to be a picky eater. I found a place to park, located the correct apartment, took a deep breath, and raised my hand to knock on the door.
I had half a knock in when the door swung open and released a cloud of perfume. A petite girl with bleached-blonde hair stood in the doorway.
“Hi, you must be Beau. It’s so nice to meet you,” she said and threw her arms around my neck.
I gave her shoulder an awkward pat. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too, Kim.”
She released me and stepped back.
So. Much. Makeup.
“My Aunt Nancy has told me so much about you. I’m excited we could finally make this happen.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you, too.” It was probably true. I just hadn’t been listening.
“Let me just grab my purse, and we can go.” She flounced into a messy living room, plucked a bag off the couch, then bounded back to me and took my bicep in her hand. “Where are we going?”
“I thought we could grab some dinner and maybe a drink?
“Drinks! Yes!”
“Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”
“Let’s go to Lucky’s. It’s dollar-shot night.”
Oh, great. There was little I enjoyed less than noise, crowds, and chaos. Why, oh why did I continue to allow myself to be set up?
Kim chattered the entire way to the parking lot and paused when I opened the Jeep door for her.
�
�This is your car?”
“Yes. Problem?”
“Does it have a lid?”
“Lid? You mean roof?”
“Right.” She smiled and batted her fake eyelashes. “I just had my hair blown out.” She ran her hands down her hair then flipped it over one shoulder.
“Actually, I left it at home because it’s such a nice night.” I shrugged not feeling the least bit sorry.
“Okay, guess I’ll go for the wind-blown look tonight.” She reached her hand out so I would help her into the seat, and I tried not to cringe when her sharpened talons dug into my palm.
I rounded the front of the Jeep and considered just walking away. I thought maybe the loss of the Jeep would be worth getting out of the rest of the night. Unfortunately, my momma taught me better than that, and I climbed into the driver’s seat while Kim picked up where she left off. Something about enrolling in the local cosmetology school. I glanced over and wondered if she practiced everything she learned in school on herself.
I pulled into the parking lot at Lucky’s and parked, then went over to the passenger side and opened the door for Kim. She grabbed my hand and this time didn’t let go. So, I let myself be drug into the bar and inwardly recoiled when we entered and were hit with noise, smoke, and chaos.
On our way to the bar to order drinks, Kim stopped at what felt like every high-top table and group of people to say hi all while rubbing her claws up and down my arm.
Note to self. Fire Nancy.
Finally, we got to the bar, and she waved her arm at the bartender. “Two shots of Fireball,” she yelled.
“I think I’ll stick with beer tonight,” I told her over the blaring music.
“Party-pooper,” she accused with a roll of her eyes.
I gave the bartender my order, then offered her a tight smile. When our drinks arrived, she downed one shot then held up the other. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She downed the second. “So, Beau. What’s it like to be a Maverick?”
I gazed over her shoulder, bored. Maverick was a name well known in Montana, thanks mostly to my parents and their crazy work ethic. My father had turned our family ranch into one of the biggest and most profitable in the nation, let alone the state. From there, he’d expanded into several other businesses accumulating wealth and fame in the name of Maverick.
