by Hayes, Somer
I poked him. Nothing. I poked him harder. “Beau.”
“Hmpf.”
“You’re home. Get out.”
“No. Sleep here.”
I swallowed my frustration, got out of the Jeep, and opened his door. “Out, mister.”
“You’re bossy.”
“You’re drunk. Out.”
He flung his seat belt off and, pouting, got out of the car. I took his elbow and guided him up the path to the house trying not to think about how tall he was or how strong his arm felt in my hand. When we reached the front door, I stopped and waited for him to punch in the code. He stared at the numbers on the box, and I began to worry he couldn’t think of the code, but then he lifted his hand and punched it in. The door clicked open, but he didn’t move. I nudged him forward, and he took a couple of steps but then stopped again.
“You are worse than a toddler.”
“Bedroom is so far away.”
I rolled my eyes. “Show me where it is. I’ll help you get there.”
He pointed up.
“There are four different stories in this house, Beau. Be more specific.”
“Fourth.”
Of course, it was. I took off in the direction of the staircase on the right, but he held back. “No stairs. Elevator.”
“You have an elevator?”
He looked down at me and winked which made me wish I could have found an uglier nemesis.
“Where is it?”
He veered left and stopped in front of a wall. I wanted to scream. I should have let him drive home and taken his chances. I was just about to tell him so, but he reached out and pushed a piece of the wainscoting, and a moment later, the wall slid open to reveal the elevator.
“It’s completely hidden. That’s incredible,” I said, unable to stop myself.
He lifted a shoulder. “Wanted to keep the integrity.”
So, he did care about the house and its renovations. The more I got to know this man, the more I was sure I would never understand him. We got in the elevator, and I hit the button for the fourth floor. We slid silently and smoothly up the stories until we reached the top, and the door slid open once again.
We stepped out of the elevator and into a huge open area. Unlike the first floor that held walls with rooms and doors, this one had been left mostly open. Throughout the space were seating areas, two fireplaces, a piano, more artwork, and at the far end, a bed. I zeroed in on it and pushed him in that direction.
A king-size, four-poster bed was tucked against the wall with just enough furniture to make it feel like its own area. I glanced over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of a bathroom with gorgeous white marble and plush towels. This floor alone was bigger than the house I grew up in. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it must be like to live in a house this spectacular.
“Okay, here we are,” I told him and pointed at the bed.
He groaned and fell face-first into it.
“Uh, goodnight,” I mumbled and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow his face was buried in.
“What?” I asked.
He rolled just enough to look up at me. “Will you get me a glass of water?”
“What? No.” I shook my head.
“There’s a glass in the bathroom. Pleeease?”
“Fine. A glass of water and then I’m leaving.” I went to the bathroom and flipped the lights. It was even more beautiful than I’d thought. I found a glass next to the sink as promised, filled it with water, and took it back to Beau. I sat it on the nightstand, and he cracked an eye open.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said.
Something fluttery awakened in my belly, and I felt my cheeks flush. Beau thought I was beautiful?
Wait. No. I didn’t care what he thought because I happened to think he sucked. I didn’t reply. Instead, I moved to leave, but he reached an arm out, and his hand caught my wrist.
I looked back at him with a question in my eyes. He was studying me as though he’d never seen me before. His thumb ran across the pulse in my wrist, sending it racing. I swallowed hard. Why was I having such a strong reaction to him?
That he was attractive was undeniable, but I’d encountered plenty of attractive people in my life and managed to keep my cool. I tried to remember the last time I’d touched or been touched and couldn’t. That must be it. I was bored and horny, and Beau was aggravating and hot.
Mystery solved. And now that I knew what was bothering me, I could analyze it and find a solution. I should have felt relief as I usually did when I put a plan in place, but none came. Instead, I felt flushed and unsettled. It was time to get out of there. I tugged my hand out of Beau’s grasp, and he released me sinking back into his pillows. I allowed myself just a moment to admire his long, lean form sprawled on the bed, then I went back to the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor.
When the door opened, I stepped out, and Beau’s fat little dog was sitting in the hallway. When he saw me, he whined.
“Hello, Beau’s dog.” I moved to the front door, and he whined again. I turned and looked at him. His eyes were bright and begging. “Do you need something?”
He turned in a circle and headed down the hallway that led to the kitchen. He turned to look back at me as if waiting for me to follow, so I did. His nails and my shoes clicked softly down the hallway until we reached the kitchen. I found a light switch on the side of the island and flipped it, lighting the chandeliers that hung above it and casting a warm glow throughout the room.
The dog, Chip, I thought his name was, went to a doggy station with a bed and two bowls built into a cabinet. Both the bowls were empty.
“You’re hungry?”
Whine.
“What a mean daddy you have,” I told him and went to the cabinet. Inside was a stash of dog food, treats, and toys. I filled his bowl and gave him a treat, then scattered a few toys around for him. Then I went to the sink and filled his water bowl. Once he had everything I thought he might need, I bent down to pat him on the head, then left him to eat and went back through the house and out the front door making sure it locked behind me.
Then, because of all the trouble he’d caused me tonight, I decided Beau was going to let me borrow his Jeep to get back home.
14
Beau
I opened bleary eyes and looked around for the buzzing that had woken me up. I sat up and groaned, head pounding, room spinning.
Alcohol was not my friend.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand and saw Tripp’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” I croaked into the phone.
“Where the hell are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you would come help us pull calves today.”
I groaned. “Right. Sorry. I’ll head up.”
“You all right? You sound like shit.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Long night.”
He chuckled. “You Maverick boys are trouble. Gage is here and looks as bad as you sound.”
“Gage showed?” Gage was the middle child of five boys, and if the Maverick family could claim a screw-up, it would be him.
“Yeah, which is more than I can say for you. Now get your ass up here.”
“Yep,” I said and hung up. I collapsed back into the bed and wondered if I had any Tylenol in the house. I’d need it to get through a day on the ranch with this headache. Why had I thought it was a good idea to drink so much? I thought back to the night before.
Oh right, Kim.
I thought swearing off both alcohol and women might be a good idea, but then Grace’s face came to mind. I groaned again. She must think I’m such an ass. I almost never drank as much as I had last night, so, of course, I’d run into the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and then proceed to act like a moron.
I’d have to worry about it later. At that moment, I couldn’t think of anything beyond a cup of coffee. I threw my tangled sheets off and p
lanted my feet on the floor. By sheer will, I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I shucked my clothes and stepped under the spray praying the water would wash away the hangover. Ten minutes later, I got out feeling only marginally better.
I got dressed and hit the button to take the elevator downstairs because the stairs didn’t seem like a good idea this morning. I went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, and I found Chip laying in his doggy bed on his back with all four legs in the air. He turned his head to look at me but made no other movement. I reached down to scratch his belly.
“Oh no,” I said when I felt how swollen he was. “She fed you, didn’t she?”
I looked in his bowl, and there were still a few pieces of food left, a sure indicator that he’d been overfed if he couldn’t finish the whole meal. Chip was a champion eater if I’d ever seen one.
I pointed at him. “I should make you come to the ranch with me and work some of that off.”
He looked away from me and closed his eyes, dismissing both me and the thought of exercise. I sighed and stood. After filling a thermos with coffee, I went to the garage and stopped short. I was missing a vehicle. I stepped outside and looked at the street in front of the house. No Jeep.
That brat had taken my car home. I shook my head with a chuckle. At least now I had a reason to see her again.
I got in my truck and headed out of town toward the Maverick Ranch. It was still weird to think that my mom wouldn’t be there with iced tea, dinner, and hugs after a day working the cattle. We all missed her, but no one had taken her passing harder than my dad, Rhett. He’d all but ceased functioning after her death, and we owed the fact that all his businesses and holdings were still afloat to Tripp, who had stepped in as CEO for Maverick Enterprises until dad had been able to emerge from the worst of his grief and make sound decisions. For that, I was eternally grateful. I didn’t think I would have been able to keep up with my practice if I’d had to help Tripp any more than what I had. Gage was unreliable at best. And the twins had pulled the ultimate spoiled-rich-kid move and were traveling and backpacking around the globe.
The least I could do was show up and help with the animals when asked. I sipped my coffee and turned north. Dad held a couple of thousand acres and almost as many head of cattle. Tripp had recently started a bison refuge, and they were thriving. The further outside of town I got, the bigger the mountains began to look, the less tense I felt.
I stayed busy on purpose working ridiculous hours, sitting on boards, volunteering in the community so that I wouldn’t sit at home alone and wallow in my own stupid, unearned self-pity. But as I got closer to the ranch, I decided I needed to make a point of spending more time there. There was always work to be done, and I could stand to spend more time with my dad and brothers. When I reached the giant archway with the hanging ‘M,’ I turned down the drive and rolled my windows down. I breathed Montana in, and the cleansing nature of the crisp air almost let me forget my pounding headache.
I reached the sprawling log home my brothers and I had grown up in and parked in front of one of the garage stalls. I grabbed my thermos and let myself into the house going to the kitchen for a refill. There was still something so comforting about coming home. I’d always assumed I’d end up on some land in a house similar to this one, but when my old beauty had gone up for auction, sad and neglected, I jumped at the chance to restore her to her original splendor. I enjoyed living in town and near my clinic, but there was nothing like the freedom the open spaces of Montana could offer.
I thought of Grace and wondered what her childhood had been like. I’d never lived anywhere but Montana. What was it like to grow up in a city? To never know wide-open spaces or travel for miles without seeing another living soul? Was it claustrophobic as I imagined it, or did she find comfort in the constant activity? Considering her energy levels, my money was on the latter. I could picture her out on the town meeting friends for dinner and drinks, laughing, and flirting.
I frowned. I realized I didn’t like the thought of that, and then an even worse thought occurred. Did she have a boyfriend back in Manchester? Was I lusting after someone else’s girlfriend? I hoped not. It had been so long since I’d felt any semblance of interest in another person that I selfishly wanted to think I had a chance with her. A chance at what, I wasn’t sure, but I knew I looked forward to our interactions, and that was more than I could say for most people.
I jammed the lid back onto my thermos and stomped out of the house. The guys must already be out in the field, so I went to the garage and took one of the four-wheelers. I took my time weaving around boulders and through streams while sipping my scalding hot coffee. The morning was bright and cool. Absolute heaven.
It took me twenty minutes to find everyone, and when I did, I was met with catcalls and Sleeping Beauty references. Assholes, all of them. Maybe I didn’t want to hang out with them after all.
In the middle of the mix was my dad. It was so good to see him in his jeans and boots doing what he did best—ranching. He held up a hand in greeting, and I returned the gesture. Tripp was off to one side bossing the hands around, and as I continued scanning, I recognized Gage’s form leaning against the fence away from the group. I steered the four-wheeler in his direction and joined him at the fence.
“Gage.”
“Beau.”
I glanced over at him, and though the shadow from the brim of his hat was hiding most of his face, the two black eyes were impossible to miss.
“What happened to you?”
An easy shrug. “Friday night.”
I swallowed the urge to lecture him about growing up and finally finding some purpose in life beyond bar brawls and one-night stands. But considering the shape I was currently in, I had no room to talk.
“Hope you gave as good as you got.”
“I always do.”
I’d witnessed many of Gage’s fights in our younger years and could attest that it was true. Still, I worried about him.
“How many we got today?” I asked and looked out at the herd, most of them with bulging, swollen bellies.
“Tripp guesses we’ll have about thirty new head by evening.”
I whistled through my teeth. It was going to be a long day. For the most part, cattle didn’t need much help calving assuming everything went well. But it didn’t always go well. That’s where we came in should any of them need any help through the process.
Over the next hour, Gage and I leaned on the fence, sipped coffee, watched the hands work the cattle, and caught up on our bullshitting. So far, everything was going smoothly, and we hadn’t needed to step in. I hoped it would be an easy day. Through the years, we’d had good, but we’d also had our fair share of bad.
I’d no sooner had the thought when Tripp called for me. I hopped the fence and went to where he was standing with a cow that was clearly in distress.
“I think it’s turned,” he told me. “She’s been working for too long.”
I did my best to gauge the situation externally and thought Tripp was probably right. She was too wide and struggling too hard.
“All right, hand me a set of gloves.”
Tripp pulled a pair of long rubber gloves from his back pocket, and I pulled them up to my elbows. Doing my best to be gentle, I reached in to feel the calf, and sure enough, it was stuck. Murmuring reassurances more to myself than to the cow, I pushed, pulled, and tried to turn the baby so they could both make it out of this alive. Her sounds of distress and breathing were getting worse, and it was all I could do to stay focused on turning the calf. Eventually, I worked the little body around to a point where I thought it should work. I stepped back and held my breath praying nature would take over from here. Ten unending minutes later, she clenched and pushed and out came a new baby cow.
Slick and weak, she struggled to lift her head.
“Come on now, Mama,” I urged.
To my great relief, she reached down and began cleaning her baby. That was a good sign. With any
luck, she would start feeding soon, and the trauma of her birth would fade into nothing.
Tripp clapped me on the back. “This is why I keep you around.”
“If you keep making me do that, I’m going to start charging you.”
“You love it, and you know it.”
I gazed down at the tiny cow accepting her first bath from her mother and had to admit Tripp was right. I did love it. Watching the new life that might not have made it had I not been there was a thrill beyond words.
Four hours later, we had a dozen new calves with no more trouble. Tripp had sent half the guys to the bunkhouse for lunch, and now that they were back, the rest of us mounted horses to get lunch for ourselves. My hangover had finally faded, and my empty stomach was grumbling. We made it to the bunkhouse and left the horses outside to graze. Dad, Tripp, Gage, a few of the hands, and I filed into the building and let out a simultaneous groan. Lunch smelled delicious.
Hannah was in the kitchen, her cheeks flushed pink. “Get on in here, boys. I know you must be hungry by now.”
Tripp went to her and wound his arms around her waist. Whatever he was murmuring into her ear had her giggling and swatting at him with a towel. Gage and I exchanged a look of disgust, then grabbed plates and began filling them with brisket, cheesy potatoes, green beans, and freshly baked bread. Dad was right behind us in line and joined us at the dining room table big enough to seat twenty.
“Honey,” my dad called to Hannah. “No one could ever replace my Caroline, but I do believe your cooking could rival even hers.” He tore off a chunk of bread, popped it in his mouth, and chewed with a grin.
“Glad you like it. What can I get everyone to drink?”
As she filled glasses with tea, water, or soda and delivered them around the table, I noticed the way Tripp’s eyes followed her every movement. His eyes held an unfamiliar glint, and it was obvious the man was smitten.
I realized I’d seen that look before. It was the way my parents had looked at each other. I glanced over at my dad. He, too, was watching Tripp and Hannah but rather than the pain I’d come to expect to see etched into his face, he was smiling. He was happy for his son.
