by Somer Hayes
“Here,” she gestured toward a table with two chairs. In front of one was a steaming mug of coffee and a donut the size of the plate it sat on. Next to the other was a matching cup of coffee but instead of a pastry, a blue folder.
“No thank you, ma’am,” I began, but she lifted a hand to cut me off. The sheer surprise of it left me momentarily silent. Most people wouldn’t dare interrupt a Maverick, let alone one they’re in business with. Suddenly, I was very interested to hear what she had to say.
“Please, call me Hannah.” She pointed again at the chair.
“Okay, Hannah,” I agreed and took the seat in front of the donut.
“I have a knack for guessing people’s favorites, I hope you don’t mind. The coffee is a dark roast, and I left it black. And the donut is just a good old-fashioned glazed. But handmade just this morning. Dig in.”
Bossy little thing. Still, I did as I was instructed and took a bite of the donut. I caught her eye and stifled a groan. It was the best thing I’d eaten in a month and judging by the spark in her eyes, she knew it.
“I thought so. You seem like a traditionalist.”
“It’s very good. But what can I help you with today? I take it you have your rent payment?”
“I have something even better.”
Oh hell, here we go. She opened the folder and spun it in my direction.
“I decided to switch tactics this past week and try something new. It occurred to me that if customers aren’t going to come to me of their own free will, then I will have to track them down myself.”
She tapped at the top page which read ‘standing orders,’ and below that a list of local businesses and entities with dates and orders attached to each.
“I don’t follow,” I said and took a swig of coffee black as my soul, just the way I liked it.
“I’m the first and only monthly subscription bakery in Great Falls.” Bright blue eyes caught mine and shined.
“Still don’t follow.”
“Most businesses have standing meetings, right? So, I started to think that if I could get them to commit to me for the refreshments, be it weekly, monthly, or even quarterly, it would bring a steadier income.”
She flipped to the next page.
“I created a tier system, see? Tier One gets you your choice of three pastries and two types of coffee. Tier Two is two pastries and house coffee. Tier Three is one pastry of my choice.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Which means whatever I have on hand, wink wink. Plus, you can choose the quantity and frequency, and your subscription guarantees delivery so no more scrambling around at the last minute for that meeting you forgot about.”
I put the donut down and picked up the papers. It was an interesting idea, and as I flipped through the pages, I could see others thought so as well. “The police department?”
“Turns out cops do love donuts. I know, I know, the joke writes itself. But they’ve subscribed to three dozen donuts for roll calls, so I’m happy to perpetuate the cliché.” She laughed and picked up her mug of coffee.
I went back to scanning the documents noting that she’d gotten several solid leads, but the totals still wouldn’t add up to quite enough. I couldn’t help but admire her innovation and moxie. Still, business was business, and you can’t pay bills with hope.
“I can’t say I’m not impressed,” I began as I began stacking the papers into a neat pile. “But your rent is still due today.”
“But I’m showing you I’ll have it. These are sales already made and standing for the next several months.”
“I understand that, and I hope it catches on, but if you can’t make payment today, I have no choice but to find you in breach of your contract.” Her face fell, and I didn’t like what that did to my guts. “It’s not that I’m unsympathetic,” I began, but she cut me off. Again.
“But business is business,” she finished miserably.
“Exactly.”
“How long before I have to be out?” This time the shine in her eyes was not from happiness or excitement, but from tears threatening to spill over. Growing up in a house full of boys and with a mother tougher than woodpecker lips left me ill-equipped to handle this situation, which must have been the reason I found myself going easy on her yet again.
“The contract states it should be effective immediately, but I suppose I could give you another week if you need it.”
Her eyes dipped to the cup she held in clenched hands, and it was several long moments before I could detect her slight nod.
Hell. “Look. I know this is tough, but you’re obviously a smart girl. You’ll land on your feet.”
I waited for a few more uncomfortable beats before realizing she wasn’t going to reply. I stood and rapped my knuckles against the table before turning to leave.
“Wait.”
Her voice was no more than a whisper, but the desperation I heard within it made me stop. She stood to face me.
“I’ll work it off.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll work off my debt to you. Just please, don’t shut me down.”
I pushed my hat off my forehead and scrubbed my hand down my face. Why was I still here? Anyone else and I would have slapped an eviction notice on their forehead and gone on my merry way. What was it about this girl that made me so soft?
“I know you have several businesses besides your ranch,” she began, inching toward me, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling my nostrils, and I instantly craved more. “I’m a hard worker. I’ll do anything. I will work for you until I can pay the rent on my own.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I can’t accept payment in the form of donuts.”
Her mouth opened, then shut. I watched her take a deep breath and then she turned those big blue eyes on me. A man could drown in those eyes, the exact color of a clear mountain lake. “I’ll be your cook. I can come to your house every day and make meals for you and your family. It would be one less thing for you to have to do, and I’ll take payment in the form of a deduction from my rent.”
I clenched my jaw, frustrated with how often I had to repeat myself with this girl when a thought struck. The bunkhouse. I’d received a message just that week that my oldest cowhand who had assumed slop duties would be leaving. I had been wondering how much longer his hunched figure could take all the demands of the job, and his daughter had the same concerns, so he’d be gone within the week to go live with her.
I was ashamed that my first reaction had been irritation that I’d have to figure out how to feed the men when they were the lifeblood of the ranch. But I was drowning and man enough to admit it. I was also man enough to admit I wouldn’t mind seeing more of Hannah in those cute little aprons.
“You can cook?”
A spark lit her eyes, and a single tear trekked down one cheek, which she hastily brushed away. “Yes. I’m a very good cook.”
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, but it’ll need to be filling and lots of it.” I focused on her face for my next statement. “Three meals a day for twenty men. You think you can handle that?”
To her credit, she immediately nodded. “Yes, I can handle that.”
“It’ll be a lot of work. Feeding a bunch of hungry ranch hands while trying to keep your own business afloat. You’re sure you want to take all that on?”
“Yes, Mr. Maverick. I want it very much.”
“Then I think we can work something out.”
She started blinking furiously, and before she could begin crying in earnest, I reached for my wallet and pulled out a business card. “You start tomorrow, so you’ve got some time to train with our current cook. We eat at six, twelve, and six.” I thrust the card at her. “Can you find that address?”
She glanced at it and asked, “Is five o’clock too early to arrive?”
She continued to surprise me. “Five is fine. See you bright and early.”
7
Hannah
I shoved the last bite o
f a bran muffin in my mouth and washed it down with my third cup of coffee that morning. Four o’clock had come early, and I wanted to be sharp for my first day with the Mavericks. I hated the feeling of being indebted to someone and had resolved to myself that I wouldn’t be intimidated by my current situation. I was determined to see this arrangement as an opportunity rather than a last resort. I would prove to Tripp that my bakery and I were worth the chance he’d given us.
The sky was slowly changing from black to blue to purple with the coming of the sun when I reached the entrance to Maverick Ranch. About twenty minutes north of Great Falls, a log arch bearing a wrought iron ‘M’ spanned the road leading to the estate. Everyone knew where the Mavericks lived, so I’d had no trouble finding my destination, but this was the first time I’d ever pulled into the driveway. I tried to ignore the awakening of butterflies in my stomach as I followed the long path up the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
Almost two miles later, I glimpsed the peaks of the roof of the Maverick home. I’d heard stories about the beauty of their property, but none had come close to doing it justice. Pulling around the last bend, the house came into full view, and I gasped.
The log home was massive. Standing proudly at the base of the foothills, the entire front of the house was glass and reflected the pristine, acre-size pond that rested in front of it. The driveway I was on circled between the front door and the water, and as I drove, I tried to take in every gorgeous detail. The surrounding landscape was perfection with the use of boulders, native grasses, and trees. I pulled past the house to the garage where I counted ten stalls and parked in front of the last one.
I took a moment to gather myself, then squared my shoulders and went to the front door. I wasn’t sure if I should ring the bell that early in the morning, so instead I knocked softly. Seconds later the door opened, and I gasped for the second time that day. There stood Tripp Maverick in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans. I’d known he was a big man, but I was still taken back by the layers of bulky muscle covering his chest, abdomen, and arms. I yanked my eyes up to meet his before they could follow the sprinkling of hair traveling below his navel.
“Hey, you’re early.” His voice sounded more gravelly than usual like he’d just woken up. I tried to stop the blush I could feel creeping into my cheeks, but it was no use.
“I’m sorry. I can wait in my car until you’re ready.”
“It’s no problem. Come on in.” He pulled the door wide, and I stepped into a foyer with soaring ceilings and a wide, curved staircase, the bottom post which was made from the massive trunk of a tree. Its roots had been left intact and gave the appearance of growing into the floor beneath it. “Can I grab you a coffee or anything?”
My eyes went back to Tripp, and I realized it was the first time I’d seen him without his trademark cowboy hat. His hair was a rich brown with sandy highlights, and just a hint of waves touched the ends. “No, I’ve had plenty already but thanks.”
“Well, follow me while I pour myself some then.” I tried not to stare as I followed him to the kitchen, but my eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders, trim waist, and bare feet as he led us toward the smell of coffee.
“Your home is beautiful,” I said as we entered the kitchen, a sprawling space filled with a slate floor and granite countertops. From under the hanging cabinetry came a soft glow making the room feel warm and inviting despite its size.
“Not that I can take any credit for it, but thanks. Dad built it for Mom as a wedding gift.” Tripp poured two steaming mugs of coffee and deposited one in front of me. “There’s no such thing as too much coffee,” he told me with a wink.
“I guess I can’t argue that,” I replied and accepted the mug.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll finish getting dressed, and then we can head out.”
Odd. He seemed almost friendly. Maybe it was my resolve to have a better attitude, or maybe it was just Tripp in his natural habitat, but whatever it was relieved some of the tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders.
I took a stool at the kitchen island with roughly the same square footage as my first apartment. I tried to be polite and mind my own business, but soon my curiosity got the better of me, and I took my coffee into the adjoining living space. It felt as cavernous as the rest of the house but was tastefully decorated in rich leathers, hides, and Native American touches. The entire far wall was taken up by a stone fireplace that looked to have been created out of the local riverbed rocks. The adjacent wall caught my eye, and I went to inspect the pictures hanging there.
Starting on my left and moving down the row, it seemed to be pictures of Mavericks through the generations. I studied the rows of men wearing chaps covered in dirt and women smiling atop horses. Before long, I recognized Rhett as a young man, and one by one the current clan of Maverick boys began to make their appearances. I smiled at one of Tripp on a tricycle in nothing but a diaper, boots, and cowboy hat. He and Rhett were the only two I’d met, but the family resemblance was strong, all the boys growing into men as handsome and rugged looking as their father. The most recent was a family portrait with Rhett, his wife, and five boys. I focused on Tripp, the tallest and broadest of the bunch, and couldn’t help but wonder if there was a woman in his life.
“I don’t suppose you missed the one on the tricycle, did you?” His deep voice rumbled in my ear, and I prayed he wasn’t a mind reader.
I turned to face him. “Nope, it’s my favorite one.”
He let out an exaggerated sigh. “My mom’s, too. My idiot brothers still like to tease me about it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I hope you don’t mind me taking a look around.”
“Nah, you’re fine. Ready to head out?”
I nodded and followed him back through the house and to the garage where he led me through a door and flipped on the lights, illuminating several trucks, cars, and ATVs. “We can take the Kawasaki MULE.”
I climbed into the four-door ATV and buckled myself in. “Where exactly are we going?”
“The bunkhouse. We employ a couple of dozen full-time cowboys, and most live on the property. The bunkhouse is where we take most our meals, and we’ve got beds there for the guys too tired to make it home.”
“Who cooks for them now?” I wondered.
“Old cowpoke named Marty. He’s retiring, though.” Tripp hit the gas, and I reached for the ‘oh crap’ handle. We zoomed past my Jeep and found a trail behind the house that wound us further up the mountains. Along the way, he pointed out landmarks and points of interest. “Most of the cattle are over there. The barns are that way. The other houses are mostly north.”
I couldn’t fathom the amount of land and property the Mavericks owned. My mind was spinning when Tripp announced we were at the bunkhouse. I don’t know what I’d pictured, but it wasn’t the miniature version of the main house that stood before me. The only difference was the size, and this one had a deck that reached from one end to the other, and like the main house, windows spanned the entire front of the building.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to Marty and show you around.”
I slid out of the MULE and tried to keep up with Tripp’s long strides. A spurt of nervousness hit me in the gut when he opened the door, and a gnarly old man focused narrowed eyes on me.
Tripp’s hand found my lower back, and he said, “It’s okay. He only looks mean.” I found my feet and followed him in. “Marty, this is Hannah. She’s going to help us out until we can find your replacement.” He pointed a finger at him. “You be nice.”
The fact that he had to tell the man how to behave didn’t bode well. “Nice to meet you,” I began, but Marty spoke over me.
“She can’t even pick up a ten-pound sack of potatoes,” Marty informed Tripp. “Won’t last a week.”
“What did I just tell you? Behave.” To his credit, Tripp replied with a straight face, but I could sense his laughter just under the surface. It rankled me.
“First of all, I’m t
ougher than I look and can carry twice your weight, old man. Secondly, I’m right here and perfectly capable of speaking for myself. Now, where do I begin?” This opportunity was far too valuable to let some good old boys’ club get the best of me. If they wanted me to prove myself, then so be it.
“Hah!” Tripp’s barked laughter surprised me, and I spun toward the sound, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but he spoke before I got the chance. “This could get interesting.”
Marty grumbled something unintelligible and motioned me toward the kitchen. “Go on and wash up.” I took that as his begrudging acceptance of my presence there, so I did as I was told. The kitchen was open, and though not as luxurious as the main house kitchen, it was well stocked, and the stainless-steel appliances looked new. An oversized island separated the kitchen from a large dining area that housed a long table with bench seating lining either side. A limestone fireplace was on one wall, and through the doorway on the other side, I could see a bathroom and bunk beds.
Marty joined me at the sink a minute later, and an hour later, I felt familiar enough with the kitchen to make breakfast for twenty hungry cowboys.
They began filing in one by one, some of them sent a friendly nod in my direction while others eyed me with suspicion. I tried to keep a smile plastered on my face until everyone was seated, and Tripp introduced me as the ‘temporary cook.’ Marty had already told me they liked to eat family style, so I had several platters full of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage situated on the table, and as they passed them around and filled their plates, I was ready with second helpings.
I retreated to the kitchen while they ate and poured another cup of coffee while looking over Marty’s inventory and making a list of things I’d need to reorder when the sound of dishes being stacked caught my attention. A man in a ten-gallon hat had put his plate and coffee cup in the sink and had turned to leave.
“Excuse me?” I called, and he turned. “The dishwashers are right there.” I pointed and raised an eyebrow.
