Tripp - Mavericks of Montana Creek Book One Read online

  Tripp

  Mavericks of Montana Creek — Book One

  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

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  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

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  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.

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  Description

  Tripp shoulders not only the heavy burden of being a Maverick in Montana, but running the family businesses in lieu of his ailing father. His responsibilities bring with them bitterness and resentment as all he's ever wanted was to ranch. He finds himself slipping into depression and wondering if he'll ever truly know happiness.

  Hannah Price has worked hard for everything she has - which isn't much. She's finally realized her dream of opening her own business. However, the niche she thought she would be filling has been slow to catch on as the red meat loving cowboys all around her aren’t impressed by a fancy, gluten-free bakery.

  Soon, Hannah finds herself in the unenviable position of being indebted to a Maverick, and what begins as one more frustration for Tripp turns into something more than either of them had dared hope for.

  1

  Hannah

  I paced back and forth between the two bay windows nervously twisting my shirt in my hands and practicing my speech for the hundredth time that morning.

  Old Man Maverick was due any minute to collect rent, and I had to tell him I didn’t have it—in only my second month of business.

  I paused long enough to look around my little bakery, and as I did, I felt a surge of pride, and with it, determination to succeed somehow, someway. I had been so sure my allergen-sensitive, gluten-free pastries would fill a niche in Great Falls, but instead I continued to watch all the red meat-eating cowboy types and their farm-raised families file into the steakhouse next door.

  Still, I believed All Buns, No Glutes would catch on and become a success. I had only to convince my landlord to give me a chance to prove it. I glanced at the clock. It was nine o’clock exactly, and Mr. Maverick was never late.

  My heart thumped an extra anxious beat when a dark shadow filled one window and then the doorframe. A moment later, a mountain of a man stepped through the threshold and squinted down at me. He was the most attractive person I’d ever laid eyes on, and for a moment, I swear I forgot my name.

  “Hannah Price?” Right. That was it. His voice was deep and sounded hoarse as though he spent his days barking orders like a drill sergeant.

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  He extended a palm the size of my dessert plates. “Tripp Maverick. I’m taking over the property management business for my father. I’ll be here the first of every month to check on the building and collect rent.”

  I swallowed the dry lump that had formed in my throat before I accepted his handshake. I’d never met Tripp Maverick, but I knew his name well, and the fact that he was my new landlord was bad news for me. His reputation was that of a bulldozer—straight and steady—his will bent to no man. Or woman, as it were.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Maverick.” I pulled my hand from his strong grip and unconsciously wiped it down the apron covering my thigh. “Is everything okay with your dad?”

  I didn’t know Rhett Maverick well, but he’d always been kind to me, and it seemed strange he’d turn the property management business over to his son without first notifying his tenants.

  “He’s just taking a step away from some of the family businesses for a while. I’m going to fill in for him until other arrangements are made.”

  The Maverick family had a long history in this part of Montana and had built an empire first through ranching, then by expanding to everything from oil to financial investments to real estate development. Through the latter, the family now owned much of downtown including the building we stood in.

  “I see. May I get you a cup of coffee or a scone? The special this week is orange cranberry.”

  “No thank you, ma’am. I’ll just take a quick look around to familiarize myself with the building, then collect your payment and be on my way.”

  He stepped around me, the scent of pine and man dizzying. I counted six loud echoes of his boots against the floor before I found my voice again. “Mr. Maverick?”

  He turned to look back at me, and the sun streaming through the windows found his face, highlighting an unusual set of blue-gray eyes and a day’s worth of stubble covering a strong jawline
. His left eyebrow ticked up as he waited for me to speak.

  “I, umm, well the thing is… I have a question. It’s a funny story actually. So, as you know, this is a new business. And sometimes it takes something new a while to catch on with the locals… and so I was wondering…”

  “Aw hell.”

  His muttered curse stopped me short. “Excuse me?”

  He pushed his cowboy hat up off his forehead and looked at the ceiling, hands coming to rest on hips. “You want an extension.”

  “Well… yes, actually.”

  His eyes remained skyward when he asked, “Miss Price, do you have any idea how many stops I have to make today?”

  “Is that rhetorical?”

  His eyes leveled with mine, and I had to stop myself from flinching at the hard edge I found in his irises. “Twenty-four. So, if I put in a twelve-hour day that leaves me exactly thirty minutes per business owner including drive time. If even one of those properties is not prepared for our scheduled appointment, then it not only affects my day but the schedules of everyone else I have to meet with today.”

  “I understand this is an inconvenience…” I began, but he continued as though I hadn’t spoken.

  “And since it is the policy of Maverick Properties to make on-site visits each month, I must hold up our end of the agreement, and I expect our renters to do the same.”

  “Of course. I would never ask if this wasn’t an emergency. I just need a little extra time to…” He moved toward me, his steps slow and intentional. My heart sped in my chest. His size was overwhelming, his energy palpable.

  “But because we want to foster the success of small businesses in Great Falls, I’m willing to grant you an extension.” He stopped just inches away from me, his towering height forcing me to crane my neck to meet his eyes. He held up a finger between us. “Once.”

  The air left my lungs in a relieved whoosh, and I wanted to weep with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Maverick. I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  Eyes the color of storm clouds held mine a beat longer than I was comfortable with before replying, “I hope you don’t.” Then he stepped around me and called over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in one week.”

  I stood rooted to the floor, relief swirling amidst a new and rising panic. I had seven days to come up with the rest of my rent which left just twenty-three more before next month’s rent was due. I had far too much pride to tell him exactly how dire my situation was, that if he evicted me at the end of my extension, I wouldn’t only be out of business.

  I’d be homeless.

  2

  Tripp

  I watched the sun dip behind the mountain range just as I’d finally pulled the truck into the driveway. I forced myself to swallow the bitterness I felt at yet another day wasted away from the only place on this earth I wanted to be—my ranch.

  I jammed my hat on my head and stomped my way to the door knowing there would be many phone messages and emails awaiting me that I’d need to respond to before I could call it a day.

  My father had built the house for my mother as a wedding gift. She had always insisted it was too big, too grand for a simple farm girl living in the middle of Montana. But Dad had declared nothing was too good for his Caroline and promised her they’d need the space for all the kids they were going to have.

  Thirty years, five boys, and countless animals had filled the ten thousand square feet ever since. I pushed open the front door and entered the foyer of the log home, the absence of my mother still painfully obvious. There were no inviting smells of dinner, no lights on, no music blaring from the great room. There was no life at all.

  All there was, as always these days, was the flicker of a television from the den. Dread in my gut, I walked to the half-open door and pushed it wide. There in the recliner in front of an old western re-run was Rhett Maverick.

  At one time, my father had been amongst the most respected men in all of Montana. A true visionary, he was known for his shrewd yet fair business dealings and had taken the Maverick family from wealthy to obscenely rich. He loved his job almost as much as he loved his family, but after cancer took my mother, he lost all interest in living.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  His head turned at the sound of my voice, and watery blue eyes met mine. “Tripp? What are you doing?”

  “Just got home from making rounds on the rental properties.”

  He acknowledged that with a slight lift of his chin. “Everything in order?”

  “Mostly. Had one tenant ask for an extension. The new bakery on Main.”

  “The little blonde girl? Did you give it to her?” There was no inflection in his voice to give me a clue as to whether or not he hoped I had.

  “I did. Seven days.”

  He gave a slight nod. “I’d have done the same. A specialty bakery in Great Falls is a good idea, and she has a solid business plan in place.”

  I was surprised, yet pleased with the way sons get when their fathers praise them to know I’d made the same decision he would have. Still, I knew I’d been harder on her than was necessary. I could feel her anxiety like an electric charge in the room and asking for help is never easy. I could almost feel guilty for giving her the infamous Maverick stare-down. Almost.

  I cleared my throat. “True, but what did you always teach us? Be kind and fair, but business comes before sympathy.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “It’s good to know something stuck in that thick head of yours.”

  I scuffed my boot against the hardwood. “You need anything before I get back to work?”

  He lifted his empty glass just as I’d known he would. “A refill.”

  I dutifully took the cup to the wet bar hating every drop of the liquid oblivion but unable to deny my father the one thing that dulled his pain. I left it on the end table next to him and squeezed his shoulder before leaving him with his John Wayne and whiskey.

  I stalked back through the foyer toward the west wing of the house. I’d moved back in when I could no longer ignore my father was failing and had felt compelled to step in as interim CEO of Maverick Enterprises. It was still my fervent hope that he would snap out of it, and I could resume my duties on the ranch, but as I gazed out at the purple mountains blanketed in the twilight, I could feel my hope fading away with the last of the sunlight.

  I scrubbed a hand down my face and cracked my tired neck before sitting down at my desk and firing up the laptop. I stifled a groan when I saw how many emails awaited me. My eyes moved to the desk phone, and I wanted to punt it and it’s stupid blinking light signaling messages that would need to be returned.

  I wanted nothing more than to get up, walk away from the desk and all the responsibilities chained to it, and straight to the stables. My favorite horse, Pongo, was getting fat and lazy. We both needed the exhilaration of a ride through the countryside. Unfortunately, and to my undying chagrin, that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

  The little blonde girl. My father’s words floated back into my mind. Hannah Price, owner of a failing bakery and the sweetest butt I’d laid eyes on in ages. God, to have the luxury of time to think about a woman in any way besides rent collection. When was the last time I’d stopped to think about a woman? More, when was the last time a woman, let alone her backside, had caught my attention? I couldn’t remember, and that was pathetic. Leave it to me to notice the one person I’d likely be forced to evict.

  I hated the thought of it. Hated the ugly side of running the family businesses. Unfortunately for me, I owed my dad too much to shirk these responsibilities. I loved my brothers too much to tie them down to this life. No one asked me to step in, and I sure as hell wouldn’t ask anyone else to either. So with a dogged determination, I opened the first email.

  3

  Hannah

  “What am I going to do, Beth?” I wailed around a mouthful of vegan quiche.

  “Well, for one, you could stop eating all your inventory.” My best friend was supportive but a
lso a pragmatist.

  I stuck my tongue out at her. “This is the last day I can serve them. They’re going to get tossed or donated anyway.”

  “Well, in that case!” Beth leaned her seven-month-pregnant body over the counter and helped herself to a slice.

  “I’ve tried everything,” I continued. “Social media, ads in the paper, running specials and deals. I even went to grumpy old Mack next door to ask if we could partner on a deal. For every ribeye dinner he sells, he gives them a coupon for dessert here. And do you know what he said?”

  Beth shook her head and took another bite. “This is really good, by the way.”

  “Thanks. He said ‘why would I give you my business when I already sell desserts?’ And he wouldn’t even listen to me about those of his customers who can’t tolerate gluten or nuts.” I leaned back on my stool. “Harrumph.”

  “How’s the catering side of things going?”