Tripp - Mavericks of Montana Creek Book One Read online

  Humming to myself, I lit several candles in the kitchen and boxed up the donuts, then tried to keep myself busy by tidying up the front of the store. Two hours passed and still no sign of the maintenance guy. I sighed, resigned to the fact that nothing would be getting fixed that night. Out of busywork, I decided I’d head to bed and catch up on some much-needed sleep.

  The old building held a staircase in the back that led downstairs to a damp and creepy basement that I tried my best to avoid and upstairs into an open area just finished enough to be livable. I climbed the stairs and flipped the light switch out of habit. When nothing happened, I flicked my trusty lighter and lit several candles throughout the area.

  What I normally felt was a sparse and cold space almost felt cozy and inviting in the warm flicker of candlelight. The walls had been sheet-rocked, and the original wood floors were still in place. I had no idea what the place had been used for in the past, but it held a dated kitchenette and small bathroom. I’d moved my bed to the far wall so I could see out the window at night and the two chairs, table, and single lamp I owned were in the other corner as a living area.

  Yawning, I peeled off my clothes from the day and changed into a set of yoga pants and hoodie. The evening had been cool and without heat, so I was sure to get chilled. I moved a candle to the windowsill on my left and pulled out the last book I’d borrowed from the library. A true crime thriller which, I was sure, had late fees on it by now. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken an evening to relax and read. I snuggled under my heavy quilt, and I was only a few pages in before my eyelids started to feel heavy.

  Whether it was the nature of the book I was reading, the unusual darkness of my home, or my overactive imagination, I began feeling uneasy. I decided the best thing to do was roll over, close my eyes, and wait for morning.

  It was when I turned onto my side that I saw the door creak open, and the silhouette of a man fill the frame. Terror sparked deep in my belly. I scrambled to the headboard, frantically searching for the flashlight I’d tucked under my pillow. But when the figure began moving toward me, I froze and let out a blood-curdling scream.

  10

  Tripp

  “God almighty, woman. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I’d arrived at the bakery a few moments ago, and with no signs of Hannah, I had gone in search of the breaker box. Based on the ear-piercing shriek ringing through the space, I’d found her first.

  “You? What about me? I thought you were a murderer here to kidnap me.”

  “Wouldn’t that make me a kidnapper, not a murderer?”

  “Shut up. You scared me to death.” She raised a shaky hand to her throat. It was the first time I’d seen her in anything other than her usual uniform of a button-down shirt and apron. The oversized hoodie she wore made her look even smaller. The candlelight, even paler. She looked scared, vulnerable, and damn if it didn’t twist up my guts.

  Once my pulse began to return to a normal pace, I looked around the space and wanted to curse for an entirely different reason.

  “Hannah. Don’t tell me you’re living up here.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed and glanced away. “I won’t.”

  She was sitting in the middle of a queen-size bed, knees to her chest, wrapped in what looked like a quilt my grandmother could have made. There was a makeshift closet against one wall with a rod holding several hanging garments and shoes lined up neatly beneath. I glanced toward the kitchenette and found a few dishes stacked in the sink. There was no denying she was staying there, and from the looks of it, had been for a while. Probably since her lease of the space below us began.

  I looked at her again, and for the first time, wondered who she was. Clearly, she was living alone. She’d never mentioned any family. And no one with any support system would have ever agreed to work for me just to cover rent for a failing business. She was likely putting in eighty hours a week and still struggling to get by.

  How had she found herself in this position?

  And what the hell was I supposed to do with her now?

  I ran a hand down my face, feeling the weight of fatigue in every cell of my body. Turned out our maintenance man had been sick and wasn’t checking his messages, so I felt compelled to fix the issue myself. I had a hundred more tasks to complete back at the ranch before I could hit the hay, and now I’d just found another one to deal with.

  Sometimes I hated being a Maverick.

  Hannah had placed an old stool next to her bed as a makeshift nightstand. I moved the cup of water and stack of books from it to the floor, then drug it over so I could sit to face her.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Her big blue eyes searched my face for a moment, then she shook her head and looked away.

  I leaned forward resting my elbows on my knees and rubbed my temples. I had no idea what to do in this situation. My father had taught us a tough love that garnered respect, especially when it came to business. But I was still my mother’s son, and she’d had a heart as big as the Montana sky.

  If I chose to break the lease and evict her, I now held the heavy knowledge that she wouldn’t just be out of business, she’d be out of a place to live. The rational part of my brain understood that it wasn’t my problem—not even a little bit. But the stupid emotional half wouldn’t allow me to walk away from someone in such a dire situation.

  I looked back up at her, and she was watching me with wide, shimmering eyes. “Are you going to kick me out?”

  I tried to keep my voice gentle as I replied, “You know you can’t stay here. Not only is it a violation of the lease agreement, but you’re technically stealing from us by living rent-free, and it could get us both in hot water with the city because you’re violating all kinds of zoning and code policies.”

  I could tell she was fighting to hold back her tears, which was admirable, but eventually, she lost the battle, and her shoulders slumped as tears streaked down her porcelain cheeks. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she whispered.

  Confirmation of my suspicions. How can that be true? I wondered. I knew I’d lived a more privileged life than most, not because of the money but because of my tight-knit family. I’d never once felt alone in this world as she surely must be feeling at that moment.

  She met my eyes with a small, sad smile. “It’s a long, pathetic story that I’d rather not relive.”

  If I was honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. This girl had somehow found my soft spot, and I couldn’t afford to let her any closer. My sole focus needed to be on the Maverick businesses and getting my father well enough to manage them so I could return to ranching full-time. The thought of getting back to my ranch and away from the stress and demands of the other businesses was enough to strengthen my resolve. I was just about to open my mouth to attempt to let her down easy when she did the strangest thing.

  She reached out and took my hand.

  The shock of her touch stole the words from my mouth. I looked down at my scarred, calloused knuckles cradled between her small, soft hands and then back up at her in confusion.

  “It’s okay, Tripp. I won’t make you kick me out. You’ve been exceedingly kind to me, and I don’t want to continue to take advantage of your good nature.” She offered a smile. “I’ll be gone by morning.”

  Damn, damn, dammit.

  She’d read me. She could tell I was struggling and made the difficult decision so I wouldn’t have to. Her act of compassion sealed her fate.

  I returned the grip on her hands and stood, pulling her up with me, her head barely reaching my shoulders. “Come on,” I said with an unfamiliar tightness in my throat.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’re the best cook we’ve ever had. You didn’t think I’d let you quit that easy, did you?”

  “I don’t understand,” she began.

  “We offer housing to the full-time staff at the ranch due to the hard work and long hours. The bunkhouse has private quarters for the
cook, and Marty is moving out of them as we speak.”

  I watched realization seep into her features. She looked cautiously optimistic. Hopeful, even, and I felt the knot in my gut loosen a bit. “You really don’t have to do this. You’ve given me enough chances already.”

  “Take one more. I’d have offered it up front if I thought you were going to work for me more than a few weeks, or if I’d known about your current living arrangement.”

  She had the decency to blush at that. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I never thought of it as stealing.”

  “No harm done. But we do need to get you out of here, especially with no electricity or heat tonight. I’ll help you pack what you need and take you back in my truck. We’ll worry about your furniture and Jeep later.”

  She sniffled, then turned a dazzling smile on me, and it was only then I realized she still held my hand. She gave it a quick squeeze, which I took as a show of gratitude, then she turned to pull two small suitcases from under the bed.

  “I’ll just grab my clothes and toothbrush, then we can go.” It only took her ten minutes to pack all her earthly belongings. She pulled the quilt from the bed and folded it carefully into her arms. “Ready?”

  Standing there looking so fragile and with only two suitcases and a worn blanket to her name, she maybe should have seemed more pitiful. Instead, she radiated excitement, hope, and a resiliency I envied.

  I nodded, and she moved to walk past me. My heart swelled, and I felt sure I was making the right decision. Then I caught sight of her backside in yoga pants, and another part of my anatomy began to swell.

  Still. This was the right thing to do.

  Wasn’t it?

  11

  Hannah

  Nothing could have prepared me for the events of that evening—from worrying about filling the bakery’s orders, to thinking I was about to be murdered, to being sure I was homeless, to moving into the bunkhouse at Maverick’s ranch. The emotional rollercoaster had taken its toll, the adrenaline had faded, and the bumpy ride back to the bunkhouse had me lulled into a sleepy fog.

  Tripp hadn’t said much on the drive, and I didn’t push him. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and I think we’d both needed it to process the rapid turn of events. So I leaned my head against the window and watched the landscape change from streets and sidewalks to pavement and gravel roads and half listened to the talk radio Tripp had playing softly in the background.

  I found it interesting and slightly amusing he listened to NPR. If I’d had to guess, I’d have pegged him as a classic country music fan.

  When he turned us under the big arch with the ‘M’, I roused and sat up straighter. There was a part of me that felt relieved I no longer had to hide where I slept, but another part of me felt as though I’d become a constant burden to this family. To relieve some of the guilt, I promised myself I would work doubly hard and earn my keep. I wouldn’t let Tripp regret inviting me here. We passed by the log mansion and took the trail I was only beginning to feel familiar with toward the bunkhouse. Cresting a hill, then dipping behind it, the last light from the house faded, and I was struck with the thought of how dark the countryside could get. I looked up into an inky sky full of stars and a crescent moon.

  He found the bunkhouse and pulled to the rear. The long porch had lighting installed under the rail, so we were able to see well enough to let ourselves in. The comforting smell of dinner still hung in the air, and the dishwashers whirred quietly. A lamp cast a soft light throughout the sitting area.

  Tripp moved wordlessly past the kitchen and through the dining room to a door next to the fireplace. I’d never seen it open and had never bothered to see where it led, having found everything I needed in the kitchen and pantry. He pushed it open, and I followed him in.

  The cook’s quarters were nicer than any home I’d ever lived in. The fireplace was double-sided, and this room had its own hearth, slightly smaller than the one in the dining room. A king-size bed made of logs was situated on the other wall with end tables and lamps on either side of the headboard. At the foot were two over-stuffed leather chairs and a Navajo rug in rich reds and teals. Heavy curtains framed two windows.

  “You can drop your stuff anywhere,” Tripp told me. “The bathroom is in here.”

  I peeked into the room and tried not to gasp. A granite countertop held a copper sink, the shower was huge and had three shower heads, but I was most blown away by the jetted tub situated on the far wall. I loved taking baths but rarely had the opportunity to enjoy one.

  “Housekeeping should keep your linen closet stocked with fresh towels and sheets for you.” I opened the door he gestured to and found shelves full of fluffy towels and heavy blankets.

  “And over there is the closet.” The door to the closet had been left open, and I could see it was a walk-in. I would never own enough clothes to fill it, but it would be nice to hang them somewhere other than a random bar sticking out of a wall.

  “It’s all so beautiful,” I breathed, feeling emotional and trying not to start crying again.

  He turned to face me. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I can’t believe I’m here.”

  “That would make two of us, but I have a feeling it’ll work out.”

  I smiled, not sure how to respond and feeling awkward. Tripp seemed to shake himself and gestured toward the other side of the house. “The bunks are all over there. Most guys try to make it to their own homes for the night, but some will sleep here from time to time. They shouldn’t give you any trouble, but your door has a lock if it makes you feel better.”

  I hadn’t yet considered that I’d technically be rooming with a bunch of rough-and-tumble cowboys, but I didn’t feel it would be an issue.

  “Marty was in the habit of an open-door policy, so the guys could stop in for leftovers or whatever he had on hand. But this is your kitchen now, so you should run it how you like.”

  “I wouldn’t want to take that option away from them.” If they found themselves too tired to make it home at night, I had to assume they’d be famished as well.

  Tripp seemed pleased with that answer and gave me a nod. “Now you’ve seen the place, is there anything you need?”

  I couldn’t tell him these quarters were far beyond my expectations and more luxurious than anything I ever thought I’d have. I didn’t want him to pity me any more than he already did. “No but thank you.”

  He nodded again and stifled a yawn. I took a moment to study his face and felt ashamed that I was only now noticing the dark shadows that marred the skin beneath his eyes.

  “You look exhausted. Can I make you a cup of coffee or get you something to eat?”

  “Nah, I need to get back to the office and finish up a few things.” He took a step to move past me, and my hand shot out to grasp his arm, touching him for the second time that evening. He stopped and looked at my hand gripping his shirt, then at me, his confusion clear.

  “Tripp, I want to thank you.”

  “That’s not necessary. These boys will make sure you earn your keep, no doubt.”

  “Still,” I moved in front of him looking up at his tired face, his gray eyes a shade darker than usual. “I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

  He took in my words, and one corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. “All right, then.”

  Impulsively, and before I could stop myself, I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his waist giving him a tight squeeze. He tensed, but after a heartbeat, I felt his heavy arms wrap carefully around my shoulders and return the embrace. I allowed myself one selfish moment to breathe deep, inhale his clean, outdoorsy scent, and relish his warmth, then I stepped away from him and looked up at his face. It still held a look of confusion and exhaustion, but even so, I couldn’t deny how handsome he was. It was unfortunate my savior couldn’t look like a troll. It would have made it so much easier to navigate my situation and the confusing feelings it brought.

  “Goodnight, Tripp.”
>
  He shook his head and chuckled. “Goodnight, Hannah.”

  He closed the door behind him, and I waited until I heard the sound of his truck’s ignition turning over before locking the door and going to the linen closet to make the bed and set out some towels for the morning.

  I found some heavy flannel sheets and drug out a couple of quilts to add to my own. Once the bed was made, I wandered over to the fireplace and wondered if it was difficult to make a fire. I decided I’d ask Tripp the next time I saw him when a light switch near the mantle caught my eye. I flipped it, and the fireplace roared to life.

  I clapped my hands and squealed as though I’d just invented fire myself. Equal parts thrilled with my discovery and exhausted from my day, I went to the bed and climbed between the sheets. I groaned as the memory foam welcomed my body and held it close. The bedding smelled clean like it had been line-dried in the sun. But there was a note of something darker, muskier. I tucked my nose under the sheets and realized the smell was coming from my hoodie. It was Tripp. His scent, like his very presence, was intoxicating.

  I thought of his strong arms around me, how hard his chest felt against mine, the sheer heat of his body and shivered. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch more of him. I wasn’t inexperienced, but I hadn’t had many encounters that left me longing for more. What would it be like to be with a man like him?

  Dangerous, I decided. I couldn’t imagine any involvement with him being baseless or uncomplicated. There was obviously so much more to him than his rough cowboy exterior, and I feared involvement with him in any form would come at a cost. And even if the price was freely paid, something as small as his scent on my shirt had me aching for more. I’d seen enough addiction and dependency in my life to know it wasn’t something I wanted for myself. I squeezed my eyes shut when an even more terrifying thought occurred.