Montana Beau: Montana Cowboys Read online

  Montana Beau

  Hildie McQueen

  Pink Door Publishing, Augusta, Georgia 2016

  Montana Beau

  Bestselling Author

  Hildie McQueen

  Pink Door Publishing

  Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

  Editors: Scott Moreland

  Copyright Hildie McQueen 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Other Works by Hildie McQueen

  (In reading order)

  Contemporary Western Romance

  Montana Bachelor

  Montana Boss

  Montana Beau

  Montana Born (Love & Grace Anthology)

  Montana Bred

  Fords of Nashville

  Even Heroes Cry

  The Last Hero

  Her Hero*

  Nobody's Hero*

  Contemporary Romantic Comedy

  Taming Lisa

  * Not published as of this publication

  Chapter One

  Beau Forrester's footsteps echoed from the entryway of his new home as he walked in carrying a briefcase, carryout and gym bag. He went to the barren kitchen and placed the food and briefcase on the marble counter. The gym bag hit the floor with a thunk.

  Just as he lifted the top off his Pad Thai his cell phone buzzed and he looked to the display. Parker Interior Design appeared and he pushed the accept button. The decorator, a man whose name escaped, him began talking before he could say hello.

  "Mr. Forrester, I hate to tell you this, but I won't be able to do the job next week. I have pneumonia. My doctor has me on strict orders to stay in bed."

  Crap. The last thing he needed was a delay. With only a month until his New Year's Eve event, he could not wait a week for him to start, much less two. "No it cannot be put off. Is there someone else you can send?"

  There was silence and he heard the tapping of keys. The guy must have been on his computer. "My partner, Kevin, is working in New York on a project. I can send my new designer, Sunny Stilton, to get started and I can come finish up. Will that work? I am so sorry."

  "It can't be helped. When can I expect her?"

  Once again the sounds of fingernails on keys sounded. "Day after tomorrow. She will be there bright and early. Thank you for understanding."

  Beau dug into the food while reaching for his own laptop. The new designer, Sunny Stilton, had to be thoroughly checked out. He'd not made millions without the hard lesson to leave nothing to chance.

  Within seconds, a woman's picture filled his screen. Young, perhaps late twenties, brown hair, green eyes and attractive, she seemed by all outward appearances to be nice by the wide smile. Beau scanned over her features dispassionately and read the bio beside the picture. Nothing stood out, other than the lack of experience. It was too late to find a new firm to decorate in time for the New Year's evening event he'd been forced to hold by his mother and twin brother.

  His mother, no doubt, planned to invite every eligible woman in Billings since he and his twin brother, Braylen, were cohosting.

  As he checked for more information on Sunny Stilton, he ate the food. Hopefully she'd prove to be efficient, otherwise he'd have to tell his mother the decorating would be up to her to finish. His lips curved. She'd kill him if the house wasn't perfect in time for the party.

  He had to admit it would be nice to have proper furniture. Other than the bedroom where he slept, in which there were a bed, dresser and large television on the wall, the six thousand square foot home was empty.

  Whatever had possessed him to buy it anyway? He scratched his head and pondered how he'd happened upon the house when driving home after being told his career as a bull rider was over.

  Disillusioned and angry, he'd turned down the driveway and walked through the empty house pondering his future.

  It was there, sitting behind the house facing the open land that he accepted his future would be at the offices of Forrester Ranchwear.

  Although he'd made several million from marketing contracts while riding, it was the new company, Forrester Ranchwear, which made him and his brother rich beyond expectations.

  One year ago, he'd purchased the house and then immediately regretted it. Other than a couple horses in the stables and corral, he had no need for so much space. However, his brother convinced him to keep it and use it for corporate events. Not a bad idea, however it needed furniture and professional decoration.

  "Hey, Bro." Braylen entered through the garage door and immediately went to Beau's food and began to eat. "I'm starving."

  "What are you doing here? What happened to Abilene?”

  Braylen rolled his eyes. "Gordon and Black won the deal. No use in going just to watch them gloat."

  "Shit."

  "Exactly." Braylen, who worked full time for their company as an accounts manager only came to see him when avoiding something or someone. In this case, it was understandable. The loss of a contract to their competitor was bad news but, no doubt, he was avoiding a female.

  His brother scanned the area. "When does the furniture get here?"

  "Hopefully next week,” Beau picked up his gym bag. "The decorator comes over the day after tomorrow."

  Sunny yawned and listened to the woman droning through her earpiece explaining the treatment her stepfather would be placed on. Each time they tried something new her spirits lifted. But as the treatments failed, hope was harder to come by.

  After a few more moments of conversation, they hung up and she mentally calculated how many hours she'd have to put in at her part-time job and the quantity of items she needed to sell online in addition to her decorating salary to pay for the treatment. The amounts grew each time, draining every single cent she made.

  When the next call came through she ignored it. Her landlord would have to wait. There was no use in answering just to tell him she didn't have the rent money yet.

  Driving down the winding road to her new job, her pulse quickened with anticipation and dread. It was a huge job, which would help both financially and professionally. To have this on her resume, having decorated a home for the owner of Forrester Ranchwear was huge.

  The immense ranch home, if she could call it that, took her breath away. This was a mansion. It was spectacular, overwhelmingly beautiful and so very much out of her league. In the rearview mirror was the very tempting escape route.

  The conversation with her stepfather's care provider replayed and she let out a breath. The commission from this work, if she impressed the homeowner, would make a huge difference in how many hours she'd have to put in to come up with the amount needed to pay for the medical bills.

  Focusing on the landscaping helped distract from the looming house. It was a beautiful setting with plush lawns and perfectly spaced trees only money could buy.

  As Sunny drove closer, she noticed all the windows were bear, no drapes to keep gawkers from peeking in. Then again, the home was half a mile away from the road. Most Peeping Tom
s would not be so bold.

  Unsure where to park, Sunny settled for an area on the side of the house where another car was already parked. Ensuring enough space, she pulled up next to a bright red, convertible Mercedes.

  From the backseat of her silver Kia, she pulled out a bright green tote and a canvas bag stuffed full with wallpaper, carpet and other textile samples.

  The house’s front door was open, not enough for her to see inside, but definitely wide enough to hear the conversation, or better put, an argument.

  "How can you just do this? Did it mean nothing to you?" a woman screeched, her voice breaking on the last word. "I can't believe this."

  Throat clearing sounded followed by a cough. "It was never serious. I was upfront with you." The man's tone gave the impression he was bored with the conversation.

  Sunny took a step back and put the canvas bag down so she could check the time on her watch. Fifteen minutes early. Perhaps it was best to return to the car and wait. Hopefully, they'd finish arguing by then.

  "You bastard!" the woman screamed and a slap sounded.

  Sunny's eyes widened as she waited to hear what the man would say.

  "Please leave." Once again boredom rang.

  "Wow," Sunny whispered and picked up the bag. Just as she took a step back, the door swung wider and a blonde stood in the doorway.

  The woman's reddened eyes narrowed at Sunny. "Who the fuck are you?"

  "I'm here to meet with Mr. Forrester," Sunny replied unsure if she should take the high road and inform the woman her lipstick was smeared across her right cheek.

  "Whatever you do, don't fuck him.” The now-crying woman shoved past her and rushed away toward the side of the house where Sunny had parked.

  Hopefully, she'd not mistake Sunny for the new girlfriend and key her car. Sunny considered going after her. Another scratch would not be that noticeable, certainly not worth getting cussed at again. Two "fucks" were enough for one morning.

  "Miss Stilton?"

  The man who stood in the doorway was no match for any daydream boyfriend she'd ever imagined. Six foot four inches of pure, raw sexiness stood just inches from her. His flat gaze met hers as if daring her to say something stupid.

  There was challenge, daring and something else she would not try to decipher until later in his expression.

  "Good morning, Mr. Forrester. I'm Sunny Stilton, with Parker Interior Design." She held her hand out.

  His gaze went to her hand for a moment before he took it. "Come in."

  Why did she suddenly feel like Little Red Riding Hood following the Big Bad Wolf? Sunny trudged behind him carrying her bags hoping he wouldn't go far as some of her book of wallpaper samples threatened to topple out of the side. Thankfully, he stopped just a few feet inside and looked around as if not sure where to go. Sunny put her bag down and shoved the contents in to make sure they stayed.

  "I don't have a table or any other surface for you. The kitchen counter will have to work.” He led the way to a huge kitchen that would make most chefs melt to a puddle of drool.

  "Wow," Sunny said. She was not the most eloquent that day. "This space is amazing."

  "Coffee?" He popped open a coffee maker and motioned to a fully stocked coffee pod carousel. "Pick one."

  Sunny chose a breakfast blend and waited for him to put a cup under the spout and push a button to start the brewing process.

  He wore a simple gray t-shirt and jeans. His tussled hair was longer than most men wore, the ends curling on his broad shoulders. From the dampness of it, he'd recently showered. She wondered if the woman had spent the night or came by first thing in the morning for an argument. Since he pretended it never happened, it was best she did the same, although she hoped he'd bring it up.

  Just because it was interesting to know what happened. Seeing the hunky man, she understood why the blonde was so upset at being dumped.

  "Do you have something for me to look over?" His question was not meant to make her nervous, but by the coolness in his voice, she couldn't help it.

  "Y--yes. I have swatches, paint chips and pictures for your review.” Sunny held a finger up. "Let me just set this up."

  She scanned the space for a moment taking in the sunlight streaming in through the many windows and the pale, pecan wood floors. She placed a large swatch of neutral paper down on the kitchen island and set upholstery and fabric samples with pieces of wood atop that. Then she put out paint strips ranging from dark brown to light beige. Her brows furrowed at the boring palette her boss, Stephan, had put together for such a beautiful space.

  "These colors are very neutral," she said as she started pointing at the fabric and paint. "I suggest once you choose the shades for paint and furniture, we add some color with accessories or perhaps a focal wall. The house needs more color."

  "Color?” He neared and peered down at her presentation. "No need for anything other than this."

  Bulgari mixed with the smell of coffee put her senses on high alert as he moved closer and bent to study the swatches.

  "This, this and this. I'll be out for the rest of the day. Do what you need to do to get the entire house done by the end of next week.” He placed her cup next to the samples and, with his own cup in hand, walked away and disappeared down a hallway.

  Sunny blinked and followed. "I have a lot more questions. What about style and types of furniture you need....budget? What about budget?"

  He swung around and her eyes widened. "It should be obvious. I want it to look like a home. I need places for people to congregate. The budget was given to your supervisor, keep it at less than a million, and as far as my style, how about..." He looked around as if the walls held a hint. "Nothing too modern.” Once again, he walked away. This time she didn't follow.

  A million dollars?

  "Holy shit!" She wished for a chair to appear because her legs were about to give out. Instead, she lowered onto the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her.

  Chapter Two

  Hopefully, the decorator had not overheard the argument. It would not be good for her to talk if the tabloids came sniffing around. He'd been caught by surprise to find Sunny Stilton at the door that morning as he went to close it after Alexa left.

  This morning had been a replay of many others. Why did women accept a casual relationship only to begin making plans for a future? As much as he hated one-night stands, it seemed that was the only thing that worked. Braylen was the consummate expert on hit and run and swore it was the only way to keep the women intent on snaring them at bay.

  Beau shook his head. His brother had failed a few times. Just the week before, a hysterical woman came to their office claiming Braylen owed her an explanation. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd felt bad for the woman. She seemed genuinely heartbroken.

  Unlike Alexa, who was manipulative and scheming, the woman at the office had allowed her heart to enter too early into a week old relationship, if it could be called that.

  His brother had sulked since then, claiming he'd broken his own rule of spending more than one night with a woman. Beau had to agree with his brother on this occasion. Unless a man planned to marry, it was best not to get close to anyone.

  As far as marriage went, it would be a cold day in hell before he ever did. Perhaps, he'd enter into a live-in relationship eventually, but he'd not marry. Women and marriage meant children and that was one mistake he'd never make. He'd been the product of divorce, the victim of an abusive stepfather and would be damned if he'd ever put a child of his in that situation.

  " Beau?" his administrative assistant Tyler's voice sounded over the cell phone speaker when he answered. "You have a meeting with the staff at ten, followed by lunch with Mr. Ritchie at eleven-thirty. The layouts for the spring catalog are ready. Would you like them displayed for the meeting this morning?"

  He glanced at the clock, it was almost nine. "Yes, display them. I will be there in half an hour. Tell Elaine Blake I need to meet with her this afternoon.” Full dressed,
he strolled to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee to take with him and stopped short at spotting the decorator staring out the windows with a notebook in hand. She wore close fitting pants with a bright top cinched at the waist with a thick belt. Her feet were bare and she'd piled her long, brown hair on top of her head.

  At hearing his voice, she turned to him just for an instant before returning to her notes. She scribbled something and frowned, turned to him a second time, pressed her lips together and, once again, began to make notes.

  Apparently, she was a fast learner. He did not have any more answers for her. If the woman was efficient, she would do as he asked and figure out what all was needed without him having to explain more or provide any direction. How the damn house was decorated did not matter as long as it looked put-together and tasteful.

  Parker Interior Design had a good reputation and he'd seen some of their work, therefore wasn't worried about the final outcome.

  Once his coffee was made, he walked out the side door to the garage and drove to work.

  One thing he and Braylen had agreed upon right away, was the location for their offices. Forrester Ranchwear was located away from the middle of the Billings in the center of ten acres of land. The building, a log cabin designed by Braylen, fit into the background perfectly. Upon entering, there was a large open space with ten work areas to the right and his and Braylen's offices, along with two conference rooms, to the left. In the center was the reception area where two women manned the huge work center with a lighted, thick glass, back wall, the word "Forrester" etched into it.

  The reception staff acknowledged him with subdued good mornings as they continued in their duties of manning telephones and taking messages from whoever called.