Montana Beau: Montana Cowboys Read online

  The sounds of voices and laughter came from one of the conference rooms. The trio of designers always met promptly at nine to discuss whatever it was they had to speak about prior to the staff meeting every Wednesday.

  He often wondered how they accomplished so much with the constant bantering and joking, but they were productive, so it was best to let them be.

  "Good morning," Tyler said as he stood and followed Beau into his office. The young man was efficient, discreet and very good at his job.

  Tyler was slender, with a penchant for hair products and quite adept at somehow managing all Beau’s needs and at the same time being informed of everything that occurred within the walls of Forrester Ranchwear. "The contract for the fabric order needs your signature." He pointed at a paper on Beau’s desk. "Your electronic approval is needed for annual raises for two people in the Paynet system. Elaine Blake will be here at three and...also," Tyler let out an exaggerated huff, "Melanie in accounting is about to go on maternity leave. The department wants permission to have a shower in the smaller conference room Friday afternoon."

  The day progressed quickly. At three o'clock, promptly, Elaine Blake walked into his office, her shrewd gaze scanning the space before taking him in. Beau ensured a neutral expression knowing she'd hone in on any weakness. "I'm surprised you finally agreed to meet me," the executive said sitting down and crossing her well-toned legs. "It's about damn time."

  "Don't be so sure it's for a good reason," Beau said as he stood. He went to the side cabinet and lifted a decanter. "Still drink whiskey?"

  She lifted a brow. "Will I need a drink to hear what you have to say?"

  "I'm offering because I want one." He poured two, not waiting for her answer and brought it to her before lowering to the chair opposite hers. "Thank you for coming."

  They drank the amber liquid, neither allowing for any shifting of expressions. Elaine held her drink with both hands. "So what do I owe the honor of your invitation to Forrester?"

  "I brought up your proposal to my brother and Harvey this morning at the staff meeting. They agreed to partner with you and approach Walton."

  She let out a breath. Her company was in trouble, and in that one moment, he knew it was a mistake to partner with her. If they were in deep, she could drag Forrester down with her. "That is good news, indeed," Elaine said, keeping her voice even. "I'll draw up a contract."

  "No." Beau remained reclined, one arm across the back of his chair. "We will."

  Elaine's nostrils flared. "Whatever do you mean? It's my work that got us in the door at Walton. It’s only fair we do the contract with Forrester as a sub. It's not like you won't have your legal team review it before signing."

  True.

  Yet why did he feel a sense that something could go horribly wrong?

  Later, Braylen and their vice president, Harvey, sat around the conference room contemplating after Beau gave them a review of his meeting with Elaine Blake. Finally his brother let out a breath. "I see how you'd think they could bring us down. Let's make sure legal has our ass covered."

  "Hope it will be enough.” Beau didn't like bringing the company into a contract he wasn't positive would make them money.

  Harvey, the more intellectual type, met his gaze. "I can assure you, if Blake is in trouble, we're her only ticket to safety. She'll fight to ensure this deal doesn't fail. And this means we'll have our first retail space in England before the end of the year."

  Chapter Three

  "No more," Douglas Stilton jutted out his chin in challenge. "I'll be dead and you'll be broke, lonely and desperate. Let's just wait and see what happens."

  Sunny laughed. "Why am I going to be desperate, Dad?"

  Her stepfather gave her a droll look. "Because you won't have any money. Stop spending money willy-nilly on all this newfangled nonsense. If the man upstairs wants to see me, who am I to say no?"

  She arched a brow. "Who's to say you're going up?"

  At this, her stepfather let out a loud laugh. "That's not nice.” They quieted as a nurse came in to check his vitals. "Looks like you get to go to the rehabilitation center tomorrow. You'll like Grove Park, it's very nice."

  "Very expensive," Douglas grunted. "I think I'll just go home."

  "I moved," Sunny said without smiling. "I only have one bedroom. You can't live with me. And Beth will kick you out if you come home and she has to do it all for your grumpy butt," she said referring to his wife who'd just gone out for coffee.

  "I'll sleep on the couch. I prefer it anyway. Get me a recliner, it'll be cheaper than that pricey place where they will make me do stupid shit."

  "Dad," Sunny warned, looking toward the nurse who fought not to laugh. "Behave."

  With a wink to the nurse, he began to flirt, for the moment leaving the issue of the rehab place. "You married, Miss?"

  Half an hour later, Sunny finally pulled up to her apartment. It was six in the evening and she had a few hours of work still to do. She'd discovered a talent for designing scarves from different fabrics she cut from used clothing. So every evening, she checked her online shop for orders and packaged them for shipping.

  Sunny's Skinny Scarves brought in enough for the little extras, like gas and food, since, at the moment, all her income was gobbled up by her stepfather's medical care.

  As fun as it could prove to be, on nights like these when she was exhausted from spending five hours ordering furniture and scheduling painters and wall paper hangers, followed by visiting the hospital, it made for a long day.

  Sunny considered Beau Forrester. It was obvious the man was not a nice person. In her opinion, he should have, at least, taken the time to answer all her questions. But instead, he'd stalked off and left her to make all the decisions. Which, of course, meant if she made any wrong choices, he'd blame it on her.

  After three rings, her boss Stephan answered, at least that's who she thought croaked hello.

  "I won't ask how you’re feeling, you sound horrible," Sunny began. "I have a few questions about the design for Mr. Forrester."

  There was coughing followed by nose blowing. "Honey, I am on so many drugs right now, I wouldn't trust anything I say.” Another loud cough rang in Sunny's ear. "Do your best. I get the idea he couldn't care less about that beautiful house or what goes into it. Just keep it simple...and very neutral."

  "All right. But with a million to spend, I hate to waste it if he's going to hate it."

  "You'll do fine. I need some rest." Stephan hung up.

  Silence should have meant peace, but instead it annoyed Beau when he arrived home that evening. The large den to the right of the garage entrance into the house was filled with furniture and boxes. He was impressed. The decorator worked fast.

  He'd eaten dinner with clients but, as was his habit, he went to the kitchen first. On the counter, lined up neatly, were three columns of sticky notes.

  One column was paint colors with the words one last check, please pick the one you like. The second column was couch choices and the last column was art. He placed a sticky note on the couch he liked and pushed the others to the side, ignored the paint choices and focused on the art.

  Annoyed once again, he pushed them all aside and let out a breath making his way to the bedroom where the setting sunlight streamed in through the windows sending long shadows over the floor making him hesitate. He went back to the counter and wrote “sunset views and colors”.

  Task accomplished, he had to admit made him feel better. There was nothing he hated more than evenings and nights. He filled as much time as possible with conferences and telecons but, unlike him, people had other things to do besides work.

  There were only so many hours the gym and meals could fill, so the rest of the time he spent at the house, caring for the horses, reviewing orders and watching whatever sport was on television until bedtime.

  Most of the time, he ignored the draw of the night's lull into dark memories. More times than not, he succumbed. The light from the hallway was enoug
h to allow him to fall asleep without worry but some nights, just as quickly as slumber fell, the dreams took over.

  Flashes of dark places and pain always caught him off guard. A hand descended followed by the sting of leather and the taste of his own blood.

  Beau woke with a start. He picked up his phone and dialed Braylen. His brother picked up on the second ring, his voice groggy.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah...did you catch the game?"

  "You didn't call about a damn game. Beau, you need to get help. Counseling." It sounded as if Braylen adjusted in his bed. "Let's talk about that."

  "I can deal with it most of the time." He pulled his sweat soaked t-shirt off over his head. "Just talk okay?"

  Braylen chuckled. "Most days you tell me to shut up. But all right. Remember that day we decided it was a good idea to peek into the girl’s locker room? That huge gym teacher caught us and chased us for a mile before she gave up..."

  After a few minutes, Beau was chuckling at the memory and finally felt comfortable enough to let his brother get some sleep. "Good night. See you in the morning."

  "Good thing I'm the boss, cause I'm gonna be late," Braylen replied. "See you tomorrow."

  The next morning, Beau stalked from his bedroom to the kitchen tugging his towel around his waist. It was too far to walk for coffee every morning. If it took more than a minute to reach caffeine, a house was too big.

  In the center of the kitchen, sitting on the island cross-legged was the designer. She'd not noticed him, her head bent over her work. Beau looked to the door and wondered how she'd gotten in. He'd not heard the alarm alert. Then again, he'd been very tired and slept soundly after speaking with Braylen.

  Hair piled on her head and dressed in an off the shoulder sweater, she looked more like a teenager than a twenty something. Unsure if he should proceed or not, he gave in to curiosity and continued forward.

  "Good morning, Miss Stilton." Beau went directly to the coffeepot knowing her gaze was on him. The silence stretched and he glanced over his shoulder to her flushed face.

  "Uh." She looked away and down to her papers. "I didn't know you were here. I'm up here because there is no other place to sit."

  It was amusing to watch her awkwardly swing her legs to the side and slip down to stand on the floor. "Good morning, Mr. Forrester." She kept her gaze on his face, which for some reason bugged him.

  "I go into the office at different times," he explained, not sure why he did, other than she needed to know. "How did you get in?"

  "I have a key and the code. You gave them to Stephan." She held up a key hanging from a long strip of braided cloth. "I'm sorry to have caught you off guard."

  He nodded and took the now full cup.

  Before he could make it to the hallway, the woman caught up with him. "I love the idea of sunsets. They are perfect for this space. I'm not sure why I didn't think of it. Perhaps I can add some of those colors to your palate."

  Beau looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Do it."

  Chapter Four

  Sunny's shoulders ached from hunching over the design sketches for the house. In the four days since arriving, she'd gotten into the routine of going for an afternoon walk on the grounds. The land surrounding the house was well maintained by what looked to be an army of landscapers. She wondered how much money it cost to maintain a property the size of Beau Forrester's home. He had a lot of money, but in her opinion the extra expenses were wasteful. If it were her home, she'd buy a riding lawn mower and enjoy the pretty views while cutting grass.

  Beau Forrester didn't seem to enjoy much of anything, except for coffee and bagels. He kept nothing in the house or kitchen. She got the impression the only reason he wanted it furnished was because it had to be, not because he cared for the place.

  A shame really, the home was beautiful. A bit too big...monstrous in size really, but it was pretty. With a golden-hued, stucco exterior and clay-tiled roof, it blended well into the background of hills, valleys and, now, bare trees. Although it was mid-December, the weather in Billings remained chilly, but pleasant, hovering in the high forties. She neared a short fence and watched two horses prance in the afternoon sun.

  How often did Forrester ride, she wondered? She knew he'd been a well-known bull rider forced to retire after an injury. It was easy to picture him atop a horse as he often wore the casual ranch wear his company designed.

  Movement caught her eye. A small dog limped closer and she rushed to it. From the looks of it, one of its legs held up, he'd been hurt.

  "Oh, you poor thing." Sunny rushed to it and petted it, surprised when it licked her hand. She looked around to see if anyone was about. Then, after taking her sweatshirt off, she wrapped it gently around the shivering pup and swaddled it. It whimpered softly when she picked it up, but quickly settled into her arms, letting out a sigh.

  Tears pricked at her eyes as she made her way back to the house. Painters were almost finished with the main area walls in light tan. The plan was to next start the dining room and kitchen in a warm caramel tone. After ensuring they would be there for another couple hours, she left to take the dog to a veterinary clinic she drove past every day on her way to the house.

  The painters left promptly at six and Sunny remained behind to prepare for the next day. In the living room, she stood in the wide entryway and studied the furniture placement. It was a large space that had taken two entire days to paint.

  Instead of focusing on the hearth and fireplace, she'd decided to make the huge bay of windows the center focus upon which the furniture would surround. Two extra-long couches faced each other anchored by a set of chairs lined up with the fireplace facing the window. In front of the sofa were tables. So far she'd not placed any decorations since they'd not arrived.

  On the far side of the room next to the fireplace, a separate, more intimate seating area would be perfect for reading or conversation.

  "You've made progress." The deep voice behind her startled Sunny and she gasped.

  "Uh...yes. There is still much to do, but it feels good to see one room set."

  He walked around her and studied the space. A computer bag hung from one shoulder, he held a gym bag in one hand and what looked to be takeout in the other. "Looks fine."

  The two words were probably as close as she'd get to praise, so she took it as such. "Great, I'm glad you approve. I better get out of your way."

  "Would you like to share my dinner?"

  The request caught her by surprise and she stared first at him then at the bag in his hand. "Sure."

  She followed Beau to the kitchen where he expertly tore the take out container in half and split the noodle dish between the cover and the deeper part. He then tore open a smaller bag with two eggrolls and did the same. "There's water in the fridge," he instructed, pushing half a container toward her. "I have a fork around here somewhere.” He pulled open a drawer, inside of which were several plastic wrapped fork and napkin sets.

  Sunny took the fork after getting a bottle of water from the almost empty fridge.

  He'd begun eating, his gym bag at his feet, and the computer bag next to the food on the kitchen counter.

  Not liking the quiet, Sunny had to talk. "I found a young dog on the property. It's black. Is he yours? He's injured and is at the vet right now."

  Beau frowned. "Someone must have dumped him. I don't own a dog."

  "I called this afternoon. He’s going to be fine. But they're going to have to do a bit of surgery on his hind left leg. Poor little thing."

  "Why don't they put him down?"

  Her eyes widened at him. "What? No, I couldn't possibly do that."

  He shrugged and continued eating. Why had he asked her to share his meal if he obviously had no intention of having a conversation?

  "So tomorrow the dining room will be painted. As you didn't want the other bedrooms painted, the only space left is your bedroom and the kitchen. Did you see the gray swatches I left for your bedroom?"

  "Yes
, they're fine."

  "You didn't choose a specific one." Sunny held back the urge to smack the man upside his head. Dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, he looked more approachable, but once you looked into the flat eyes, the thick walls were very obvious.

  He looked to the ceiling for a moment and Sunny waited for him to say something obnoxious. Instead he let out a sigh and his shoulders dropped. "I'm color-blind."

  Chapter Five

  The sooner the woman left, the better. From the sounds of it, her boss was not getting his illness soon enough and Beau was at the point where he wanted to tell her the job was over.

  She continued to watch him with interest, obviously expecting an explanation of his colorblindness.

  But he'd already blurted too much. No way was he going to let her know more about any of his weaknesses. Much to his annoyance, he'd invited her to share dinner. Mostly because the evening alone did not sit well and, besides riding the horses, which he'd done that morning, there was little to do.

  "You can't see any colors?"

  "Not like you do." He straightened and went to the refrigerator for a beer. "Would you like one?"

  She shook her head. Her plate was still full as she'd taken his invitation to eat as one to hold a conversation. Sunny Stilton was quite attractive, appealing to his basic nature. The one that said settle down and start a family. The one he'd not let loose ever.

  "Which spectrum can you see? Perhaps I should use a brighter color in your room. It would be too bright for most, but to you it will look different, more interesting. Calming."

  The muscles in his jaw automatically clenched. "The gray is fine. Pick one of those shades.” He pushed his empty plate aside and eyed her eggroll. She'd not touched it.

  "You can have it, I'm getting full." She speared it with her fork and held it up to him. How did she do that? The woman was not at all put off by him.