Page 33 of Midnight & Mavericks

“Yeah,” she said, setting the phone down. “Just…thinking.”

He nodded as if he understood more than she’d said. “You’ve got a big heart, Abbie. Don’t let your head talk you out of what it’s tellin’ you.”

She swallowed hard, her grandfather’s words echoing in her mind. She thought about Beau, about the way he made her feel—alive, challenged, seen. She thought about the way her pulse quickened whenever he was near, the way his steady presence had become a part of her days here. And she thought about how, just like her, he was preparing to leave.

Beau was a complication she hadn’t planned on, and she’d told herself from the beginning that nothing could come of it. He was going back to his job, and she was going back to hers. But now with the clock ticking down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking away from something—or someone—that mattered.

Pushing her chair back, she stood and walked to the window and stared out at the fields that had shaped her childhood. Her grandfather’s words lingered in her mind, weaving through her thoughts like a stubborn thread.

Happiness isn’t a finish line. It’s in the little moments.

She pressed her hand to the cool glass, her heart heavy with the weight of decisions she didn’t know how to make. The ranch, the city, her career, Beau—it was all tangled together, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure which path to take.

But one thing was certain: she couldn’t ignore the quiet voice in her heart any longer. It was time to start listening even if it scared her. Maybe she owed it to herself to talk to Beau about possibilities.

Chapter Twenty-One

Beau sat across from Sheriff McMasters in the small, cluttered office of the Jessup Peak Sheriff’s Department. The smell of stale coffee filled the room, the hum of the ancient ceiling fan irritating his nerves. McMasters leaned back in his chair, chewing on the end of a toothpick as he flipped through the folder of spreadsheets documenting the logged paperwork they’d confiscated from Teddy on his desk.

“This evidence,” McMasters said, tapping the folder with a stubby finger, “it’s more than enough to make the charges against Teddy stick. Payments, bank transfers, hired goons sabotaging the ranch—hell, the guy practically gift-wrapped it for us. Dumb crooks always think they’re smarter than they are.”

Beau nodded, his fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. “It’s solid. But we both know a good lawyer will try to poke holes in it. Teddy’s got the money to fight, and he’ll throw everything he has at it.”

McMasters gave a low grunt of agreement, his eyes narrowing. “What about Abbie? She pressing charges for the assault?”

Beau shifted in his seat, a flicker of tension running through him. The memory of Teddy pinning Abbie to the wall, her fear flashing across her face, was still too fresh. His fists clenched just thinking about it. “She wants to think about it. I think she’s worried coming back for trial would interfere with her new job at her law firm back in New York. While she’d like to castrate the bastard herself, she says she’s being practical. If he goes to jail for the things he’s done to her grandfather, she’ll be satisfied.”

McMasters sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “I get it. It’s not easy for a woman to press charges in cases like this, even with us backing her up. But damn it, Beau, that bastard deserves to pay for what he did. He might land ten years for fraud and arson, but he might land another ten for assault. I’d love to stick it to the bastard. Keep him out of my community until I’m dead and gone.”

Beau’s jaw tightened. “Oh, he’ll pay. One way or another.” His fists clenched and unclenched as if they could feel Teddy’s throat beneath them.

The sheriff studied him for a long moment, his shrewd eyes seeming to see right through Beau’s calm exterior. “You’ve been here a few weeks now, Elliott. Long enough to know the lay of the land. Are you thinking about sticking around?”

The question caught Beau off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. He had been considering it, more than he cared to admit. But the thought of staying here without the possibility of running into Abbie—spending time with Abbie—had no appeal to him.

“I’m not cut out for small-town police work,” he said finally, forcing a smirk onto his face. “Sure, chasing down lost goats and breaking up bar fights is charming for a little while, but eventually, I’d get bored. I’m used to bigger cases, bigger stakes. At heart, I’m an adrenalin junkie. This isn’t my scene.”

McMasters raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You sure about that? Because from where I’m sitting, you seem to be doing just fine here. Better than fine, actually.”

Beau shrugged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s been a nice change of pace, but I’m a city cop. Always have been. This assignment was never seen as permanent.”

The sheriff leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you say so. But I’ve seen around to know when a man’s lying to himself.”

Beau opened his mouth to reply, but the words caught in his throat. How could he explain the pull he felt toward this place—toward Abbie—when he couldn’t even admit it to himself? Instead, he forced another smirk and shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not happening, Sheriff.”

McMasters sighed, his expression a mix of frustration and understanding. “All right, son. But let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t let pride or fear or whatever the hell’s holding you back keep you from something good. Life’s too damn short.”

Beau sat at his desk finishing up as much paperwork as possible. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been working, but he took a break and swiveled his office chair around to stare out the back window of the sheriff’s office, his arms crossed as he watched the sun sink behind the horizon painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. The sight was breathtaking, yet it did little to soothe the storm raging inside him. His mind was a tangled mess of doubts and fears, the kind he couldn’t outpace, no matter how far or fast he ran.

It had been three days since Teddy had been arrested and made bail, and while the ranch’s immediate danger was gone, Beau’s inner turmoil had only grown. Every time he saw Abbie, her determination and passion for the ranch, her family, and even for him, he felt a pull he couldn’t deny. And that scared the hell out of him.

She deserved more than what he could give her. Beau knew that. He was a guy who played by his own rules, a guy who’d seen too much of the world’s ugliness to believe in fairy-tale endings. Abbie was the opposite—polished, ambitious, and too damn good for the likes of him. She belonged in Manhattan where she could build a life that matched her brilliance. Not here, not with him.

The sound of footsteps outside the office door had him hoping it was Abbie, but when the door swung open, Sheriff McMasters walked in, his weathered face framed by the brim of his hat.

“I came by to see if you wanted to meet me and some deputies over at the axe throwing place. Let off a little steam, but I can see you’re brooding again, Elliott,” the sheriff said, his voice carrying that easy drawl of someone who had seen it all. “Maybe I need to stay here and get down to what’s eating at you, or should I take a wild guess?”

Beau smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t know you moonlighted as a therapist, Sheriff.”

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