Page 14 of Midnight & Mavericks

Abbie Carter set the steaming cups of coffee on the kitchen table, her hand brushing past Beau’s as she slid his cup toward him. She ignored the way her pulse quickened at the brief contact and took her seat across from him. Her grandfather sat at the head of the table, his tired eyes flicking between the two of them, missing nothing.

Beau sat back in his chair, his large frame filling the space in a way that made Abbie hyperaware of his presence. She hated how attuned she was to every little movement he made, from the casual way he rested an arm along the back of his chair to the slow, deliberate way he sipped his coffee. She busied herself bystirring her own cup, the clink of her spoon against the ceramic a poor mask for her restless energy.

“So,” Beau began, setting his mug down with a soft clunk, “I had an interesting chat with Teddy Van Meter this morning.”

Abbie frowned, her spoon hovering mid-stir. She didn’t have to look at Beau to feel his eyes on her, gauging her reaction. Her grandfather leaned forward slightly, his bushy brows knitting together. “What did that slick talker have to say for himself?”

Abbie looked up to see that Beau’s expression remained neutral, but his jaw tightened slightly. “He claimed he made an offer on the ranch—well above market value, according to him. Said he was just being generous, looking out for an old family friend.”

Her grandfather snorted so hard his coffee almost sloshed out of his cup. “Old family friend? What a load of horse manure. That boy wouldn’t know the meaning of generosity if it bit him in the backside.”

Abbie’s lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. “So, you wouldn’t exactly call him a close friend?” she asked, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

“Close friend?” Mr. Carter scoffed. “I barely exchanged a handful of words with that boy in my life. His family owned some land a couple counties over when he was growing up. Came to a few auctions, but that’s about the extent of it. He was a young pup who liked to flash his daddy’s money around, and from what I hear, not much has changed.”

Beau leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his sharp blue eyes locked on Mr. Carter. “Why do you think he’s so interested in the ranch now?”

“Because he’s got an angle,” Mr. Carter said without hesitation. “I don’t know what it is, but I’d bet my best horse it ain’t for sentimental reasons.”

Before Beau could respond, one of the ranch hands poked his head in through the doorway, hat in hand. “Mr. Carter, we’ve got an issue with the east pasture. Couple of the mares broke through the fence again.”

“Damn it,” Mr. Carter muttered, pushing himself up from the table. “I swear those mares are smarter than most folks I know. Probably did it just to get into the neighbor’s clover.” He shot a glance at Beau and Abbie. “You two keep talking. I’ll be back once I’ve sorted this out.”

As soon as her grandfather left the room, an uneasy silence settled between them. Abbie busied herself by taking another sip of her coffee, but she could feel Beau watching her, the weight of his gaze made her look out the kitchen window pretending to be interested in what her grandfather was doing.

“So,” Beau said, his tone casual but with an edge that made her stomach tighten, “Teddy didn’t just talk about the ranch. He mentioned you too.”

Abbie’s hand froze midair, her cup hovering just shy of her lips. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Beau said, leaning back in his chair. “He made it a point to mention how ‘close’ the two of you used to be. Said it with a little too much emphasis if you ask me.”

Abbie set her cup down with more force than she intended, the clatter loud in the quiet kitchen. “Of course, he did,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “It was nothing serious.”

Beau raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made her want to wipe it off his face. She just didn’t know if she wanted to slap it off or kiss it off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, sweetheart.”

Now she knew and she flexed her hand just to be ready. “Don’t call mesweetheart,” she shot back automatically, though her cheeks flushed. “And I’m not explaining myself. I’m clarifying, so you don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Trust me,” Beau said, his grin widening, “I didn’t get the wrong idea. Teddy’s not your type.”

“Oh really?” Abbie snapped, her eyes narrowing. “And what exactly do you think my type is?”

Beau shrugged, but the playful glint in his eyes told her he was enjoying this far too much. “Not him. Too polished, too smug. You’d eat him alive.”

Abbie’s cheeks burned, but she refused to back down. “And you think you know me well enough to make that call?”

“I think I know enough,” Beau said, his voice dropping just a notch, enough to make her pulse quicken. “I’ve seen the way you handle yourself. You don’t suffer fools lightly. Teddy strikes me as the kind of guy who’d wilt the second you challenged him.”

Abbie opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat. She hated how perceptive Beau was, how easily he could see through her. And she hated even more that he was right. Teddy had always been more talk than action, and she’d grown bored of him long before he’d grown bored of her.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered instead, turning her gaze to the window.

“Maybe,” Beau said, the amusement in his voice undeniable, “but I’m not wrong.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them humming like a live wire. Abbie could feel it, the pull, the heat that seemed to build whenever they were in the same room. She hated it almost as much as she craved it.

Finally, Beau broke the silence. “Look, I don’t trust Teddy, and I don’t think you should either. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

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