Chapter 13
Fable
“Make him stop,” I whined, clutching Harleigh’s arm like a lifeline.
My third beer—er, no, this was definitely my fourth—had everything in the bar swaying to the right.
Beau was still by the pool table, leaning casually on his cue, but his eyes were fixed on me. He hadn’t stopped staring all night.
“He’s playing pool, Fabs. This is a small town . . .” Harleigh started, rolling her eyes.
“No.” I tugged on her arm for emphasis. “It’s not that. He’s . . . staring.” I drew out the word like it explained everything.
“Babe, I have no idea what you mean, but he’s standing there.”
“You don’t get it. He’s been looking at me like he wants to . . . eat me.”
Harleigh glanced at me for a second before she broke out into laughter.
“Beaudreau, quit staring. You’re making my friend feel like she’s on the menu.”
“She is,” he said from across the room.
I froze, my cheeks heating as I snapped my head toward him, meeting his response with a pointed glare.
Beau raised his hands defensively. “Didn’t do anything,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the pool table.
“So.” Gatlin strolled up to my other side. “You working on Kline’s ranch?”
“Yup,” I said, popping the p with exaggerated flair. I glanced up at him and nearly did a double-take at his bright blue eyes. “Wow. You are pretty.”
He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t get me in trouble with that one over there.”
“Ugh,” I groaned and grabbed onto the new guy. “I hate him.”
The guy chuckled while Harleigh grabbed onto my arm, trying to steady me. I shook her off with a half-hearted wave.
“Do you ride bulls, cutie patootie?” I asked, turning my attention back to the new guy.
Ope. Did I say that out loud? Yep, guess I did. Guess what? I didn’t even care.
Why should I care? Living here was temporary. Temporary meant these people would never be in my life for long. Temporary meant I could blow everything up and walk away without looking back.
I’d spent so long with Mike, living by his rules, bending myself to fit into his world.
He was the only guy I’d ever been with—well, until Beau happened.
And Beau . . . he was a whole different kind of complication.
Temporary, sure, but I’d already been there, and I couldn’t go back because he drove me crazy.
Just in his presence and I wanted to walk away from him.
Plus, I’d already embarrassed myself too many times in front of him. Like when I cried outside earlier, or when my anxieties spilled out and I asked if the bar was dirty. The way he looked at me—confused, maybe even judgmental—was burned into my mind.
Moments like that were exactly why I could never . . . ever let myself be with him again.
“It’s just Gatlin, and yes, I do ride bulls. I work for the rodeo, though, unlike your boyfriend over there.”
I punched him in the arm. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He sure as fuck looks like he is.”
I glanced over to where Gatlin was looking, and sure enough, Beau was standing there, stick in hand, absolutely glaring at me.
I turned toward Gatlin, making sure my back was to Beau. “So tell me about this rodeo thing.”
“What do you want to know?”
I leaned in closer, catching a whiff of him.
He smelled good—too good. What was it with these small-town cowboys and the way they smelled?
I’d half expected them to reek of cow shit, but no, they had this musky, earthy scent that was downright intoxicating.
It was miles better than the overpriced designer cologne Mike used to drown himself in.
“What’s the difference between what Beau and Dalton do compared to you?”
He chuckled. “Not much. We chase the rodeos, riding more often, and we’re gone a lot longer at a time.
Most of us sleep in our trucks or haul around campers to get from event to event.
The bull riding guys, like Beau, they ride Thursday through Sunday and get chartered around—planes, hotels, the works. ”
“They don’t have to pay to get to their events?”
Gatlin shrugged. “They do unless their sponsor pays, but they pay for the rental cars out of pocket, which is why it’s so important to win that day because if they don’t win, then they don’t get paid.”
“On the other hand, you rough it?” I teased, raising a brow.
He laughed again, shaking his head. “Something like that.”
I glanced over to where Harleigh was leaning against Dalton, giggling as he guided her hand on the pool stick.
I turned back to Gatlin. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head. “No ma’am.”
“Can you take us home?”
He glanced over my head, to where Harleigh was way too close to Dalton at this point, and nodded. “Sure thing.”
“But I need a favor,” I asked, still refusing to look behind me where I could quite literally feel Beau’s eyes piercing the back of my head.
“What’s that?”
“We have to piss him off a little.”
Gatlin held up his hands. “Whoa. Whoa.”
“Come on,” I whined. “He’ll be so angry, and then maybe he’ll get off my back if he thinks I’m over it.”
Gatlin looked behind me again to where I presumed Beau was glaring.
“Come on . . .”
A knowing smile tugged at Gatlin’s mouth.
“Alright then,” he said, leaning down so his face was right next to mine.
Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
This was reckless. Completely ridiculous. I wasn’t thinking about the dirt on his collar or the germs from his breath this close to my face. All I was focused on was irritating Beau, making it clear that I didn’t need him chasing me into the parking lot when I broke down.
I didn’t need him trying to fix me or hold me together. What we’d had was fun and games, but it had come to an end. If this pushed the point home, so be it.
I wasn’t into Gatlin either. Sure, his eyes were pretty, and he smelled good, but the truth was, I couldn’t get Beau out of my head. Maybe that was why I wanted to punish him even more—to shake him loose from whatever hold he had on me.
Harleigh hooted from behind me, and I pulled away and grabbed her arm, pushing Dalton away.
“Hey!” She protested.
“Gatlin’s taking us home,” I announced, my arm still looped through Gatlin’s as I turned toward the door.
That’s when I caught Beau’s expression—his jaw clenched, eyes dark, looking like a cartoon character ready to explode, steam practically coming out of his ears.
“The hell he is,” he growled, stepping forward.
“Why the heck not?” I pouted, pushing my bottom lip out, still clutching onto Gatlin for support.
Beau slammed his pool stick onto the table and closed the distance between us in three long strides. His voice dropped to a low rumble. “Stop sticking those pretty red lips out unless you’re planning to show me what they look like wrapped around my cock.”
That was the problem. The second he spoke to me like that, I felt it—the tingling heat that spread through me.
I forced myself to stand my ground. “Sorry, Beau,” I said, playfully slapping his chest. “Gatlin’s taking that job tonight.”
I pushed past him, Harleigh on one side, laughing at how furious he looked, and Gatlin steadying me on the other. As we reached the door, a strong hand gripped my arm, yanking me backward.
The world tilted sideways, and I squealed as I realized what was happening. Beau had thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down,” I yelled, pounding my fists against his back.
But Beau just kept walking, his grip firm, his strides purposeful. “Not a chance, Cowgirl.”
We burst outside into the cold night air, and Harleigh doubled over, clutching her stomach as she laughed uncontrollably. When she finally caught her breath enough to look up, she saw me slung over Beau’s shoulder. That only made her laugh harder.
Beau barely glanced at her, his focus unshaken. “You at your dad’s or with Kline?”
Harleigh straightened up, still giggling but trying to compose herself. “I’m staying at my dad’s.”
“Good. That’s in the other direction,” Beau said firmly. “I’m next door to Kline, so I’m taking her home.”
“Put me the fuck down,” I screamed, kicking my legs as I pounded on his back. “You’re not taking me anywhere.”
“See you tomorrow for dinner,” she called back to me, completely unfazed. Then she grabbed Gatlin’s arm, tugging him along. “Come on, Gat.”
They turned and started walking off, leaving me to my fate.
“Traitors,” I shouted after them, my voice echoing into the night. “Fucking traitors.”
Harleigh just waved over her shoulder, still laughing.
Beau carried me to the truck, opened the door, and set me down in the seat with a level of frustration that matched the tight line of his mouth. The world tilted for a moment before settling upright, everything snapping back into place.
“Wait,” I blurted. “You can’t drive. You’ve been drinking.”
His jaw ticked, and he stared at me, his eyes burning with restrained anger. “Two beers,” he bit out. “The last one was hours ago.” Without another word, he pushed my legs into the truck and slammed the door shut.
I sighed, leaning back against the seat, the exhaustion of the night catching up to me. My heart was still pounding from his intensity, and before I could gather my thoughts, he slid into the driver’s seat and turned the car on.
As he reached for the gear shift, I grabbed his hand, stopping him. The second our skin connected, warmth flooded through me. My hands tingled, not because they felt dirty, but because his touch was addicting. His hand was rough and his grip was strong.
I yanked my hand back, shaking off the sensation. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “Why do you care? I was . . . fucking around—”
The words hung in the air, his silence louder than anything he could have said. His gaze stayed locked on mine, dark and unreadable, his presence filling the truck like he was daring me to look away first.
“Because I cannot have you with Gatlin.”
“Is he a dick? He seemed nice.”
“No,” Beau snapped, his tone sharper than I expected. “He’s fine. He’s just—”
I waited, the silence between us stretching thin as I leaned forward slightly.
“Fuck,” he shouted, slamming the truck into reverse before peeling out of the parking lot, gravel spitting behind us.
“You just can’t be with him,” he growled, gripping the wheel tightly, his knuckles white.
“That’s dumb,” I mumbled, turning away from him with a huff. I shifted my entire body so my back was to him. “You’re dumb.”
I stared out the window at the dark, empty stretch of road. The hum of the tires was steady, almost soothing, and before I knew it, my eyes drifted shut.