Chapter 28
Beau
Knowing what Fable fought in her own head every day made her that much more beautiful. Watching her fight through her fears and pet Ginger was the strongest thing I’d ever seen. There was such strength in the quiet moments of life.
“Uh, can we head inside?”
I nodded, turning to get Ginger set up in her stall, but before I could take a step, Fable’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in place.
“Beau?”
God, I loved the way she said my name. If her voice was ever on a menu, I’d order it every damn day.
“Yeah, Cowgirl?”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I gave her a small nod, watching as she stepped out of the stall. I followed, securing the latch behind us and giving Ginger a final pat goodbye.
Outside, the crisp evening air wrapped around us as we made the short walk up to the main house.
“So,” Fable murmured. “The ride. You never answered Harleigh.”
“Guess I didn’t.”
I hoped she couldn’t see the smile tugging at my lips.
“Was I the friend?”
We stopped at the front door, and I grabbed the latch and turned it open. “That’s very presumptuous of you, Fable.”
She laughed and followed me inside the house. “Come on,” she said, and I turned to see her smiling, the corners of her lips kissing her cheeks.
“What if it wasn’t?”
I folded my hands as I leaned against the countertop, washing my hands in the sink and gesturing for her to follow when I was done.
“Then I’d be embarrassed.”
“Why’s that?”
She was desperately trying to hide her smirk.
“Because I assumed it was me and definitely jumped out of my bed when I heard you on the camera.”
“So you did watch me . . .”
“Stop it.” She threw her hands up before dropping onto a stool at the kitchen island.
“I’m making pancakes,” I announced, grabbing what I needed.
“Mmm. No syrup.”
I paused mid-step, glancing over my shoulder with a dramatic gasp. “No syrup?”
She shook her head. “Too sweet.”
“Not possible.” I shot her a wink before pulling the griddle from the pantry and setting it on the counter.
I gathered the dry ingredients—flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar—and got to work making pancakes.
“It was about you,” I admitted.
“I know.”
I was quiet, working on the pancakes and placing them on the griddle.
“When my mom died, I became obsessed with avoiding bull riding as much as I could. I was so fucking angry with my dad.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. Fable understood grief, that hollow kind that never leaves. I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this, but with her, it didn’t feel like I had to guard every word.
“I moved in with Gatlin for a bit—we lived above Bob’s mechanic shop in town.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Oh, you moved out, moved out?”
“Sure did.”
She squinted at me. “And Bob let two teenagers move into an apartment above his shop?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Around here, everyone kinda knows everyone. Bob knew we were good kids. He knew we were both going through our own shit.”
She hesitated. “Gatlin doesn’t have parents either?”
“He does,” I said, sighing. “They . . . they aren’t always around.”
“Ah. That’s tough.”
“It was,” I admitted. “For both of us, in our own ways.”
I wasn’t sure why I suddenly wanted her to know all the ugly parts of my past. Maybe because she got it—what it meant to lose someone and have your whole world shift overnight.
“How did you get back?”
I laughed. “Eventually, Gat and I ran out of food, and my dad got sick of catching us sneaking into the house to steal from the pantry. So, Gat moved in with me instead. We were living on a ranch full of bulls—it was only a matter of time before we got back into it.”
I sighed, flipping the pancakes, feeling the weight of the past settle into my chest. When I looked up, Fable was leaning over the counter, eyes fixed on me.
“My dad had retired by then, so the pressure shifted onto me, but it gave me a purpose. Something to work toward.”
“Yeah, I get that. I put my purpose into . . . someone else. And that was hard.”
“Your ex?”
She nodded, and I chuckled, shaking my head as I slid the pancakes onto a plate.
“Didn’t mean for this to get so damn serious.
” I hesitated, gripping the edge of the counter before meeting her gaze.
“I just . . . I wanted you to know why I called you out. Why I like being your . . . why I like being around you.”
She cocked her head. “I was the one who made it heavy technically.”
I grabbed some butter from the fridge, slathering it over her pancakes before drowning mine in syrup.
“No syrup for the lady.” I teased her, shutting off the griddle and pulling out the stool beside her.
She took a bite and moaned. “You gotta stop making food for me,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “I’m like a stray cat—I’ll keep coming by.”
I rested my forearms on the counter as I took a bite. “Good. Maybe then I’ll finally get you to purr for me.”
“EW. Beaudreau Banks!” she yelled and slapped me on the shoulder.
“Beaudreau Bennett Banks.” I winked at her when her green eyes met mine. “If you want to call me by my full name next time.”
“Your mom had an affinity for B names, huh?”
I laughed. “Guess she did,” I murmured.
We ate in comfortable silence, but every damn time she took a bite of those pancakes, she mewled like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
I gripped my fork tighter, staring at my plate like it might save me from the fire creeping up my spine. Hell, I almost wished I’d screwed up the recipe—burned the pancakes, forgotten the salt—anything to keep from hearing that sound coming from her pretty lips.
“Beau?”
“Yeah, Cowgirl?” My tone was rougher than I’d intended.
She shifted on her stool, angling herself toward me, those green eyes searching mine. “Were you avoiding me these past couple weeks?”
I met her gaze head-on, the air between us charged, thick with something unsaid. “Were you?” I shot back.
“Yes,” she admitted.
I’d been avoiding her too. I could’ve gone up to the office at any point, could’ve stopped by her little guesthouse to check in, just to see her. I didn’t because seeing her meant remembering.
Remembering the way she felt under me that night. Remembering the way her lips parted, the way she gasped my name. The way I never wanted to stop.
I’d told myself keeping my distance was the right thing. That we’d established a friendship. That I could control whatever the hell this was if I kept a little space between us.
“Why’s that?”
She sighed, setting her fork down. “I think because it’s hard.”
“Hard?” I echoed, pressing for more.
If she admitted right now that she wanted me, I’d throw every damn rule out the window. Forget friendship. Being close enough to catch that familiar scent of strawberries and vanilla had me picturing the way she moaned my name, the way her pussy opened up for me, and the way she begged me for more.
“It’s hard to see you because when I’m around you . . . I feel comfortable.”
“Me too.” The words were out before I could filter them through the boundary I was supposed to be keeping between us. “I imagine that’s how you feel around Harleigh.”
She shook her head. “I love Harleigh, don’t get me wrong.
She’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t be here without her.
But with you . . .” She sighed as she idly traced the rim of her plate.
“It was that night. When you found me in the bathroom. Harleigh went to hug me, and I love her for that. I’m grateful she understands. But you . . . you didn’t.”
My chest tightened, unsure where she was going with this.
“You didn’t pity me. Not in the way she sometimes does. You . . . let me be. You saw me, and you didn’t try to fix me. You stood there, and somehow that was enough.”
“I always see you,” I said.
She smiled and glanced down at her plate.
That need was blazing hot and impossible to ignore. If I didn’t change the subject or put some space between us, I was going to do something I’d regret.
“Come sit with me?”
She nodded and stood up, grabbing her plate.
“Will it bother you if I do this later?”
I glanced at the plates between us, and she looked down at them. I could do them. It would be easy to rinse and stick them in the dishwasher, but it also meant taking time away from talking with Fable and getting to know her more.
“No.” She shook her head. “Thank you for asking.”
She was heaven sent. A true angel on this earth.
All this time, in my life, I feared what it would look like to be with someone and to truly fall in love.
We all laughed at the guys who tried to have families, the ones who struggled to balance it all.
But as I watched Fable lift the hem of her long skirt and move toward the front room, something in me shifted.
I could have that. I wanted her.
I cleared my throat before my thoughts got ahead of me. “Actually, I meant outside.”
She turned, curiosity flickering in her green eyes.
“There are rocking chairs on the porch,” I added, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Nice spot to watch the stars. I can see the bull pastures from there too.”
She hesitated long enough to make my heart kick against my ribs.
“Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.”
Nice. That was one way to put it.
I pushed off the counter and led the way, the sound of her steps against the wood floor making it harder to ignore the truth creeping in.
I was completely and utterly fucked when it came to this girl.