Chapter 40
Fable
The past two months had been nothing short of amazing. Life felt lighter, the weather was getting warmer, and somehow, this small Texas town had started to feel like home.
Leaning against the paddock fence, I watched Beau, Dalton, and Gatlin practice on some of Kline’s retired bulls.
The sun warmed my shoulders as I adjusted the brim of the fancy cowgirl hat Beau had gifted me for our one-month anniversary.
It was absurdly expensive, but I loved it—and maybe I wore it more than necessary.
There was something about the hat that made me feel like I belonged.
Everyone around here had a hat they loved, each one a mark of where they’d been and who they were.
Wearing mine felt like more than an accessory—it felt like I’d been welcomed into something bigger, a place where I could finally put down roots.
“Hi, boys,” I called out, gripping the fence as they glanced up from the chute.
“You done with work, Cowgirl?” Beau shouted, wiping the sweat from his brow. His mustache twitched as that signature smirk slid across his lips.
I tipped my hat at him in response, earning a chuckle from all three of them.
“Kline still can’t stop talking about last weekend’s auction,” Dalton added as he climbed onto the fence beside me. “Said y’all brought in more eyes than he’s ever had.”
“Yup,” I said, popping the p. “Between the live feed, social media, and Harleigh’s killer promo work, we’re basically unstoppable now.”
“Sounds like we gotta start charging y’all for advertising space,” Gatlin teased, adjusting his rope as he sat down on the edge of the chute.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I’ll send Kline the invoice for making your socials look good.”
The boys were often featured in our social media campaign since it was convenient to use them and they were always around practicing with Kline’s bulls. We’d even established a new contract with the teams season to use Kline’s ranches and bulls as a place where the Dallas Roses could practice.
Beau stepped closer to the fence, his eyes dark beneath the brim of his hat. Even after two months, the way he looked at me still sent a shiver down my spine.
He reached over the fence, fingers curling under the brim of my hat to tilt it back. “Hi, Cowgirl.”
The warmth of his lips met mine, and like that, the world around us faded.
“Miss me last weekend?” His breath brushed against my skin.
“Terribly,” I admitted without hesitation.
Florida had been too far for Kline’s bulls, so he hadn’t contracted for the event—meaning it was the first weekend I hadn’t been by Beau’s side since we’d made things official.
Beau swung one leg over the fence, landing beside me with that cocky grin I’d grown to crave.
“See y’all later,” he called over his shoulder to Gatlin and Dalton.
“Later, Beau,” Dalton shouted with a chuckle.
Before I could react, Beau bent and threw me over his shoulder.
“Put me down,” I shrieked, gripping my hat before it could fly off. My laughter echoed through the air as I clutched onto him.
“Bye, boys,” I called, waving dramatically.
“Later,” Gatlin hollered.
Beau smacked my thigh playfully as he carried me toward the house.
“You’re ridiculous,” I huffed, trying not to laugh.
As soon as we stepped inside, Beau set me down gently, and I reached up to hold his face between my hands. His amber eyes searched mine, and I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck somewhere in my throat.
Without a word, Beau crossed to the kitchen sink, turning on the water and scrubbing his hands with soap.
The sound of the water running, the sight of his strong hands lathered in soap—it should’ve made me spiral, thinking of the germs he was washing off.
But instead, a warmth settled in my chest, spreading outward like sunlight after a long storm.
I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind, resting my cheek against his broad back. His body stilled for a moment, then one of his clean hands came down to cover mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“I don’t want to be broken like this,” I whispered, my voice so quiet I wasn’t sure if he heard me over the water.
Beau shut off the faucet, turning around to face me with furrowed brows. His hands found my shoulders. “What do you mean? You’re not broken.”
I swallowed hard, hating the lump that formed in my throat. “You . . . washing up immediately like that. Or doing it for me when you think I don’t notice. I know you do it because of me.”
His eyes softened, his fingers squeezing my shoulders gently. “Fable . . .”
“I know it’s not normal,” I rushed out. “Needing to wash my hands a million times a day, panicking if I touch something dirty. It’s exhausting, and sometimes I feel like I’m exhausting you too.”
“Hey,” he murmured, dipping his head so our foreheads touched.
“You’re not exhausting me. And you’re not broken.
We all have our shit, baby. I wash my hands because I know it helps you feel safe.
I’d do it a thousand times a day if it meant you felt like you could breathe easier.
That doesn’t make you broken—that makes you human.
You don’t have to fight through it alone, not when I’m right here with you. ”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I forced a smile through them. “You say the sweetest things. How am I supposed to resist you when you’re like this?”
His lips tilted into a smirk, thumb swiping beneath my eye to catch a tear. “Who said you have to resist me, Cowgirl?”
I laughed softly, and it didn’t feel like I was laughing through the pressures of anxiety. It felt like I was laughing because I was safe—because I was home.
Beau’s smirk was sinful, his amber eyes darkening with intent. “Besides, Cowgirl, you’d miss out on all the fun if you resisted me.”
“Beau—”
Before I could finish, he gripped my waist and lifted me.
I squealed, grabbing onto the back of his shirt as my hat tumbled from my head.
The door to the bedroom banged against the wall as he pushed through, and the next moment, I was falling onto the mattress, breathless and already aching.
He followed instantly, pinning me beneath his solid frame, the weight of him so familiar it made my skin hum. He pushed my thighs apart, rough fingers skimming the tender skin as I gasped.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” he rasped. “You’ve been teasing me all day, walking around with that hat like you own this ranch.”
I arched into him as he trailed his lips down to my collarbone, hands already tugging at my shirt.
“Beau,” I gasped as he peeled it off, his eyes dragging over my bare skin.
“Already wet for me?” he teased. “Let’s see how long you can hold on.”