Chapter 52
Beau
A few hours earlier
I sat on my porch, eyes locked on her house. The nightlight was still on, but there was no movement inside. She was probably asleep and forgot to turn it off.
I should go over there. Talk to her. Finally say what I should’ve said weeks ago.
I leaned forward, rubbing a hand over my face.
Fuck it, I’m doing it.
Just as I pushed up from my chair, something in the distance caught my eye.
At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but then—
“Holy fuck.”
I blinked, shaking my head. No, I wasn’t seeing things. There was a goddamned bull standing in my front yard, grazing on my grass like he belonged there.
To make matters worse, the big bastard headed straight toward my open barn—the one where my horse was. If he got in there, if he spooked, if he started banging around . . . fuck.
I stood up slowly, turning around, trying to assess the situation—
Jesus Christ.
At least fifteen bulls were loose.
My stomach dropped.
This is a fucking disaster.
I grabbed my phone and immediately called Kline, my pulse hammering.
“Yo, you better tell me you see what I see,” I muttered the second he picked up.
“They busted through one of the rails in the outside paddock,” Kline’s voice was frantic on the other end of the line. “We got about thirty of them loose.”
“Fuck.” I tightened my grip on the phone as I stared at the scattered bulls. This was a goddamn mess.
“I got the guys rounding ’em up, but we need all hands on deck. You good to help?”
“Of course,” I muttered, already jogging down the steps of my porch, scanning the fields.
Then my stomach twisted.
One of the bulls in the distance—one big son of a bitch—was straying too far from the group, his massive body moving in the direction of Fable’s house.
Shit.
I clenched my jaw and grabbed the nearest rope and halter.
“I’ll meet y’all out there,” I told Kline.
I moved fast, making my way to the barn. My horse snorted as I saddled her up as best I could with one arm, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to tell the doc I wasn’t following protocol.
“Come on,” I muttered, swinging up into the saddle. The second we were outside, I spotted the bull again—still wandering loose and angling along the fence line toward Fable’s place.
I tugged Ginger’s reins in that direction. Once we got closer, I could see through the window as I passed.
There she was.
Curled up on the couch, her blonde hair sprawled over the pillow, lips slightly parted in sleep.
I exhaled sharply. It was the first time I’d seen her in weeks, and fuck, I’d missed her.
Missed the way she’d look at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Missed the way she’d curl up into my side without thinking, how she’d hum softly when she was content.
She was inside, away from me, sleeping in that house alone, and I was out here wrangling goddamn bulls.
I forced my gaze away.
One thing at a time.
Clicking my tongue, I guided Ginger closer to the bull, coiling the rope in my hand, ready to throw. The bull flicked his ears, lifting his head.
“Yeah, that’s right. You ain’t supposed to be here,” I muttered.
With a sharp flick of my wrist, I sent the rope flying. It sailed through the air, looping perfectly over the bull’s thick neck. The second it landed, he jerked his head, but Ginger and I rode forward, forcing the bull to move with us.
“Come on now,” I gritted out, guiding him toward the back of the house, away from Fable’s property.
My biceps strained against the pull, but I held firm, determined to keep him under control. Eventually we made it toward Kline’s house, into the makeshift pen he’d set up until he could fix the fence.
I nodded to Kline as he worked to maneuver the bulls back into their pens, then set off again, searching for any stragglers.
It had been hours. Absolute fucking hours of chasing them down, roping them one by one, and bringing them back to Kline’s. My muscles ached, my casted arm throbbed from the strain, and I was drenched in sweat.
Bone-deep exhaustion didn’t even begin to cover it.
Ginger needed water. We had finished getting every bull back to safety, and then I was ready to get home.
I slid off Ginger and tied her to a fence post, giving her sweaty neck a quick pat before turning toward Kline’s barn. My boots scuffed against the dirt as I walked inside, heading straight for the water buckets stacked near the entrance.
I grabbed one and turned on the faucet, stretching out my stiff back as the cool water filled the bucket. The night air hit my skin, making me shiver slightly.
Get Ginger settled. Drag my ass home. Sleep for a week.
That was the plan.
But as I turned and headed out of the barn, bucket in hand, I froze.
A sleek, high-end truck rolled into Fable’s driveway, headlights sweeping across the dirt before shutting off.
Her place was still dark, except for that one light inside. I stood there, motionless, watching as the driver’s door opened and a man stepped out.
For a second, all I could make out was his silhouette, but when he walked into the glow of the porch light, my stomach dropped.
The man from the coffee shop.
Her fiancée.
The second he said Chicago, I had known it, but seeing it play out in front of me was something else entirely.
We hooked up.
We dated. Slept together. Danced in the rain. I loved her.
Dammit.
I love her.
She told me they’d broken up.
I wanted to believe it had been the truth. But standing there, watching him walk up those steps, it felt like I’d been played for a fool.
The dull throb in my arm sharpened as I shifted the bucket, my broken bone reminding me that I wasn’t at my best. Still, I carried it over to Ginger, setting it down so she could drink.
Her ears flicked, the sound of her muzzle dipping into the water the only thing I focused on for a moment as I watched the man stomp up her stairs.
He reached her door and pounded on it.
Once. Twice.
Then again, harder this time, like he had the right. Like he owned her.
Ginger lifted her head at the sound, water dripping from her muzzle, but I stood there, jaw clenched. I wanted to walk over, say something, do something.
I didn’t. Not yet.
The door swung open, and she saw his face.
I should’ve walked over. Should’ve said something.
Instead, I stood back and watched.
Because damn, she was sexy when she was mad.