Beau
“Dalton,” I shouted, my voice bouncing off the walls of the new barn’s tack room.
The girls had taken over—or rather, demanded—the house for the morning, claiming they had way more to do to get ready than we did.
Apparently, putting on fancy pants and a shirt with a tie was nothing compared to whatever the hell they had going on in there.
Which left us here, sweating our asses off in July heat, trying to get dressed while the barn practically baked us.
“Where the fuck is he?” I asked Gatlin, who was struggling with his tie like it was some kind of wild animal. Dad stood behind him, muttering as he tried to get it on properly.
“How the hell is he late today of all days?”
Dad sighed, adjusting Gatlin’s tie with a patience I sure as hell didn’t have. “He’s been performing well last season on the circuit.”
He had. Really well. It was surprising because Dalton was always getting in trouble. He was always fucking up somehow, but the past year, he’d been doing damn well.
He had damn near taken the million-dollar bonus, but came in second at the championships near Dallas. We’d all gone to cheer him on, and even though he didn’t take the title, Kline’s bull had been named the number one bull of the year.
It had been a long year, for all of us.
With Kline’s help, I’d gotten two little baby bulls, some of the best genetics he’d sold me, working my way toward getting my own championship bull stock.
I was still helping Kline out full-time at the barn, and Fable?
She’d been busy as hell, because last season had been Kline’s most successful ever.
Funny how life worked.
I’d spent years worrying about relationships, about how I’d be gone every weekend, how it wouldn’t be fair to someone else. Yet I retired, and Fable became the one traveling most weekends.
Not that I was complaining.
Hell, I still loved the circuit, so half the time, I went with her. The organization had asked me to coach for the summer team season, which I’d agreed to—with one exception.
I got this weekend off because it was the most important day of my life.
I was getting married.
I let out a breath and ran my hand down the front of my shirt, shaking off the last bit of nerves as I stepped out of the barn.
The most perfect wedding setup spread out before me, straight out of something I never would’ve dreamed up myself.
The big oak tree in the back, its thick branches stretched wide, offering shade beneath it. Nestled beneath it was the floral arch where we’d be getting married in a few hours.
Damn.
It was covered in the most vibrant, colorful flowers, a stark contrast against the deep green of the fields behind it. Beyond the arch, the pasture stretched wide, Kline’s bulls grazing lazily.
“Damn,” Dad murmured beside me. “Your mama would’ve loved to be here.”
I smiled sadly, my throat thick. “She would’ve loved Fable.”
Dad nodded, his gaze still fixed on the setup ahead, his jaw working slightly like he was holding something back.
He clapped a firm hand on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, nodding as I looked back at him.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Dad and I stood there for a long moment, watching the way the light soaked the fields.
Our relationship had changed over the last year—not overnight but in the small, quiet moments.
He was still coaching Dalton, still in the thick of the circuit life, but he made time to check in with me.
I’d learned to meet him halfway, to stop carrying the weight of the past like it was something I had to hold onto forever.
The barn door creaked open, and Gatlin stepped out, still messing with his tie like it was trying to strangle him. “Dalton’s on his way,” he said, adjusting the knot one last time.
I nodded, but I barely registered what he said.
Because that was when I saw her.
My bride.
Dressed in white.
The kind of thing only Fable could pull off—country yet elegant, dramatic yet effortless.
The bodice was fitted, cinching at her waist before cascading into a full, layered skirt that brushed the ground, the sheer lace overlay catching the light.
Delicate floral embroidery stretched across the fabric, mirroring the colorful flowers on the arch, and a long, flowing train stretched behind her, sweeping through the dirt.
Her honey-colored hair was pinned up, loose strands curling around her face, and her green eyes—those damn green eyes—shimmered as they locked onto mine.
Gatlin and Dad both got the hint, stepping back toward the barn to give us a moment.
I grinned, stepping toward her. “Pretty sure I’m not supposed to see you yet.”
She let out a soft, nervous laugh, her hands fisting slightly in her skirt. “I couldn’t wait. I was too nervous. I needed to see you.”
I exhaled slowly, drinking her in, trying to memorize this moment.
“My beautiful bride,” I murmured, reaching out to take her hands.
She was trembling slightly, and I squeezed her fingers, grounding her.
“You nervous?”
She nodded. “Not about this. Not about us. Just . . . everything.”
I smiled, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. “You don’t have to be. This?” I gestured between us. “This is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
Her lips parted slightly, her breath shaky.
“You and me, baby,” I murmured, stepping closer, lowering my voice for her. “We’ve already been through the hard parts. The long nights. The fears. The things we had to fight for.”
Her fingers curled around mine, holding tight.
“This life we’re buildin’?” I continued, my gaze locked onto hers. “It’s gonna be beautiful, Fable. Messy, maybe. Chaotic, definitely. But it’s ours. I’m never gonna let go.”
Her eyes shimmered, her lips trembling, and I knew—I knew—she felt it too.
This wasn’t a wedding.
This was a beginning.
“You know what I love about you?” she murmured, tilting her head slightly.
I grinned. “Besides my good looks and undeniable charm?”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “You make everything feel safe. Like, no matter what happens, no matter how messy or chaotic life gets, I don’t have to be afraid.
” She lifted our hands, pressing my knuckles to her lips.
“That’s all I ever wanted, Beau. A life that feels steady. A love that feels like home.”
My chest ached with love.
I cupped her face, brushing my thumb along her cheek before leaning in, catching her lips in a deep, slow kiss, one that held every promise I couldn’t put into words.
She melted into me, sighing softly, her hands resting against my chest, and I swore I could’ve stayed in this moment forever—
Except the sound of boots scuffing against dirt broke us apart.
I stepped back, turning in time to see Dalton rounding the corner—cowboy hat on, half-asleep, and definitely not dressed for the occasion.
“The fuck, dude?” I blurted. “You were supposed to be here hours ago.”
“I know,” he grumbled, shifting something in his arms.
Something that looked a hell of a lot like a—
“Whose baby is that?” Fable asked, pointing straight at the car seat he was carrying.
Gatlin strode toward him, Dad right behind him, both of them wearing the same what the hell is going on look I had.
Dalton barely even reacted, just shoved a massive baby bag into Gatlin’s chest.
“If she needs a bottle, there’s formula, food, or whatever inside,” he muttered.
Dad crossed his arms, his tone sharp. “Dalton. Answer Fable.”
Dalton glanced up, looking between all of us before shifting his gaze down to the car seat.
Back up.
Then back down.
Finally, he sighed, running a hand over his jaw.
“Mine.”
Dad shouted, Gatlin dropped the bag, and Fable stared at the baby—tiny, pink-cheeked newborn still snoozing peacefully in the carrier like she hadn’t turned our entire wedding morning upside down.
Me?
I laughed. Because of course this was happening.
I walked over, gripping Dalton’s arms, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “We got this. Get dressed. Fable and I have to get married, and then we’ll deal with . . .” I looked down at the sweetest little blonde-haired, sleeping babe. “Then we’ll handle this.”
Dalton exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. I grabbed the baby carrier as Maribel was walking by.
“Maribel,” I called, holding it out, “would you mind holding Dalton’s baby while he gets dressed?”
Maribel’s eyes went wide. “A baby?!”
“It’s a long story,” Dalton grumbled.
Sure as fuck was.
Maribel cooed, already reaching for the carrier, practically vibrating with excitement as she walked toward the tree with Gatlin and the bag.
I clapped Dalton on the back. “Go, man. We’ll deal with this later.”
Dad gave Dalton a pointed look—one that screamed we are definitely talking about this after the wedding—before Dalton huffed and ran into the barn to get dressed.
I let out a breath, turning back to Fable, wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into my chest.
“See?” I chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Never said it would be easy.”
She leaned into me, her body soft and warm against mine. “I used to think seeing babies would be hard,” she murmured.
I lifted her chin, searching her face. “You okay?”
“Of course. I’m anxious to hear the story, but . . .” She swallowed, her voice softening. “I know one day we’ll make it happen.”
“We will.” I assured her, cupping her face and brushing my thumb over her cheek, letting myself soak in the moment. “Y’know, Cowgirl . . .” I murmured, pressing my forehead against hers. “You always dreamed of a wild ride.”
I kissed her—slow, deep, ours.
“And, baby,” I whispered against her lips, “we’re just gettin’ started.”