Chapter Six #2
Beau gave back the answer I didn’t want to hear but expected. “The box isn’t here.”
I nodded. “Denver probably moved it when he took over.”
“Nope.”
Twisting my neck, I found him leaning against the door, arms over his chest, eyes shining with mischief. “Did my cowboy lover happen to steal it away and hide it all for himself?” I teased him. “Or do you have it on display at the Hayden Hotel?”
“It wasn’t just our memories in that box, beautiful,” he reminded me. “Speaking of, I need to go put your newest articles in their frames to give to Bart.”
When Beau brought me back to Hallow Ranch this past summer, I’d discovered the most beautiful thing.
Beau had saved all of my articles and put them in frames.
Then he’d had Bart, the owner of Hayden Hotel, display them in the dining room.
There was an entire brick wall covered in my writing now, and before too long, there wouldn’t be enough room.
“Beau,” I began softly, turning to face him, “you can’t save every single one. ”
It was impossible.
“Watch me, Wildflower.”
My cheeks warmed, my eyes stinging. Beau’s words never lost the power to make me cry.
“This town is in awe of you. You deserve to be praised for all your hard work. I’ll cover every inch of this town in your articles, your stories, your paintings if I have to. The world needs your bravery, your creativity, your insight.”
I cleared my throat and looked at my cowgirl boots. “And you’re going to make sure that happens, huh, cowboy?”
He didn’t answer until my eyes were on him again. “Until my last breath, baby.”
My throat thickened, a ball of emotion—mainly love—manifesting right on top of my voice box. “You’re too good for me, Beau Marks.”
A small smile found his lips then. “I just love you, that’s all.”
“I love you too.” I gestured around the laundry room. “You want to tell me why you dragged me in here? Did you need a little make-out session? Or have you changed your mind about letting me tie you up?”
Last night, I threw out the idea of tying him up for a change, but with our cute little Christmas twinkle lights instead of his rope.
My big, strong cowboy wasn’t too fond of the idea, but when I’d brought it up to my friends back in the city, they’d cheered.
Harris had already bought a bottle of bubbly to celebrate the idea of my cowboy submitting to me.
Beau quirked a brow. “I see you’re still on that.”
I clasped my hands behind my back. “I think it’s a wonderful idea, actually,” I countered before a wicked smile spread across my face. “I wanna make you scream for me, handsome.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, looking to his boots to hide the heat growing in his cheeks.
He unfolded his arms and came to me, cupping my face in his hands, tipping my head back so I was forced to look at him.
“If we start, we won’t stop, and I’ll end up fuckin’ you on Den and Val’s new dryer with your hands tied behind your back. ”
I hummed. “Not a washer kind of man, are you?”
He gave me a gift then. A glorious, breathtaking smile. “There’s more room on the dryer, Abbie.”
I looked to my side. “Oh. So there is,” I muttered as his thumbs swept back and forth across my cheeks. “So why are we in here? Why are you acting so weird?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” he asked softly, the blue flame of his eyes growing brighter with every word.
He looked like a little kid on Christmas, ironically.
I paused, studying him. For the last few months, he’d been trying to get me into the studio, but since we were back together, moving forward and healing, I had no need to paint.
I was happy. When I was in the city, I sought out painting because it gave me joy.
Being back with Beau filled that void, and my need to pick up the brush had dimmed significantly.
When I wasn’t chasing stories or spending time with the family, I wanted to be with Beau, in our little cabin, drowning in our happiness.
Was it cheesy?
Absolutely.
A year ago, during this time, I was chasing one of the biggest stories of the year, barely eating anything and avoiding my friends as I always did during the holidays. When I was at Hallow Ranch, Christmas meant something, but when I’d been out in the real world, it was just another day.
It hit me then.
Like a train going at full speed, it hit me.
My lips parted and I put my hands on his chest.
He hummed, seeing the realization dawning on my face. “She’s finally caught up with me,” he murmured.
There was no stopping the tears now. “It’s our first Christmas together since—” I shut up, feeling the first tear fall onto my cheek, hot and groundbreaking.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
We stood together in silence, lost in each other’s gazes, locked in this glorious laundry room, inside a house full of our family, thousands of memories in the air around us. My question came out on a broken rasp. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“You were finishing up that deadline, and I had to get to the barn. Didn’t want to bother you.”
I looked at his green flannel, twisting one of the buttons between my fingers. “You can always bother me. I went years without you, Beau. Please—”
My words were promptly cut off as his mouth landed on mine with a low growl.
He gave me a quick but dizzying kiss before leaning his forehead against mine.
“I know we talked about waiting, about getting our shit together before we made any big decisions, but dammit gorgeous, I need you to have my ring on your finger.”
“Is this you proposing to me again? In a laundry room?” I asked, eyes wide.
He raised a brow. “The same laundry room where you and I hid from the football team after one of Denver’s teammates dared you to play seven minutes in heaven with him?”
I scoffed. “For the record, cowboy, I said no, and you still yanked me in here.”
“Because I was the only boy you’d be playing seven minutes in heaven with,” he declared.
My hands snaked up to hook around the back of his neck as I pressed my body against his. “We could do that now, if you’d like.”
He shook his head as he dropped it, resting it against my chest. “I tell the woman I want to put my ring on her finger again, and she just wants my dick.”
“What part of seven minutes in heaven involves your dick, Beau Marks?” I laughed.
His head shot up, his lips finding the shell of my ear. “We play any kind of minute in heaven, everyone in this house will know how much you love being my little fuck toy.”
My clit pulsed.
Jesus, this man.
“I—that’s not—I was talking about the kids’ game,” I stammered, feeling his hand slide down my side, over my hip, stopping at my ass.
“We aren’t children anymore, Wildflower.”
“This proposal took an interesting turn,” I noted dryly.
He chuckled, his body shaking against me. “Hopefully you won’t leave me again. That’s all I ask,” he said lightly, looking down at me once more.
“That’s not funny.”
“Beautiful, at some point, when we’re old and gray, we’re going to be able to look back on that day with gratitude and laughter.”
I raised my chin. “But that day is not today. Now, ask me to marry you so I can go help Harmony make cookies.”
“Glad to see the romance isn’t dead between us.”
“You get on my nerves, Beau Marks.”
“Ditto, Abbie Marks,” he murmured.
My mouth snapped shut, and he flashed me a grin. “You gonna marry me?”
“You know I am.”
“Good.”
When he didn’t move, I clicked my tongue. “You don’t have the ring here with you, do you?”
“I do, but I think I’ll hold on to it for a little while,” he said with a wink, backing away from me and opening the door. “After all, you have cookies to make.”
I tried my hardest to hold in my laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re going to be my wife—which means you’re stuck with me.”
I held up a finger. “I haven’t said yes, cowboy.”
He turned to face me, his eyes burning. “You don’t have a choice, Wildflower.” He jerked his head to the side. “Come on. Santa needs to get fatter, and he can’t do that without cookies.”
As I brushed past him, he slapped my ass before pulling me back against him. Once again, those damn lips found the shell of my ear and goose bumps scattered across my skin like wildfire. “I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive because you love me, Abbie. Never forget that.”
I turned my head, our lips an inch apart now. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” I breathed.
“I swear to all three of the Christmas ghosts, Beau, if you fucked her in my laundry room, I’m shooting you in the foot,” Denver said loudly.
I jumped, letting out a small yelp as Beau and I both looked at the ranch owner, who was standing at the mouth of the hallway, irritation painted over his dark features.
“Denver, Jesus,” I gasped, my chest heaving. “How do you move so quietly?”
“Been living here since birth, Abbie. Know which floorboards creak,” he deadpanned. “Did you two fuck in my house?”
“No!” I blurted at the same time Beau drawled, “Wouldn’t be the first time in this house.”
Oh, dear God.
My stomach fell to the floor.
“Hold up!” Mason shouted from somewhere. A second later, his head popped out of the dining room. He looked at me, jaw slack. “You two—in here?”
I knew I was redder than the ripest tomato on earth. It was okay. I could handle this. I was Abbie Spears, soon to be Marks if I didn’t kill the man for saying what he just did to the Langston Brothers, but I could—
Fuck me.
Harmony’s head poked out underneath her husband’s, blue eyes wide, her curls hanging down like a curtain. “Abbie, you never told me this.”
Denver and Mason both did a double take, looking at the redhead with confused expressions.
“I’m sorry,” Beau interrupted, “why did you say that like she’s told you other stuff?”
Harmony looked up at her husband before slowly looking at us again. “Uh…”
“Wait, where?” Val asked, appearing beside her husband with a large mixing bowl in hand. “You told us the field was your weirdest place, but I have to say, Abs, my house might need to be at the top of the list.”
Harmony hummed a beautiful note in agreement. “Oh, absolutely.”
This wasn’t happening. This was just a fever dream.
Beau turned me to face him. He raised a brow. “You have a list?” he practically purred.
Yeah, this definitely wasn’t happening. I huffed and looked at my girls. “I thought what was said during girl dinner stayed at girl dinner,” I hissed.
Mason came into the hallway fully now, both hands raised in each direction. “Wait, wait. This is what y’all discuss at girl dinner?”
“Mase, I told you that we share secrets,” Harmony muttered, looking at me for help.
“Secrets?” Denver repeated on a low drawl. “Is that right?”
Now both of my friends were looking at me for help. I shrugged and put my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “If I’m going down, then I’m taking everybody with me.”
A new voice entered the hallway. “We’re here!” Diana and Mags appeared in the kitchen behind Denver and Val, both of them looking at the scene with confusion. “Sorry we’re late,” Diana said slowly. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Denver quipped, shooting a look at his wife before he turned to look at his lawyer. “We’re just discussing girl dinner.”
Diana visibly paled and her eyes cut to Val. “Babes, what the hell?”
“I’m not eatin’ fuckin’ girl dinner for Christmas,” Mags clipped, clearly oblivious to everything. That or he just didn’t give a shit, and knowing Mags, he probably just didn’t give a shit.
“Mags,” Beau called, “girl dinner—”
“Usually cheesy pasta with garlic and a glass of wine,” he finished, glancing at Diana. “I’m not eating that shit. I need sustenance. Protein. So that fucker,” he pointed at Mason, “fucks up the ham in any way, I’m killing him.”
“Why do you always have to kill somebody?” Mason jumped in. “What about having a nice, polite, civilized conversation for once?”
Mags stared at the bull rider. “Fuck up the ham, you die. End of the story.”
“My brother isn’t going to let you—”
“No, I’d probably help him,” Denver admitted.
Mason’s jaw dropped. He jerked his thumb back into his chest. “I’m your brother.”
“And we’re talking about Christmas dinner.”
“It wasn’t this serious at Thanksgiving,” Mason shot back.
Denver nodded. “Because I was in charge of the turkey. The chance of starvation was minimal.”
“Nonexistent, actually,” Beau said from behind me.
Denver’s gaze cut over to us again. “Yeah, you’re not eating at all because you decided to fuck your woman in my home.”
“It’s not like it was the first time, Den,” Mags said bluntly as Diana slapped her hand over her mouth. “You should cut him some slack.”
“You knew?” Denver and Mason both barked.
“Fuck me,” Beau muttered under his breath. When I looked back at him, he was pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You are impossible,” I repeated.
“Just love me, baby. That’s all you gotta do,” he sighed, dropping his hand.
I gestured to the scene around us. “Look what you did. Now we won’t get to eat any of Mason’s messed-up ham.”
“I heard that!”
Another huff left me as I looked at Harmony, then Val, and then Diana.
Diana bit her lip and shook her head at me. She was doing her best not to laugh as she proudly said, “That’s going on the list.”
“What fuckin’ list?” Beau asked, exasperated. “Jesus Christ, what do you women talk about?”
“Don’t make me bring up yours, Diana,” I threatened gleefully.
Mags looked at her. “What list?”
Harmony pressed her lips together.
“Welcome to Christmas at Hallow Ranch,” Valerie sighed, stirring the dough as she smiled at Denver.
The ranch owner sighed through his nose. “Welcome to Christmas at Hallow Ranch,” he repeated.