BEAU Waiting like a Dawg
BEAU
Waiting like a Dawg
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
"Well, I don't mean to be rude / But this cowboy's in the mood / Come on, baby, let's ride"
- Big & Rich
***
I’d been sitting on the porch for the better part of an hour, pretending I wasn't waiting for Winnie to return from her ride with Cassie. It was a losing battle, and Pops knew it.
He’d caught me checking the horizon for the third time and just shaken his head, a knowing smirk playing on his lips that made me want to launch into a defensive monologue.
But what was I supposed to say? "No, I'm not waiting for her like a lost puppy, I just find this particular patch of empty pasture fascinating"? That would’ve been worse. So much worse.
So I’d committed to the bit. Grabbed a beer, pulled up one of the rickety porch chairs that threatened to collapse under anything heavier than a stern look, and settled in like I had all the time in the world.
Technically, I did. We’d finished afternoon chores early, and Pops had shooed me away when I’d tried to find more work to do, claiming my nervous energy was exhausting him.
"Go relax, son. You earned it. 'Sides, you're makin' me tired just watchin' you pace. You’re gonna wear a groove in the wood."
So here I was. Relaxing. Definitely not obsessively checking my phone for the time or mentally calculating how long a "long ride" should reasonably take or wondering if something had gone wrong—a snake, a storm, a sudden decision to move to Canada—and if I should...
Hoofbeats.
The sound cut through the evening quiet, rhythmic and steady.
I sat up straighter before I could stop myself, squinting toward the trail that led from the back pastures.
Two horses emerged from the tree line, silhouetted against the setting sun like something out of a Western movie poster, if Westerns featured women laughing so hard they nearly fell out of their saddles. Winnie on Bandit, Cassie on Thunder.
The golden hour light caught Winnie’s face, illuminating her profile, and my chest did this stupid thing where it felt too tight and too full all at once.
Her hair had come loose from its braid, dark curls wild around her shoulders, catching the light.
She looked... free. Happy. The kind of unburdened happy that came from hours in the saddle with a best friend, no responsibilities weighing her down, no ranch worries creasing her forehead.
Beautiful. Absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.
Fuck.
Three weeks of manual labor and personal growth hadn't done shit for my ability to think straight when she looked like that.Seeing her now—sun-kissed, windblown, completely in her element—was doing things to me that sitting on a porch in full view of Pops was absolutely not the time or place for.
" “Well, well,” Cassie called when they got close, grin turning wicked. “Told you he’d be waiting. Like a loyal hound.”
“I’m not waiting.” The lie came automatic. “I’m sitting. Enjoying the evening air.”
“Uh-huh.” Cassie dismounted, patting Thunder’s neck. “You been there long, puppy?”
And you know what? Fuck it.
I’d spent three weeks being the humble ranch hand, the reformed city boy trying so hard to prove himself. But Dallas Beau didn’t take shit from anyone.
I stood, leaning against the railing with the kind of easy confidence I hadn’t let myself use since I got here. “Long enough to enjoy the view. Though I gotta say, Cassie—that trail ride glow suits you. Almost makes you look approachable.”
Her eyebrows shot up. Winnie’s head snapped toward me.
“Did you just—” Cassie laughed, delighted. “Oh shit. There he is. I was wondering when Dallas Playboy was gonna surface.”
“He’s been here the whole time. Just on his best behavior.” I shifted my attention to Winnie, letting my gaze drag over her deliberately—flushed cheeks, loose hair, tank top clinging to her curves. “But some things are worth breaking good behavior for.”
Winnie’s face turned red. “Are you—what—”
“Flirting with you?” I pushed off the railing, boots hitting the steps. “Yeah. Been holding that back for three weeks. It’s been killing me.”
Cassie doubled over laughing. “Oh my god. Winnie, your face. This is the content I crave.”
“Shut up,” Winnie muttered, eyes still on me.
“I’m just saying,” I continued, stepping closer, “you spend all day telling me to lift things and fix things. Figured I should at least get to appreciate the view while I’m doing it.”
“The view,” Winnie repeated slowly.
“You. The view is you.” I gestured at her, at the sunset. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“Oh, it’s clear,” Cassie said, leading Thunder toward the barn. “Crystal fucking clear. You still gonna pretend there’s no tension?”
“There’s no—” Winnie’s voice cracked.
“There’s definitely something,” I said, holding her gaze. “Has been since week one. I’ve just been trying to be respectful. But pretending it’s not there is exhausting.”
Winnie stared, mouth open. I could see her brain short-circuiting.
“You…” She swallowed. “You can’t just… after three weeks of being professional, you don’t get to just switch—”"Switch to being honest?
" I stepped off the last porch step, closing some of the distance between us.
Not too much—I wasn't an asshole—but enough that she had to tilt her head to look at me.
"Yeah, I can. Because I'm tired of acting like I don't think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
Like I don't watch you work and wonder what it would feel like to—"
"Okay!" she cut me off, face fully crimson now, glancing frantically toward the house where Pops might be watching. "Cassie's right. You need to make yourself useful. Help us with the stalls before you say something we can't take back."
"Who says I want to take it back?"
Her eyes met mine. For a second—just a second—I saw want flash across her face.
Then she spun, grabbing Bandit’s reins. “Come on. Before Pops hears whatever this is and gets the shotgun.”
Cassie was cackling when we walked into the barn. “Holy shit. Three weeks of good boy behavior and you just… unleash that?”
“Figured it was time to remind everyone I know how to flirt.” I grabbed water buckets.
“That wasn’t flirting. That was a declaration of intent.”
“Was it?” I shot Winnie a look as she started unsaddling with shaking hands. “Yet.”
“Oh my god,” she muttered to the horse. “Did you hit your head? Eat bad hay?”
“Nope. Just stopped fighting what’s obvious.” I filled Thunder’s trough, keeping my tone casual despite my pounding heart. “You’re hot, Winnie. And I’ve been pretending I haven’t noticed. I’m done with that.”
Cassie pulled out her phone. “I’m recording this for posterity.”
“Delete that,” Winnie said weakly.
“Absolutely not. Tyler’s gonna lose his mind.”
“Why would Tyler care?” My head snapped up.
“Because he’s been nursing a crush on Winnie since high school and she dumped him for being boring.” Cassie grinned.
I looked at Winnie, who was determinedly not looking at me. “You dumped a guy for being boring?”
“He wanted to watch the same three movies and thought adventure meant trying a new pizza place,” she said to the saddle. “I needed more.”
“Fair.” I moved closer, grabbing the brush she’d dropped. “So what’s not boring? Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically?”
“Yeah. What would someone have to do?”
Her hands stilled. “Surprise me. Be honest. Don’t play games. Don’t pretend.”
“I’m not playing games.” I caught her eye over Bandit’s back. “I’m being honest right now.”
She bit her lip. “This is a bad idea.”
“Probably. Safe ideas are usually boring.”
“You’re leaving at the end of summer.”
“I am.”
“So this is temporary.”
“Everything’s temporary if you think about it long enough.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“Wasn’t trying to be comforting. Was trying to be honest.” I set down the brush.
“Look, I get it. I’m the city boy with a trust fund.
But I’m also the guy who’s been working his ass off because he gives a shit.
And yeah, I think you’re beautiful. Smart.
Tough. Funny. And watching you work makes me want to either worship you or throw you against a wall and—”
“OKAY,” Cassie yelled, hands over her ears. “I’m leaving! This is too spicy! Winnie, text me later!”
She bolted, truck engine roaring, leaving us in silence.
Winnie stood frozen. “You can’t just… say things like that. It makes things complicated.”
“Things are already complicated.” I stepped closer. “I’m just naming it.”
“Beau…”
“If you want me to stop, say it. I’ll go back to being the respectful ranch hand who pretends he doesn’t notice when you bend over.” I held her gaze. “But if even a part of you wants to stop pretending too? Tell me that instead.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. “I… I need to think.”
“Fair.” I stepped back. “Take your time.”
We finished chores in loaded silence. Every movement charged. By the time we were done, the sun had set and the barn felt too small.
When we walked back, Pops was on the porch, rocking.
“Horses settled?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Winnie said tightly. She disappeared inside, screen door slapping shut.
Pops studied me in the twilight.
"Well, you’ve got guts Son"
"You heard that?"
" “The whole county probably heard that. You got a voice that carries.” He stood, stretching. “Question is—you mean it?”
“I mean it.”
“Even knowing how this ends?”
“Even knowing how this ends.”
He nodded slowly. “Just… be careful. With her heart. And yours. Hearts don’t mend as easy as fences.”
“I will.”
But standing there, remembering the look on Winnie’s face when I’d called her beautiful, the way her hands had shaken—
I was starting to think careful had already gone out the window.