BEAU
Diamonds over dust
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
"Brown skin girl, your skin just like pearls."
– Beyoncé
***
I’d spent the afternoon in the south pasture, wrestling with a fence line that didn’t really need fixing, but it kept my hands busy while my mind spun in circles. That conversation with Winnie—her fear that this was all too fast, too risky, too uncertain—had left me raw and restless.
I’d told her I was serious. That I wasn’t going anywhere. But I could see it in her eyes, she didn’t fully believe me yet.
And now, thanks to some vulture from a Dallas magazine, she had even more reason to doubt.
When Elise had told me at lunch more about the reporter who’d called—the one who’d implied Winnie was using me for money—I’d wanted to throw something.
Hard. The audacity. The casual cruelty of it.
And Winnie had just… taken it. Internalized it.
Let it feed every insecurity she already had about us.
I’d tried to find her after our talk, but she’d disappeared into the barn, throwing herself into work like she could outrun her feelings. I knew that move—I’d been doing it myself for a month.
By dinner, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Pops kept shooting me concerned looks over his chili. Winnie was picking at her food like it had personally offended her. And Elise looked like she was two seconds away from locking us both in a room until we sorted our shit out.
Finally, Elise set her spoon down with a clatter.
“Alright, that’s it. I can feel the angst from here, and it’s killing my digestion.” She looked around the table. “We’re going to the Rusty Spur. All of us. Right now.”
Pops raised his eyebrows. “It’s Wednesday.”
“And? Time is a construct. Besides, after those reporter calls this morning and whatever dramatic heart-to-heart happened in the pasture, we all need a drink.” She looked at Winnie. “Especially you.”
Winnie hesitated, glancing at me quickly before looking away. “I don’t know—”
“Winnie.” Elise’s voice was gentle but firm. “You can’t control what reporters write. But you can control whether you let them ruin your night. Come out with us. Have some fun.”
Pops nodded. “She’s right. And I could use some live music.”
Winnie exhaled, finally meeting my eyes. “Fine. But if Cassie force-feeds me shots, you’re driving home, Elise.”
“Deal.”
I tried to catch Winnie’s eye as we headed out, but she was already moving toward Pops’ truck, keeping distance between us like a safety buffer.
The drive to the Rusty Spur felt longer than it was.
I sat in the back seat next to Winnie, hyperaware of every inch of space between us.
Our knees brushed once—accidentally—and I held my breath, waiting to see if she’d pull away.
She didn’t. But she didn’t lean in either.
The bar was packed when we arrived—trucks everywhere, music spilling out into the parking lot. We pushed through the doors, and immediately Cassie’s scream cut through the noise.
“OMIGOD, ELISE!”
I watched as Cassie launched herself over the bar like an Olympic hurdler, nearly taking out a tray of beers in the process. She wrapped Elise in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.
“Girl! When did you get back?!”
While they caught up, Pops headed to his usual booth, and Winnie and I drifted toward the bar. Cassie finally released Elise, then her sharp eyes landed on Winnie.
“Hold up. Win, you look stressed as hell. Sit. Beer first, then you tell me everything.”
We settled onto stools. Cassie slid frosty mugs across the bar, her gaze moving between me and Winnie like she was reading a crime scene.
“So?” she prompted. “What happened?”
Winnie took a long pull from her beer before answering. “Reporters called this morning. From Dallas. Asking about Beau. About… us.”
Cassie’s face went from concerned to furious. “Reporters? Like actual press?”
“Society magazine,” Elise added, her voice tight. “One had the audacity to imply that Winnie was benefiting financially from Beau staying at the ranch. I shut that shit down, but—”
“Those assholes” The words came out harder than I meant. My knuckles had gone white around my mug. “Winnie, I’m still so sorry. I should’ve warned you—”
“Beau I told you. You couldn’t have known,” she said quietly, but she still wouldn’t look at me. “It’s just… it got in my head, okay? The idea that people think I’m using you. That your world sees me as some opportunistic ranch girl who—”
“Who deserves to be there just as much as anyone else,” Cassie finished fiercely. She poured four shots of tequila. “Fuck those people. Fuck their opinions. And fuck anyone who makes you doubt yourself. Drink.”
We did. The tequila burned, but it helped.
By the second round, the tension had started to ease. The band kicked off, and Cassie dragged Elise to the dance floor. Pops stayed at his booth, content with his whiskey.
I leaned closer to Winnie. “Dance with me?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
I led her out to the floor, my hand settling on her lower back. We moved together easily—she was a natural, and I’d gotten better over the past month. The music helped drown out the weight of the day.
“You okay?” I asked, searching her face.
“Getting there,” she admitted. “Today just… rattled me.”
“I know.” I pulled her closer. “But we’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
For the first time all day, she leaned into me. Let herself relax in my arms. And I felt that tight knot in my chest start to loosen.
That’s when the door banged open.
A guy walked in—tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of sun-browned that came from real ranch work. I recognized him from trivia night.
Tyler.
His eyes scanned the room, then lit up when they landed on Winnie. He crossed the floor with purpose, a grin spreading across his face.
“Win! Didn’t know you’d be here tonight!”
Before I could react, he was wrapping her in a hug—casual but lingering, his hand on her back in a way that made my jaw clench.
“Tyler! Hey.” Winnie stepped back, but she was smiling. Warm. Familiar. “What are you doing here? Thought you were up in Tulsa?”
“Got back yesterday. Figured I’d stop by.” His eyes traveled over her with obvious appreciation. “You look great. Regionals training agrees with you.”
Something dark and possessive coiled in my chest. I knew who this was—Cassie had mentioned him at trivia. Local boy. Winnie’s ex. The one who “couldn’t commit.”
“Thanks. Yeah, Bandit’s been amazing—”
“I bet. You were always the best rider in the county.” He glanced at me briefly—barely an acknowledgment—then back at her. “Dance? For old times’ sake?”
The song shifted to something slower. Before Winnie could answer, Tyler was already pulling her into it, his hand settling on her waist with a familiarity that made my blood boil.
Winnie glanced back at me, something uncertain in her eyes.
I hung back at the edge of the dance floor, my beer forgotten.
Cassie materialized beside me. “Easy, cowboy. That’s just Tyler being Tyler.”
“What the hell does that mean?” My voice came out tight.
“Local boy. Winnie dated him for a bit. They ended it because he couldn’t commit and she got tired of waiting. He’s harmless—just likes to flirt and think he’s got charm for days.”
“Doesn’t look harmless to me,” I muttered, watching him spin her. He looked confident. He looked like he belonged here. He looked like he fit in a way I was still fighting to prove I did.
Cassie smirked. “That’s because you’re jealous and stupid.
Here’s the thing—Tyler’s baseline boring.
Safe. Predictable. But you? You’re the one she keeps looking back at.
” She tapped her beer bottle against mine.
“So maybe don’t go all caveman. When the song ends, go claim your dance like you’ve got a right to it. ”
The song stretched on. Tyler leaned in, murmuring something that made Winnie shake her head with a smile. When the music finally started to fade, he didn’t let go right away. He pulled her closer—
That’s when I moved.
I crossed the dance floor in five strides and put a firm hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”
He turned, startled, then his face shifted to amusement. “Oh hey, Beau right? The Dallas guy.” He extended his hand. “Tyler.”
I shook it, keeping my grip firm. My eyes said what my mouth wouldn’t: Back off.
He held the grip for a second, then smiled and released. “No worries, man. Just keeping her company.” He nodded at Winnie. “Win, catch you around? If that north forty fence needs work, call me.”
“Will do,” she said, but her attention had already shifted to me.
I pulled her back into the rhythm, holding her closer than before—not possessive, but clear. My hand settled on the small of her back with intention.
“You’re jealous,” she said softly, amusement threading through her voice.
“Not jealous,” I lied, jaw tight. “Just… reclaiming my spot.”
“Your spot?” She tilted her head, eyes bright with something I couldn’t quite read. “Pretty confident about that.”
“Yeah.” I held her gaze, letting her see everything I felt. “I am.”
She didn’t pull away. Her hand found the back of my neck like it belonged there. And for the rest of the night, every time Tyler glanced over from the bar, I made sure he saw exactly who she was with.