Chapter 6
Fable
Home? Where the hell was home?
I’d texted Harleigh, and she said she’d already left. She thought I’d hitched a ride back to her place, and I told her I was safe.
I could go to her apartment, but the second Beau said home, it twisted something deep inside me. I didn’t have one. Not a place that felt like mine.
What the fuck was I supposed to do? Going back to Mike wasn’t an option.
God knows what he and Trishelle were up to, and there was no way in hell I’d walk in on them again.
Harleigh promised me one night. Just one.
No overthinking, no planning, no messy reality.
Tonight didn’t exist. It was a story—a chapter I could escape into.
Tomorrow would be the real world’s problem.
I glanced back at Beau. He looked like he was about to freeze, standing there in nothing but a long-sleeve black shirt and jeans. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, holding them up as if to say Your call. Where would he even take me? Harleigh’s, I guess?
“Come on, baby.” He coaxed me.
The way he said baby stirred something warm inside me. I didn’t want to correct him. It sounded too good coming out of his mouth.
He had this look to him—rough, raw, like he belonged in this wild, chaotic night. The same look that had drawn me to him at the event. It was so unlike anything else I’d ever known. He was the complete opposite of the polished, pristine world I lived in, that my anxiety lived in.
There was a want deep inside me, a restless ache to know what it felt like to let go and not have anxiety and fear at the forethought of every action. To be fearless, reckless even, like he was. To just be.
I already felt a twinge of regret clawing at my chest. This was a bad idea.
I met his eyes and deadpanned, “I don’t want to go home. You can take me out for that drink.”
His grin spread slow and easy, like he hadn’t been expecting that. “Now we’re talking, baby.”
This was dangerous. But surprisingly, I didn’t care. Tonight was about letting the story write itself, and tomorrow was the reality of life as I knew it.
“This way.” He gestured, and I followed him toward the other side of the parking lot.
“Did you drive here?” I asked as we walked up to a red truck.
“No. My dad usually travels with me, and we’re working on a weird schedule. Typically, we work Thursday through Sunday and then get to go home, but we came from another event, so my dad drove here overnight.”
“Where are you headed next?” I asked as he held the door open.
“Idaho, next week.”
“Won’t your dad need his car?” I pressed, glancing at the keys dangling from his hand.
He shook his head. “He left with the others for dinner.”
A sharp pang hit my chest at the thought of him skipping out. “You’re not going?”
He shrugged, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Got other things to eat tonight,” he said with a wink, then shut the door behind me before I could respond.
I blinked, then banged on the door, glaring at him through the window. “Asshole,” I muttered.
As I settled into the seat, I caught his grin out of the corner of my eye, and a tiny part of me couldn’t help the slight tug of a smile. He was trouble—obnoxious and cocky. The perfect distraction that I needed for a night of forgetting.
He slid into the driver’s seat, and we turned out of the lot toward a row of hotels on the other side of the arena.
“Where are we going?”
“Well,” Beau said as he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, “If I take you too far from my hotel, I’m betting you’ll bolt. I’ve spent enough time today chasing down bulls—I’m not about to spend my night chasing you.”
I snorted, crossing my arms. “So, what? The hotel bar?”
“Exactly,” he said, shooting me a quick grin. “Close enough to keep you in check, and I won’t have to waste energy hauling you back when you decide to try out what I got you for dessert.”
“Wow,” I said flatly, shaking my head. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
We pulled into the lot, and he shoved the truck in park.
He turned toward me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his deep brown eyes.
When he leaned in closer, his scent hit me like a punch—musk, sweat, and a hint of warm amber that clung to him like a second skin.
It made my pulse race. I swallowed hard, but the heat between us was already impossibly thick.
“Wanna feel special, Cowgirl? Let me get on my knees and use my mouth until you can’t stand, until all you know is me. I’ll make you forget your own damn name.”
“Ew,” I spat and turned my head away from him, shaking out of his grip.
But it wasn’t gross—not in the way I was used to gross. It didn’t feel dirty. Mike never talked to me like that. There were never any words, no heat, no anticipation—just get in there and get it done.
This was different.
I liked this.
No, I wanted this. Every part of me was roaring to life, waking up in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. The usual anxieties that clung to me, of being unclean, were shoved somewhere far back in my mind.
Beau laughed and climbed out, slamming his door shut before rounding the truck. I watched him carefully, suspicion flickering in the back of my mind. I didn’t know him. Yet, somehow, I felt comfortable around him.
The way he carried himself reminded me of the way he’d looked earlier, climbing onto that bull. Fearless. Untouchable. Like nothing in the world could shake him. I wanted that. I wanted to feel that kind of freedom, even if for just a little while.
Before I knew it, he was opening my car door and holding out his hand.
“I can get down myself,” I grumbled.
He shook his hand as he continued to hold it out. “Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you?”
I watched him, hand raised as he waited for me. Mike would’ve walked away by this point. He’d have been so sick of my antics, but Beau was waiting for me.
“Come on, Cowgirl. One drink.”
I nodded and reached toward his hand. One corner of his mouth kicked up, and he pulled me across the parking lot, eager to get us out of the cold.
“Why the fuck would you ever pick a place like this to live?”
I laughed, but he never let go of my hand.
When we reached the door, he finally let go, long enough to pull it open and nod me inside. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a bar. It’ll do.”
I stepped past him, the warmth of the place hitting me immediately. “I don’t care,” I said, and I meant it.
The hotel bar was small but sleek, tucked into a quiet corner off the lobby.
Polished wood gleamed under soft, ambient lighting, and the faint hum of music played in the background.
The crowd was sparse—just a few travelers scattered at the far end of the bar, sipping drinks and murmuring in low voices.
We slid onto two stools near the end of the bar, away from the others. Beau leaned back comfortably, like he’d been here before, and gestured for the bartender with a nod. He ordered a beer, then turned to me.
“I’ll have an espresso martini,” I told the bartender, who nodded at us and turned to work on the drinks.
I pulled out my phone and fired a text to Harleigh to let her know I was safe.
A second later, he grabbed the small menu tucked behind the bar and scanned it briefly. “I’m starving,” he declared. The bartender turned back around, and without waiting for my input, he added, “And we’ll take the chips and dip.”
He was so damn sure of himself, it was hard to argue because I looked up to that kind of confidence, just knowing what you wanted and taking it.
The bartender returned with his beer and handed me a glass.
I picked it up and took a sip. It was rich, smooth, with the right balance of bitter and sweet.
As I set the glass down, I froze momentarily.
I’d drunk from an open glass. No hesitation, no urge to sanitize my hands or overthink.
I let the thought settle, surprised at the strange sense of calm that followed.
“So, Chicago girl,” Beau said, interrupting my thoughts, “what do you do?”
I laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I’m a project marketing manager at Bucking Energy.”
His brows lifted, and a crooked grin spread across his face. “Oh shit, our sponsor, then.”
“Yeah. My best friend and I pitched the project to the company. Her dad, Roger Harris, used to work as a—”
“No shit,” Beau cut in, nodding. “I haven’t heard Roger’s name in a minute.”
“Harleigh told me she lived near you.”
“She’s younger than me, but yeah, we grew up in the same area.”
I leaned back slightly. “What a small world.”
“I hadn’t realized she moved up here. I would’ve come up and said hi if I knew they were around.” He sat back in his seat and took a sip of his beer. “Tell me something else, Cowgirl.”
The bartender returned with the chips, and my stomach twisted the second the smell hit me. Skipping food at the event had left me starving.
Beau slid the basket closer, nudging it toward me.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, even as my stomach betrayed me with a loud little growl.
Beau’s brows lifted. “Come on. I can hear your stomach from here.”
“Hey,” I laughed, swatting his arm like that would shut him up.
He only chuckled, grabbed a chip, and dipped it into the creamy dip before holding it out in front of me. Patient and annoyingly confident.
“Eat,” he said. Then, like he hadn’t just caught me red-handed, he leaned back in his seat. “And don’t dodge my question. Tell me something else, Cowgirl.”
I swallowed and grabbed the chip. “I recently came out of a serious relationship.”
Recently? Pff. That was putting it lightly, but that was a small fact I didn’t need to share.
“He was an idiot for fumbling someone as beautiful as you.”
I froze, staring at him before bursting into laughter so hard that parts of the chip I was chewing flew out of my mouth.
“Oh my . . .” I gasped between laughs. “I am so sorry.”
He laughed too, shaking his head as he grabbed a napkin and handed it to me.