Chapter 19
Beau
“Fuck,” I grumbled as I grabbed the hay I needed and brought it inside the barn for the horses.
My employees had already been here to help, but I wanted to get everything prepared for the week. I needed to get everything prepped because I needed to use my hands and get out after the morning I had.
I couldn’t sit in my room, pumping myself dry as I imagined the way her hips moved in her jeans, her ass in my face, the way her sweatshirt rose occasionally, letting me have a peep of milky skin against her back.
“Motherfucker,” I groaned under my breath, grabbing another bale and tossing it harder than necessary.
Crescent, my brown mare, neighed excitedly when she spotted the food. Her head bobbed up and down as if she couldn’t wait another second.
“Not yet, girl. You gotta wait for Jess to get here tomorrow. You’ve already had dinner.”
Her ears flicked at my voice, and she snorted, clearly unimpressed with my reasoning.
I leaned against the wooden post of the stall for a moment, letting the scent of hay and leather ground me. But it wasn’t enough. My shoulders tensed as I thought about Fable again—about her laughter this morning, how natural she looked in my kitchen, like she belonged there.
It wasn’t just the way she moved or even the way she looked in my clothes. It was the way she felt in my space. The way she lingered in my thoughts like she’d carved out a spot I couldn’t fill with anything else.
“Damn it,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair as Crescent nickered again. “You and me both, girl. We both want what we can’t have.”
“I stopped by Kline’s first, half expecting to see you practicing before the event next weekend.” My dad’s voice boomed through the barn.
I threw another bale of hay into the pile, my jaw tightening.
Not this.
After the morning I’d had, I was already wound tighter than a bull rope. I didn’t need him coming in here and piling on.
“Taking the day off,” I said gruffly, grabbing another bale. “Needed to do stuff around the barn.”
I didn’t even bother looking at him. I already knew what was coming next—the same damn lecture I’d been hearing my entire life.
“You need to be up on those bulls every day, Beaudreau.”
I sighed. I loved when he used my full name, like when I was a kid and getting in trouble. I set the bale down a little harder than I needed to. “I know, Dad. But the barn doesn’t run itself. Someone’s gotta keep this place standing.”
“That someone could be one of your employees,” he snapped back. “Your job is riding, not playing ranch hand.”
I clenched my teeth, turning to face him. “I know my job. I’ve been doing it long enough.”
He narrowed his eyes “Long enough to know you can’t half-ass it, especially not at your age.
You’re not twenty anymore, Beaudreau. You’ve got to put in twice the work to stay on top.
When I was your age, I was out there every single day.
If I wasn’t at an event. I was practicing.
Every morning, every evening, until I couldn’t see straight.
That’s the kind of dedication it takes. Not just wanting it, but living it. ”
Still clutching the rough twine, my fingers flexed as his words hit harder than I’d like to admit.
I knew that. I’d always known that. Hell, I’d felt the effects of it firsthand.
While he’d been out riding, practicing, chasing his dream, I was the one left behind with Mom, watching her slowly fall apart and trying to pick up the pieces.
I felt every moment he’d missed when she was sick, every time I’d had to step into shoes way too big for a kid to fill.
He should also know—should remember—that it came at a cost. The same cost I swore I wouldn’t let spill over into my life, no matter how much I loved riding.
I gritted my teeth, my voice steady but tight. “I know what it takes, Dad. I’ve been living it my whole life.”
He stared at me for a moment, his gaze unrelenting. But there was something there—something softer, buried deep beneath the surface, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t figure out how. Instead, he just nodded, his mouth set into a thin line.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “Don’t let me catch you slacking.”
He walked out of the barn, his boots kicking up dust with every step, leaving me standing in the heavy silence.
Slacking. He had no idea. If only he knew how much weight I carried every damn day—not just the bulls, not just the ranch, but the legacy of everything he’d left behind.
“Like I’m the one doing nothing,” I muttered, wiping my hands on my dirt-streaked jeans.
“Yo, Beau,” Dalton called out from the direction my dad had just left.
I groaned. Great. Why did everyone feel the need to drop by in one day?
“What’s up?” I called back, straightening up and turning to see him strolling toward me.
Dalton was wearing a paisley button-down that looked a size too big, tucked into a pair of faded jeans. His cowboy hat was tipped low, and he had that easygoing grin on his face.
“Just wanted to stop by before I headed to Roger’s.”
“You’re headed there tonight too?”
He nodded. “Gat got invited as well, so it’ll be the three of us.”
“Joy,” I deadpanned.
I was hoping I’d get to spend more time with Fable, but if the crew was coming around, there’d be a lot of loud drinking and arguing about which stock contractor had the best bulls.
“At least I’ll get something good to look at if Harl—”
“Stop, Dalt.” I cut him off, throwing him a sharp look. “She’s older than you, and she’s Roger’s daughter. Not someone to screw around with.”
“Whatever, man,” he said with a shrug. “She can make her own decisions.”
I brushed past him, heading toward the house, but Dalton wasn’t one to let things go.
“Why’ve you been so grumpy lately?” he asked, jogging a little to keep up with me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He pressed as he walked beside me. “You’ve been all out of sorts. Did you piss off your dad again, or is this about that new neighbor of yours? What was her name—Fable?”
My jaw tightened as I kept walking. “Drop it, Dalton.”
“Thought you didn’t fuck around unless it was just with a buckle bunny? I thought you were about making things chill on event nights?”
“I’m not going to be like one of the married guys, Dalt. She’s my . . . neighbor.”
As Dalton kept yapping, I tuned him out, my mind circling back to Fable. She tied my thoughts into knots in ways I couldn’t untangle. Having her close, where I could keep an eye on her, wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.
It wasn’t about wanting her. It was about control. If I could convince myself we were friendly neighbors, then I’d be able to keep my emotions in check. I could stick to my usual routine—keep things casual, not get caught up in the way she made me feel.
Hell, maybe Dalton was right for once. If I kept it simple, stuck to the boundaries we’d laid out, then I wouldn’t lose my damn mind every time she smiled or looked at me like she didn’t even realize the grip she had on me.
“Alright, Dalt, I gotta go,” I said abruptly, stopping before the porch steps.
Dalton frowned. “What? You’re not gonna drive?”
“Hell no. Ask Gatlin to take you.”
“Why not?”
I glanced back at him, my hand on the door. “I’m picking up Fable.”
“You could pick me up on the way, technically I—”
“I’m picking up Fable,” I repeated a little slower.
Dalton’s eyes lit up, and a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “See? I told you,” he shouted triumphantly, pointing at me like he’d just won a bet.
Without another word, I stepped inside and slammed the door in his face, cutting off his laughter.
God help me, that man is insufferable.