BEAU #2
She was tall—taller than Winnie by a couple of inches, maybe five-nine—with long blonde hair falling in beachy waves down her back, bright blue eyes, and legs that went on for days.
She was wearing cut-off denim shorts that showcased said legs, a cropped tank top that read "RUSTY SPUR" across the chest, and cowboy boots that were definitely more fashion than function but looked damn good anyway.
And when she saw me—shirtless, sweaty, dirt-smudged me—she stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth falling open.
"Well, holy shit," she said, her eyes doing a very obvious, very slow scan from my face down to my abs and back up again. "Winnie, you didn't mention the new guy was gonna look like a Calvin Klein billboard."
Winnie laughed—actually laughed, a relaxed, genuine sound I hadn't heard yet. It changed her whole face. "Cassie, meet Beau Sterling. Beau, this is Cassie Morrison, my best friend and the town’s biggest gossip."
"I prefer 'information specialist,'" Cassie corrected, walking over and sticking out her hand.
When I shook it, she held on a beat longer than necessary, grinning up at me.
"And damn, boy, do you work out or is that just genetics?
'Cause if it's genetics, I need to know who your parents are so I can send them a thank-you card. "
I couldn't help but laugh. "Little bit of both, I think."
"Well, bless them." She finally released my hand and turned to Winnie, who was leaning against Daisy’s stall looking thoroughly amused. "Why didn't you tell me he looked like this? I would've come by yesterday just to stare. I would have brought snacks."
"'Cause I knew you'd be weird about it," Winnie said, but she was grinning.
"I'm not bein' weird, I'm bein' honest. There's a difference." Cassie looked me up and down again, completely shameless. "So, Beau Sterling, what brings a pretty thing like you to our little slice of nowhere?"
"Exile," I said honestly, because there was something about her energy that made lying feel pointless. "My dad thought I needed to learn responsibility, so he banished me here for the summer to work on the ranch."
"And how's that goin' for ya?"
I gestured at myself—shirtless, covered in dirt and sweat, probably with hay in my hair, definitely smelling like a barn animal.
"I’ve discovered muscles I didn't know existed, learned that roosters are agents of chaos, shoveled more shit than should be legal, and I think I might be dying. So... great?"
Cassie burst out laughing—loud and unfiltered. "Oh, I like you. Winnie, can we keep him?"
"He's not a stray puppy, Cass," Winnie said, but she was still smiling, relaxed in a way that made her look younger. Less guarded.
"Could've fooled me, the way he's followin' you around lookin' all lost." Cassie winked at me, then pulled out her phone to check the time. "Shit, I'm on my way to my shift at the Spur, just wanted to stop by real quick. You still comin' to trivia night Thursday?"
"Probably. If I can leave this one unsupervised for a few hours without him burnin' down the barn."
"I resent that," I said. "I’ve been very responsible today. I haven't broken anything or set anything on fire."
"The day ain't over yet," Winnie shot back.
Cassie looked between us, her grin widening like she knew a secret. "Oh, y'all are gonna be fun this summer. Hey, Beau, you should come to trivia night! It'll be a good way to meet people, plus the wings are killer and the beer is cheaper than water."
"Is there anything else to do in this town?" I asked. "Because so far, my options seem to be: shovel manure or go to the Rusty Spur."
"That's pretty much it," Cassie said cheerfully.
"Small town livin', baby. But trust me, trivia night’s a blast. Winnie and I usually team up and destroy everyone—well, except when we go up against the Hendersons, they're trivia nerds—and there's always drama when someone gets too drunk and starts fights about whether 'Die Hard' is a Christmas movie. "
"It's not," Winnie said instantly.
"It absolutely is," Cassie countered.
"It’s an action movie that happens to be set at Christmas."
"That makes it a Christmas movie! Does it have a tree? Yes. Is there snow? Yes. Is there a holiday party? Yes. It's A Christmas Carol with machine guns!"
They both looked at me like I was supposed to settle this dispute. I hadn't even watched the movie. Hell, I usually spent Christmas in Aspen or St. Barts.
"I... have no opinion on this," I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "I don't want to get involved in what feels like a decade-long blood feud."
"Smart man," Winnie said.
"Coward," Cassie corrected, but she was grinning. "Anyway, Thursday night, seven PM, be there. Wear a shirt this time though—Donna’s the waitress and she’s like sixty, and I don't wanna be responsible for givin' her a coronary."
"I’ll try to remember clothes," I said.
"Appreciated." She turned to Winnie. "You bringin' him or is he gonna find his own way?"
"I'll bring him. Can't trust him to not get lost between here and town. He'd probably end up in Kansas."
"Hey," I protested. "I have GPS."
"GPS don't work half the time out here. Cell service is shit." Winnie pushed off from the stall. "But yeah, we'll be there."
"Perfect!" Cassie checked her phone again and swore colorfuly. "Okay, for real this time, I gotta go. Jerry’s gonna kill me if I'm late again. Beau, welcome to Pawhuska, sorry it’s boring as hell, see you Thursday!"
She was gone in a whirl of blonde hair and chaotic energy, her boots clicking on the barn floor, calling out "bye!" one more time before disappearing into the sunlight.
"She’s..." I searched for the right word.
"A lot?" Winnie supplied, but her voice was fond. "Yeah, Cassie’s always been like that. We've been best friends since we were kids. She’s the only person in this town who can out-talk me."
"She seems great." I wondered how I’d never seen her if they’d been friends forever. But then again, twelve-year-old me hadn't exactly been paying attention to the local social dynamics.
"She is. Crazy as hell, but great." Winnie turned back to Daisy, running her hand down the mare's neck. "Alright, enough stallin'. Time to see if you can actually ride this horse without fallin' off and breakin' a limb."
My whole heart went to my toes. "Wait, what? I thought we were just learning to saddle her."
"Saddlin's only useful if you can ride. Come on, Sterling. Nut up or shut up."
"That is not how that phrase goes."
"It's how I say it. Now get on the horse."