BEAU #2
Six pearl-snap shirts in various colors
Four pairs of Wranglers
Two flannel shirts for cooler mornings
A proper leather belt with a simple buckle
Work gloves (finally)
A new pack of white undershirts (the actual work kind)
And a pair of Ariat work boots that Marie promised would "change my life."
"You need a hat," Winnie said as we approached the checkout.
"A cowboy hat?"
"You're in Oklahoma, working on a ranch. Yeah, a cowboy hat." She led me to a display of hats in various styles and colors. "Try this one."
She pulled down a black felt hat and held it out. I took it, feeling ridiculous, and put it on.
"Adjust it," she said, stepping closer. She reached up, her hands brushing my hair as she tilted the brim. "Tilt it back a little—there. Now that's a cowboy."
I looked in the nearby mirror and... holy shit. I looked hot as hell. Between the pearl snap shirt, the Wranglers, and the hat, I would actually fuck myself. Like I could walk into any bar in town and fit right in.
"I'll take it," I said.
At checkout, Marie rang everything up while making small talk with Winnie about the ranch, the weather, some rodeo coming up that Winnie was apparently competing in. I handed over my credit card (my father hadn't frozen it yet, thankfully) and tried not to wince at the total.
Which was... actually way less than I expected.
"That's it?" I asked, staring at the receipt.
Marie laughed. "Honey, you're not in Dallas anymore. We sell quality stuff at real prices."
"Everything I just bought would've cost three times that in the city."
"Well, that's why we don't live in the city." She bagged everything up. "You take care now, and welcome to town. You need anything, you just come see me."
"Thank you. Really."
Outside, as we loaded the bags into Winnie's truck, I noticed people were definitely staring. Two older women whispered to each other while looking directly at us. A group of guys about my age sized me up from across the parking lot. A teenager very obviously took a photo on her phone.
"Told you," Winnie muttered, slamming the tailgate. "Small town celebrity status."
"Is it always like this?"
"Give it a week. Someone else'll do somethin' interesting—usually involving a tractor and a bottle of whiskey—and they'll forget about you."
"What if I don't want them to forget about me?"
She glanced at me, surprised. "You want the attention?"
"No, I just..." I loaded the last bag. "I kind of like it here. Is that weird?"
Her expression softened, the guard dropping for a split second. "No. It's not weird."
"Come on," she said, climbing into the driver's seat. "Let's grab lunch at the diner before we head back. You haven't lived till you've had Rosie's chicken fried chicken."
"More fried chicken?"
"It's Oklahoma. We fry everything. Even the vegetables. You'll get used to it."
The diner—"Rosie's Home Cooking"—was packed, and the second we walked in, every single person turned to look at us. Conversations paused. Silverware stopped clinking. It was like a record scratch moment in a movie.
"Just smile and wave," Winnie muttered under her breath.
A waitress who looked about sixty with kind eyes and a name tag that read "Donna" rushed over. "Winnie Jameson! And this must be the famous Beau Sterling!"
Oh, that was the woman Cassie had mentioned yesterday. She worked two jobs at her age?
"Hi, Donna," Winnie said. "Can we get a booth?"
"Course, honey. Right this way." She led us to a red vinyl booth in the back corner, talking the entire time. "We've been hearin' all about you, Beau. The Sterling boy working on Jameson Ranch! What a story! How're you likin' Oklahoma so far?"
"It's... definitely different," I said diplomatically.
"I bet! Well, welcome, welcome. Can I get y'all some sweet tea to start?"
"Please," Winnie said.
As Donna hurried off, the diner slowly returned to normal volume, but I could still feel eyes on us. Hear the whispers.
"Is this what celebrity feels like for you in Dallas?" Winnie asked quietly, leaning across the table.
"Kind of. Except in Dallas, they pretend they're not staring. Here, everyone's just... blatant about it."
"Small town hospitality. We don't believe in subtlety." She picked up a menu even though she clearly didn't need to. "But hey, at least they're interested instead of hostile. That's a good sign."
Donna came back with our drinks and took our orders (I went with the fried chicken because I simply had to), and then we were alone again in the buzz of the busy diner.
"Thank you," I said after a moment.
"For what?"
"For today. For helping me get clothes, for bringing me to town, for... not making me feel like a complete idiot."
"You are a complete idiot," she said, but her eyes were smiling. "But you're tryin'. That counts for somethin'."
"High praise from Winnie Jameson."
"Don't let it go to your head."
Our food came—massive portions that made Dallas restaurants look stingy—and as we ate, I watched the town move around us. People coming and going, everyone knowing everyone, waves and hellos and conversations that picked up where they'd left off yesterday or last week.
It was... nice. Different from the anonymous bustle of Dallas, where you could live next to someone for years and never learn their name.
"I think I get it," I said, wiping grease from my fingers.
"Get what?"
"Why you love it here. It's not just the ranch. It's this. The people. The connections. The way everyone knows everyone."
She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. Really seeing me. "Yeah. That's exactly it."
"I've never had that. The connections I have are all... transactional. Business. Social climbing. There's nothing real about it."
"Well," she said, taking a sip of her tea, "you got time to figure out what real looks like. You're stuck here all summer."
"Yeah," I said, and realized I was smiling. "I am."
As we finished lunch and headed back to the truck—with approximately six more people stopping to say hello and introduce themselves—I caught my reflection in a store window. Pearl snap shirt. Wranglers. Boots that were made for walking, not posing. Cowboy hat tipped just right.
I looked like I belonged.
And for the first time in my life, I actually felt like maybe I could.