WINNIE
Morning wake up call
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
"The cracks always start small, quiet—barely noticeable until they're not." – Unknown
***
I woke up to a heavy, dead weight across my stomach and a face buried in the crook of my neck.
For a split second, the morning haze held me captive—disoriented by the heat, the unfamiliar scent of musk and spice, and the solid wall of muscle pressed against my back. Then, reality crashed in. Oh.
Oh, hell yes.
A slow, wicked smile stretched across my face, even as my body protested with a delicious, heavy ache in places I hadn’t used in years. My inner thighs felt tender, my lips were swollen, and there was a soreness between my legs that was a glowing badge of honor.
I shifted slightly, and the arm around my waist tightened, pulling me back against a chest that rumbled with a deep, steady snore. Beau. In my bed. Taking up eighty percent of the mattress. His leg was thrown over mine, effectively pinning me down, claiming territory even in his sleep.
I turned carefully in his grip to face him. He looked younger like this—hair a chaotic disaster of blond curls, dark stubble dusting his jaw, mouth slightly open. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating the scratch marks on his shoulder.
Oops. I smirked. Sorry, not sorry.
Cassie was right. I hated admitting it, but she was right. I had been starving. I’d been walking around like a dehydrated cactus, and Beau Sterling was the thunderstorm I didn't know I needed. And now? Now that I knew what he could do with that mouth and those hands? There was no going back.
As if sensing my stare, his eyelids fluttered. Blue eyes, hazy with sleep, cracked open. They focused on me, and a lazy, arrogant grin spread across his face.
"Morning, trouble," he rasped. His voice was deeper than the Mariana Trench, vibrating straight through my chest.
"Morning, city boy." I reached up, tracing the line of his jaw. "You snore."
"Lies. Slander." He shifted, his hips rolling forward, and my breath hitched. He was hard. Rock hard. The ridge of his morning wood pressed insistently against my hip through the thin sheet, a heavy promise. "I don't snore. I purr aggressively."
I laughed, the sound bubbling up from my chest. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Come here." He grabbed my waist, hauling me flush against him. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell like me."
"And you smell like sex and trouble." I leaned back to look at him, but he chased my lips, capturing them in a slow, languid kiss that tasted of toothpaste and last night’s decisions. It wasn’t urgent like yesterday; it was possessive. It was a seal.
"Round two?" he murmured against my mouth, his hand sliding down my spine to cup my ass, squeezing the flesh. "I’m feeling... inspired."
"Beau, no." I pulled back, breathless, though my body was already betraying me, arching into his touch. "We have to get up. It’s a ranch. People work here."
"I'll fire them. All of them." He nipped at my chin. "I'm the son of a CEO. I can do that."
"You absolutely cannot—"
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Heavy boots on the stairs. Unmistakable.
I froze. Beau froze. We stared at each other with wide, panicked eyes like two teenagers caught in the backseat of a Chevy.
"Pops," I whispered, horror dawning. I glanced at the clock. "omg it’s five in the fucking morning!"
"Farmers," Beau hissed, scrambling upright. The sheet fell away, revealing his magnificent, naked glory, and for a second, my brain short-circuited. Focus, Winnie. Do not stare at the dick.
"Winnie? You up, kiddo?" Pops’ voice boomed from the hallway, getting closer.
"Move!" I shoved Beau’s shoulder. He nearly fell off the bed, tripping over his own discarded sweatpants.
"I’m a grown man," he whispered furiously, hopping on one foot as he tried to yank his pants up. "Why am I hiding?"
"Because he has a shotgun and he knows how to use it! Go!" I pointed to the connecting door to his room.
"Winnie?" Pops knocked. The handle started to turn.
"I'm up!" I yelled, my voice cracking an octave too high. "Just... uh... finding a bra!"
I threw a pillow at Beau, hitting him square in the back of the head as he scrambled through the connecting door. He shot me a glare, winked, and clicked the door shut just as Pops opened mine.
"Morning, sunshine," Pops said, leaning against the doorframe, a mug of coffee in hand. He looked entirely too awake. "Breakfast in ten. Elise is leaving at noon."
"Right. Yes. Breakfast." I stood by the bed, trying to look casual while shielding the tangle of sheets that definitely smelled like cologne and latex. "I'll be right down."
Pops’ eyes scanned the room. They lingered on the second pillow, which still bore the imprint of a head, then flicked to the closed connecting door. A slow, knowing smirk curled under his mustache.
"Alright. And tell the 'City Boy' that the walls in this old house are thin. And he snores."
My face went nuclear.
Pops chuckled, turning to leave. "Ten minutes. Don't be late."
As soon as he was gone, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. "I am going to die. I am literally going to die of embarrassment."
The connecting door cracked open. Beau peeked out, hair wild, shirt inside out. "Did he say the walls are thin?"
"Yes." I groaned.
"So he heard..."
"Everything."
Beau paused, considering. Then he grinned—a shark-like, satisfied thing. "Good. Let him know I’m taking care of you."
"Get out!" I threw the other pillow at him.
Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection. My hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, but there was no hiding the glow on my skin. Or the mark on my neck.
I leaned in closer. A bruise. A dark, violet, undeniable love bite right on the sensitive cord of my neck.
"That possessive asshole," I whispered, touching it gingerly. A thrill shivered down my spine. I should cover it with makeup. I should wear a scarf.
I didn't. I left it right there.
I walked into the kitchen to the smell of frying bacon and strong coffee. The morning sun was streaming in, making dust motes dance in the air. Elise was already at the table, scrolling on her phone, looking chic and city-ready in her blazer. Pops was at the stove, flipping pancakes.
Beau was sitting at the table, looking entirely too innocent. He caught my eye as I walked in, his gaze dropping instantly to my neck. His eyes darkened, a flash of pure heat, before he winked.
"Morning," I mumbled, sliding into the chair next to him.
"Morning," Elise said, not looking up. Then she paused. She looked up. She looked at me, then at Beau, then at the mark on my neck. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Well. Someone slept well."
"Like a baby," Beau said cheerfully, stealing a piece of bacon off my plate before I could even sit fully.
I kicked him under the table. Hard. He didn't even flinch.
"So," Pops said, bringing a platter of pancakes to the table. He sat down, eyeing us both. "Elise is off to Denver. Some merger thing."
"Client emergency," Elise sighed, putting her phone down. She looked at me, her expression softening. "I hate to leave early, Win. But duty calls. I wanted to see you ride today."
"It's okay," I said, reaching for the syrup. "Bandit and I are just doing drill work. Boring stuff."
"I'm helping," Beau announced.
Pops snorted into his coffee. "Helping? Or staring?"
"Both," Beau said shamelessly. His hand found my knee under the table, his thumb rubbing firm circles into my jeans. "I'm multi-talented."
"Yeah, I heard," Pops muttered.
I choked on my orange juice. Beau patted my back, his grin wide and wicked.
I looked around the table—at Pops teasing us, Elise smiling with that knowing glint in her eye, and Beau, whose hand was anchoring me to the earth. A few weeks ago, I was stubborn as hell, convinced I could keep this strictly professional. 'He's a client,' I’d told myself. 'He's temporary.'
God, I was an idiot.
"You good, Win?" Elise asked, watching me.
"Yeah," I breathed, feeling the warmth of Beau’s body next to mine. "I'm really good."
We walked Elise to her rental car an hour later. The sun was fully up now, baking the dew off the grass. It was going to be a scorcher.
"Take care of the place," Elise told Pops, hugging him tight. Then she turned to me. "And you." She pulled me into a hug, whispering in my ear. "He looks at you like you hung the moon, Winnie. Don't overthink it. Just ride the wave."
"I will," I promised.
She pulled back, looking at Beau. "And you. If you break her heart, I know people. Scary people. Lawyers."
"Understood," Beau said solemnly, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side. "She's safe with me."
We watched her car kick up dust as she drove down the long driveway, disappearing over the hill. The silence settled back over the ranch, but it wasn't lonely.
"Well," Pops said, slapping his knees. "I got fence to fix on the south pasture. Beau, you coming? Or you too tired from all that... snoring?"
"I'm coming," Beau laughed. He turned to me, kissing my forehead fast and hard. "I'll find you in the arena later. Wear those tight breeches."
"Get to work, city boy," I teased, shoving him gently.
I watched them walk off toward the truck, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years. I turned on my heel, ready to head to the barn, mentally going over Bandit's training schedule. Just a normal, perfect day.
But then I heard it.
The crunch of gravel.
I frowned, turning back toward the main road. Elise had just left; she couldn't be back already.
A car crested the hill. But it wasn't Elise’s white rental.
It was a black sedan. Sleek, polished, with windows tinted so dark they looked like oil slicks. It looked alien against the rustic backdrop of the ranch—too clean, too expensive, too menacing. It moved slowly, prowling down the driveway like a shark in shallow water.
The smile slid off my face.
My stomach twisted, a sudden, cold knot of dread replacing the morning’s warmth. We didn't get cars like that out here. Not unless it was bad news.
I took a step off the porch, shielding my eyes against the sun, watching the car roll to a stop just a few yards away. The engine cut, but the doors didn't open immediately.
Who the hell were these people?