Chapter 5 Coco
COCO
The long, winding road to Beau’s property is where GPS signals come to die. Pine trees crowd the gravel drive, their snow-dusted branches bowing low as if whispering a warning to turn back while I can.
Too late for that.
I park near the split-rail fence and step out, boots sinking into the fresh powder that accumulated overnight.
My breath puffs into the cold air as I take in the wide stretch of land—rolling hills in the distance and a barn big enough for half the mountain.
It’s breathtaking, rustic perfection—exactly what the town council’s looking for.
“Morning, darlin’.”
I spin, heart leaping into my throat. Beau rides up on his horse, quiet as a ninja, the snow muffling the beast’s steps. He tips his hat like he’s in a Western movie.
“Morning,” I manage, instinctively taking a step back. Duke snorts, and my stomach clenches.
Beau swings down from the saddle, landing beside me. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and entirely too attractive the way he fills out those jeans. He pats Duke’s neck, then turns to me, eyes bright with—I dare say—mischief.
“Barn’s a good place to start,” he says, nodding toward the structure. “You can take a look around while I get Duke settled.” His mouth twitches with the faintest hint of a smirk. “Unless you wanna give me a hand.”
My laugh comes too sharp. “Yeah, no. I don’t do horses.”
“Don’t do horses?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Nope. Not since one tried to kill me.”
His smile fades. “Bad accident?”
“Bad enough,” I wave a hand, forcing a shrug. “Long time ago. Not looking to relive it.”
He studies me a second longer, then nods. “Fair enough.”
He leads Duke toward the barn. I hang back, keeping my distance and enjoy the scenery—code for admiring Beau’s backside. The man fills out a pair of jeans like it’s a public service.
When he glances over his shoulder and catches me looking, I nearly choke on my own spit. I should’ve learned my lesson the other night. The man hears everything. Probably sees everything, too.
“You comin’?” Amusement laces his words.
“I’m… observing, taking in the great outdoors.” I lift my head high and straighten my spine.
“Uh-huh.” His grin widens as he and Duke disappear inside the barn.
I step inside the shadowy building. The air smells faintly of cedar, leather, and toasted grain—warm and earthy like sunshine’s baked into the walls. Light filters through the wood planks, striping the hay-scattered floor in gold.
Beau stands at the stall door, stroking Duke’s neck while brushing his hind quarters. The sight does strange things to my chest. The easy tenderness. The quiet strength. The way Duke leans into Beau like their partners instead of man and beast.
“I could get used to this view,” I murmur under my breath before realizing I said it aloud.
Beau turns, one brow cocked. “Think the council will agree?” He grins, and I’m certain he knows I wasn’t talking about the barn.
“More than happy.” I glance at the high rafters, perfect for stringing lights and mistletoe. “It’s perfect… the barn,” I clarify. “But it needs some elbow grease.”
“Perfect comes at a price. That was the deal.” Beau tilts his head, eyes gleaming, enjoying this way too much.
I remember all too well. The teasing way he used my words against me has been replaying in my brain for days. That and his hand over mine, making my heart jolt to a thunderous beat. It rattled me so much I botched two drink orders I could easily make blindfolded.
When I agreed to get him on board for the Holiday Hoedown, I wasn’t signing up to be a cowgirl.
Perhaps I romanticized things a bit, thinking our deal would include planning layouts, stringing lights, and tinseling trees.
Not this. I love my boots, but they’re for dancing, not for slinging hay and shoveling shit.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” I blow out a breath.
I’ve never shied away from hard work, but damn it, rubbing shoulders with a cowboy—with Beau—wasn’t on my holiday bingo card.
His grin deepens. “You trust me, don’t you?”
I arch a brow. wondering if I should be leerier of Beau than of his horse. Because one of them could break my heart, and it sure as hell isn’t the four-legged one.
“Not even a little.”
“Good,” he says, his chuckle a deep rumble. “Makes it more fun that way.”