9. Sadie
SADIE
By the time Beast arrived, the boys had developed three different stories.
None of them matched.
Not even a little.
I stood beside the destroyed fence with my arms crossed.
The boys stood in a row facing me.
Like criminals awaiting sentencing.
Unfortunately, none of them seemed particularly concerned.
The tractor sat twenty feet away.
Halfway inside the fence.
Which was impressive.
In a terrible sort of way.
Beast climbed out of his truck.
Took one look at the scene.
Then looked at me.
Then at the fence.
Then at the boys.
His expression never changed.
That should have scared them.
It didn't.
Because teenagers are fearless.
Or stupid.
Sometimes both.
"What happened?"
Three hands shot up.
Simultaneously.
All talking at once.
"It was his fault."
"No, it wasn't."
"He distracted me."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"You drove the tractor."
"You yelled."
"You looked."
"You should've been watching."
Beast slowly removed his sunglasses.
That finally got their attention.
The oldest one pointed at the tractor.
"He hit the fence."
The accused immediately pointed back.
"He told me I could fit."
"You couldn't fit."
"You said I could."
"I was joking."
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"
I bit the inside of my cheek.
Hard.
Trying not to laugh.
Beast wasn't even trying.
He looked exhausted already.
And he'd only been there thirty seconds.
The youngest ranch hand finally spoke.
"I told them it was a bad idea."
The other two turned.
"Nobody asked you."
The kid shrugged.
"I was right."
Unfortunately.
He was.
The silence stretched.
Then Beast looked at the fence.
"What were you trying to do?"
The boys exchanged glances.
Nobody answered.
That was suspicious.
Very suspicious.
Beast noticed too.
His eyes narrowed.
"What were you trying to do?"
The oldest finally sighed.
"We were racing."
I closed my eyes.
Of course they were.
Of course.
Why had I expected anything else?
Beast stared at them.
The boys stared back.
Waiting.
The giant former Army Ranger folded his arms.
The movement alone made them nervous.
Good.
It was about time.
"You raced a tractor."
The boys remained silent.
"You raced a tractor through a gate."
Still silent.
"Into a fence."
The youngest pointed helpfully.
"Technically through the fence."
I lost the battle.
A laugh escaped.
The boys immediately pointed at me.
"See?"
"She thinks it's funny."
"Exactly."
"It wasn't that bad."
I laughed harder.
Beast turned slowly.
Very slowly.
Toward me.
His expression suggested I wasn't helping.
I wasn't.
At all.
"Sadie."
"I'm trying," she says, laughing.
"No, you're not."
The boys nodded.
"She's definitely not."
Traitors.
All of them.
Beast rubbed a hand across his face.
The universal sign of a man questioning every life decision he'd ever made.
Then he pointed toward the fence.
"Fix it."
The boys groaned.
"Today."
More groaning.
"Before dinner."
One actually looked offended.
"I had plans."
Beast raised an eyebrow.
The kid immediately reconsidered his entire position.
Smart.
Very smart.
Within minutes all three boys were gathering tools and supplies.
Complaining the entire time.
As teenagers do.
The youngest stopped beside me.
"I still think I should get credit."
"For what?"
"I didn't hit the fence."
Then he walked away.
Leaving me laughing all over again.
The ranch finally settled.
For a little while.
The boys worked.
The cattle grazed.
The sun shined.
And Beast stood beside me watching the repairs.
Neither of us spoke.
Comfortable silence.
The kind that shouldn't have felt so nice.
But did.
Unfortunately.
Then Beast broke it.
"You text me a lot."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You text me."
I frowned.
"That's your takeaway from today?"
"Just noticing."
I stared at him.
The giant grump looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"I text everybody."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
I pointed at him.
"You are incredibly annoying."
His mouth twitched.
Victory.
Again.
Then his expression softened.
Just a little.
"You okay?"
The question caught me off guard.
Because this time he wasn't talking about the fence.
Or the boys.
Or the ranch.
He meant Gerald.
The smile slipped.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
Beast saw it.
Of course he did.
The man missed nothing.
"I'm fine."
The answer came too quickly.
We both knew it.
His jaw tightened.
Mine did too.
Neither of us pushed.
Not yet.
Then a truck appeared at the end of the ranch road.
Dust rising behind it.
My stomach dropped.
Instantly.
Every ounce of humor vanished.
Beast saw the change immediately.
The fear.
The tension.
The reaction.
His entire body shifted.
One step.
Just one.
Closer to me.
Protective.
Automatic.
The truck rolled nearer.
Near enough to identify.
Near enough to recognize.
Then the driver leaned out the window.
The youngest ranch hand's mother.
Holding a pie.
I exhaled.
Hard.
Beside me, Beast did the same.
For one brief second, our eyes met.
And suddenly we both realized the same thing.
I had been terrified.
And he'd been ready.
Not because it was his job.
Not because of some promise.
Not because Hank asked.
Because the thought of something happening to me genuinely scared him.
The realization seemed to hit him as hard as it hit me.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us looked away.
Then from the fence came a loud crash.
WHAM!
We both turned.
One of the boys had somehow knocked over an entire section of newly repaired fence.
The silence lasted exactly two seconds.
Then Beast sighed.
Long.
Painfully.
The sound of a man surrendering to fate.
And I laughed so hard I nearly fell over.