Also, slightly terrified. Because if she was anything like Winnie, I was in for another round of proving myself to a Jameson woman who could probably destroy me with a single look.
But that was a problem for future Beau.
Present Beau had survived another day of ranch work, learned there was an entire family member he didn't know about, and become Pops' partner in old-man-stubbornness.
Not bad for a Tuesday.
WINNIE
Horny Winnie
Pawhuska, Oklahoma - 10:00 AM
"I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child / One restless summer we found love growing wild"
- Deana Carter
***
Elise coming back was supposed to be the distraction I needed.
Because Beau Sterling was becoming a problem. He was growing on me like a rash—irritating, persistent, impossible not to scratch. I’d spent three weeks waiting for him to crack, to whine, to call for rescue. Instead, he was… adapting. Yesterday I caught him and Pops conspiring in the barn, laughing over some inside joke, and it hit me square in the chest.
It was endearing. It was domestic.
It made me want to scream. Or jump him.
I needed this ride. Needed to be on a horse, miles from Beau’s blue eyes and stupidly well-fitting jeans, breathing air that didn’t smell like his expensive cedar soap.
The barn door groaned open and Cassie stumbled in, looking like she’d fought a tornado and lost.
“Don’t look at me,” she groaned, shielding her eyes. “I’m hungover, hormonal, and I currently hate all men. Especially ones named Travis.”
“Travis from the feed lot?”
“Travis from hell.” She caught the saddle pad I tossed—barely—letting it smack her chest. “Ugh. Even my reflexes are tired. Please tell me we’re riding fast so I can outrun my life choices.”
“We’re riding fast.”
“Good. Because if I think for one more second about why I let a man with a barbed wire bicep tattoo talk me into tequila shots on a Tuesday, I’m walking into the creek and staying there.”
We saddled up in the easy rhythm of two people who’d been doing this since diapers. Bandit danced in the cross-ties, keyed up and ready. Thunder stood patient, mostly because Cassie usually had peppermints.
“Let’s go,” I said, swinging up. “Before I ask follow-ups about Travis.”
“No follow-ups. The answer is: I was horny, he was there, and my standards drop after midnight.”
We headed out at a brisk walk, barn fading behind us as the pasture opened up. The Oklahoma sky was huge and blue, the kind that made you feel small in the best way. We pushed into a trot, the jolt of it rattling my teeth and clearing my head.
“So,” Cassie shouted over the hoofbeats. “Speaking of horny and bad decisions—how’s the Prince of Dallas?”
I nearly choked. “I hate you.”
“Not an answer. I’ve seen you watching him. You look like a coyote eyeing a particularly juicy rabbit.”
“I do not!”
“Bitch, please. Yesterday by the trough? I thought you were gonna lick the sweat off his neck. It was pornographic.”
