But she might be onto something.
BEAU
Waiting like a Dawg
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
18:45
"Well, I don't mean to be rude / But this cowboy's in the mood / Come on, baby, let's ride"
- Big & Rich
***
I’d been sitting on the porch for the better part of an hour, pretending I wasn't waiting for Winnie to return from her ride with Cassie. It was a losing battle, and Pops knew it.
He’d caught me checking the horizon for the third time and just shaken his head, a knowing smirk playing on his lips that made me want to launch into a defensive monologue. But what was I supposed to say?"No, I'm not waiting for her like a lost puppy, I just find this particular patch of empty pasture fascinating"? That would’ve been worse. So much worse.
So I’d committed to the bit. Grabbed a beer, pulled up one of the rickety porch chairs that threatened to collapse under anything heavier than a stern look, and settled in like I had all the time in the world. Technically, I did. We’d finished afternoon chores early, and Pops had shooed me away when I’d tried to find more work to do, claiming my nervous energy was exhausting him.
"Go relax, son. You earned it. 'Sides, you're makin' me tired just watchin' you pace. You’re gonna wear a groove in the wood."
So here I was. Relaxing. Definitely not obsessively checking my phone for the time or mentally calculating how long a "long ride" should reasonably take or wondering if something had gone wrong—a snake, a storm, a sudden decision to move to Canada—and if I should...
Hoofbeats.
The sound cut through the evening quiet, rhythmic and steady. I sat up straighter before I could stop myself, squinting toward the trail that led from the back pastures. Two horses emerged from the tree line, silhouetted against the setting sun like something out of a Western movie poster, if Westerns featured women laughing so hard they nearly fell out of their saddles. Winnie on Bandit, Cassie on Thunder.
The golden hour light caught Winnie’s face, illuminating her profile, and my chest did this stupid thing where it felt too tight and too full all at once. Her hair had come loose from its braid, dark curls wild around her shoulders, catching the light. She looked... free. Happy. The kind of unburdened happy that came from hours in the saddle with a best friend, no responsibilities weighing her down, no ranch worries creasing her forehead.
Beautiful. Absolutely, devastatingly beautiful.
Fuck.
Three weeks of manual labor and personal growth hadn't done shit for my ability to think straight when she looked like that.Seeing her now—sun-kissed, windblown, completely in her element—was doing things to me that sitting on a porch in full view of Pops was absolutely not the time or place for.
" “Well, well,” Cassie called when they got close, grin turning wicked. “Told you he’d be waiting. Like a loyal hound.”
“I’m not waiting.” The lie came automatic. “I’m sitting. Enjoying the evening air.”
“Uh-huh.” Cassie dismounted, patting Thunder’s neck. “You been there long, puppy?”
And you know what? Fuck it.
I’d spent three weeks being the humble ranch hand, the reformed city boy trying so hard to prove himself. But Dallas Beau didn’t take shit from anyone.
I stood, leaning against the railing with the kind of easy confidence I hadn’t let myself use since I got here. “Long enough to enjoythe view. Though I gotta say, Cassie—that trail ride glow suits you. Almost makes you look approachable.”
Her eyebrows shot up. Winnie’s head snapped toward me.
“Did you just—” Cassie laughed, delighted. “Oh shit. There he is. I was wondering when Dallas Playboy was gonna surface.”
“He’s been here the whole time. Just on his best behavior.” I shifted my attention to Winnie, letting my gaze drag over her deliberately—flushed cheeks, loose hair, tank top clinging to her curves. “But some things are worth breaking good behavior for.”
Winnie’s face turned red. “Are you—what—”
“Flirting with you?” I pushed off the railing, boots hitting the steps. “Yeah. Been holding that back for three weeks. It’s been killing me.”
