Page 159 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I frowned. “What do you have there?”

“Go check it out,” came Beau’s deep drawl.

I turned, and there he was.

His favorite pearl snap shirt stretched across his broad chest, tucked into a pair of worn jeans that fit him perfectly. His black cowboy hat sat low on his head, casting a shadow over his sharp jaw, and at his waist, the biggest gold belt buckle I’d ever seen.

I raised a brow. “Why are you so dressed up?”

“Let me help you.” He chuckled. “Hey, sweet girl.”

I watched as she leaned into him, his voice soft, coaxing, like he was introducing me to an old friend.

“This is Wrigley.”

I blinked, then laughed, shaking my head. “Like the arena in Chicago where I used to live?”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “She’s a little old, but the best lady you could ever ask for. Super gentle.”

“Why is she here?”

“She’s yours.”

My heart stopped. “Mine?”

His grin widened, his hands still stroking down Wrigley’s strong neck. “Yours.”

I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth as I stared at him. My knees nearly buckled from the sheer shock of it.

“You . . . you got me a horse?”

“Cowgirl, you live on a ranch now. Figured it was about time you had one of your own.” Beau smirked. “Let me help you get closer.”

My protector.

As I healed, he had promised to give me a safe space, to stand beside me, to protect me, but not in the way Mike ever had. Not with force, not with control, but with love. With patience. With the kind of devotion that made me want to be a better version of myself—not for him, but for me.

I nodded, swallowing hard, letting him guide my hand as he had the first time I met Ginger. His strong hand covered mine, his chest pressing into my back as he led me closer, letting my fingers brush over Wrigley’s soft fur.

The moment I made contact, she nuzzled her nose into me, and I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it.

“Good girl,” I murmured, stroking her gently.

Beau leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Hey, that’s my line.”

I snorted. “Perv.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, but his hand stayed firm, guiding me toward the little box hanging from the rope around Wrigley’s neck.

“What is this?” I asked, picking it up carefully.

His hands covered mine, gently freeing the box from the rope.

He pulled away.

I looked over my shoulder but turned fully as he cracked the box open and dropped to one knee.

A beautiful ring sat nestled inside, glinting under the barn lights, and Beau’s eyes locked onto mine with that same intensity and certainty he always carried when it came to me.