Page 53 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

The moment passed agonizingly awkwardly as I patted her like she was a baby I was trying to burp, and then she shook.

Her laughter erupted first as a small giggle, then turned into full-on wheezing.

“The fuck are you doing?” she managed between gasps for air, doubling over with laughter.

“I, uh, I’m consoling you, dammit,” I said, pulling back like I’d just been burned.

She was gone, clutching her stomach and dropping to the cold ground as her laughter echoed around us.

“That was painfully awkward to experience,” she gasped, kicking her feet in the air as if to emphasize just how ridiculous I’d looked. “I’m going to pee myself from laughing so hard.”

“God dammit,” I grumbled, straightening and brushing myself off. “Get up, Cowgirl. I’m done with this.”

She was still laughing, her shoulders shaking as I reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Now I’m freezing.”

“That’s what you get,” I muttered, but her laughter still echoed, the sound trailing behind us as I pointed toward where we’d rounded the fence and my house came into view.

“Come on,” I said, nodding in that direction. “I’ll let you warm up—and maybe even give you a beer.”

“After that bizarre little show you just put on, I think I deserve something stronger.” She teased me, a grin still tugging at her lips.

“Good. Because I think I need it too.”

17

Fable

It was strange how two people who’d been through something so uniquely devastating, like losing a parent, could somehow meet and then continue to connect. It felt like the universe was trying to collide us together in a way that didn’t make sense. We were two souls, both battered and bruised in our own traumatic way, and the world continued to show us. Beau understood something Mike could never, something Harleigh could never. Unless you experienced that same life-changing pain, you would never.

Mike had never lost anyone. Besides the fact that he lacked all empathy for anything remotely human, he didn’t understand what it felt like to carry that kind of pain. Not on the deep, soul-crushing level of losing a parent. With Beau, it was different. There was an unspoken understanding there, even when he didn’t say much.

Aside from the most awkward hug I’d ever received—which I appreciated tremendously for the sheer effort behind it—it was painfully hilarious to watch Beau trying to keep his boundary. That awkward bend at the waist, his hands stiffly placed as neutrally as possible, was enough to make me laugh until I cried.

We walked toward his house in silence, the crunch of grass under our shoes filling the air. My jeans were freezing, clinging to my skin, and my hands were filthy, but I wasn’t worried or stressed about it.

“Sorry for making that weird earlier,” I finally said, breaking the quiet. “I didn’t mean to laugh, but it was just . . .”

“Awkward.” He finished for me.

I nodded, smiling back. “Yeah, but I appreciated what you were trying to do. Consoling me, I mean. I, uh, I don’t usually share that stuff about my parents.” I tucked my hands into my pockets. “Actually, I don’t share much personal stuff with anyone, if I’m honest. I hate sympathy or whatever.”

“I wasn’t being sympathetic,” he said, his deep amber eyes locking onto mine. “I genuinely understand.”

The sincerity in his voice and the way he looked at me made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready for.

“I know,” I said softly, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Here we are,” he said, stopping in front of his house and gesturing toward it.

Beau’s house sat atop a small hill, its bright red paint vibrant against the backdrop of endless green pastures. The wraparound porch was wide and inviting, lined with sturdy wooden posts and a few rocking chairs. From up here, the view stretched out for miles, offering a sweeping glimpse of Lindley’s rolling fields and scattered trees.

Behind the house stood a massive barn, its matching red paint weathered just enough to give it character. The whole property felt like it had been plucked straight out of a postcard—a perfect snapshot of small-town ranch life.

“Wow,” I muttered, walking up the steps and dropping into one of the wooden rocking chairs. It creaked slightly as I leaned back, the rhythmic sway calming. “This is exactly how I imagined Lindley when Harleigh convinced me that moving out here was a good idea.”

Beau leaned against one of the porch posts, arms crossed, his grin slow and easy. “Told you, Cowgirl. Not so bad, huh?”

I laughed, pushing my toe against the porch, rocking slightly in the chair. “Not that bad at all.”