Page 58 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I took another bite, savoring it this time. The warmth spread through me, and I let out a small sigh of contentment before I could stop myself.

“Fine,” I admitted, setting my spoon down. “It’s good. Really good.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up in a way that made me feel a little too warm for comfort. “Told you,” he said, bumping his shoulder lightly against mine. “Southern comfort food never misses.”

I laughed softly as I picked up my spoon again. It felt strangely easy, sitting here with him, sharing a meal like we’d done this a hundred times before.

It wasn’t just the food—though, admittedly, it was delicious—it was the company. Sitting across from someone like this, in easy silence, made me dare to feel like I could be lovable.

Harleigh was my best friend, sure, but she filled every quiet moment with chatter. Beau was different. He didn’t crowd the space. He just was—calm, steady, like the silence didn’t scare him. It made me wonder what it might be like for someone to truly share my space.

But he didn’t know my secrets. He didn’t know the pieces of me I kept hidden under lock and key. When he did—and eventually, he would—he’d never look at me the same way again.

I caught him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye when I stifled a groan of satisfaction, wiping the last bit of sauce off my bowl.

“Good?” he asked, with a smug grin.

I nodded, taking the last sip of my beer. “Who knew the dirty bull rider could be domesticated?”

He threw back his head with a laugh. “I don’t do it for everyone. Coffee and lunch? Phew. Might as well get a key.”

“Ew,” I shot back, wrinkling my nose for effect. “I would never live here.”

Liar.

Admitting that to myself was bad enough—I’d never let him see it.

“You were in a relationship until recently?” he casually asked, changing the subject.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the empty bowl in front of me.

I didn’t need to tell him the whole story. He didn’t need to know about the engagement, the accident, or the way it unraveled everything I thought my life would be. It wasn’t something I could explain—not yet.

“We dated for a long time. It started back in college when my parents passed away. But . . . yeah, it didn’t work out.”

That was all I could give him. There was too much left to untangle, too much I hadn’t even figured out for myself.

“What about you?” I deflected.

I slid off the stool and carried my dish to the sink, turning on the water like it was the most natural thing in the world to be cleaning up in his kitchen. Somehow, it didn’t feel strange—just . . . easy.

“Nah. I don’t date.”

I narrowed my eyes at him over my shoulder. A booming laugh filled the room as he got off the chair too and came to stand next to me.

He looked down at me, his brown eyes darkening. “We already established we’re just friends and what we did before was fucking, Cowgirl. If you need help figuring out what fuck⁠—”

I elbowed him in the side. “Shut up. I know what we did. I was there.”

“Yeah you were.” He kept hold of his bowl, looking away from me. “Screaming my name⁠—”

“Beaudreau.” I chastised him, my tone sharp enough to make him pause.

But the grin he fought to hide said he was far from sorry.

He shrugged, his features fading into something softer as he rinsed his bowl. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just my lifestyle doesn’t exactly let me date. I’m gone Thursday through Sunday every single week, traveling for events. There’s not a lot of time to make anything work.”

I glanced at him, catching the flicker of honesty in his expression.