Page 62 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

20

Fable

“You know they say that men with lifted trucks are overcompensating for something else . . .” I teased as Beau held my hand, hoisting me up into the massive truck before walking around to the driver’s side.

The thing was obnoxious—nothing like the modest one he’d driven in Chicago. This one was lifted, with wheels practically the size of my entire body.

Beau smirked, climbing in beside me. “Baby, you already know the size,” he drawled. “Why pretend like you don’t know I don’t need to overcompensate for anything?”

I froze mid-buckle, my face heating. “Beau.”

He just laughed, his grin wide and shameless as he started the engine, the rumble of the truck barely louder than my huff of exasperation.

“You know,” I said as I finished buckling my seat belt, shooting him a look, “I feel like half my time around you is spent chastising you and saying your name.”

Beau chuckled, gripping the wheel as he pulled us down the gravel road. “What can I say? I like the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth.”

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to argue with him any further because it only made it worse, but a small smile tugged at my lips.

“It looks like a storm’s rolling in,” he said, nodding toward the horizon just as a soft rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

I leaned closer to the window, lowering it, and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of rain. It always makes me feel like I’m in one of those romantic comedies—you know, the moment where the two people meet, and time seems to stand still for a second?”

I slid my body over slightly, curling up so I could better take in the rain. The cool air rushed in, bringing that earthy smell with it.

“Yeah?” Beau said softly.

“Mmhmm,” I murmured, glancing over my shoulder at him. “You ever feel like that? That type of love?”

For a second, he didn’t respond, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The truck hummed along, the rhythm of the tires on the gravel and the distant thunder filling the silence.

“You’re the one bringing up romantic comedies, Cowgirl. What’s next, you gonna ask me to run through the rain and kiss you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off, glancing at me with a raised brow. “What about you? You ever had that kind of love? The time-stopping, can’t-think-straight kind? With your ex?”

“Oh no. Definitely not.” I huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely not.” I shook my head. “I was with him for a while. Everything got . . . comfortable. Too comfortable. Sometimes, I didn’t want comfort. Comfort had gotten me into a dark place, and I needed to crawl out of it.”

He stayed quiet for a moment before his voice cut through the low hum of the engine. “How’s it going?”

“What?” I turned slightly, angling my body toward him.

“The crawling.” He clarified, his eyes locked on the road as he turned into a gravel driveway, the truck bouncing slightly over the uneven terrain.

“I’m still on my hands and knees, but I’m making my way out of the hole.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he brought the truck to a stop and put it in park. He turned to look at me, his golden-brown eyes locking with mine. “I like you on your hands and knees, baby.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open, hopping down onto the gravel below.

“No sass back?”

I turned just enough to toss my hair over my shoulder, giving him the briefest glance. “Not going to bother giving you the satisfaction.”

His laugh followed me as I walked toward the house, but I didn’t turn around. The grin tugging at my lips? That stayed hidden.

The house was older, modest in size, with weathered cream siding and deep green shutters. A wraparound porch held a few rocking chairs and a swing in the corner. Behind it, a massive red barn stood tall, far larger than the house.

“That’s where Roger used to keep his bulls.” He pointed to the barn out back.