Page 86 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

“She’s got a clean bill of health from the vet and has no ticks or the sort.”

Beau moved beside Ginger, running his hand along her nose.

I exhaled, taking one more step until I was right beside them. Close enough to feel the warmth of Ginger’s body, close enough to smell the scent of fresh hay in her mane.

Close enough to feel Beau’s eyes on me, patient, waiting.

“You’re doing good, Cowgirl,” he murmured.

It wasn’t about Ginger being dirty, but I appreciated what he was doing, the way he was easing me into it, making sure I didn’t have to do it alone.

“I’ve got you, baby. Want help?”

I nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat.

Beau moved behind me, his body a solid wall of warmth at my back. Just like in the bar bathroom, he didn’t push, didn’t rush me—just laced his fingers with mine.

His hands guided mine forward, our fingers intertwined as we reached out together, brushing against Ginger’s soft muzzle.

“That’s it.” He hummed. “Nice and slow.”

I exhaled shakily, moving my hand over her nose. The bristles of her coat felt warm beneath my fingers. She neighed softly and pressed her nose into me.

A surprised giggle bubbled out of me.

“She likes me,” I whispered, almost in disbelief. “You want to be my friend, don’t you, Ginger?”

“We all do,” Beau mused.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, catching the way the corner of his lip curled into the softest smile.

“We’re lucky to be your . . . friend,” he added, and there was something in the way he said it that made my stomach flip.

I turned back to Ginger, running my palm down her nose, feeling more at ease than I had in days.

“Good girl,” Beau murmured.

I wasn’t sure if he was talking to the horse.

Or to me.

28

Beau

Knowing what Fable fought in her own head every day made her that much more beautiful. Watching her fight through her fears and pet Ginger was the strongest thing I’d ever seen. There was such strength in the quiet moments of life.

“Uh, can we head inside?”

I nodded, turning to get Ginger set up in her stall, but before I could take a step, Fable’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, stopping me in place.

“Beau?”

God, I loved the way she said my name. If her voice was ever on a menu, I’d order it every damn day.

“Yeah, Cowgirl?”

“Thank you,” she whispered.