Page 75 of Cowboy Heat

I don’t open my eyes just yet but shake my head no. “June and I were dared once to come out here, but we chickened out and lied and said her mama caught us and grounded us. A few years later, and the excitement of visiting graves lost its allure for me. Haven’t thought about this place since.”

That excitement disappeared after I saw my parents lowered into the ground one damp July day, but there’s no need to tell him that detail. I open my eyes when I feel him step next to me.

Give me a sunbeam and a good-looking man any day of the week.

“I’ve only ever visited one cemetery before. Oddly enough, it was for Ryan’s funeral in Alabama.”

Well, that cools my new warmth some. I side-eye him. He’s looking off in front of us. For all of my questions about Guidry and Robin’s Tree, I realize I sure don’t know too much about Beau. “Were you really close with him?” He must mean something to Ryan, considering Mr. King left him part of the ranch. But that doesn’t mean Beau thought of him with the same level of fondness.

He nods. There’s some slowness to it. There’s even more slowness to what he says next, like he’s piecing together a story he’s not sure he wants to tell.

I flex my toes inside my shoes to distract my mouth from blurting something out to ruin the moment. If Beau wants to tell me something personal, I’m sure not about to blow that by babbling.

Or, you know, by hauling off and kissing him without warning.

Or giving him an explanation after.

My cheeks heat a little at that as he starts.

“Yes, and, well, no.” He readjusts how he’s standing. I think giving grace to his right leg, but he doesn’t wince or seem in pain. Just moving to move. “When I was twelve, something…happened when I was at a home,” he continues. “Something that changed everything for me. My foster family at the time, a young couple who were having problems of their own, didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle me, I guess. What I was going through. They tried. It just wasn’t working out.”

The urge to grab his hand is so forceful that I grab my own, holding both hands down in front of me like I’m about to start singing with the choir in church.

Beau keeps on, not seeming to notice. “They would’ve disrupted me right then and there, but because of what had happened, that would’ve created some bad optics. So the DHR worker set me up in an emergency respite care to give them a break—to see if they changed their minds about sending me off. That’s when I met Ryan.

“Before he moved here, when he retired from the fostering game, he lived in this one-story, most box-looking house I’ve ever seen. Like an actual box.” He holds his hands out to illustrate a square with his fingers. He laughs. “I think that’s the first thing I said to him, to be honest. ‘Why is your house a big square?’ I don’t know why it was that important for me to know, but hey, I was twelve.”

His laugh fades. I see the corner of his lips fall back to a neutral state.

“I was only with Ryan for a week, which I know isn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, but…it was a really good week. He wasn’t open to fostering at the time, not full-on, so after I left, I didn’t see him for years. The last time I saw him, he showed up right after I aged out of care and took me to Ruby Tuesday. He bought my meal, and he said he was proud of me and to keep in touch.” Beau pauses again. Not long. “I always meant to, but, well, I think part of me just wanted to put as much distance from my childhood as I could and no matter how much I appreciated what he’d done, he was still a part of that for me.”

He lets out a sigh, and I know not even a sunbeam can help whatever he’s feeling right now.

“I think that regret is one reason why I hightailed it here after his funeral when we learned we’d inherited Blue Lolita. I avoided Ryan while he was living, but I’m sure not about to make the same mistake and ignore what he left behind for me, you know?”

Holding my own hand does jack diddle squat.

I intertwine my fingers around his and squeeze. “I don’t think wanting to have space to become your own person is ever a bad thing,” I say. “And it sounds to me like Ryan would’ve understood that too.”

Beau’s hand stiffens inside mine.

He doesn’t angle his body toward me, but he does turn his head so he’s looking down into me.

That’s what it feels like.

He’s lookingintome.

I’m warm and see blue waters and feel the anchor of his hand in mine.

It’s different from what I’ve felt before. By myself or with someone else.

Though, when’s the last time I stood between two graves and had my thoughts swim near the feeling of content?

I’m there, stunned.

I might be standing in Robin’s Tree, but my heart seems to be trying to float away with Beau Montgomery.

“Where would you go to become your own person?” he asks.