Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

C harlotte looked at the duo of dogs lying on the couch together. "Where did he go, huh?" She grinned at them and leaned over the couch to give Pepper a rub. The black lab immediately rolled onto his back while Ruby looked at her like she was still deciding if she wanted to be touched.

"You know you do," Charlotte said to the dog. "You always act so aloof, but I know you love me." She moved her hand over to Ruby, whose eyes lazily closed in bliss she tried not to show. Charlotte giggled at her. "See? You love it."

She needed the dogs to calm her before this date. Beau had said he'd leave the cabin so he could come pick her up "cowboy-gentleman proper," and she'd simply sent him a thumbs-up emoji and told herself she'd worry about her twisted emotions later.

Well, later had arrived, and she still didn't quite know why Beau made her blood vibrate in her veins. Or why Charlotte worried that this date could either make them or break them. "Please don't let it break us," she said. Because if it did, she still had to live with this man. Live with him and work with him.

A knock sounded on the door, and Charlotte spun toward it. She couldn't remember the last time a man had come to the door to pick her up. She hadn't lived alone in so long, and it took her a few extra seconds to give her legs the command to go answer the door.

She yanked it open too hard, and it almost crashed into the wall behind it. Charlotte managed to stop it before her hand got smashed, and she looked straight at the epitome of cowboy perfection standing in front of her.

Almost.

A grin pulled across her face, and she said, "You have a little bit of mud on your face."

He immediately reached up to wipe it away, but it clung to his cheekbone and had dried in his beard. Charlotte found him adorable and handsome all in the same package, and she took a step closer. "Let me."

The moment sobered between them as she reached toward his left cheek with her right hand and gently brushed at the dried mud until it was gone. His hand settled on her waist, and Charlotte switched her gaze from his beard, which had a little bit of sexy gray growing in it, to meet his eyes.

"Charlotte," he whispered.

"You can't kiss me before the first date."

"No?"

"I'm feeling a little faint," she said, though she wasn't.

The flirtiness on his face vanished, but Charlotte giggled. "I'm kidding, Beau, but…." She stepped back, because her heart had started to pound like a big bass drum in a marching band. "I haven't kissed a man in a long, long time. I'm just a?—"

"Nervous," he supplied for her.

"Yeah." She swallowed. "A little nervous, and I'd like to go out first." She leaned back into him and hugged him, thrilled when his arms came around her too. He sure knew how to hold a woman, and Charlotte wondered if maybe they should just cancel the drive to town and the loaded baked potato and spend the night dancing in each other's arms.

When she wasn't looking at him, it seemed easier to talk to him. "It just—sort of feels like we're doing things out of order, you know?"

"I've done things in all the right order," he murmured. "It's never worked out all that well for me, so I'm not too worried about the order of things."

"Well, I am."

"Okay, little bird," he whispered, his mouth right against her ear. The cascading way his breath slinked over her shoulder made her shiver. "So date first. Talking, and eating, and driving." He lilted to the right, almost dancing with her.

"Yeah." She swayed with him, glad she'd said something.

"It is a long drive to town," he said. "And I've been playing with the donkeys in the mud, and I'm starving."

"Can't have that," she said as she stepped out of his embrace. She laced her fingers through his and added, "You haven't introduced me to any donkeys. Where are those? Who takes care of them?"

"They're mine." He led her to the edge of the steps, and then turned back. "The door."

She hurried to close it, and then she joined him again. "You own donkeys?"

"Three of ‘em," he said. "They're minis, and I got them from another cowboy. Gideon Walker? He loves ‘em, but he can only have so many." He chuckled as he led her to the truck. "His wife won't let him have anymore, in fact."

Charlotte laughed too, and she got in the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. When Beau joined her, she said, "Felicity used to tell Mason that he couldn't buy another knife, so I get it."

"Mason's always loved his knives," Beau said with a smile.

"They don't take as much room as miniature donkeys," Charlotte said. "You never said where they are."

"There wasn't room in our stables or pastures. I've got them over at Courage Reins, in a nice little paddock with lots of their favorite grass."

"And some mud."

"They get a little sloppy when they're drinking is all."

"I want to meet them. I can't believe you've been holding out on me with mini donkeys."

"They're special to me," he said. "Not everyone gets to meet them." He turned onto the highway, and the ride turned smoother.

Charlotte giggled. "Really? You hold back your mini donkeys? Don't show them to your girlfriends until—when? The fourth date? Fifth?" She laughed again, and she couldn't remember laughing as much as she had before she came to live with Beau. To strike out on her own. That thought made her sober slightly, and she ducked her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.

She'd straightened it and clipped it back on the sides, but plenty still streamed over her shoulders.

"You don't reveal everything even on the first date," Beau said. "Surely you still have something we can talk about."

Charlotte looked out her window, the evening clouds in the sky as bright as they'd been during the day. Summer nights seemed to stretch on forever, and the sun wouldn't set for hours still. "I guess," she said.

"Go on then," he said.

"I know you've seen them."

Beau looked over to her, pure interest in his eyes. "Seen what?"

"My mismatched socks," she said. "You're just too polite to say anything about them."

He drove the truck for a few moments, and then he chuckled and said, "I've seen ‘em."

"Yeah, you have."

He squeezed her hand and asked, "Why don't you match them up?"

"Why do something so futile?" she asked. "That's what I say. One of them always gets lost, and I just figured, I'd buy a whole bunch of the same kind. Same size. Same brand. All of that. And then, it wouldn't matter if one was white with purple stripes and one was black with orange. They fit the same, and no one sees ‘em in my boots anyway."

"Oh, so I'm getting the foot-peep show at home, is that it?" He laughed, and Charlotte enjoyed the vibe in the truck. She enjoyed being with him, and she'd had no idea she could feel so comfortable with someone like him.

She'd honestly thought she'd never get married at all.

"Beau?" she asked.

"Mm?" He glanced over to her as he continued to drive.

"I—" She wanted to ask him about his dating experience, and perhaps a little about why he was almost forty—Mason's age—and had never been married. He seemed hard-working and responsible, though she had heard him laughing and chatting with his video game friends.

He laughed easily, and everyone seemed to love him—Charlotte included.

"I haven't dated anyone in a few years," she said. She rolled her head, stretching her neck, and sighed. "Fine, a few is an under-exaggeration. I haven't had a serious relationship with a man, ever, and I haven't dated anyone in oh, eight years."

He nodded, suddenly serious too. "I feel that."

"Oh, come on. What I just said can't be true for you."

"I mean, maybe not." He smiled over to her as the first houses in town came into view. "I dated a lot in my twenties and early thirties. A lot, a lot." He shifted in his seat and pulled his hand away from hers. She wasn't sure what that meant, and his nervousness bled into her.

"I wasn't serious about anything but having a good time. As I got older, I realized I wasn't sure how to really date seriously, so I made a lot of mistakes."

She'd suspected he'd had a lot more experience than her, and that only made the thought of kissing him even more terrifying. More exciting. And exponentially more horrifying for her if she turned out to be terrible at kissing cowboys.

"I got better at it," he said quietly. "But since then, I've never found anyone I can see myself spending the rest of my life with."

"I see."

"I haven't been out with anyone for about three years now. Maybe four."

Relief she hadn't known she needed slipped through her. "So maybe I'm not out of my league," she said.

"Of course you're not," he said. "I'm only older than you, not better."

"Yeah, well, with Mason, being older means being better."

"Yeah, well," he drawled, mimicking her. "I'm not Mason." Their eyes met, and everything in the world turned into a sizzling, foaming chemistry experiment. He had to feel that too, and by the darkening edge in his eyes, he did. Oh, he did.

"All right, then," she said. "I'm ready for this baked potato." That lightened the mood, and Beau smiled. Charlotte did too, and since Felicity liked cooking, she hadn't eaten out much. And because she was new in town, there were a great many restaurants for Charlotte to sample.

Beau chuckled and pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Charlotte wasn't sure what they had to talk about, but she'd never struggled to be with Beau, so she put it from her mind. He got out to come around and open her door, and in the moment his door closed, the sweetest feeling of peace flowed through her.

"This is okay," she whispered to herself. Beau rounded the front of the truck, his head down, his cowboy hat hiding most of his face. Her heartbeat clanged through her chest at the mere thought of kissing that cowboy.

Just as quickly as the nerves came, God quieted them. It's okay , she thought, wondering if the thoughts were hers or not. I am with you .

Charlotte had often felt that Jesus walked with her, and tears filled her eyes at the reminder that while she did scary things—like dating Beau Peterson—she didn't have to be alone. That she wasn't alone.

He opened her door, and Charlotte swiped at her face quickly, just to make sure no tears had escaped. "Ready for your loaded baked potato, little bird?"

She took a quick breath and said, "So ready."

"I had no idea it would take that long to eat at a steakhouse," Charlotte said as Beau made the turn from the smooth highway and onto the well-groomed dirt road that belonged to Three Rivers Ranch. "Will you still get up and do your morning live-stream?"

"I never miss the live-stream," he said. "Unless I'm so sick, I literally can't get out of bed." He squeezed her hand. "It's fine, Charlotte. I knew we'd be out for a while."

"Plus the drive," she said, still worried. "It's dark already, Beau."

"Charlotte," he said. "It's fine. I was thinking we might even go for a walk once we get back to the cabin. The moon's real bright tonight."

She looked over to him. She felt like she'd sat on fire ants, and everything itched. She needed to get out of this truck right now, and she figured he was only driving about thirty miles an hour. She could jump and roll at that speed, couldn't she?

"You better talk to me," he said in that powerful voice he had when working with cattle, horses, and men.

"I'm okay." She looked away and folded her arms. "I'm just worried that it's so late."

He made the wide, arcing turn and the ranch came into view. The two homesteads, the big Courage Reins building, with Bowman's Breeds on her left-hand side.

"The energy with you changed," he said. "What is it?"

She knew exactly what it was, and she'd be stunned if he didn't too. So she didn't say anything.

"It's your heart, isn't it?" he asked, and he had that teasing quality in his voice. "It's growing and giving room to fall in love with me, isn't it?" He chuckled and added, "Don't admit it, okay? Just let it happen, sweetheart."

Charlotte looked over to him, wondering how he could joke about this.

"Or maybe you're just real nervous about kissin' me," he said. "So I'll just say right now—I'm not going to kiss you tonight."

Ice filled her chest, and she struggled to breathe against it. "You're not?"

"No, ma'am," he said. "So stop worrying, and let's go back to having a good time."

So easy for him to say. He went down past the barns and stables and around the administration building to their private parking against the back of the cabin. She didn't wait for him to come open her door for her, and instead, she met him at the corner of the truck and let him take her hand in his.

"I love the moon," he said, looking up into the sky at the gentle giant of an orb. "She's almost full tonight, but I think she's got a sliver left to go." Beau looked at her, and Charlotte stopped admiring the yellow glow of the moon to meet his eyes.

He didn't hesitate, and he didn't say anything. He simply lifted his hand and slid it along her jaw, then around to the back of her neck. He leaned down and touched his mouth to hers in a sweet kiss.

Beau stayed there for only a moment, barely long enough for the burn to start tingling in her lips. Then he pulled away, whispered, "Sorry I lied," and kissed her like he meant it.