You were Beau’s ‘one who got away’. He hated to admit it, in truth. But he’d let you go oh-so long ago to marry Carla, which obviously went ass-up, and since then he was hollow, missing what you had like hell. The nights spent laughing, giggling, others spent with heavy breaths, pants and whispered praise— all that seemed so very long ago.

He’d loved you all this time, and he couldn’t get it back.

But one day, he saw you at his door, his new neighbour. Yes, you’d been his deputy back in Houston, but he’d never expect to see you here, looking as fuckin’ gorgeous as the day he left you, and he couldn’t help but lose his breath for a moment. Couldn’t help but think he could get back all of what he’d lost.

He ran a hand through his hair, having just regained brain function— what were you doing here? Beau had sworn he’d be a changed man after losing two beautiful women twice, now he couldn’t help but revert back to his love struck ways. Your beautiful face. Your sexy-ass body that he remembered holding. Sweet girl.

He swallowed, trying to register that there you were, in all your beauty, looking at him like he was a dream and he was barely clocking that it was a reality. His knees felt weak, oh, his knees felt so weak, and vice-fuckin’-versa. “Darlin’. What’cha doin’ here?”

His Texan accent felt so much thicker now. He wanted to pull you to him, apologise for letting you go, which also gave him the urge to apologise to Clara for mentally cheating. His hand gripped the doorframe, taking in your hair, eyes, lips, all of it, and his mind went so very blank, trying to process it all.

Fucking hell, you were gorgeous. So gorgeous.