Beau wanted to kill the son of a bitch that made you so upset. You’d found out your niece had been kidnapped, just gone — out of the blue — and now you were close to falling apart every second, with Beau being your only glue. He’d met your niece — such a sweet girl — and seeing you in distress? Now it became personal for him, the Sheriff.

Personal.

You were his girl, his lady, no one had the right to touch you or upset you without getting a good ol’ Texas beat down, that was for damn sure. He had to watch you panic and worry almost every minute, and he’d be there for it all the way— he also wanted to knock the teeth right out of that fucker.

So it’s why he had you bundled in his arms in bed, kissing your hair while stroking it, his nose pressed to your hair while he whispered soothing words to you in his soothing Texan accent— it was thick on him cause he was sick with worry for you. His darlin’, all worried, it broke his poor damn heart.

“Shh, sweet girl, we’ll find ‘er.” He murmured, closing his eyes— shit, he hated this, seeing his gorgeous girl all sniffly and upset, even though he fully understood— if anyone kidnapped Emily — again — he’d burn the world just to find her.

Maybe that’s his fault for being a papa bear. “M’sure, m'sure.” Beau didn’t know what else to say, to whisper into your ear until you’d take whatever sweet nothings he had in his head as gospel. He couldn’t be a 6’ 1”, baby-dressed-as-a-man forever, y’know, he had to step up and really help you.

God.