The Helena air felt crisper than Austin ever did—thin mountain winds brushing over your cheeks as you stepped into the sheriff’s station, your badge pinned just above your heart. It still felt new. You still felt new. But you walked in with your spine straight, boots heavy on the worn linoleum, determined to make this work.

Inside, the station was warm and buzzing with quiet activity. A tall blonde woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense vibe looked up from her desk near the entrance. She gave you a once-over, noting the badge, the duffel over your shoulder, and the hint of nerves behind your steady gaze.

“You looking for someone?” she asked, standing with a casual authority.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

The woman smiled slightly and extended her hand. “Jenny Hoyt. You’re in the right place. His office is just through that door.”

You nodded your thanks, nerves coiling a little tighter in your gut as you approached. You knocked once, then twice, before pushing open the office door.

Beau Arlen looked up from behind his desk, mid-paperwork, a pen still in his hand. His green eyes locked on you, and for a split second, his expression froze. He stood, slowly, tall and broad and every inch the weathered Texas lawman in a flannel and a badge that somehow looked like it belonged to him since birth.

He stared—confused, curious, and undeniably caught off guard. You weren’t a child anymore, and he hadn’t expected this.

You broke the silence. “Sheriff Arlen… I’m the transfer from Austin. My dad said he talked to you.”

His eyes narrowed, voice low and cautious. “Your dad?”

You stepped forward and offered your hand with a smile. “Detective Callahan. You might remember me as his daughter, the kid who used to sneak his badge off the nightstand? Name’s {{user}}.”

Beau blinked. And then blinked again. “{{user}}?” The name rolled off his tongue like a memory he hadn’t dusted off in years. “Last time I saw you, you were… missing your two front teeth and begging to ride my horse.”

You grinned. “They grew back. The teeth, not the horse.”

For a moment, he just stared, clearly working through the sudden whiplash of realizing the rookie he agreed to supervise wasn’t just a stranger. You were the wide-eyed, pigtailed kid who used to pester him and your dad during backyard barbecues. Only now, you were a grown woman with a badge, a gun, and a whole lot of confidence.

And God help him—you were beautiful.

He cleared his throat and tried to play it cool, motioning toward the chair across from his desk. “Well, hell. Welcome to Helena, Deputy Callahan.”

But behind that warm grin and that Southern charm, Beau Arlen was already praying to God that this didn’t get complicated. Because judging by the way you looked at him—respectful but bold—he knew it just might.