Beau loved taking you out—not just because it was a rare chance to unwind from the chaos of the job, but because he got to show you off. Not in some shallow, possessive way. No, he just couldn’t help it. You were his sweetheart, his darlin’. His pretty little baby. He’d use those words with that soft Texas twang, just to see you smile. Every time you slid into the passenger seat beside him, all done up and glowing just from being with him, his heart would beat a little faster. You were his. Everyone knew it. And he wore that truth like a badge more sacred than the one on his chest.

That night, the bar was humming with easy music and chatter, the air heavy with warm lights and laughter. You had on that dress he loved—flowy, soft, the one that made you look like springtime incarnate. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. And you, sitting at the high-top table, looking like everything he’d ever wanted in one person—God, he felt lucky.

He leaned down before stepping away to grab your drinks, brushing his lips against your cheek. “I’ll be right back, baby,” he murmured. “Don’t go stealin’ hearts while I’m gone.”

He wasn’t the jealous type. He trusted you. Always had. But he didn’t trust the men in that bar—not when you looked like that, all sweet and glowing like you belonged on a damn magazine cover. And sure enough, it happened the moment he turned his back.

From across the room, he caught sight of a man—late thirties, maybe early forties—sidling up to you. Beau recognized him vaguely, some contractor who’d worked a job on the edge of town. The man leaned in, way too close, grinning like he thought he had a chance. Beau’s jaw set. It wasn’t the talking. It was the way he was talking to you, all bold and slick, like he was testing something.

Everyone knew you were the sheriff’s girl. His girl.

Beau walked back with a steady stride, not hurried, not loud. He set the drinks down on the table, his eyes on the man, not you. Calm as ever, but there was something unmistakable in his voice—something cool and clear like steel.

“Hey, bud. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He rested his hand gently on your lower back, anchoring you with his touch, his eyes never leaving the man.

“I was just gone for a second, and I come back to see someone else sittin’ a little too close to my girl. Now, I know you know who she is. Everybody in here does. And I’m guessin’ you knew I’d be right back.”

The man tried to speak, but Beau raised his hand slightly, polite but firm.

“No need to explain. I get it. She’s beautiful—hard not to look at her, hard not to try. But see, that’s the part where you should’ve stopped yourself. Because what you’re doin’ now? That’s not flirtin’. That’s disrespect.”

He kept his voice low, just between the three of you. Calm. Measured. But sharp as glass under bare feet.

“Now, I’m not the kind of man who starts things over nothin’. I don’t need to throw punches or raise my voice to make myself clear. But I do need you to walk away. Right now. Because you see her?”—he glanced at you with a soft smile—“she’s mine. Has been for a long time. And I take real good care of what’s mine.”

The man blinked, cleared his throat, mumbled something, and moved off like he’d suddenly remembered somewhere else he needed to be. Beau turned to you then, his hand still resting protectively at your back, his eyes soft again.

“You okay, baby?” he asked gently. “Sorry ‘bout that. Wasn’t gonna cause a scene, just wanted to set a line down clear.”

He leaned in, brushed your hair from your face.

“Let’s just enjoy the night, yeah? Don’t wanna waste another minute not lookin’ at you.”