Page 6 of Untaming the Cowboy
“Sure did.” Beau’s gaze went to Lucas, then back to her. “Gonna talk to him for a sec, then I’ll get you squared away.”
He and Lucas huddled near the Silverado’s tailgate, low words passing between them. Beau bobbed his head, clapped Lucas on the shoulder, and returned with a half-smile that took the edge off her nerves.
“Okay, Miss Dahlia, our mechanic’s closed till Monday,” he said, glancing at the car before meeting her eyes again. “You mind if I go on and hook her up for tow? I’ll take her to mybuddy’s lot and make sure she’s safe for the weekend. We’ll leave the key in the drop box.”
Dahlia gave a small nod, resigned. “Go ahead.”
Beau tipped his hat and moved to the front of the car. Chains rattled, a hook caught, and her rental lifted onto the wheel mount.
Dahlia sighed through her nose. “Well, this is just perfect. Catching an Uber was not on the itinerary. There goes my plan for sightseeing.”
Beau chuckled, not unkind. “Calling for a car service out here on a weekend? Next to nil. We’re too far from the city for that kinda luck. But if you need to get around, I can take you myself. Just say when.”
A sliver of caution flickered. She was miles from anywhere familiar, but Teylor and her family had her location pinned. If anything went sideways, somebody would come swinging. Her frustration softened into something closer to gratitude.
“You sure?”
“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” he said, with a genuine smile. “I’ll give you my number when we get to the shop. After that, I can drop you at your hotel or wherever you’re stayin’.”
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it. “And he’s paying for this. Every bit,” she added for the night air, not entirely sure whether she wanted him to hear.
Beau fastened the last chain with a solid tug. “He will.”
Lucas stood a few yards away, arms folded, brim low. The neon light spilled across him, catching the edge of his hat and tracing pink and blue over the black of his shirt, turning his irises pale again for a fleeting second.
After Beau opened the door, he helped Dahlia climb into the passenger side of the tow truck. She kept the window cracked, one last look at the man who had knocked an entire evening off the rails with one careless reverse.
“Good night, Lucas Stanley,” she said, dryly.
“Night,” he answered, the single syllable delivered without so much as a glance in her direction.
The music from inside The Hen House faded to a dull bass throb as Beau eased them out of the lot. Dahlia watched Lucas Stanley shrink in the side mirror until he disappeared, then shifted her gaze to Beau.
“So. That man, Lucas Stanley—you called him Luc. Who is he to you?”
“My best friend,” Beau said, keeping his eyes on the road. “We met here about five years back. I didn’t have family. He became it.”
She nodded slowly, attention drifting to the dark strip of highway stretching ahead. “So he called you, ‘cause I’m Black.”
Beau chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest. “No ma’am. Luc just don’t do confrontation. He’d rather call me than turn a small mess into a bigger one.”
“Don’t do confrontation?” She said half amused, half annoyed. “Nah, he called his big Black friend, probably his only Black friend in this white ass town, so he didn’t have to deal with the angry Black woman. Coward.”
“Not at all,” Beau laughed softly, shaking his head. “Luc just ain’t good with this kind of stuff.”
Dahlia stared out the window at the passing neighborhood and huffed, “Yeah, it’s ‘cause I’m Black.”
Beau didn’t respond, just let her comment hang before steering the conversation toward the town, pointing out landmarks and sharing bits of Ironhaven’s small-town lore. Dahlia listened, side-eyeing most of it but curious all the same, already deciding the first spot she’d hit was the diner he claimed made the best smothered pork chops in the Dakotas—though she’d bet her Granny’s still had every plate beat.
A few minutes later, Beau swung into a small auto yard, dropped the rental behind a locked gate, and slipped the keys into a metal drop box.
“All right,” he said, climbing back into the cab. “Hotel’s about ten minutes out.”
It wasn’t quite ten minutes before they pulled into a driveway beneath the covered entrance of a hotel with white brick and tall arched windows. Dahlia hadn’t expected to find four-star accommodations, with that kind of luxury and comfort, sitting pretty in the middle of South Dakota’s backroads.
Beau rounded the front of the truck and helped her down. “Welcome to Ironhaven, Miss. Dahlia.” He tipped his hat with a big, friendly smile. “See you later.”
She stepped aside, returning his with a wider one. “Just Dahlia or DeeDee is fine, Beau. And I’ll be sure to give you a call when I’m ready to get out and see what Ironhaven’s all about.”
