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kairawrites · 6 months ago

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love & basketball.

��masterlist🌺

pairing: aurélien tchouaméni x reader

summary: It's 95 degrees in LA, but your boyfriend's never really needed a reason to take his shirt off.

You stood at the three-point line, body still heavy with sleep. The warmth of the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the court.

After the day at the beach with friends, everyone dispersed for showers before settling into their rooms to relax, nap, or watch movies.

The sight of you in your bikini drove Aurélien crazy all morning. He’d found every excuse to touch you—rubbing sunscreen into your skin, his hands lingering a little too long on your waist, your shoulders.

By the time you all finally made it back to the rental, he was at his limit. The moment your feet touched the surface of the top floor, he'd lifted you off the ground, carrying you straight to the bed.

Now, you wore his shirt, the one he’d abandoned on the floor just a few hours prior, tugging it off in a frenzy as his hands and mouth had been more preoccupied with untying your bikini.

The shirt hung loosely on you, the fabric brushing against your thighs as Aurélien approached, a basketball in hand. You’d woken to find him already up, the sun lower in the sky, casting a golden hue across the court. The remnants of the day lingered on your skin—the warmth of the sun, the salt of the ocean, and the feel of his touch still fresh in your memory.

Aurélien had been on the court, the one piece of the property that finalized his decision. He'd used it nearly every day during your two week stay.

"Alright, let’s see what you’ve got," he teased, his hands pressing the basketball into your arms.

You groaned softly, still not fully awake. "I’m not sure I’ve got anything right now," you muttered, shifting the ball between your hands. "How are you not tired?"

He chuckled, stepping closer until his chest was flush against your back. His hands slid over your arms, guiding them into position. "This your way of saying I wore you out---"

Aurélien's laughter rang free, echoing across the yard as you threw a playful jab back to his ribs. It was a sound that brought a smile to your lips.

"I think it was the sun that did that," you giggle, relaxing against him as he pressed a kiss against your neck.

"...yeah, okay..." His voice comes out muffled against your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist. Giving you a gentle squeeze, he leaves a final kiss against your skin.

"Okay, what's this grand advice I'm supposed to be getting?" You sigh, still trying to figure out how you've ended up here.

You had no intention of playing basketball when you'd gone searching for your boyfriend. Yet somehow, here you are.

"First, you need to relax," he said, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Don’t think too much about it—just feel it."

You couldn’t help but smile at his serious tone, feeling the heat of his body behind you. "Feel it, huh?" you teased lightly pressing your body back into his. The moment you did, you capitalized on the opportunity, your hips grinding back.

Aurélien's breath hitched, his fingers pressing into the dips of your hips.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" He murmured, voice a mixture of amusement and surprise.

"I'm a hands on learner," you giggled, the teasing of your boyfriend has always proved to be your favorite task.

"Don't start something you can't finish," Aurélien grinned, his hands moving to adjust your stance, gently nudging your feet into the correct position. "First, your feet—shoulder-width apart. Good. Now bend your knees a little. It’s all about balance." His hands lingered on your waist, guiding your hips into alignment with the basket.

You followed his instructions, but your mind was more on the way his fingers traced small circles on your hips than on the basketball in your hands. "Like this?" you asked, trying to focus.

"Perfect," he whispered, his voice dropping a notch as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. The only problem with teasing your boyfriend, he's just as good. The soft kiss he leaves against your skin temporarily pulls your eyes from the hoop. You catch sight of his playful brown eyes before he's nodding forward. "Now, keep your eyes on the hoop. Imagine the ball going in. It’s all about the follow-through."

He brought his hands up to your arms again, guiding your elbows into the right angle, his chest pressing against your back, offering steady support. "When you release, let your wrist snap forward, like this." His hand covered yours, demonstrating the motion.

You nodded, trying to concentrate, but the closeness of his body and the warmth of his breath on your skin made it nearly impossible. You took a deep breath, finally locking your gaze on the hoop.

“Go ahead,” he urged, his voice soft and encouraging. “Just let it fly.”

You exhaled slowly, then pushed off your back foot, releasing the ball in a smooth arc. It bounced off the rim, missing the shot. You groaned in frustration, your shoulders slumping.

Aurélien chuckled, jogging after the ball. "Not bad for a first try. Just a little more follow-through, and you’ll have it."

He stopped alongside you, eyes briefly meeting yours before smiling.

Aurélien dribbled the ball a few times, the rhythmic sound echoing through the quiet court. His movements were fluid, each bounce perfectly controlled, his focus sharp. With a quick, confident glance at the hoop, he planted his feet.

With an easy flick of his wrist, he sent the ball arcing through the air. The shot seemed effortless, almost casual, but there was an unmistakable precision in the way he released it. The ball soared, spinning in a perfect backspin, before dropping cleanly through the net with a satisfying *swish*.

Aurélien landed lightly on his feet, a small, self-assured smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He turned to look at you, the pride in his eyes evident.

You rolled your eyes, a smile breaking through despite your attempt to feign annoyance. "Show-off," you teased, though you couldn’t help but be impressed by how effortless he made it look.

Aurélien retrieved the ball with the same easy grace, dribbling it back toward you. "I couldn't resist," he replied, his tone light and teasing, but there was a glint in his eyes that showed he was enjoying every moment of impressing you.

"Always showing out for a pretty girl?" you asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk.

He stopped just in front of you, holding the ball casually at his side. "Only for you." The way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. "Well, I’m not that easy to impress, you know," you teased, though your smile gave away the truth.

Aurélien leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Guess I'll just have to keep trying then," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, before stepping back.

His eyes passed over the shirt you wore.

It was one of his favorites, but not because of its design or any sentimental attachment to where he bought it. It was simple—black with faded lettering and a worn texture from too many washes. The Kobe Bryant photo emblazoned across the front was cracked, showing signs of its age. On him, it fit snugly across his chest and shoulders, a staple of his casual wardrobe, something he threw on without much thought. But on you, it was different.

The shirt had become his favorite for one reason alone: the way it looked on you.

He loved how the sleeves slipped past your elbows, the neckline dipping just enough to tease a glimpse of your collarbone. It hung loose, brushing your thighs, leaving just enough to the imagination. The first time he saw you wearing it, fresh out of the shower, he’d almost forgotten what he was doing. You weren’t trying to impress him—just looking for something comfortable—but seeing you in his clothes had done something to him.

Then there were the lazy mornings after long nights, when you’d pad barefoot around the kitchen in nothing but that shirt, making coffee while he watched, pretending to care about the cup in his hand when really all his focus was on you. Or the times you’d steal it after a day at the beach, the sun warming your skin as the fabric stuck to your damp body. Every time, it was a reminder that something of his had become yours, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was as if it had been made for moments like this, when it was just the two of you, laughing, playing, and challenging each other.

“So that’s where my shirt went.” His voice was light, but there was a hint of playful accusation in it.

You glanced down at yourself and smiled, tugging at the oversized fabric. “I woke up to find you gone. Figured I’d claim it since you weren’t around to stop me.”

Aurélien took a step closer, his gaze dropping to the shirt that swallowed your frame. “I don’t know… looks better on me, don’t you think?” he teased, reaching out to playfully tug at the hem.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know, looks like it fits me just fine. But if you’re that pressed about getting it back, we could always settle it here.”

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Alright,” he replied, his tone a challenge. “Let’s see who deserves to keep it.”

At first, you thought he was joking. After all, it was just a shirt, right? But then Aurélien’s serious expression told you otherwise. He wasn’t backing down. He wanted to play for it.

"Wait, you’re actually serious?" you asked, raising a brow.

Aurélien crossed his arms, the challenge clear in his posture. "I don’t play around when it comes to my favorite shirt. One-on-one. Winner keeps it."

You blinked, a mix of surprise and excitement bubbling up in you. “What are the rules?"

Aurélien stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with that playful intensity he always had when he was about to make things competitive. He folded his arms across his chest, the smirk on his face widening as he considered how to outline the rules for this little challenge.

“Alright,” he began, taking the ball from you with a smooth flick of his wrist. “We’re keeping it simple. We’ll play Horse—take turns shooting. You miss, you get a letter. First one to spell ‘Horse’ loses.” He paused, letting the words hang for a moment as he casually dribbled the ball, the rhythmic bounce filling the air between you.

“Except,” he continued, stepping closer, “we’ll add a little twist.” His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Every time you get a letter…you lose a piece of clothing.” His grin turned wicked, and his eyes gleamed with anticipation as if daring you to react.

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms in response. “And what about you? You lose clothing, too, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded seriously, though the sparkle in his eyes said he was fully enjoying himself. “I’m nothing if not fair.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as I can be,” he replied with a wink, tapping the ball against your hip. “So, what do you say? Think you can handle it?”

“I’m game. But don’t think I’m letting you win your shirt back that easily.”

Aurélien stepped closer, holding out his hand with his pinky extended, his eyes locked onto yours with a familiar look of seriousness mixed with playfulness. It was your tradition—one that had started almost as a joke but became a ritual whenever something important was on the line.

You smiled softly, already feeling the warmth of the moment as you curled your pinky around his, the soft press of his skin against yours a silent promise.

“No backing out now,” you teased, your voice light but full of trust.

Aurélien’s lips curved into a grin, his eyes softening. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied.

Then, as always, he sealed the pinky promise with a kiss. His lips gently brushed the spot where your fingers linked, lingering just long enough to send a familiar flutter through your chest. It was tender, intimate in a way that went beyond the playful challenge you had set. It was your thing, a small act of affection that held more weight than any words.

He looked back up at you, his smile deepening. “Now it’s official,” he murmured.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling that warmth spread through you. “Now it’s official.”

"First shot," Aurélien grinned, dribbling the ball with confidence just outside the three-point line. "Let's see how long you can keep that shirt on."

With a smooth motion, he released the ball, the arc perfect as it sailed toward the hoop. You could already tell it was going in, and sure enough, it swished cleanly through the net.

He let out a low whistle, clearly satisfied with himself as he jogged to retrieve the ball. Stopping just a few steps from you, he left a playful distance between you, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

Bouncing the ball to you, Aurélien tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Square up, baby girl."

"First shot and you’re already losing," Aurélien teased, bouncing the ball a few times as he stood at the three-point line. "Might as well surrender that shirt now because I’m just getting started."

You rolled your eyes, accepting the ball from him with a smirk. "Don't get ahead of yourself," you muttered, lining up your shot. Taking a deep breath, you focused and released the ball. But it clanged off the rim, missing the hoop entirely.

The sound of your miss was met with a look of pure triumph on Aurélien's face. His grin stretched wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he jogged over to retrieve the ball.

Hands on your hips, you watched him with a knowing look, already bracing yourself for the inevitable teasing. He stopped in front of you, grinning from ear to ear.

"That’s an H," he declared with a triumphant laugh. "You know the rules—I’m gonna need a piece of clothing."

His gaze lingered on the shirt you were wearing, clearly hoping to get it back. But instead of giving in, you bent down, slipping off your sneakers before tugging off your right sock. Holding it up with a smug smile, you raised an eyebrow.

Aurélien’s eyes widened in mock surprise before he let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "A sock? Really? You’re going with that?"

"It counts," you replied with a shrug, still grinning.

He chuckled, eyeing the single sock dangling from your hand. "Alright, alright. I’ll let you get away with it... for now." His playful tone lingered as he dribbled the ball once more. "Next shot?"

Deciding to play it smart, you took a few steps closer to the hoop, lining up your shot from the free throw line instead. With a smooth flick of your wrist, the ball sailed through the air and swished into the net without even touching the rim. You let out a small cheer, throwing your arms up in victory.

Aurélien arched a brow, clearly amused by your choice to move closer, but smiled as he grabbed the ball. "Taking the easy way out, huh?" he teased, walking over to the same spot. "Alright, let’s see if I can match that."

But just as he lined up his shot, you decided to up the ante. With a mischievous grin, you moved closer, playfully pressing up against him with your arms raised in a mock attempt to block him. The suddenness of it threw him off balance, and with you giggling right against him, his concentration wavered. He released the ball, but it wobbled, hit the rim, and bounc3d right out.

You burst into laughter, your hands lightly pressing against his chest. "That’s an H, baby!" you teased, fingers playfully tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Aurélien shook his head, biting back a grin. "I didn’t realize we were getting this kind of competitive," he said, his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You shrugged, flashing him a playful wink. "No excuses, Auré," you replied, still giggling. "Apparently my boyfriend’s good at every sport on the planet. I gotta level the playing field somehow!"

He smiled down at you, shaking his head.

Without hesitation, he tugged his shirt over his head in one smooth, practiced motion, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and arms. The fabric dropped to the ground with a dramatic flourish, as if he were performing for an audience of one—just you.

"Of course, you’d take off the shirt first," you giggled, but your voice faltered as your gaze lingered on him. The way the sun bathed his skin in a golden light, highlighting the sharp contours of his chest and the hard lines of his arms, made it almost impossible to look away. His skin glistened slightly under the warm sun, every flex and movement drawing your attention like a magnet.

You couldn't deny it—Aurélien was a sight to behold. The playful remark you'd been ready to toss at him faded from your lips as you became momentarily lost in the view, appreciating just how every inch of him seemed to come alive under the sun’s caress.

His smile only widened, a knowing smirk creeping across his face as he caught you staring. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that familiar, boyish way that always made your heart skip.

"You gonna be able to stay focused?" he teased. The challenge was clear in his tone, and the way his eyes held yours said he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

Before you could respond, he dribbled the ball to the three-point line, still grinning like he had the game already won. He lined up his shot with smooth, practiced ease, his movements deliberate and confident. The ball sailed through the air, and with a perfect swish, it dropped cleanly through the hoop.

Aurélien turned to you, his grin only growing wider. "I hope you’re ready to keep up," he said, a playful glint still in his eyes.

"You picking threes is totally unfair," you said, hands on your hips as you watched him retrieve the ball.

Aurélien smirked, tossing the ball casually from hand to hand. "It’s not in the rules," he shrugged, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief.

"Add it, then," you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head, grinning wider. "Too late for that. You should’ve thought of it sooner."

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to him. "Think I can change your mind?"

Aurélien’s brow arched with interest, his smirk never faltering. "I think a kiss might be good motivation."

With a giggle, you leaned in and kissed him quickly, just a light brush of your lips against his before pulling back. His grin faltered for a split second, then he pouted, shaking his head. "That doesn’t count."

"Should've specified the type of kiss," you tease.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but your focus returned to the game as you took a deep breath, lined up your shot from the same spot, and let the ball fly. This time, it sailed well over the rim and landed with a dull thud.

You sighed, knowing what was coming next. With a dramatic flair, you bent down, tugging off your second sock and holding it up in mock surrender.

Aurélien watched, clearly amused. "Cute, but I think you’re going to need to step up your game," he teased, still bouncing the ball with ease.

Mentally noting that you now had an H and an O, you decided to go for a layup. Moving closer to the hoop, you prepared to make your shot, but Aurelien positioned himself to guard you just as you had guarded him. He stuck to you like glue, becoming your personal shadow.

As you approached the basket, his hand settled on your hip, his touch warm and distracting. His close presence caused a moment of hesitation, and your shot missed its mark, bouncing off the backboard and rolling away.

You sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, you rolled your eyes. With a small shake of your head, you tugged your shorts down, stepping out of them with as much grace as you could muster.

"Looks like things are getting interesting." He chuckled, jogging to retrieve the ball "You could still back out what is that? An R?."

You watched Aurélien with a smirk as he dribbled, effortlessly moving the ball between his legs and around his back, his grin widening with each trick. "You’re getting too cocky," you teased, shaking your head at his showmanship.

"Too cocky?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in challenge as he spun the ball on his finger. "Or just confident?"

"Let’s see how confident you are when I take the ball," you shot back, stepping closer with a determined glint in your eyes.

As Aurélien continued dribbling, you positioned yourself in front of him, fully intent on making it difficult for him to get past. Your arms stretched out, feet firmly planted, you mirrored his every move with laser focus.

He tried to fake you out with a quick move to the left, but you were right there, blocking his path. He shifted to the right, but you followed him step for step, your defense unwavering.

"You’re really not going to make this easy for me, are you?" he asked, his voice filled with playful frustration, even as his grin grew wider.

"Not a chance," you replied.

You positioned yourself to guard Aurélien, your hand pressing lightly against him as he dribbled. His movements were too easy to match. The realization that he was taking it easy on you made you giggle, but your laughter and smile seemed to fuel his playful energy. With a smirk, Aurélien pulled back, his movements throwing you off balance. Stepping around you, he went in for the layup. The ball rolled around the rim before bouncing to the ground.

Before he could react, you snatched the ball and burst into laughter at the surprised and amused expression on his face.

Aurélien scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Well, I guess I had that coming," he admitted, still chuckling as he straightened up.

"Yeah, you kinda did."

You stopped just in front of him, the ball resting on your hip as you grinned up at Aurélien, his expression a mix of amusement and resignation. He shook his head, hands finding their place on his hips.

Smiling, you let your hand find its way to his skin, your fingers gently tracing the defined lines of his abs. You felt the subtle catch in his breath as your touch lingered lower, his reaction unmistakable. Your eyes locked with his, a playful glint in them as you teased. "Looks like it's your turn to strip. Want me to help decide what goes next?"

Aurélien’s gaze darkened slightly with the challenge, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you want," he chuckled. His hand covered yours, guiding it to the waistband of his shorts. With one last look into your eyes, he pushed them down, the fabric pooling around his ankles.

As he stepped out of them, his smile widened at the clear lingering of your gaze. "Satisfied?" he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, stepping back just a little to take in the sight of him. "For now," you replied, grinning as you tossed the ball to him.

Aurélien’s eyes met yours, and you knew exactly what he was planning before he even took a step. Standing there in nothing but his socks and briefs, he was still determined to put up a fight. You couldn't help but smile as you called out his name, a playful warning in your tone.

He shrugged casually, flashing you that mischievous grin that always made your heart skip. "All’s fair in love and basketball," he said, walking back to the three-point line. Without hesitation, he lined up his shot and let the ball fly.

You turned just in time to watch it sink perfectly through the hoop, barely making a sound. Typical.

When you turned back to him, Aurélien was grinning, and not just any grin—the kind that reached his eyes, pure satisfaction glowing in every line of his face. You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. "You’re way too competitive, you know that?"

His smile softened. "Didn’t you say that’s what you like about me?"

He wasn’t wrong. The same competitive streak that made him relentless on the basketball court or in any game was what transformed him on the pitch. It was something you admired deeply—how your caring, charming, boyish man could shift into a confident, unstoppable force when in the zone. The look in his eyes when he was running high on adrenaline did something to you. It was a look you loved, the fire behind it undeniable.

Aurélien stepped closer, his hands grazing your leg before settling warmly on your hip. "So, what’s it gonna be?" he asked, his voice low, the challenge clear. "Surrender? Or are you gonna shoot the three?"

You pretended to think about it, your eyes narrowing in playful concentration. "I could make it," you teased, grinning.

He chuckled, shaking his head as his hand gave a gentle squeeze on your hip. "I’m not doubting that, but it’s not gonna stop the inevitable."

"The inevitable?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Me winning," he said with a smirk, lifting the hem of your shirt just slightly as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your neck.

Your eyes rolled, but a contented sigh escaped your lips as your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. The heat of his kiss lingered on your skin, and before you knew it, he had lifted you off the ground with ease, his strength evident as you laughed, your legs dangling playfully in the air.

"Aurélien!" you giggled, holding onto him tighter, though you had no intention of letting go.

"Might as well take this inside," he chuckled. "You owe me a shirt."

#aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni imagine #footballer x reader #football imagines

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lightdancingwords · 2 months ago

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Come Find Me - Part Seven

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 5,052

Tags/Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, mentions domestic violence/intimate partner violence, mentions police work, a little bit of angst, communication problems, profanity

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Please see this post regarding future story posts.

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

Chapter Seven: Aftermath

In the weeks that followed, you went through the motions. You got up, went to work, had a quiet lunch with Doris, then went home. After Mark’s death, Beau decided it was safe for you to go back to the rental home. Though honestly, after everything, you knew you wanted to move. The sacred safety of your rental home had been violated. It would never be restored.

Your landlord was thankfully understanding. Even better, they had another property that they were willing to transfer the lease to, and cooperated in arranging the move.

You stayed busy. You finally took the self-defense classes with Jenny. You went to therapy. You did all the official meetings that a victim of a crime was required to do.

Just endless motion. You knew you were feeling the shock, the trauma. There were moments when the feelings came and you thought you’d never be able to stop crying. The memory of the gun, of seeing Mark killed in front of you, it was all so terrible.

What made it worse was that Beau had seemingly distanced himself. He did his job, took the reports, ensured you were safe in your home and then he… just… left. It hurt. Every time he looked at you, it was though you were a stranger.

For whatever reason, you didn’t tell Doris. Or ask her. You kept it to yourself. You didn’t even text him… and Beau never reached out to you.

When the first snow hit, it had been a Saturday. You saw the flurries come down through your kitchen window and found yourself longing for peace and solitude. For the snow to cover you so you could be pure and pristine again. Innocent. Without the taint of abuse. Without the stain of seeing a man killed in front of you.

The memory of that, the flashback, had you dropping dishes in the sink. The sound of the gunshot. The sight of Mark’s head exploding—

You collapsed into yourself and sank to the floor, hands sopping wet. You hated this. You hated the tears that came. You couldn’t decide if you were relieved he was dead or grief-stricken. Or both.

The sobs that caught at your throat were the worse. You’d struggle to breathe and remember the feel of his hand at your throat. God. The bruises were healing, but the memories were forever.

Your new therapist was absolutely understanding. They heard you out, provided a huge box of tissue, and never judged you for your conflicting emotions.

The only advice they could give you was the most profound: “You have to understand, Y/N, it’s not my place nor anyone’s place to tell you what you’re feeling is right or wrong. They’re your feelings. You have to be absolutely free to feel them all. It’s going to take time for you to decide what you feel about it all. And whatever you feel is yours and yours alone.”

While that helped with the mess with Mark, you still didn’t know what to do about Beau. His sudden withdrawal hurt. You missed the way he called you “darlin’”. You missed his accent. You missed his scent. You missed him.

As you sat there on your kitchen floor, the tears finally stopping, it occurred to you that instead of just waiting for Beau to come to you… maybe you should go to him. Because by God, you were never going to know unless you did something.

You stood up, dusted off your behind, and decided to do something for once in your life. You grabbed your car keys and headed out to Beau’s trailer.

Just as you arrived to the trailer, Beau came out, puzzled. “Y/N?”

That he didn’t use the endearment hurt. “I want to know why,” you said, closing the driver’s door as you got out of your car.

His head pulled back, confused. His breath wafted in the air. “Why what?”

“Why have you been avoiding me? Ever since Mark… you haven’t looked at me. You haven’t talked to me. My God, Beau, you… you’re like a stranger now.”

“I haven’t—”

“Bullshit,” you snapped heatedly, storming up to him. “It’s been weeks, Beau, and you keep acting like I’m some stranger!”

Beau’s jaw clenched and let out a huff of air through his nose. “I thought… to give you some space.”

“A few days makes sense, but weeks?! I felt like a goddamned pariah, Beau!” You hated how your voice cracked, but the pain was too obvious now. He still couldn’t look at you….

“Well, hell, I just—” He cut himself off, raking his fingers through his hair. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“What?” You breathed the one worded question with absolute disbelief.

“I killed a man, Y/N.” The flurries dusted his hair, like diamonds on a beach. “I don’t regret it one bit, not since it meant I saved you. But you saw it… and that changes people.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Did… did you think I wouldn’t be able to look at you after that?”

He nodded, swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Oh my God, Beau…” You felt tears well up in your eyes, emotions thickening your voice. “You’re the one I’d always want to see. W-when I look at you, I don’t see Mark. I see you.”

”Darlin’—”

“Say that again.” Your heart soared at hearing that endearment. It meant everything to you to hear it just now and you so desperately wanted him to say it again.

He finally looked at you, really looked at you. “Darlin’,” he repeated, this time slower, more meaningful.

“You have no idea how much I miss hearing you say that,” you said, and quickly wiped away a tear with a shaky hand.

Much to your surprise, he closed the distance between you. Gently, he laid his hands on your shoulders. “It’s been killin’ me for weeks to not be able to say it,” he confessed in a soft voice.

“Were you really pulling away because you thought I wouldn’t be able to look at you?” you asked, amazed by that thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing a snow flurry out of your hair. “I didn’t want to make it worse for ya, darlin’. After all… I failed ya.”

“You what?” Startled, you framed his face with your hands. “Beau, you did not fail me. You saved me. You… God, you rescued me. Mark had every intention of killing me and you stopped him. All I had were some scrapes and bruises. I’m alive because of you.”

Beau met and held your gaze. His eyes were so inscrutable, so dark in that moment. You had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Only that he stood there in silence, your hands cupping his face.

“You’re too good to me, darlin’,” he said at last. “I’m not sure I can look at it that way.”

“How do you look at it?”

Very slowly, he ran his hands up your arms, never once pulling out of your gentle touch. “I couldn’t find him before he kidnapped ya. I can’t find your missin’ photos. And I couldn’t stop him from taking you away.”

“And you found me,” you said insistently. “You followed me and saved me. You didn’t fail me, Beau.”

“Darlin’, I—”

“No, let me finish. Please.” Beau fell silent and you continued. “The whole time he had me, I kept praying for you to find me. To save my life. And by God, you did, like a—a cowboy in shining hat.”

He quirked a smile at the description.

“You found me, Beau. I would never avoid you. H-how can I?” In that moment, you decided to take the giant step you’d been waiting for. “I’m… I have feelings for you. If I avoid you, I’ll never know what they’ll turn out to be.”

His gaze flickered up to you, surprise flitting across his face. Then his expression softened and an intensity grew in his green-eyed gaze. Tenderly, he covered your hands on his face and squeezed them.

“Darlin’… God. I’m rock headed and mule stubborn. Ya don’t wanna be with me.”

You quirked a smile as he used a similar description that Carla—via Emily—had used to describe him. “I don’t know about that… I kind of like being around you.”

His smile flashed to life and you felt your heart swell as the warmth bloomed in his gaze. “I feel like I should be askin’ ya on a date.”

Playfully, you lifted your brows at him and said, “I’m waiting.”

He grinned, squeezed your hands and brought them down off his face down to be held between the two of you. “How does dinner sound? We do it right—proper restaurant, music, the whole nine yards.”

“That’s how you ask a woman on a date, Beau? God, no wonder you’ve been single this long,” you said, teasing.

He laughed. “Nah, darlin’… just needed the right woman.”

Your heart skipped a beat, then took off racing when he continued.

“I think I found her,” he added, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Let me take you out to dinner, Y/N.”

“I’d love to,” you breathed, your voice stolen away by this man, this Texan.

“Good. Meet you tonight? Say 6 o’clock?”

You nodded. “D-do I meet you there?” Your voice shook with your pulse. He had set it off running and you didn’t think it would ever settle again.

He pulled a pained expression. “Christ, darlin’, are you trying to make me look bad?”

You had to laugh. “What? Why? What’d I do?”

“You insulted me,” he said dramatically, clutching at his chest. “A proper gentleman picks his date up from her home and brings her back.”

You knew you shouldn’t, but God, bantering like this with Beau brightened your heart. “Oh. A proper gentleman? Do you see one around here? I mean…”

“Oh, now ya’ve done it,” he said with a laugh and scooped you into his arms. You yelped clutching onto him, his move unexpected.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, breathless with laughter and surprise.

He bounced you in his arms and it was all you could do to hold on. “Showin’ ya I’m a gentleman.”

“By carting me around in your arms?” You looked at Beau and couldn’t stop smiling. To be this close to him after weeks of so little with him…. To have that whiff of earth and musk and whatever it was that made him him. To hear his voice. To just be with him.

“Yep.” He grinned at you, his eyes sparkling. He began doing a stroll around his yard with you in his arms, carried princess style.

“That’s your idea of being a gentleman?” The laughter bubbled up in your throat. He was being impossible. Hilariously, adorably impossible.

“Yep.”

“You going to say anything besides ‘yep’?” you asked playfully.

“Yep.”

You laughed again, your arm around his neck. You needed this. God, you really did. Something so absurd, so ridiculous and playful. You hadn’t realized you said it out loud when Beau slanted a look at you, the humor fading from his expression.

“God, darlin’, I’m s—”

“So help me, Beau, you apologize, and I’ll find a way to take you over my knee and spank you,” you said, surprised at the vehemence you felt and heard in your voice.

He stopped and stared at you, clearly taken aback by the way you responded. Then, slowly, he quirked a grin and said, “You promise?”

You tried to maintain a stern expression. You really did. The way he grinned at you made a giggle bubble up your throat and you gave in, laughing once more. “You’re impossible, you know that? God,” you said with a breathy sigh. “I’m really glad I came to Big Sky.”

“Me too, darlin’,” he said as he finally set you back down on your feet. “My life might’ve been more borin’, but my heart would’ve been empty.”

Your breath caught and your heart skipped a beat. In the weeks you’d come to Big Sky and met Beau Arlen, you were constantly doubting yourself, wondered if you imagined the chemistry between the two of you. That Beau plainly and clearly stated that his life would’ve been empty without you…. “Oh damn it, that was perfect,” you managed, your heart swelling with emotion.

He half-smiled. “It’d been years since my last perfect line. I figured I was due.”

You chuckled, breathy and tinged with tears. “That was a good one.”

“Good enough to make ya cry,” he murmured, gently tilting your chin up. He studied your face in wonder. “I didn’t mean to make ya cry, darlin’.”

“It’s not you,” you assured him, sniffling. “I’d never—”

“You never had a man talk to you before like that, huh?” His interruption was gentle, thoughtful. You couldn’t help the tear that fell down your cheek. He saw it and tenderly brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping it away.

“No,” you admitted. That particular knowledge stung. You hated that your romantic history was rife with issues, with bad men. Oh, they said the pretty words, but the moment they had you in their romantic trap, that all went away. You had the impression Beau meant every word and would never change that.

“I promise ya, darlin’,” he said softly, “I’m gonna keep doin’ it until you beg me to stop.”

“Let’s get the date first before you start making sweet promises,” you said with a slow smile.

“We could count this as a date?” he suggested, and there was something in his tone that had you thinking he meant it all as a joke, a playful tease.

“No!” You laughed and he grinned, confirming your suspicion. “You promised the whole nine yards, Beau Arlen. I expect it all.”

He checked his watch and his brows lifted. “Given the hour, darlin’, I’d say you best get goin’ so you can dress up.”

Your own brows raised as well. “Dress up?”

“Yep.” He smiled, a touch smug. “I intend to go all fancy, darlin’.”

Beau.

In a tux.

In that moment, it was all you could do not to swoon then and there. God, did that man know what kind of an effect he had on you?

“Then I expect you at my house at 6 sharp, Mr. Arlen,” you said, your smile and tone flirtatious.

“That’s a promise, darlin’.”

—

The sight of Beau Arlen in a tux was one you’d never forget. He was tall—absurdly, Doris’s statement that he was bony came to mind and nearly wrecked your composure—and the tuxedo was definitely one specially made as it did everything to emphasize his lean stature. He was strikingly handsome, as usual, but this time, he had his hair combed back and styled. His beard—oh my God, he actually neatened up his beard.

The double-take Beau did of you reassured you that, despite the last minute attempt to find something remotely suitable for a fancy restaurant, you succeeded. You went classic—Little Black Dress, with a thin white cardigan and a lovely little clutch.

“I’d ask if you’d be cold in that little coat of yours, darlin’, but I’m feelin’ a bit hot under the collar myself,” he drawled.

You chuckled, did a little spin in the entryway of your rental house. “I pass, then? Especially given your very last-minute date.”

“Oh, you definitely pass,” he said with an appreciative look. You felt his gaze scan over you, and your body warmed under such intense scrutiny. “And it wasn’t last minute.”

“Excuse me? You asked me out just a few hours ago!”

He smiled. “I made the reservation a week after the first time you slept over.”

You felt your heart stutter and you froze momentarily. “You… Beau, that was weeks ago. How could you have known I’d say yes?”

Gently, he took your hand in his, intertwined your fingers. “I took a chance, darlin’. I’m kickin’ myself for waitin’ this long, and I apologize for that, but the look of you that mornin’….” Absurdly, you remembered the way he slanted a look at you. “You were beautiful. All sleep-mussed, the sun lighting you up.”

“Beau…” You breathed his name like a benediction. He drew closer, close enough for you to get whiff of his cologne, subtle and sweet.

“I’m sorry I waited ‘til you came over and told me what for, darlin’.” His green eyes met yours and your heart somersaulted. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d like to wine and dine you as I always wanted to.”

“When you put it that way, Mr. Arlen,” you said with a slow, sweet smile, “how can I say ‘no’?”

“Good. Let me get you in the truck before ya freeze to death.” As he escorted and assisted you into the truck, he paused and blatantly looked over your legs. “By the way… darlin’? You got some damned killer legs.”

You laughed, your cheeks heating up. “Beau!”

—

He took you to Big Sky’s sole fine dining, a delicious Italian restaurant amusingly called Ciao Bella. You stared at the name of the restaurant and turned a baffled look on Beau. He grinned in amusement. “Don’t ask, darlin’. You work at The Big Guy. You really wanna judge?”

You laughed and conceded he had a point.

Beau definitely did everything he could to make the experience a beautiful one. He escorted you to the table, held out the chair for you. He asked the waiter for a recommendation for the entree, one that you ended up picking, and went all out in ensuring the white wine paired with it was to your liking. Once the server received the orders and left, his focus on you had you feeling as though you were dining at home, not in an exquisite restaurant.

“How do you do that?” you asked, amazed.

“Do what, darlin’?”

“Make me feel like I’m the only one here. The only one who has your attention.”

“Because you do and you are,” he said, leaning forward to take your hand in his.

“Another perfect line. You’re on a roll, Arlen,” you teased, softening at the way his thumb caressed the back of your hand.

“Yeah? Two in a day? Damn. I’d say I should buy a lottery ticket after this…” He brought your hand up to his lips and lightly kissed your knuckles. “But I already won.”

Your breath caught at the sweet gesture. “That’s three,” you said in a low, soft voice.

He winked. “I know.”

“You weren’t kidding about wining and dining me, Mr. Arlen,” you mused, amazed at your luck. What had started as a difficult day was ending on such a glorious note, you never wanted it to end. Who knew finding your voice at last would lead to a date with Beau at Big Sky’s fanciest restaurant?

“I’m only just gettin’ started.”

Your smile was warm, a touch playful. “You’re setting a high bar for future dates.”

“You think it’ll happen?”

“What? A second date?” He nodded and you pretended to think about it, long enough for him to do a warning of “Darlin’”. “Yes. A second date. Quite possibly earned a third with this wine. It’s delicious. How on earth did you ever learn about wine?”

“Don’t look so shocked, darlin’,” he said in amusement. “I know stuff.”

“Says the man who said ‘stuff’ in the most exaggerated Texan drawl I’ve ever heard,” you said, your voice bubbling with laughter.

He grinned. “I get what you mean, darlin’. For me, the best date would be a beer around my campfire.”

You paused, then asked carefully, “The night I came over… was that—”

“A date?” You nodded, not minding the interruption. He swirled the white wine in his glass, thoughtful. “I wanted it to be.”

“Beau…”

“The only reason it wasn’t, darlin’, was because you needed a friend that night more than you needed a boyfriend,” he said gently.

“What if I wanted it to be?” He lifted his brows questioningly. “What if… I want that to be our first date? And this… our second?”

He smiled slowly. “I’d say I’m a damned lucky man to get two dates with you.”

“You keep swearing,” you teased.

“Don’t tell Emily.”

You laughed, low and soft. His grin widened. You loved that you could go back to old conversations, bring them forward in beautiful reminders. Much like the threat to spank one another, though God, you never knew such a joke would become regular thing between the two of you.

The entree, spinach and ricotta gnudi with tomato-butter sauce, was so delicious, rich in flavor. You ended up letting Beau have a few forkfuls while you stole some of his braised chicken all'arrabbiata, which turned out to be spicier than you expected.

“Beau, this was delicious,” you said as you dabbed your lips.

“You’ve got to stop sounding so surprised, darlin’,” he said with a laugh, leaning back in his seat. “I know I sound like some redneck hick, but I’m a learned man. You keep this up, I’m gonna start gettin’ offended.”

“It’s not your accent,” you said with a defensive laugh.

“Then what?” He leaned forward, caught your gaze and held it. “What is it about me that keeps surprisin’ you?”

You were quiet for a moment. “Because I haven’t had anything this nice in years,” you finally admitted in a low voice.

He gave a start. He’d forgotten. You could tell, by the way he reacted. Beau had forgotten, and you weren’t sure if you should be relieved or worried. Relieved, because you didn’t want to be handled with kid gloves. Worried, because he also had to remember that certain topics, certain discussions, could be potentially upsetting.

“Do you mind, darlin’, if I ask?” he ventured carefully.

You knew what he wanted to ask and shook your head. “Go ahead.”

“When was the last time M—your ex took you somewhere nicer than an Olive Garden?”

You thought on that for a long moment as you took a sip of the white wine. It really was a delicious choice. You found yourself itching to find out what kind of white wine it was… and how much it cost. Then you realized you were distracting yourself from the unpleasant memory and changed mental course.

“My birthday,” you finally answered. “It was my first birthday while we were dating, and he—” you decided you weren’t going to use your ex-boyfriend’s name— “decided to take me to this rather nice French restaurant. He butchered every pronunciation in the book, but claimed he was just trying to impress me.”

“How long was that?”

You frowned in thought. “Five… maybe six years ago?”

His brows drew together. “Darlin’… I’m not a rich man—”

“I never asked—”

He shook his head and continued despite your attempt to defend yourself. “I’m not a rich man,” he said firmly, “but if I were, darlin’, I’d take you here every night. Hell, every day if I could.”

You sat on that for a moment, and couldn’t suss out what he truly meant behind that. “I’m not sure how I should take that.”

“Then I’ll be honest. It’s real crappy your ex didn’t spoil you. You deserve to be spoiled. You deserve all the good things in the world.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Do you think I’m that… greedy? O-or a gold digger?”

“What? Oh shit. No, darlin’.” He rubbed his forehead. “God. See? Three perfect lines and there goes my damned luck.”

You managed a faint smile, though you were still well and thoroughly confused by what Beau was trying to say.

“I’m not sayin’ you’re a gold digger, darlin’. I’m just sayin’…” He took a breath, and you could almost see him reorganize his thoughts. “I’m sayin’ you should’ve been treated better. I know I made it sound like you should get fancy restaurants and expensive wine. I only meant… you deserved better. Kind gestures should be a part of the norm, not nice surprises.”

You tilted your head as you weighed everything you knew of Beau against one horribly made declaration. Beau seemed to know he went off on an awful take, one that slandered your character, and was trying hard to make amends.

“‘Kind gestures should be a part of the norm, not nice surprises’. I think you got your fourth perfect line,” you said at last with a gentle smile.

“I was sweatin’ bullets there, darlin’,” he said with a huff. “Am I soaked? I feel like I should be soaked.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. Beau smiled and reached over to take your hand in his. “I wasn’t tryin’ to imply you’re a gold digger, darlin’,” he added. “Just that… I may not be a rich man in the bank, but by God, you make me feel wealthy.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

“Yeah? You think it makes number five?”

“You’re definitely on a roll there, Beau,” you said with a warm smile.

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’,” he said, his voice taking on a husky tinge. You felt a thrill down your spine, and sensed he meant more than just perfect lines.

“How do you mean?” You decided to press, wanting to know what he was thinking.

He glanced down at your joined hands on the table, at the gentle way he kept rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “Darlin’… there’s a part of me that really wants to take you to my home and have my way with you.”

Your heart stopped, then thudded painfully against your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or out of desire, out of hearing him voice that wish of his.

“And that’s the reason why I won’t,” he said with a nod to you. “That look that just passed over your eyes.”

“Beau, I—I—”

“Don’t, darlin’. I ain’t offended. You’re not ready. I can wait.”

You sat there for a long, quiet moment as you took all that in. How rare a man was he that he’d wait until you were ready for him to take you to bed? Especially one who saved your life, one who knew a portion of the darkness you’d been through?

“It’s…”

“Darlin’, you don’t have to explain.”

“I feel I need to. Because part of it is such a stupid, vain reason.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. You had suspicion he knew exactly what you were going to say and was mildly offended already. Before you could continue, he spoke up. “Do you know what goes into a file, darlin’? It’s not just written complaints, documentation of calls and meetings. When it comes to acts of violence, we need to see photographs. Sometimes videos. Audio recordings.”

You froze, your breath hitching. You actually heard a small simmering of anger in his voice, and almost cringed in your seat. You definitely offended him and instantly regretted your statement of vanity. God, why did you have to be so stupid?

His gaze searched your face and he shook his head. “I ain’t mad at you, darlin’,” he said, and you wondered if he read your mind. “I’m mad at him. He got ya to think that I’d care you have a scar. That I’d want you to have some model perfect body to be worthy of me.”

“So you…” He said photographs. Dimly, you recalled your stay at the hospital, how they had some officers come over and ask to take photographs of your lower abdomen for evidence. You’d forgotten. “Oh my God. So you know.”

“Not everythin’, darlin’, but that one, yeah, I do.”

“A-and you don’t… it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it, darlin’?” He seemed honestly puzzled. “It’s a scar. It’s a badge of honor for ya. You survived that sick son of a bitch, and not only that, ya fought back.”

“Do… do you have any scars?”

He flashed a grin at you, designed to soften the intense moment. “I’d be glad to show it to you sometime.”

Absurdly, you blushed as you laughed. “If it’s on your rear—”

“Nope.” He smirked and winked at you. “Wrong side.”

“Beau!”

The night was winding down when he escorted you back home, to your front door. Sometime during the dinner, the snow came back in force. Beau’s truck thankfully handled it and he was able to pull up as close as he could to the front door.

“So much for dancin’,” he said ruefully.

“Where did you have in mind?” you asked as he walked you the last few steps.

“Right here. Maybe some nice oldie playin’ on the radio.”

You smiled. “That sounds very romantic. I expect you to follow through when it’s springtime, Mr. Arlen.”

“Since when did ya start and keep callin’ me that anyway?” he asked, lightly brushing back a strand of your hair.

“I was kind of copying Pride and Prejudice,” you said, lightly teasing him.

He smiled. “Am I Mr. Darcy then?”

“I’d say ‘yes’, but there’s one small problem.”

“What’s that?” He drew closer to you, so close you could feel his breath dance over your lips.

“They don’t kiss in Pride and Prejudice,” you murmured, your gaze flickering from his green eyes to his lips.

“Guess we’ll rewrite the book,” he whispered, and brought his lips to yours, capturing you in a sweet, tender kiss. He lingered in the embrace, slipping his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You let out a soft sigh, and he deepened it, a slow heat that spread throughout your body. You no longer felt the snow, the chill. All you felt was him.

When he slowly broke the kiss, you felt dazed. He brushed back your hair again, his gaze deep and dark. “Have a good night, darlin’,” he whispered.

“You too, Beau.”

He waited until you were safe inside before he headed back to his truck. When he pulled away, you realized that, yes, this was definitely not going to be the only date you ever have with him.

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