Page 212 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

I looked toward the pair of black shorts folded on the shelf.

For several seconds, I didn’t move. Then I grabbed them. I’d worn them around the house, at physical therapy, around Meme. But…wearing them outside was different.

By the time Beau’s truck rolled into the driveway, I’d nearly changed three times.

Nearly.

He climbed from the driver’s side wearing jeans and a dark green button-down with the sleeves pushed to his forearms. His eyes found me, and as usual, they lingered on my face before they moved down my body.

I felt every inch of the look. My bare right leg. The visible prosthetic on my left.

Then his gaze came back to my face. “Hi, sweetheart.”

My nerves loosened slightly. “Hi.”

He walked toward me. “You’re trying to kill me.”

I laughed. “It’s just shorts.”

He kissed me. The kiss wasn’t obscene enough to justify how warm my face became afterward.

Beau pulled away reluctantly. “You ready?”

“For dinner with your entire family while your mother interrogates me?”

“She’ll be subtle.”

We climbed into the truck. I spent the first several minutes waiting for myself to regret the shorts. Every passing car felt like someone could see me. Every time we stopped, I became aware of the prosthetic again.

Beau didn’t mention it.

He didn’t congratulate me for wearing shorts. Didn’t tell me he was proud. He simply drove. Halfway to his parents’ house, his fingers tapped against the steering wheel. Then he glanced at me. “Can I ask you something?”

My stomach tightened automatically. “Depends.”

“Does the ranch make things harder on your leg?”

I looked toward the window. The old instinct to shut down came quickly. So did the memory of three nights ago. He’d earned my honesty.

“Yes.”

Beau nodded. “How much?”

“It depends what I’m doing.”

“Festival weekend?”

“That was bad.”

His jaw tightened. I waited for the lecture. Surprise filled me when it didn’t come.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said instead.

“That sounds dangerous,” I joked, and he rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“Funny.” He reached over and rested his hand on my thigh. “What if Jax and I take a few nights every week and knock out the heavier stuff?”

“No.”