“I bet you and Bryce played here a lot when you were kids.”
“Not Bryce. Just me.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah. This is my special place.” He winked at her. “Consider yourself special.”
Alice looked down at her swinging boots—they’d gone boot shopping after tutoring on Wednesday—but Beau could see the little grin on her face.
“Anyway, I used to sneak off and spend hours out here, having adventures and whatnot. This was Beau Country, where it didn’t matter if you struggled in school, or who was the smarter twin.”
“Bryce is not the smarter twin. You’re both smart.”
“He’s pretty dang smart, Allie. He got that scholarship to A&M. I never could have done that.”
“There are plenty of students with dyslexia at A&M. They’ve just taken the necessary steps to mitigate it, and they take advantage of the tools and assistance available to them, which is something you seem a bit reluctant to do.”
Beau rubbed his palms on his thighs and took a deep breath. “I messed up. I misread a text, and it could have killed some cattle.” He stared straight ahead, too ashamed to look her in the eye.
The feel of Alice’s soft fingers on his chin startled him. “Look at me,” she said, turning his face to hers. “Everyone messes up. And I’m assuming the cattle are fine. But Beau, you probably shouldn’t communicate via text if it’s something important. And yes, that’s going to mean telling people not to text you, and it’s going to mean telling them why.”
She hadn’t removed her fingers, and her thumb lightly tracing the cleft in his chin made it hard to focus on words. But he still heard them, and Alice was right.
Her eyes dipped down to his lips, almost as if she wanted to—
“It sure is getting dark fast,” she said, suddenly dropping her hand to her lap and staring up at the sky.
She’d chickened out, but Beau had no doubt that she’d wanted to kiss him. The idea of it had him tingling all over. “Good. It’s kind of necessary if you want the stars at night to be big and bright . . .”
He waited for it, and after a few seconds, Alice grinned and performed the customary three claps, before singing the words, “Deep in the heart of Texas.”
“Atta girl.”
Alice giggled, and it was like windchimes, only windchimes didn’t send a wave of butterflies through his belly. It was time for the first surprise of the evening.
“You know, if this were a traditional pasture party,” he said, sliding the ice chest over, “you’d have your football player types over there on the left, and your rodeo types there on the right. And in the middle would be a keg of beer, brought by somebody who shouldn’t still be hanging out with high school kids but can’t get over his glory days.”
Alice laughed. “And where are the cheerleaders?”
“All the girls are huddled along the back row of pickup trucks, needing to pee but not wanting to do it out here. And they’re chugging cheap Strawberry Hill that somebody’s older sister bought at the Pump ’n’ Go.”
“You’re good with details.”
“I attended many a pasture party.” He opened the ice chest and pulled out a bottle of wine. “And since you and I can’t handle an entire keg by ourselves, I purchased this.”
Alice looked at the bottle. “I have never tried Strawberry Hill.”
“Do you like a crisp, dry wine?”
“Yes, that’s—”
“Not what this is,” Beau said, unscrewing the lid. “You’re going to hate it. And I didn’t bring cups, so . . .”
Alice took the bottle. “Bottoms up.”
Allie took a healthy, impressive sip with nary a wince. “Yikes,” she said, passing the bottle. “That is toe-curling sweet.”
“Hefty alcohol content. It’ll get you in trouble pretty damn quick if you’re not careful.”
“I’ve never been drunk, and I have no intention of adding the experience to my bucket list.”
“Smart woman,” Beau said, taking a quick swig and handing the bottle back.
“I can’t believe you fixed such a delicious dinner tonight. I’m not much of a cook, myself.”
“My mom talked me through it, if it makes you feel better. And she told me I couldn’t use paper plates, so you have her to thank for the nice dishes, too.”
“Did she also tell you to pick the pretty flowers?”
“Nope. I did that all by myself.” He hadn’t had a vase, but a Mason jar had worked just fine. Next time he’d be prepared with candles. Allie would be pretty in candlelight.
“There’s the Milky Way,” he said, pointing at the sky. “Also, I brought a second surprise. Hold on.”
He hopped off the tailgate and went around to retrieve the telescope from the back seat. He grabbed it before giving the door a shove with his hip. As he turned to walk back to the tailgate, he caught sight of Alice—feet swinging, staring at the stars, bottle of Strawberry Hill in her lap—and froze.
She looked as if she belonged here every bit as much as the giant oaks and the prickly pear cactus and sharp-scented juniper trees . . . It felt right. And that was weird. Because this is where Beau came to be alone. He shook his head and grinned. He could get used to this.
It was too bad he wouldn’t get to.
“You okay back there?” Alice asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Yep. Have you ever peered through a telescope?”
Alice hopped off the tailgate. “You brought a telescope?” She clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet.
Beau’s heart seemed to expand inside his chest, making it hard to breathe. He was sharing his sky with Allie. And he’d never shared his sky with anyone.
Beau Montgomery was full of surprises. So many, in fact, that Alice was having a hard time keeping up. “This is a really good telescope.”
“It’s adequate,” Beau said simply. “I bought my first one at fifteen, and I bought this
