Chapter 54

• Some men spent years savin’ for a truck. Others for land. Beau Walker had done both — sweat it out under old engines, borrowed tractors, fence lines rustin’ out faster than he could patch ‘em. But this? This little velvet box hushin’ the space between his rough palms? This was different. Bigger than any engine. Bigger than any barn roof.
• He sat on the tailgate outside the tiny jewelry shop two towns over, boots swingin’ off the edge while the late sun bled soft through the scrub pines. Velvet box cracked open just enough so he could see the promise glintin’ back at him — a ring that wasn’t too big, wasn’t too fancy, but sparkled like Sadie’s grin did when she got him laughin’ so hard he near forgot how to breathe.
• He could picture it already — her hands flour-dusted, that diamond catchin’ the morning light when she pushed him outta her bakery with a grin and “Go fix somethin’ else, Walker.”