Page 9 of Beauden & Yelena

Before walking into the dining room, Raquel looks at Yelena. “Would

you like your breakfast in here as well, Miss?”

“I think I would and from the looks of his plate, I’ll have the same please.”

“That’s beef bacon,” I tell her.

“Even better. I try to limit my pork intake and I hate turkey bacon. I’ve never

had beef bacon. When on a cattle farm, why not. I’m down,” she responds and I

smile internally.

I like that she’s open to trying new things. Maybe, I’ve misjudged her.

“Ranch. It’s a ranch, not a farm.”

“Well, Mr. Phox, you can school me on the difference over breakfast.”

She walks into the dining room and I enjoy the view before following her. When Raquel places the platter on the table, I put down my coffee then remove my plate, syrup, and the butter. I place it in front of Yelena.

“You eat this. She will bring me another plate,” I tell her then I look to Raquel, who nods in understanding.

“Oh no. That’s yours. I’ll wait.”

“Ladies first. I can wait. Would you like something to drink?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Would you like another cup of white hot chocolate?” Raquel asks Yelena.

“Oh yes. That was so good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Raquel says, then turns to leave. I notice the slick smirk on her face when she walks out.

“I don’t feel right eating when you’re not.”

“Seriously, go ahead and eat. It won’t be long.” Reluctantly, she butters the waffle. Occasionally, as she preps her food, her eyes dart up to mine. Although they are sexy as hell, they appear full of questions. “You good?”

“I’m good,” she says as she nods. Then, she takes a bite of the bacon. “And this is really good. Who knew? I think I like this better than regular bacon.”

“It’s my preference. I know exactly what’s in the meat.” While smiling, she cuts up her waffle then eats a few bites. Raquel returns with my plate and Yelena’s hot chocolate. “Thanks,” I say as she walks out. I spread the butter and syrup over my waffle then look up. Yelena’s watching me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to sound silly.”

“Go ahead. Say what’s on your mind.”

She places her fork down then takes a sip from her cup. Her eyes find mine again and she says, “Sunday was my first time seeing a real Black cowboy. Now, today, I learn that you own this ranch. I honestly didn’t know we occupied this much space in the country world. Look at you, the perfect melanin-rich cowboy, sitting across from me. Did you grow up on a f-fa…a ranch?” she asks, quickly correcting herself.

“I grew up about twenty minutes from here on a ranch like this, only smaller. We are a family of ranchers. Soil runs in my veins.”

“So, you are from here?”

“Yes. I lived here until I was eighteen. I left for school and returned five years ago.”

“Where did you go?”

---