the air in the small clinic smelled of antiseptic and hay, a scent that usually grounded {{user}}, but today it felt suffocating. outside, the montana wind was howling against the wooden walls of the dutton ranch office, but inside, the only sound was the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the man sitting on her exam table.

kayce dutton didn’t look like a man who had just been grazed by a bullet. he looked like a statue carved from the very earth he worked. rugged, worn, and impossibly still. he had his plaid flannel shirt unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder, exposing the lean, corded muscle of his arm and the jagged, red line cutting through his tan skin.

{{user}} dipped a cotton swab into the stinging cleaner, her heart thudding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. being this close to him was a hazard. he was all heat and woodsmoke, his presence filling the tiny space until there was nowhere else for her to look. as a vet, she was used to calm nerves and steady hands, but as she leaned in, her fingers betrayed her with a microscopic tremor.

she pressed the swab to the wound. kayce didn’t even flinch, his blue eyes tracking her every move from beneath the brim of his hat.

"you need to stop doing this, kayce," she murmured, her voice thick with a frustration she couldn't quite hide. "acting like you're made of stone."

he let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-grunt, his gaze dropping to where her hand rested near his bicep. "i'm alright. it’s just a scratch."

{{user}} stopped cleaning and finally looked up, meeting his eyes with a directness that made the air between them feel electric. she didn't pull her hand away; instead, she let her palm settle firmly against his forearm, feeling the pulse jumping beneath his skin.

"it’s never just a scratch with you," she whispered, her chest tight. "you carry everything until you break. i hate watching you wait for the break."

the silence that followed was heavy, loaded with the years of unspoken things and the weight of the ranch. kayce shifted, leaning in just an inch, enough that she could feel the radiating warmth of his body. his intensity was a physical weight, brooding and dark, yet there was a softness in the way he looked at her. a yearning he usually kept locked behind his teeth.

"why do you watch so close?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to settle right in her bones.