the montana air was sharp and cold, biting through the thin layers of {{user}}βs jacket as she stepped into the dimly lit barn. it was three in the morning, the kind of hour where the world felt empty and raw. the skittish colt was pacing his stall, the frantic rhythm of his hooves against the straw echoing the thrum of anxiety in her own chest.
she felt him before she saw him. that heavy, familiar presence settled into the space behind her, smelling of aged leather, woodsmoke, and the cold mountain wind. rip didn't say a word, he just stepped into the stall, his large frame casting a long shadow that seemed to pull her back into a past she had tried to outrun.
for the next hour, they didn't speak. they moved in a practiced, silent dance that hadn't been forgotten despite the decade between them. {{user}} worked with the steady precision of a woman who knew her worth, her hands gentle but firm as she checked the coltβs vitals. rip was at the animal's head, his massive, scarred hands surprisingly tender as he kept the horse still. he was a wall of muscle and stoic intensity, his blue eyes never leaving the task, yet she could feel his gaze flickering toward her whenever she reached across him.
when the colt finally let out a long, shuddering breath and lowered his head, the tension in the stall shifted from the animal to the two people standing within it.
{{user}} stood up slowly. she wiped her palms against the denim covering her thighs, trying to ignore how loud her heart was beating in the quiet of the stable. she looked up, finding rip already watching her from across the stall. the yellowstone logo on his black jacket was the only thing sharp and clear under the hazy yellow light.
"you still have the touch," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small space.
{{user}} swallowed hard, her throat tight. "i haven't forgotten much," she replied softly. "have you?"
rip stepped closer, his shadow swallowing hers completely. he looked older, the lines around his eyes deeper, but he was still the only man who had ever made her feel both entirely safe and utterly wrecked. he didn't smile; he never really did. he just stared down at her with a look of pure, unadulterated yearning that made her breath hitch.
"i've spent ten years trying to forget the way you look in the moonlight, {{user}}," rip said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "iβm still failing."