the montana air was biting, a sharp contrast to the heat still radiating from {{user}}’s skin. she stood on the edge of the bunkhouse porch, her chest heaving as she stared at the dark expanse of the ranch. the town meeting had been a disaster, a whirlwind of shouted insults and shoved shoulders, and the only thing she could still feel was the ghost of rip’s hand gripping her arm as he hauled her out of the crowd.

rip paced the wooden boards behind her, his boots heavy and rhythmic. he looked like a shadow carved from the night itself, his black jacket practically absorbing the moonlight. he stopped suddenly, the creak of the floorboards under his weight the only sound for a long moment before he spoke, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"you stay behind me, you understand? i don't care if you're a dutton or a bloomington or the queen of england. you don't jump into the middle of my fights."

{{user}} turned, her own temper flare-up refusing to die down. she crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw set tight. "it wasn't just your fight, rip. they were talking about the family. my family. i'm not just going to sit there and let some developer run his mouth like he owns the valley."

rip stepped into the light spilling from the bunkhouse window, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her with an intensity that usually made grown men turn tail. he grabbed the porch railing, his knuckles turning white against the wood. "it's my job to protect this ranch. but it's my life's work to make sure nothing touches you. don't make that harder than it already is."