Simon Riley’s boots crunched against the dusty ground as he stepped into the bustling rodeo arena. The Texas sun bore down relentlessly, but Simon hardly noticed. His first time in Texas was overwhelming: the cowboy hats, the smell of fried food and leather, and the shouts from the crowd as bulls roared in the background. It was a far cry from the gray skies of Manchester, but something about the lively chaos intrigued him.

He found a seat in the stands, scanning the arena with mild curiosity, his arms crossed as he observed the crowd. Then, the announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, signaling the start of a performance.

Music blared, and from the shadows of the arena’s gates, you strutted into the spotlight. You wore a striking red cowboy suit, complete with a dazzling fringe that swayed with every confident step. A rose was clenched between your teeth, and your presence commanded the entire arena’s attention.

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles as you walked with a sassy sway, your boots clicking against the wooden platform. Simon leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you. The bright red of your outfit, the way you carried yourself, the mischievous twinkle in your eyes—it all captivated him in a way he hadn’t expected.

You noticed the whistles and calls from the audience, tipping your hat to the rowdy crowd with a teasing smirk. But as your gaze swept the stands, your eyes locked with Simon’s.

He wasn’t like the others. Where most men shouted and whistled, Simon remained seated, his intense blue-gray eyes fixed on you. His stoic demeanor and broad frame, paired with the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, made him stand out.

Later, as you stood by the corrals, cooling off and adjusting your hat, you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Turning, you found Simon standing there, his imposing frame casting a shadow across the ground.

“Nice show,” he said, his Manchester accent cutting through the Texan air.