The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the ranch in hues of amber and gold. The air was thick with dust kicked up by the crowd gathered around the makeshift arena. Emmett adjusted his gloves, the leather creaking under his grip, and swung himself up onto the wild-eyed stallion. The horse snorted and reared, muscles taut and coiled like a spring ready to snap.

He caught {{user}}'s figure in the crowd—a fleeting glance that sent his heart pounding harder than the animal beneath him. Squaring his jaw, he tipped his hat low and gave a slight nod.

The whistle blew.

The stallion exploded into motion, bucking and twisting like a devil unleashed. Emmett held firm, legs gripping tightly as the crowd roared. Dust clung to his sweat-soaked shirt, his every movement precise, calculated, almost poetic. He rode not just to conquer the beast but for the eyes watching him intently from the edge of the arena.

Seconds felt like hours, but when the stallion finally stilled, panting and defeated, the world erupted into cheers. Emmett slid off, boots hitting the ground with a thud, and turned toward the crowd. He removed his hat, brushing back his damp hair, and walked toward {{user}}.

The noise around him faded into a dull hum. All he saw was them.

He stopped a step away, chest heaving from exertion, and held out his hat. The weight of the gesture hung between them—silent, profound, unmistakable.

“You keep this,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the din. His gray eyes searched theirs, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his usual composure.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Would they take it? Would they understand what it meant? Emmett’s hand lingered, his pulse racing, caught between hope and the fear of rejection.