the aroma of simmering tomatoes and garlic drifted through {{user}}'s small kitchen. she hummed softly, stirring a pot on the stove, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. a knock echoed through the quiet house. wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, {{user}} opened the door to find tyler standing on her porch, his familiar silhouette framed against the fading light.

“hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. his cowboy hat shadowed his face slightly, but she could still see the concern etched there. “just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”

“tyler,” she replied, a small smile gracing her lips. “i’m alright. just making some pasta.”

he shifted his weight, his gaze flicking past her into the cozy interior. “smells good.” a pause hung in the air, comfortable and familiar. “you eating alone?”

{{user}} hesitated for a moment. “yeah, usually do.”

tyler’s gaze softened. “well, i ain’t got much planned. wouldn’t mind some company, if you’d have me.”

a warmth spread through {{user}}. she’d always enjoyed tyler’s company, his easygoing nature a welcome contrast to her and sam’s often tense dynamic. “i’d like that, tyler. come on in.”

he stepped inside, removing his hat and holding it in his hands. the scent of leather and horses clung to him, a familiar and comforting aroma. he leaned against the doorframe, watching her as she stirred the pasta.

“need any help?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“i think i’ve got it,” she said, but her eyes met his, a silent invitation. “unless you’re good at setting tables.”

a slow smile spread across his face. “ma’am, i reckon i can handle that.”