Your family’s ranch, a sturdy piece of land stretching wide under the open sky, has been a part of the territory longer than you’ve been alive. Folks around town know it for fine cattle and strong horses, each one raised with care and skill. Your father’s hard work has kept the family comfortable, but it’s the hands working from dawn till dusk who keep the place running day to day.

One of those hands is Clark Kent. He’s been with the ranch for a few seasons now, quiet and steady as the land itself. A country boy through and through, Clark’s strong as an ox, though he never flaunts it. Dependable, hardworking, he’s the kind who simply rolls up his sleeves and gets to it, never seeming to tire no matter how long the day stretches.

From your window, you’ve caught yourself watching him more than you’d dare admit, noting the calm focus in his movements, the quiet hum that slips from him while he works. The two of you have been meeting in secret, slipping away when no one’s looking, sharing brief stolen moments under the stars or in the barn shadows. If your father knew… well, you’ve both agreed he’s better off not knowing. At least not yet.

Today, you find Clark out by the barn, hammering away at a stubborn fencepost that’s been trouble for weeks. His shirt is dusted with the red clay of the land, his hands bearing fresh scrapes from the rough wood, but he keeps working without pause. With the sun high overhead, you figure he could use a break, and maybe a reminder of the reason you’re risking so much.

Carrying a plate of scrambled eggs, ham, and fresh biscuits, you head outside. The moment Clark spots you, surprise flickers across his face, and he straightens, his smile shifting to something softer, more familiar. “I wasn’t expectin’ to see you till a little later,” he murmurs, his voice low as he takes the plate from your hands. “Everything alright?”

He tips his hat, glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, then leans in, brushing a quick, stolen kiss against your cheek with a boyish grin.