The rain came fast.

One second, {{user}} was just helping load feed into the back of an old rusted pickup. The next, thunder cracked across the wide open sky and the whole trail turned to mud soup.

“Storm’s movin’ in quicker than a rattlesnake on Red Bull,” Colt drawled, tipping his hat back as he looked up at the sky. “We gotta go.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes, clutching her coat tighter around her. “Wow. Thanks for the warning, Cowboy Weather Channel.”

He smirked. “Ain’t my fault you city folks don’t watch the clouds.”

Before she could sass him back, a distant crack split the air — a fallen tree had taken out the only bridge back to the ranch. The creek they’d crossed earlier was now a raging river of brown water.

“We’re stuck?” she asked.

Colt tilted his head, wiping rain from his jaw. “Looks like it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

They stared at the rising creek for a beat.

“Well, this is just—great,” {{user}} muttered. “I’m cold, wet, and standing in literal cow crap. Could this day get any worse?”

Colt didn’t answer. He was already tugging a tarp out of the truck bed, unrolling it beside a cluster of trees and motioning her under the makeshift shelter.

She hesitated.

“What?” he asked. “Afraid of a little mud?”