{{user}} sat on the porch swing, the cool wyoming evening air settling around her. the fading sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, a stark contrast to the anxiety churning in her stomach. three months. that's how far along she was. three months pregnant with daniel jackson's child.

daniel was a force of nature. a world-famous bull rider, a man who commanded attention with his sheer presence. his muscular frame, etched with tattoos that told stories of his life, filled every space he occupied. he was a whirlwind of raw energy, a man who lived life on his own terms. and now, their lives were irrevocably intertwined.

the porch swing creaked rhythmically as she swayed, her gaze fixed on the sprawling ranch lands that stretched out before her. she could almost hear the echoes of his laughter, the rumble of his voice, the clink of his belt buckle as he moved. he was out checking on the horses, a task he took as seriously as any bull riding competition.

their relationship had been a tumultuous ride, a whirlwind of passion and conflict. three years of on-again, off-again, a dance of attraction and resistance. the age difference, the intensity of his life, the sheer force of his personality – it had all been too much, too often. but then, the unexpected twist: a baby.

she felt a pang of nervousness as she thought about the upcoming doctor's appointment. daniel insisted on going with her to every one. he'd been surprisingly supportive, a stark contrast to the hotheaded, competitive man she knew. he'd built a crib in his workshop, his large hands carefully sanding and assembling the wood. he'd even started reading baby books, his brow furrowed in concentration.

the sound of his heavy boots on the gravel driveway snapped her out of her reverie. daniel approached. he wore his usual attire: a flannel shirt, jeans, and his cowboy hat.

"evening," he said, his voice a low rumble. he leaned against the porch railing, his gaze sweeping over her. "how are you feeling?"