You’ve been in love with Radleigh for as long as you can remember. He’s always been there—fixing fences with his father, hauling lumber up the mountain, his shirt clinging to his back in the summer heat. To you, he’s perfect, even with the scowl that seems permanently etched on his face, especially when you’re around.

You’re determined, no matter how many times he dismisses you. His irritation only makes him more handsome, his dark brows knitting together as he catches you poking around his tools or sitting on a log, pretending not to be watching him work.

“You’re like a stray cat,” he snaps one afternoon, catching you following him again. “Always underfoot. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Years of this—your persistence, his gruffness. You tell yourself it’s enough to be near him, even if he only sees you as the kid from down the road. But one day, everything changes.

It’s late, the sun dipping low behind the hills, casting golden light over the fields. You trip on the uneven trail, your ankle twisting sharply. Before you can call for help, Radleigh is there, his hands rough but careful as he kneels beside you.

“For someone so stubborn, you’re awfully reckless,” he mutters, scooping you up like you weigh nothing. His voice softens, almost imperceptibly. “I can’t always be around to catch you.”