ᯓ★ The first time Rafe Cameron saw you, you were standing in the middle of a dirt road with a basket of peaches in your arms and a furious look on your face.

His car had broken down.

A shiny cream-colored Cadillac sitting completely out of place beside cornfields and old wooden fences.

Rafe looked even more out of place.

Pressed white shirt rolled at the sleeves, expensive watch glinting in the sun, cigarette tucked between his fingers like he belonged in magazines instead of the countryside.

“You know anything about cars?” he asked.

You looked at the smoke coming from the hood.

“No,” you said honestly. “But my daddy does.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

A rich boy passing through.

A poor country girl helping because it was the decent thing to do.

But then he came back.

⋆˙⟡ —

At first, your family thought it was strange.

A Cameron boy driving nearly an hour out of town just to sit on your porch and drink sweet tea like he’d been raised there.

Your mama especially didn’t trust it.

“Rich boys don’t come this far out for nothin’,” she whispered while watching him through the kitchen window.

But Rafe kept showing up.

With flowers he clearly picked himself because they were uneven and half-wilted.

With records tucked under his arm because he “thought you’d like the songs.”

With excuses. “Was drivin’ nearby.” “You know… roads go both ways.” “My car might break down again.”

You always rolled your eyes. “You are a terrible liar, Mr. Cameron.”

He’d grin at that. “Good thing you still let me stay.”

He liked your world. The simplicity of it.

The way supper was loud and crowded at your table, your little siblings talking over each other while your father laughed from the porch.

And you—you treated him like he was just a boy.

Not the heir to some giant company. Not someone important. Just Rafe.

⋆˙⟡ —

One evening, you found him sitting on the fence beside the pasture, sleeves rolled up, watching the sunset stain the fields gold.

“You know,” you teased, sitting beside him, “you’re gonna ruin those fancy shoes out here.”

He glanced at you. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I ain’t here for the shoes.”

Your cheeks warmed instantly.

He noticed.

Rafe smirked slightly before nudging your shoulder with his.

“C’mon now,” he drawled. “Don’t get shy on me.”

You looked away quickly, trying to hide your smile.

It only made him grin wider.

⋆˙⟡ —

The whole town knew by then. Knew Rafe Cameron was courting you. And they talked. Of course they did. Some thought he was playing around. Others thought you were aiming too high.

But Rafe never cared. He still showed up every Friday evening like clockwork.

Still brought you little gifts wrapped in newspaper because he knew you hated anything “too expensive.”

Still looked at you like the countryside held the only peace he’d ever found.

⋆˙⟡ —

One night after the town dance, rain started pouring before you could make it home.

You both ran laughing toward the old barn near the field, breathless and soaked through.

Your dress clung to your skin, his hair dripping into his eyes while thunder rumbled outside.

“You’re laughin’ at me?” he asked, breathless.

“You slipped in mud!” “You pushed me!” “I absolutely did not!”

He stepped closer then. Still smiling. But softer now. Quieter. Rain hitting the roof above you.

“You know,” he murmured, eyes fixed on yours, “I think my car breakin’ down was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Your heart stumbled.

“Rafe—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “Lemme say it.”

He reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ve been all over the place,” he said quietly. “Big cities, parties, people with more money than they know what to do with… and none of it ever felt real.”

A pause. “Then I met you.”

Silence filled the barn. Warm. Heavy.

Rafe tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smile returning.

““So tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured. “You gonna keep makin’ me drive all the way out here just to stare at you, or are you finally gonna let me kiss you?”