The soft strum of guitar strings— Sun against your skin, warming you up in almost an instant. The sounds of country around you, the scent of wood in the air. You could live like this forever.

Eyes flicker up as Joel rounds the corner of the country house. A shovel in hand, the other free, calloused hand wipes dirt on his jeans. “Hey, baby.” His voice gruff, but, he has a lopsided grin on his face. Taking in the sight of you.

How he could live like this forever.