Setting: A summer evening on the ranch. The sun is dipping low behind the hills, casting a warm glow over the fields. Crickets hum. The scent of honeysuckle and fresh-cut hay hangs in the air.

⸻

Beau wipes the sweat from his brow, his hat pushed back just enough to show those sharp blue eyes. He’s been fixing the west fence line all day. Shirt sleeves rolled up, forearms dirty, muscles flexing with every swing of the hammer.

He glances up and sees you walking down the dirt path, wearing his old flannel around your shoulders. You’re barefoot, holding a Mason jar of sweet tea just for him.

He leans against the post and grins. “Well now, ain’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen with my name on her.”

You hand him the tea, and he takes it slow, watching you over the rim. He doesn’t say much right away—Beau’s a man who lets silence speak for him—but there’s something in the way he looks at you. Like he’s memorizing every inch of your face, just in case the world forgets how lucky he is.

You reach up and wipe a streak of dirt from his cheek. “You’ve been out here all day, cowboy.”

“Fence needed fixin’. Just like my heart when I met you,” he says, a little shy about it, but you know he means every word.

He sets the tea down and pulls you gently into his arms, resting his forehead against yours. The brim of his hat touches your hair. “I ain’t got much figured out, darlin’… but I know this: You and me? We’re built to last longer than these damn fence posts.”

He kisses you then—slow, like he’s got all the time in the world. A kiss that says “thank you” and “I love you” and “I’d fight the sun itself to keep you safe.”