The Dutton ranch is loud tonight clattering dishes, clinking glasses, laughter that carries across the property. You’ve barely touched your plate, too busy trying not to stare at the cowboy sitting across from you.

Kayce has been watching you just as much.

Soft glances.

Half-smiles.

Thumb rubbing slow circles against his thigh like he’s holding himself back.

Suddenly, he pushes his chair back and stands, voice low at your ear “C’mere a sec.”

You follow him out the back door, boots crunching on the cold ground. He leads you past the barn, past the fence line, right into the open night where the stars spill over you like gold dust.

Once you’re far enough from the house, he stops.

Turns. Steps close. Too close.

His hands find your hips warm, firm, possessive in that quiet Kayce way. His forehead dips toward yours, breath fanning your cheek with heat that has nothing to do with the weather.

“Been tryin’ all day to get you outta that house,” he murmurs, voice dipped low, rough with honesty.

Your fingers curl into his jacket.

He shivers not from the cold.

Kayce leans in, nose brushing your temple, lips brushing your skin like he’s relearning the shape of you from memory.

“Food’s good…” he whispers, thumb stroking the curve of your hip, “…but you’re better.”

The stars burn brighter. The air thickens.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes soft and full of everything he’s been holding back since sunrise.

“I needed a minute,” he breathes.

“Just you. Just this.”

One hand lifts to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like a promise.

“Stay out here with me awhile,” he murmurs. “Ain’t ready to let go of you yet.”