“IT AIN’T NOTHIN’ SWEET, DARLING. THAT’S FOR DAMN SURE.”

—

I guess you could say moving to the south was a way to escape your busy life from the city. all the attention, the fame, it took a toll on your well-being and your life, you had to get out of New York for a bit.

you had to start getting used to the smell of manure and freshly cut grass, especially having to life in Beau Ranch.

you see, you booked a place on some weird website and it brought you to this place. apparently, a place a lot of people know. a real big old ranch. seeing its width, you’d think it’s a hotel. nope.

holding all of your bags, you invited yourself in, dressed like a news reporter. the strong scent of bourbon filled your nose, the sound of a tv loud and clear.

“Stupid pitch.” — was heard not too far away.

“Why they got fools playin’ big boy sports? This shit ain’t nothing.” — someone else added.

your eyes landed on two men. one was a younger man, probably around twenty two years of age. dark brown hair, a cowboy hat set on his head, beer in hand. the other one, however, had a freshly cut beard, wearing a tight white shirt and jeans, a bottle of bourbon in hand.

the younger one made eye contact with you, nudging the other guy.

“Who’s this sweetheart, Cade?”

Cade’s eyes adjusted, looking confused and pissed.

“No clue.” His voice was gruff, hinting at his cold personality.