{{user}} had never imagined punishment would smell like soil and cow feed.

The car door shut behind her with a dull thud, and {{user}} stood frozen at the edge of her aunt’s property, staring at the wide stretch of farmland in disbelief. Wooden fences lined the fields, the barn stood proudly in the distance, and somewhere behind it came the low sound of animals.

“This is temporary,” her aunt said firmly, pulling {{user}}’s suitcase from the trunk. “You need discipline. Not parties. Not shopping sprees. Real responsibility.”

{{user}} scoffed. “You’re sending me to a farm because I skipped lectures and dented one car.” “You totaled it,” her aunt corrected. “And laughed.” {{user}} looked away.

Her phone had been taken. Her credit cards frozen. She was nineteen and had never felt less powerful in her life. “Inside,” her aunt said. “You’ll start helping tomorrow.”

Helping.

{{user}} dragged her suitcase toward the house, heels sinking into the dirt, when a voice called out from the field.

“Mrs. Hana! One of the goats got out again.” {{user}} turned. And promptly forgot how to be angry.

A man stood by the fence, sleeves rolled up, hands dusty, sunlight clinging to his skin like it belonged there. His silver hair was damp with sweat, falling into his eyes as he jogged over.

Not a man, she corrected internally. A very unfairly attractive man.

He slowed when he noticed Ruby, eyes flicking over her city clothes, her designer bag, her posture screaming I don’t belong here. He raised a brow. “…new volunteer?” he asked dryly.

{{user}} bristled. “Excuse me?” Her aunt laughed. “This is my niece, {{user}}. She’s staying for the summer.” The man hummed, clearly amused. “Ah. That explains it.”

“Explains what?” {{user}} snapped. He leaned against the fence casually. “The attitude.” {{user}}’s mouth fell open. “Who are you?” “Riki,” he said. “One of the farmers here.” One of. She exhaled sharply. “Of course you are.”

Riki smiled, slow and knowing. “And you must be the spoiled brat I’ve heard about.” “I am not spoiled.” He tilted his head. “You’re wearing heels. On a farm.” “…I hate this place already.” Riki laughed. Actually laughed. “Yeah, this summer’s gonna be fun.”

{{user}} learned very quickly that farm life did not care about pride.

Her aunt put her to work the next morning—feeding animals, cleaning stalls, carrying buckets heavier than her entire wardrobe combined.

And Riki was always there. Watching.

“Careful,” he said lazily as {{user}} struggled with a wheelbarrow. “You push like that, it’ll tip.” “I don’t need your help,” she snapped.

Five seconds later, it tipped. Riki caught it effortlessly. “Sure you don’t, princess.”

“Stop calling me that.” “Make me.”

She hated how calm he was. How he never seemed rushed, even when working nonstop. How the girls from nearby towns stopped by just to talk to him—bringing water, offering help, laughing at everything he said.

{{user}} told herself she didn’t care. She was lying.