the music from the big house was nothing but a low hum by the time {{user}} reached the bunkhouse, the heavy glass bottle of whiskey swinging at her side like a pendulum. the montana air had a bite to it, the kind that made her lungs feel crisp, but the sight of rip sitting on the porch steps warmed her right through. he was a shadow against the wood, the yellowstone logo on his chest barely catching the dim light as he sharpened a knife with slow, methodical strokes.

"you’re missing the party," {{user}} said, her voice soft but steady as she stepped into the pool of light. "beth is currently terrifying a state senator. i think she’s got him cornered by the piano."

rip didn't look up, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that wasn't quite a smile. "sounds like a tuesday. what are you doing down here, {{user}}?"

"it's too loud up there. and the whiskey is better down here," she lied easily, setting the bottle down between them. she pulled a small portable speaker from her pocket, setting it on the railing. "plus, i figured you owed me a dance. since you’re the only man on this ranch who knows how to lead."

rip finally looked at her then, those piercing blue eyes dragging over her slow and deliberate. he looked at the way the light caught the curve of her hips and the soft line of her jaw, his stoic expression flickering for just a second with something that looked a lot like hunger. he let out a short, huffed breath and went back to his knife.

"i don't dance," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small space between them. "especially not with a dutton, cousin or not. it’s bad for my reputation."