the montana air was crisp, even in late spring. {{user}}, perched on the top rail of the fence, watched curtis work with a familiar ache in her chest. forty-seven years etched lines around his kind brown eyes, eyes that had watched her grow up. his short brown hair peeked out from under his worn cowboy hat, and the way his muscular arms strained against his flannel shirt still made her breath catch.

he glanced up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, his full beard and mustache twitching slightly. "you gonna sit up there all day, {{user}}?" his voice, rough and comforting like well-worn leather, drifted over to her.

she shrugged with a small grin playing on her lips. "maybe. just enjoying the view." the view, of course, included him. for three years now, the "just like a brother" feeling had twisted into something more complicated, something that simmered beneath the surface like the montana sun on dry earth.

sam, her actual brother and curtis's best friend, remained blissfully unaware of the charged glances and lingering touches that had become their secret language.

curtis leaned against the fence post, his gaze steady on her. the scar on his hand, a memento from a long-ago roping accident, seemed to gleam in the sunlight. "you got a date tonight?" he asked, his tone casual, but she caught the subtle tightening around his jaw.