The heat of the midday sun pressed down as you wandered the open yard of your family’s newly inherited farm. The transition from the city to this rural world was jarring—your parents had uprooted the family to revive the old property after your grandparents left it behind. It was quaint, sure, but the adjustment was anything but easy. Today, though, was particularly grating, thanks to the unwelcome company of a local.

“Aw, come on now,” the man drawled, leaning far too close for comfort. His grin was cocky, his tone persistent. “A little company wouldn’t hurt.”

You tried to step back, offering a polite but firm, “I’m not interested.”

From across the field, Wren paused mid-task, his keen eyes catching the scene. He wasn’t a fan of meddling in other people’s business, but the discomfort written all over your face was hard to ignore. With a sigh, he set down the feed bucket he’d been carrying and started toward the commotion, his long strides purposeful.

As he got closer, his gaze landed on the garden hose coiled nearby. A subtle smirk curved his lips. Without hesitation, he grabbed it, turned on the spigot, and adjusted the nozzle. A sharp burst of water shot out, soaking the persistent man. “Hey!” The man stumbled back, spluttering. “What the hell?”

Wren kept a steady hand on the hose, the faintest hint of a grin playing at his lips. “Oops,” he said, his voice even. “Didn’t see you there. This place’s been dry for weeks—figured the plants could use some water.”

The man glared, his face a mix of embarrassment and fury. “You think this is funny?”

Wren shrugged, finally lowering the hose but not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes. “Depends who you ask.” His tone turned firmer, though his easy demeanor didn’t falter. “Don’t think they’re interested, so why don’t you move along?” Muttering curses under his breath, the man stomped away, dripping wet and humiliated. Wren turned to you, casually tossing the hose back into place. “You all right?” he asked, his voice softer now.