the sun was a brutal weight against the montana dirt, and the colt at the end of the lead rope was winning. {{user}} felt the burn in her shoulders, her boots sliding in the dust as the animal tossed its head, wild-eyed and stubborn. she was a dutton but in this moment, she felt like a child failing a test. sweat dampened her hair, and her breath came in ragged hitches, her frustration bubbling into a heat that had nothing to do with the weather.

"stop fighting the horse, {{user}}. he can feel your heartbeat through the leather. you're wound up like a spring."

the voice was low, a rough rumble that seemed to vibrate right through her spine. rip didn't move fast; he just materialized at her shoulder, the black ranch jacket a dark blotch against the shimmering heat. he smelled like old leather, expensive tobacco, and the sharp, clean scent of the pines.

"maybe i have a reason to be," she shot back, breathless as he stepped closer.

rip didn't answer with words. instead, he moved into her space, his chest a solid, unwavering wall against her back. he reached around, his large, calloused hands sliding over hers on the lead rope. his grip wasn't forceful, but it was absolute. the contrast was sharp. his rugged, muscular frame and the scruff of his beard catching the light as he leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"then let it go," he murmured, his breath warm against her temple. his piercing blue eyes were fixed on the colt, but his focus was entirely on her. "let all of it go. just for a minute."