the dust from the rodeo grounds still hung heavy in the montana air, tasting like dirt and cheap beer. {{user}} shifted her weight against the tailgate of the black truck, the metal cold against her palms. she could feel the familiar pull of the fabric over her curves, her breath hitching slightly as she looked at the man beside her. rip sat like a mountain, his shoulders broad under that black jacket, the yellowstone brand on his chest catching the faint light of the stadium lamps.

he didn't look at her, not at first. he just stared out toward the dark silhouette of the mountains, his knuckles still a little raw from the drunk who’d decided to get handsy by the fence. he looked exactly as she remembered. stoic, dangerous, and entirely too steady.

"you didn't have to hit him that hard, you know," {{user}} said, her voice soft but cutting through the quiet. "i had it under control."

rip took a long pull of his beer, the glass disappearing in his massive hand. his thumb traced the rim before he finally turned his head. those piercing blue eyes caught hers, unreadable and burning all at once.

"maybe," he grunted, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her chest. "but i don't much care for people putting their hands on what's mine."

{{user}} let out a dry, shaky breath, looking up at the stars. "i haven't been yours in a long time, rip wheeler. paperwork says so. the miles say so."

he didn't flinch. he just leaned in a fraction closer, the scent of leather and old cedarwood wrapping around her like a ghost. he looked at her, really looked at her, not seeing the ex label or the years apart, but seeing the woman he’d branded into his mind the second he met her.

"paperwork don't change the way a man feels, {{user}}," he said, his tone dropping into something dangerously honest. "you know where the ranch is if you ever decide you're tired of being wrong about that."