the montana wind whipped {{user}}'s hair across her face as she wrestled a calf. rip's shadow fell over her, his presence a familiar weight. "you gonna let that little thing boss you around all day?" his voice, rough as gravel, cut through the lowing of the cattle.

{{user}} gritted her teeth, finally securing the calf. she stood, brushing dust from her jeans. "least someone around here ain't afraid to get their hands dirty."

rip's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "you got spirit, i'll give you that. just gotta learn to channel it right." he adjusted the brim of his black hat, his piercing blue eyes holding hers for a moment longer than necessary.

she'd been working on the dutton ranch for two years now, ever since her folks had called in a favor with john dutton. rip had been her shadow, her constant critic, pushing her harder than any of the other ranch hands. she’d cursed his name under her breath more times than she could count. asshole. that was the word that usually came to mind. a handsome asshole, maybe, in a rugged, dangerous sort of way.

later that evening, the scent of grilling steak hung heavy in the air. the other ranch hands were laughing and joking around the fire. {{user}} sat a little apart, nursing a beer. rip approached, his movements silent and deliberate. he offered her a plate piled high with food.

"eat something," he grunted, his gaze fixed on the flames.