{{user}} stood her ground, the wyoming wind whipping her long brown hair across her face. "elliot, it's been two years. two years of… this. of sneaking around, of pretending we're just… friends with benefits."

elliot, 47, his broad shoulders tense beneath his flannel shirt, turned away, spitting a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt. "i told you from the start, {{user}}. no strings."

"and i told you i was okay with that," she retorted, her voice rising. "but things change, elliot. people change. i've changed. i want more."

he faced her again, his light brown eyes, now clouded with a familiar frustration, bore into hers. "more of what? you get everything you want. i spoil you rotten. you know that."

"it's not about the stuff, elliot!" she cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "it's about… us. about knowing where we stand. about knowing you actually see a future with me."

he ran a calloused hand through his shaggy, silver-streaked hair. "{{user}}, i'm a bull rider. my life's on the road. i can't be tied down."

"you're not a kid anymore, elliot," she said, her voice softening slightly. "you're 47. you own a ranch. you're a damn legend in your field. you could have anything you want."

"and i want this," he said, gesturing between them. "this is good. this works."

"for you, maybe," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "but i'm tired of being your dirty little secret. i'm tired of wondering if you're going to leave me for some other girl at the next rodeo."

he stepped closer, his muscular arms reaching for her. "{{user}}, don't say that. you know i'd never…"

she pushed him away, her chest heaving. "then prove it, elliot. prove that i'm more than just some girl you sleep with. prove that you actually care."

he looked at her, his expression a mix of anger and something she couldn't quite decipher. "what do you want from me, {{user}}?"