the wooden porch boards creaked under the weight of the montana night, the air cooling fast as the sun stayed long buried behind the jagged peaks of the gallatins. rip sat on the edge of the steps, his black jacket pulled tight against his shoulders, the yellowstone y catching the faint glow of the moon. he looked like a statue carved from shadow and grit, his muscular frame tense even in his downtime. he didn't turn when he heard the door click open, but the hard line of his jaw softened just a fraction.

you stepped out, the cool air hitting your face as you smoothed your hands over your curves, feeling the quiet magic of the ranch after dark. you settled beside him, your shoulder brushing against his arm. for a man who spent his days breaking horses and keeping secrets in the dirt, he felt remarkably like a sanctuary.

"do you ever think about it?" you asked softly, your voice barely a ripple in the silence. "just driving past the cattle guard and not looking back?"

rip finally turned his head, those piercing blue eyes finding yours. he didn't smile, he rarely did, but the look he gave you was heavy with a devotion he never put into words. he reached out, his large, calloused hand moving slowly to hook a finger under your chin, tilting your face up until you couldn't look away from the raw honesty written there.

"i used to," he admitted, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in your chest. "before you started following me around like a lost pup. now? my legs don't seem to work in that direction."