the gravel crunched under rip’s boots, a heavy, rhythmic sound that seemed to anchor the quiet montana night. he didn't look at the house; he looked at you. the yellowstone logo on his black jacket caught the faint amber glow from the porch light, a silent reminder of where his loyalties were supposed to lie. but as he stood there, the cool air settling between the mountains, his gaze was fixed entirely on you.

you pulled your sweater tighter against the chill, your knuckles white where you gripped the fabric. you were old enough to know when a man was looking at you with more than just casual interest, yet the weight of rip’s stare made your breath hitch.

"kayce isn't back yet," you called out, your voice sounding thin and brittle in the vast expanse of the ranch.

rip stopped, his hand resting on the open door of his truck. his silhouette was massive. broad shoulders and a powerful frame that always seemed to take up all the space in a room, or even an open field. he didn't move toward the supplies in the back. he just watched you.

"i didn't come for kayce," he said. the roughness of his voice was like velvet over sandpaper, low and steady.

you shifted your weight, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. "he’ll be back soon," you insisted, more to the empty driveway than to him.

rip took a slow, deliberate step toward the porch. he stopped just at the edge of the light, the shadow of his cowboy hat obscuring his eyes, but you could feel the blue of them piercing through the dark. he looked at you, really looked at you, taking in the way you stood there waiting for a man who wasn't there.

"the problem with you," rip began, his voice dropping an octave as he moved a fraction closer, "is you’re always waiting for a man who’s already halfway out the door."

you opened your mouth to defend kayce, to say something about duty or the ranch, but the words died in your throat. rip didn't give you the chance.

"i’m standing right here," he said, his stoic expression softening just enough for you to see the yearning he usually kept buried under layers of steel and shadow. "i ain't going anywhere."