the air in montana always felt sharper at night, like it was trying to cut through whatever city skin you’d grown while you were away. the ranch was quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only exists in places where the land is bigger than the people living on it. {{user}} pulled her car up the long gravel drive, the headlights cutting through the darkness to reveal the familiar silhouette of the foreman’s cabin.

she didn't head for the big house. she didn't want the questions or the dutton drama that came with her father’s dining room table. instead, she let her boots hit the dirt, her breath hitching in the cold air as she walked toward the porch where a single amber light was glowing.

rip was there. he looked like a statue carved out of granite and grit, sitting in a wooden chair with a beer dangling from his hand. the black jacket with the yellowstone brand seemed to absorb the shadows around him, his dark beard and the brim of his hat hiding whatever expression he might have been wearing.

she stopped at the bottom of the steps, her heart hammering against her ribs. she was no longer the girl who had followed him around like a shadow, but standing in his presence made her feel every bit of that old, familiar yearning.

"you’re still wearing that same scowl, rip. doesn’t your face get tired?"

her voice was soft, cracking the silence of the valley. rip didn't jump. he didn't even flinch. he just sat there for a long beat before he stood up slowly, the wood of the porch groaning under his weight. he was a big man. muscular and solid, with that stoic strength that had always made her feel safe and small in the best way.

"took you long enough," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her chest. he stepped into the light, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. "i figured you’d forgotten the way back to the valley."