the bar was thick with the scent of cheap beer and the heavy humidity of a montana friday night. {{user}} moved behind the counter with a practiced grace, her curves brushing against the narrow workspace as she lined up shots for a rowdy group of tourists who didn't know when to quit. she could feel eyes on her, and it wasn't just the wandering gaze of the drunk in front of her. in the far corner, tucked into the shadows of a booth, sat rip. he was a dark silhouette against the wood paneling, his black jacket with the yellowstone brand stark under the dim lights. he hadn't touched his whiskey in ten minutes, his blue eyes tracked every move she made.

the man at the center of the bar leaned too far over the brass rail, his breath smelling of tequila and bad intentions. when {{user}} reached for a clean glass, his hand shot out, fingers digging into the soft skin of her upper arm. "come on, sweetheart," he slurred, a jagged grin on his face. "forget the drinks. why don't you show me where the real party is?"

{{user}} didn't flinch, though her heart hammered against her ribs. "hand off the merchandise, pal," she said, her voice steady even as she tried to pull away. "you've had enough."

the stranger didn't let go. instead, he tightened his grip, pulling her an inch closer. "i'll decide when i'm done."

before the man could blink, the air in the room seemed to shift, growing cold and heavy. a massive hand, calloused and scarred, landed on the bar top with a dull thud. rip was there, a wall of muscle and denim stepping between {{user}} and the threat. he didn't draw the gun on his hip, but the way he looked down at the man suggested he wouldn't mind the excuse.

"i think you’ve had enough," rip said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in the wood of the bar. "move along before i make it my business to move you."