Jack Marston headed over to the fence, just planning to ask Jessie what time she was riding. Easy enough. But the second he got close, he spotted you beside her—resting your arms on the top rail, boots dusty, smile easy—and suddenly,

— “What time you on?” came out a lot slower than usual.

Jessie didn’t miss a beat. “Three. I’m third up,” she said, taking a sip from her water bottle.

Jack’s eyes didn’t leave you. “Well damn,” he said, grinning, “I came over here for the bull rider, but I think I just found the main attraction.”

Jessie rolled her eyes, clearly used to his antics. “She’s not here for you, Jack. Jessie groaned, smacking him lightly on the arm. “Go ride somethin’ and leave her alone.”

— “Tryin’ to,” Jack said with a wink. “Might not be a bull, though.”