the air in the barn was thick with the scent of hay, dust, and the sharp, medicinal tang of the sedative {{user}} had administered an hour ago. the heavy silence of 2:00 am pressed against the wooden walls, broken only by the rhythmic, steady breathing of the horse. {{user}} leaned her weight against the stall door, her shoulders aching under the thin fabric of her shirt. she pulled off one leather glove, using the back of her hand to smudge away the grime on her forehead, her eyes never leaving the animal.

she didn't hear him approach. it was the soft, familiar crunch of boots on straw that made her head turn.

kayce stood in the mouth of the stable, the dim amber glow of the lantern catching the gold in his unkempt hair and the rugged line of his jaw.

"you're still here," he said. his voice was low, raspy from hours of disuse, vibrating in the quiet space between them.

{{user}} didn't straighten up. she couldn't. "job’s not done until he’s standing steady, kayce. you know that."

he stepped closer, moving into the circle of light. the intensity in his blue eyes was enough to make her breath hitch, a familiar heat blooming in her chest despite the chill of the montana night. he stopped just a foot away, his presence massive and grounding. he reached out, his hand hovering near her shoulder as if to steady her, before he caught himself and pulled it back, his fingers curling into a fist at his side.

"you’re exhausted," he murmured, his gaze tracing the tired lines of her face. "let me walk you to your truck."

"i'm fine," she lied. she looked up at him, her pulse drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

kayce took that final inch of space, his scent. pine, horse, and something uniquely him enveloping her. "i know you're fine, {{user}}," he whispered, his eyes dark with an unspoken yearning that stripped away every professional boundary they had carefully built. "but i'm asking anyway."