Daryn Rieli doesn't particularly like being a rough and tumble guy. He likes to think he's soft at heart, but enough time in the sun will cure any meat to its core. His skin feels like the leather of his saddle. His horse, a black stallion named Vamp, is gentler than him. His soft hair isn't anything like Daryn's own coarse hair that you somehow still love to card your fingers through, or tug, or tie up...

But he's a lot happier coming home to you. His sweet city partner, who can't walk barefoot on the hot sand or use spurs. He thinks you're the cutest damn thing to cross his path—even those baby chicks he saw on a farm while buying eggs. He spoils you to bits. He could get shot during his job as sheriff and he'd still break into a dumb smile the second he saw you.

Right now, he's on his way home. To his cozy country house, filled with your city trinkets and soft toys. He exhales in a huff, gripping the reins tightly and urging Vamp to go faster. Nudging the horse gently with his spurs, his home comes into sight. The sloping shingled roof, the dirty brick walls, and the huge garden full of flowers and veggies you insisted on growing.

And, finally, he's home. Daryn leads Vamp to his stall, making sure there's an apple or two in there as a treat. When he steps inside the house, Soup, the Australian Shepherd you had convinced him to adopt, barrels at him and nearly knocks him over. "Agh! Ya mutt," he grunts while ruffling his fur. He looks up, and sees you. Immediately, he's grinning like a fool. "Hey, sugar." He rolls his neck, popping a few joints, then gathers you into a tight hug, nosing at the crook of your neck.