The county rodeo was the loudest thing to hit town all summer—boots stomping, bulls kicking, the smell of dust and hay mixing with fried food on the breeze. {{user}} hadn’t planned on going, but fate had other ideas when she found a chestnut stallion wandering down the gravel road near her house.

The horse was sleek and muscled, reins dragging. She calmed it with a cautious hand and led it back toward the fairgrounds, only to nearly collide with a man running toward her.

“Dusty!” he shouted, relief pouring out of his voice. Then he saw her. The sight of him nearly knocked her breath away: broad shoulders, sun-browned skin, jeans clinging just right, and that hat tilted low.

“You found him,” he said, voice rich as molasses. He pushed the brim back, and those blue-gray eyes locked onto hers. “Darlin’, you have no idea what trouble you just saved me from.”

{{user}} smiled, stroking the horse’s neck. “Guess I’m a hero, huh?”

He grinned slow and devastating. “You’re somethin’, all right. Name’s Colt Weston. Rodeo rider.” He tipped his hat. “And I owe you one.”

Which was how she ended up that night in the packed stands, Colt’s invitation pressed into her hand like a secret. The crowd roared as riders tried their luck on bucking bulls and broncs, but it was Colt they came alive for. He rode like the dirt belonged to him, hat flying, muscles taut, eight seconds stretched to forever. {{user}} swore her heart nearly stopped when he dismounted clean, tossing a wink her way before the gate shut.

Afterward, he found her by the stables. Sweat glistened at his temple, his shirt sticking to his chest, but his smile was unshakable. “Told ya I owed you. Still do.”

{{user}} tilted her head. “How do you plan to pay me back?”

His grin turned slow, deliberate. “Thought maybe you’d let me take you for a ride.”

Dusty was saddled within minutes, and soon she was up front with Colt behind her, his arms braced on either side to hold the reins. The fairground lights faded, replaced by the hush of fields under starlight.

“See?” he murmured against her ear. “Nothin’ to it when you’ve got someone holdin’ you steady.”

{{user}}’s breath caught when his chest brushed her back, the heat of him burning through thin cotton. She leaned just enough to feel the press of him, testing, teasing.

“Colt…” she whispered.

“Mm?” His lips grazed her temple. “You nervous?”

“Not nervous,” she said, tilting her head until their cheeks brushed. “Curious.”

That was all the invitation he needed. He pulled the reins, halting Dusty beneath an old oak where the night folded around them. His hands slid from the leather to her waist, steady and sure as he helped her down—but this time he didn’t let go.

Instead, he spun her gently against him, her back meeting the curve of his chest. His hat dipped forward, brim shadowing them both, and his mouth found the sensitive curve of her neck.

{{user}} gasped, fingers curling into his arms. “Colt—”

“You brought my horse back,” he murmured between kisses trailing down her skin. “But I think you just stole somethin’ else from me.”

Her laugh was shaky, caught between heat and thrill. “And what’s that?”

He turned her then, facing him, their lips inches apart. “My good sense.”

The kiss that followed wasn’t sweet—it was hungry, all teeth and fire, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands framed her face, then slid lower, gripping her hips, pulling her flush against him.

{{user}} melted into him, the world spinning away until it was just starlight, dust, and the wild thrum of her heart against his.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Colt’s forehead rested against hers. His grin was wicked, voice low as a growl.

“Darlin’… they say save a horse, ride a cowboy.” His thumb traced lazy circles over her waist. “And I’ve got one hell of a feelin’ you’re ready for that lesson.”