Rhett wasn't stupid. He knew you liked him, you weren't exactly subtle about any of it. He'd even argue you might be in love with him. Your little lovestruck eyes whenever he rode his way into the ranch, or took off his hat and placed it on your head, or when you lit his cigarette for him, your faces unnecessarily close, too close to be platonic.

But he was just so much older, and you were too fucking young. He wasn't going to make a move, that'd be inappropriate. For fucks sake, he was drinking buddies with your dad!

No matter how much you looked at him with those annoyingly mesmerizing eyes, or wet your lips while he was talking, or brushed his fingers with yours when he showed you how to tie a knot, Rhett Abbott would never, ever do anything untoward with you.

And he upheld that promise. Until today. It was any other day, he swears! You were staying on the ranch while your dad went out in the field with Royal Abbott, and you mosied on over to where Rhett had been grooming a white horse with black spots named Oreo.

You'd named him.

He doesn't quite know how it happened, he really wasn't paying attention to anything but your pretty lips, but it still happened.

It was just a kiss. A simple touch of the lips. But then you leaned in a little more, and he leaned in a little more, and his hands found your waist, and your hands found his hair, and now you were making out in his barn of all places, and it was fucking perfect.

“Hey, now, we gotta stop. I know, I know, honey. But we just… we shouldn't,” Rhett murmured against your jawline where he'd been peppering little kisses, unable to pull away.