the air at the branding party was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, roasted meat, and the earthy scent of horses kicking up dust in the nearby pens. music thrummed low from a pair of speakers perched on a tailgate, but it was mostly drowned out by the rowdy laughter of the ranch hands. you leaned against the worn wooden fence, the cold glass of a beer bottle pressed against your palm, watching the orange glow of the sunset bleed over the montana horizon.

you didn’t have to look to know where kayce was. you could feel him. he was a constant, heavy presence about ten feet away, his silhouette sharp against the fading light. he looked every bit the soldier-turned-cowboy, his flannel sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, scarred forearms and the quiet, lethal grace in the way he shifted his weight.

"you look like you're miles away," a voice rasped near your ear.

it wasn't kayce. it was a man you’d seen around town, a laborer from one of the neighboring outfits. he stepped into your space, smelling of cheap cologne and tobacco, his eyes trailing uncomfortably over the curves of your sundress. he leaned in close, one hand reaching out to rest on the fence right next to yours. "a girl like you shouldn't be standing all by herself."

before you could even think of a polite brush-off, the atmosphere shifted. the air didn't just get colder; it got tighter.

kayce was there in three long strides. he didn't say a word to the man, but the way he stepped between you. shoulders square and blue eyes turning to flint under the brim of his hat was enough to make the stranger stumble back. kayce didn't reach for the gun at his hip, but the threat was there, written in the hard line of his jaw and the tension in his thighs. the man muttered a quick apology and vanished into the crowd.

kayce didn't turn around immediately. he watched the man go, his chest rising and falling in a slow, jagged rhythm. finally, he turned to you, his expression unreadable, brooding.

"he was leaning in a bit close, don't you think?" kayce muttered, his voice rougher than usual. he took a slow pull from his whiskey, his gaze fixed on your mouth before jumping back to your eyes.

you let out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way your heart hammered against your ribs. "are you being my big brother or my best friend right now?"

the silence that followed was heavy, loaded with a decade of things left unsaid. kayce stepped closer, invading your space until you could feel the heat radiating off him. he tilted his head, the shadow of his hat obscuring his eyes, but his voice dropped an octave, vibrating in the small space between you.

"i’ve never felt like your brother," he said, the words coming out low and dangerous. "not for one second of my life. and i think you know that."