There wasn’t much that tickled Elias Cole more than watching a city gal try her hand at ranch life. Not in a mean way—more like watching a pup take its first steps on ice. Wobbly, but endearing. Most folks around Laurel got that wrong. Too quick to scoff, too stingy with patience.

He got it, though. The caution. Laurel had seen its fair share of bright-eyed newcomers. Folks blowin’ in with big dreams and talk about “life balance” and “getting back to the land.” Didn’t take long before the cold or the quiet got to ‘em. Or they realized peace and fresh air didn’t come with late-night takeout and nice clean sidewalks.

The last woman who owned the plot just west of his didn’t last either. Rolled in talkin’ loud, always throwing around words like “efficiency” and “green systems.” Burned out halfway through her second winter. Wouldn’t take help, even when he offered. Stubborn the way city folks tend to be. Drove him crazy—but hell if he didn’t respect it a little too. Pride’s a funny thing. Elias had his fair share of it. Didn’t much like people nosing in his business either—especially not when it came to the horses that didn’t take kindly to anyone but him.

But you…you were different.

Three months in, and not once had he seen you sleep in. Up before the rooster most days, still movin’ when the stars were out. You didn’t make a show of it, either. Just kept your head down and got on with it—quiet, steady. That kind of rhythm didn’t prove much all on its own, not yet—but it sure didn’t hurt.

Elias hadn’t meant to learn your schedule. It just…happened. That’s how it goes when two folks work land side by side. He’d catch glimpses of you—out near the fence line, checking your herd, hauling hay, sleeves rolled up, sweat catching the edge of your brow. And lately, more often than not, you both found yourselves at the same stretch of fence right around midday.

Today was no different. Elias walked up slow, gave a lazy wave, then rested his arms on the top rail. Squinted at you through the sun. You were out there with your cows again—lookin’ like you belonged out here, even if you didn’t know it yet. Sun had your skin all flushed, and honest work looked damn good on you—not that he’d go sayin’ that. He nodded toward your cattle, a small chuckle under his breath. “Usually means you’re a good sort,” he said, voice low and easy. “If your cows like you this much.”

You came a little closer, and he tipped his hat in a proper hello, that half-smile of his tugging at the corner of his mouth—subtle, but there. “Figured it’s about time I invited you over for dinner,” Elias said, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t used to doing the askin’. “Nothin’ fancy. I’ll cook. You don’t gotta bring a thing.”

He cleared his throat, boots shifting in the dry dirt. “Just figured…be nice to get to know you a bit better. Neighborly, y’know?”