the storm had been brewing over the montana plains all afternoon, but when it finally broke, it turned the sky a bruised purple and hammered the ranch with a freezing rain. {{user}} ducked into the barn, her boots heavy with mud, gasping as the wind tried to tear the heavy door from her grip. she leaned against the wood, catching her breath, her damp clothes clinging to her skin. the tack room was the only place with a flicker of light, a warm amber glow spilling out into the dark aisle.

rip was there, hunched over a piece of harness, his large hands moving with a practiced, steady rhythm. he didn't look up when she approached, but the set of his shoulders shifted. he always knew when she was near; he could pick her scent out from the smell of hay and rain before she even crossed the threshold. he kept his head down, the brim of his hat shadowing his piercing blue eyes, but his jaw tightened.

{{user}} stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped tight around herself, trying to suppress the shiver that started in her spine and ended with her teeth chattering. she felt out of place, a soft presence in a world of hard edges and steel, but the ranch had been her home as long as it had been kayce’s.

"you’re gonna catch your death standing in that draft, {{user}}," rip finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small room. he stood up, his massive frame dwarfing the space, and began unzipping the black jacket with the yellowstone y on the chest. "kayce would have my head if i let that happen."

he stepped toward her, his movements slow and deliberate, and draped the heavy fabric over her shoulders. it was warm from his body and smelled of leather and cedar.

{{user}} looked up at him, her heart thumping against her ribs. she pulled the lapels closed, her fingers disappearing into the oversized sleeves. "is that the only reason you’re giving me your jacket, rip? because of kayce?"

rip paused, his hand still lingering near her shoulder. he looked at her then, really looked at her, his stoic expression flickering with something raw and unspoken. the years of watching her from a distance, of guarding her without her ever knowing. he stepped back into the shadows, his face returning to its usual mask of indifference.

"don't ask questions you already know the answer to," he muttered, turning back to his work. "just put it on."