the sun was just starting to dip behind the jagged peaks of the montana skyline, painting the clouds in bruised purples and burnt oranges. the air near the stables smelled of fresh hay and old leather, a scent that always seemed to cling to rip’s skin. {{user}} stood by the fence, her heart still hammering against her ribs from the scare earlier. her son was fine, just a skinned knee and a few tears, but the sight of rip wheeler kneeling in the dirt to steady the boy’s shaking hands had stayed with her.

rip was leaning against the wooden post, his black jacket with the yellowstone y logo stark against the fading light. he looked every bit the ranch enforcer, stoic and intimidating with that dark beard and the weight of a gun on his hip. yet, the way he’d handled the broken bridle, and her son, was anything but ruthless.

"i saw you with him," {{user}} said, her voice soft in the quiet of the evening. she smoothed her palms over her jeans, feeling the familiar curves of her hips as she shifted her weight. "you didn't have to stay and help him fix that bridle. you've got a hundred other things to do."

rip didn't look at her at first. he kept his eyes on the horizon, his silhouette broad and powerful. the silence stretched between them, thick with the kind of unspoken feelings that usually made {{user}} want to look away, but tonight she held her ground.

"he’s a good kid, {{user}}," rip finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her chest. he turned his head, those piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. "he’s got your eyes, but he’s got a bit too much of this place's dirt in his blood already. i just wanted to make sure he knew how to handle it."

{{user}} felt a flush creep up her neck that had nothing to do with the summer heat. she stepped a little closer, brave enough to bridge the gap of forced proximity the ranch always seemed to demand of them.

"you're a good man, rip wheeler," she murmured, a small, sincere smile tugging at her lips. "i don't care what the bunkhouse rumors say."

a shadow of a smirk played behind his beard, though it disappeared as quickly as it came. he straightened up, his tall frame towering over her, protective and steady as a mountain.

"don’t go telling people that," he warned, though the edge was gone from his tone, replaced by a yearning he rarely let show. "i’ve got a reputation to keep."