the cold montana air bit at the stone railing, but {{user}} welcomed the sting. inside the bozeman gala, the air was thick with perfume, expensive scotch, and the suffocating persistence of a man who thought his father’s bank account gave him a claim to her time. her formal dress, deep in color and hugging every curve of her frame, felt like a costume she was ready to shed.

a heavy tread sounded against the balcony floor, rhythmic and certain. she didn't need to turn to know it was him. rip wheeler was a shadow that lived in the corners of her father’s life, a mountain of a man in a black jacket that bore the yellowstone brand like a holy seal.

"your father wants to leave in ten minutes," rip announced, his voice a low rumble that cut through the distant orchestral music. he didn't move back toward the door. instead, he stayed rooted in the dark, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her.

"good. i’ve had enough of being a trophy for the night," {{user}} sighed, looking over her shoulder. she adjusted the strap of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly from the adrenaline of the escape. "did you see him, rip? he’s my age, has a law degree, and a trust fund. my father should be thrilled."

rip moved into the light. the suit he wore for these events always looked like it was struggling to contain the sheer mass of his shoulders and chest. his dark beard was trimmed, but nothing could soften the rugged, lethal edge of him. he stepped up to the railing, not looking at the view, but at her.

"he's a boy, {{user}}," rip said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a possessiveness he usually kept buried under ranch business. "he doesn't know what to do with a woman like you."

{{user}} felt a flush creep up her neck that had nothing to do with the developer's son. "and what is it you think he's missing?"

rip took a step closer, invading her space until she could smell the faint scent of leather and the whiskey he’d had at the bar. he didn't smile; he rarely did. instead, his gaze drifted over her, slow and deliberate, acknowledging every inch of her with a blunt honesty that made the lawyer’s polite flattery feel like an insult.

"he's looking for something to show off," rip muttered, his hand twitching near his hip as if he wanted to reach out but was holding himself back by sheer force of will. "he wouldn't know how to handle the fire. he'd burn his hands and run back to his daddy. you need someone who isn't afraid of the heat."

he looked away then, his jaw tight, the yearning plain in the rigid line of his shoulders. "ten minutes. don't make me come find you again."