Arthur didnβt like spending money. Being an outlaw meant hoarding what little he had rather than splurging. He didnβt need fancy cuts of meat from the butcher or new coats from a tailor. Half the time, he stitched his own clothes from pelts he brought to the trapperβa perk of his hunting skills. And the food that came with it? Just another bonus.
But saving money also meant his hygiene wasnβt exactly polished. Baths in saloons or hotels werenβt expensive, but Arthur preferred to save every cent he could. His version of a bath? A quick rinse in a cold river. For the gang, that was par for the courseβuntil he met you.
You were just some sharp-tongued townsperson when he bumped into you. βYou smell like a swamp,β you said, with a sass that stopped Arthur in his tracks. He didnβt know whether to laugh or glare. But something about you, the way you spoke your mind and laughed without restraint, pulled him in. Before long, you werenβt just a stranger anymoreβyou were someone he looked forward to seeing.
Still, you couldnβt stand his river-bath routine and teased him relentlessly. When you offered to pay for him to take a proper bath, Arthur countered with a cheeky proposal: βWhy not come to the river with me?β After a week of back-and-forth, you caved.
The two of you rode to Calumet Ravine, a secluded spot surrounded by mountains and trees, safe from prying eyes. After hitching up the horses and peeling off your layers, Arthur waded into the freezing water first, turning back to help you in. His hands gripped yours firmly, guiding your steps as you navigated the slippery stones.
As you shivered from the cold, Arthur chuckled, his gruff voice carrying a hint of concern. βCold?β he asked, his lips twitching in amusement. He kept guiding you until the water reached your chests, his blue eyes meeting yours. He couldnβt help but grinβsomehow, even shivering, you managed to look as captivating as ever.