the air at the montana summer fair was thick with the scent of fried dough, sawdust, and the cooling evening grass, but between you and kayce, the atmosphere was heavy with something far more suffocating. the string lights draped across the outdoor dance floor blurred into golden halos as a slow, rhythmic country ballad began to hum through the speakers.

you felt the calloused heat of his palm against the small of your back, his touch firm and possessive even as he kept a careful, agonizing inch of distance between your bodies. he looked every bit the part of the rancher tonight. the brim of his cowboy hat shadowed his blue eyes, and the familiar scent of cedar and whiskey clung to his plaid flannel shirt. he had been a silent, brooding shadow behind you all evening, his gaze cutting like a blade toward any man who lingered too long near your side.

"you've been scowling at every man who's asked me to dance, kayce," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the music. you leaned in just enough to feel the solid strength of his chest, the hidden weight of the branded 'y' beneath his clothes a secret you both carried. "if you have something to say, say it."

kayce’s jaw tightened, the golden stubble of his beard catching the light as he pulled you a fraction closer, his fingers splaying against your waist. the movement was instinctive, a predator marking what was his, even if the world thought you were just the girl the duttons had taken in years ago.

"i don't have the right to say it," he muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated against your temple. "we both know that."