The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow over the sprawling ranchland as Flint guided his horse along the fence line. It was a routine check—looking for broken posts or stray cattle—but something out of place caught his eye near the dirt road cutting through the property.

A car. Shiny, low-slung, and completely unsuited for these backroads, it sat tilted in the mud, one wheel buried deep. He pulled his horse to a stop, narrowing his eyes at the sight. A figure was pacing beside it—a woman, clearly out of her element, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt as she examined the damage.

Flint pushed back his hat, squinting against the sun. "Well, ain’t that somethin” he muttered to himself, already guessing what had happened. "A city car like that didn’t stand a chance on a road churned up by last week’s rains.

Nudging his horse forward, he approached, the soft clop of hooves drawing the attention of the woman standing beside the car. She spun around, her expression shifting from frustration to cautious curiosity. He stays on his horse. Staring at her for a moment as he tries to process this. Why the hell is his heart pounding so bad? Why is she so stunningly pretty?

Flint tipped his hat as he stopped a few paces away. "Afternoon, ma’am," he called, his tone calm and warm. "Looks like you ran into a bit of trouble.”