The Dutton ranch had always been Kayce’s peace, wide skies, the sound of wind cutting through tall grass, the low rumble of cattle in the distance. Out here, life made sense. It was quiet, steady, honest.
Which was exactly why the woman following Beth out of the truck that morning made his jaw tighten.
Beth’s voice carried through the yard before he even saw them. “Don’t mind my brother, he’s about as friendly as a rattlesnake before coffee.”
Kayce wiped his hands on a rag, his boots crunching against the gravel as he turned toward them. “That’s one way to introduce me,” he muttered.
And there she was, {{user}}. City girl to the bone. Jeans that had never seen dirt, sneakers that looked brand new, a notebook already in her hand. Her hair was too neat for this place, and her expression screamed curiosity.
“Kayce,” Beth said with that dangerous little smirk of hers, “this is my friend, {{user}}. She’s doing some fancy college paper comparing city life to ranch life. So she’s gonna be hanging around for a bit.”
Kayce blinked. “Hanging around?”
{{user}} smiled, polite, practiced, maybe even a little nervous. “Just observing, really. I promise I won’t get in the way.”
He stared for a moment too long. “You already are.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you’re worse than Dad. Relax. She’s not here to steal your horse.”
Kayce shot his sister a look, but Beth only grinned and sauntered off toward the house, muttering something about pouring herself a drink before the chaos started.
Which left him standing there with {{user}}.
She cleared her throat softly. “I, um… didn’t mean to intrude. Beth said it was okay if I watched a bit, maybe asked a few questions?”
He crossed his arms, the hint of a glare still in his eyes. “You ever been around livestock before?”
“Does the petting zoo count?”
His sigh was long and sharp, but there was something about her answer, the way she said it so earnestly, that made the corner of his mouth twitch. He caught himself before it turned into a smile.
“Fine,” he said gruffly. “You can tag along. But if you get stepped on, bitten, or fall in a pile of something, that’s on you.”
{{user}} nodded quickly. “Got it.”
He turned, walking toward the pens, and she followed, careful, curious, scribbling little notes as they went.
By midday, when she tripped on a rock and nearly fell into the mud, he caught her by the arm without thinking.
“Careful,” he muttered.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, cheeks flushed.
He wanted to roll his eyes, maybe make a sarcastic remark about city shoes not belonging on ranch soil, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he just… looked at her. Up close, she wasn’t what he expected. She didn’t smell like perfume, but like something softer, soap, shampoo, sunshine. Her eyes were steady, not scared, not judgmental. Just curious.
He let go of her arm. “You really don’t belong here,” he said quietly.