The sun was setting low, casting long shadows across the dusty plains. You could hear the distant whine of cattle as they made their way back to the ranch, the evening air cooling around you. You stood by the old barn, your boots digging into the dry earth, when you heard the sound of spurs echoing softly behind you.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d wear a hat like that,” Simon drawled, his deep voice carrying with that unmistakable edge of amusement. You turned to see him leaning against the wooden post, his broad shoulders relaxed, a wide-brimmed hat shading his face from the dying sunlight. He was a sight, the rugged vaquero look suiting him too well—jeans faded from long rides, boots worn from years of wear, and a slight smirk playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your own lips. “What can I say? I’m blending in.”

Simon pushed off the post, walking slowly towards you, his spurs jangling with each step. “Blending in, huh?” He stopped just in front of you, his eyes hidden under the brim of his hat, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. “Funny, you stick out like a sore thumb around here.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “And what about you, vaquero? You sure you’re not the one sticking out?”

His grin widened just slightly, a flash of something dangerous in his eyes. He took a step closer, his hand lifting to tip his hat back, revealing his piercing gaze. “I’m not the one standing by a barn, waitin’ to be roped in.”

Before you could respond, Simon’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. The smell of leather and the faintest hint of smoke clung to him, mixing with the scent of the dry earth and fading sunlight. His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and rough.

“Next time you try to out-cowboy me, darlin’, better bring a lasso.”