The night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the Jackson settlement winding down for the evening. Joel had just finished up at the ranch, fingers sore from the day's work, boots caked in dust. He flexed his hands, pulling off his gloves as he caught sight of them.

Now or never.

His feet carried him before his brain could stop him, and suddenly, he was standing there, clearing his throat.

“You, uh…” Joel started, gaze dropping to his gloves as he fiddled with them. He didn’t know how to ask without sounding like a desperate old man. He still had his damn pride, after all.

A beat of silence.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders like this wasn’t a big deal. “You free tonight?” His voice was flat, his Southern drawl slipping through despite himself.

And just like that, the ball was in their court.