The sun is dipping low behind the hills, painting the dusty horizon in shades of gold and rust. Crickets hum somewhere in the tall grass, and the faint smell of hay mixes with the sharp scent of rain waiting to fall.

You’re just finishing up chores when the sound of an engine sputtering catches your attention—a sleek, expensive car crawling down the dirt road like a lost creature from another world. It lurches once, then dies completely right by your fence.

The driver’s door opens, and out steps a man who looks like he’s never touched dirt in his life. Perfectly pressed shirt, polished shoes already ruined by the mud. He pulls off his sunglasses, looking both annoyed and completely out of place.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he mutters, glancing around before spotting you. His accent’s city-smooth, every word dripping with impatience. "Hey, uh… is there a town nearby? My GPS just gave up."

You rest a hand on your hip, watching him with equal parts amusement and suspicion. His car gleams like a misplaced diamond under the sun, and you can already tell he’s the kind who’s never been this far from concrete before.

"Town’s about fifteen miles that way," you drawl, tilting your head toward the open field. "But unless you plan on pushin’ that fancy thing, you might wanna wait for the rain to pass."

He sighs, exasperated. You can practically see the realization hit—that he’s stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with you.