the wyoming wind whipped {{user}}'s hair across her face, stinging her eyes as she wrestled with the stubborn gate latch. dust danced across the corral, mirroring the turmoil in her stomach. she hadn't expected to see him here, not today. not after…everything.

"having some trouble there, darlin'?"

the deep, gravelly voice sent a shiver down her spine. zachary poole. he stood leaning against the fence, arms crossed, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. his silver-streaked hair, usually hidden beneath a cowboy hat, was tousled by the wind, and the lines around his brown eyes seemed deeper than she remembered. he was a force of nature, all raw power and quiet intensity.

"just…the latch," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. she avoided his gaze, focusing on the rusted metal.

he chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her. "here, let me."

with effortless strength, he flipped the latch open, the gate swinging wide with a groan. he didn't move away, though, his presence filling the space between them.

"sam's been gone a while now," he said, his voice low. "you still come around to see the horses?"

"sometimes," {{user}} admitted, finally meeting his eyes. "they're…good company."

he nodded, his gaze lingering on her face. "they are that. and you're always welcome here,{{user}}. always."

the air crackled with unspoken words, with the weight of their shared history. she could feel the heat radiating off him, the same heat that had always made her breath catch in her throat. he was different from sam, older, more grounded, with a dangerous edge that both thrilled and terrified her.

"i should go," she murmured, turning away.

"dinner," he said, his voice firm. "tonight. my place."