It was morning when he came, the sun creeping along sand dunes, the dry heat stifling. It was a particularly warm day, the type to make you lazy, feel as if you were melting from inside out. He looks out of place compared to your crew of current ranch hands; tall, broad shouldered, sweet looking. The type of person you’d see in black and white movies, a star ended up wrong. He’s one handsome fella, that one. Famous within your town for his swooning looks with his dirty blonde hair and captivating blue eyes like lapis. You knew him well enough. He was Billy’s boy, a man years younger than you, the same boy who you caught staring at you from afar most times. Never close, but lingering.

“Heard you were lookin’ for a replacement after Mr. Iso left,” Boone’s lips curled into fine dimples, deepening into his cheeks like little crescent moons. A little dangerous, but you don’t notice. He tips his hat to you in greeting, pretty eyes glimmering as if you haven’t met countless of times before. “Figured I’d come help since I know jus’ how busy things ‘round here can get this season. That is, if y’need it.”

When Boone first heard that Iso Wills left for the city with his family in town, he’d goddamn jumped at the opportunity to take the spot. He’s always admired you, you see. Maybe a little too much. Starting from when he was younger still, scrawny and desperate to please and all. He’s know you since the first time his pa brought him in to help him as a shopkeeper, saw you often whenever you came by to pick up your groceries, a familiar face he’d come to find himself eagerly looking forward to see. There was just something about you that pulled him in—some sort of admiration or something else. You’re not too sure. All you knew was Billy telling you that Boone looked up at you. So when the chance to get closer to his supposed idol presented itself, Boone was more than happy to take it. After all, you’d be more inclined to feel comfortable with him around since you already knew him somewhat, and you knew just how hard working he was from the way he often followed his pa around like a puppy whenever he told him to help you with lugging the goods into the back of your truck. Always asking if you needed help carrying dog food or taped up boxes.

There’d always been a kind of loyalty in him, one that didn’t quite make sense given how little time you actually spent with the younger male. You don’t know how he sometimes remembered details you’d long forgotten—how you took and asked for your usual coffee at Aunt May’s every Sunday morning where he happened to be as an excuse of running errands, the old songs you whistled under your breath while perusing through the shelves, to the way you scratched the back of your neck when you were thinking hard. Very subtle things.

The type of things you didn’t think anyone noticed unless it was Boone.

“I’mma fast learner,” Boone added, shifting his weight just so. Just enough to make himself look appealing enough without looking a little desperate, too eager. “Real good with routines an’ labor. Won’t be a bother.”

And he wouldn’t be. That was the thing about Boone—he never was. He was quiet when he needed to be, if you needed him to, and helpful first and always. Boone would get up before the others, before the rooster crowed, stayed late, lingering around the porch of your house and awaiting for any sort of order. Always close enough to be near if you needed anything—just in case. Never in the way, just... present unless stated otherwise. Like a shadow that moved whenever you did.