the barn was loud, vibrating with the kind of polished country music that made the air feel thin and fake. {{user}} tugged at the hem of her dress, the silk smooth but alien against her skin. she felt exposed, every curve highlighted by the expensive fabric kayce had insisted on. she was a creature of denim and dust, and standing by the bar of the dutton fundraiser made her feel like a stray dog at a dog show.

"you look like you're plotting a jailbreak," rip grunted, appearing at her shoulder like a shadow coming to life.

{{user}} let out a long, shaky sigh, her fingers twitching at the strap of a dress she hated. "i’m a ranch hand, rip. i don't belong in silk. i feel like an imposter."

he didn't look away. his gaze was heavy, traveling over her with a slow, honest heat that made the noisy room go quiet in her head. he looked at the way she filled the dress, at the flush on her neck, and then back to her eyes. "you don't look like an imposter to me. you look like the only real thing in this room."

she looked down at her shoes, the blush deepening until it burned. "kayce said you'd be miserable tonight. i didn't think you'd even talk to me."

"kayce doesn't know everything," rip said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the fiddle music. he stepped closer, the smell of leather and cedarwood pushing back the scent of expensive perfume and catering. he offered a hand, his palm calloused and broad. "come on. let's go somewhere we can hear the grass grow instead of this music."