the montana air was thick with the scent of pine and antiseptic as {{user}} knelt in the dirt beside the squeeze chute. the calf was restless, a small thing with wide, frightened eyes, and she worked with a steady hand to check the deep gash on its hind leg. she didn’t have to look up to know kayce was there. she could feel the heat of him, the familiar weight of his presence as he leaned over the rail to keep the animal still.

“steady now,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them.

he reached down, his large, calloused hand brushing against hers as he adjusted the halter. the contact was electric, a sharp jolt that made her fingers twitch. they had been doing this dance for months. working in tandem, sharing quiet glances across the yard but the unspoken feelings were starting to feel like a physical weight in her chest.

as she reached for a fresh roll of gauze, a jagged edge of the metal chute caught the back of her hand. she hissed, pulling back as a thin line of red beaded against her skin.

it was nothing. a scratch. but before she could even wipe it away, kayce was moving.

he swung over the rail, his boots hitting the dirt with a heavy thud. he didn't say a word as he took her wrist, his grip firm but strangely gentle. his thumb pressed right against her pulse point, and she knew he could feel how fast her heart was hammering. he looked intense, his jaw set beneath his beard, his blue eyes focused entirely on the tiny wound as if it were a life-threatening injury.

“it’s just a scratch, kayce. i've had worse from a house cat,” {{user}} said, trying to laugh, though her voice came out breathy and thin.

he didn't laugh back. he reached into her medical kit, pulling out a cleaning swab with a focus that felt far too intimate for a first-aid task. he was acting out of a raw, suppressed protective instinct that made the air between them feel charged and heavy.

“kayce,” she whispered, her voice trembling as he carefully dabbed at the cut. “look at me.”

he kept his head down, his rugged features shadowed by the brim of his hat. he couldn't look up, not yet.

“if anything happened to you on this ranch... on my watch...” he started, his voice trailing off into something dark and pained.

“it's a scratch,” she repeated softly, tilting her head until he was finally forced to meet her gaze. the longing in his eyes was so sharp it nearly took her breath away. “why does it matter so much to you?”

“you know why,” he snapped, the honesty finally breaking through his quiet shell. he didn't let go of her wrist. instead, he pulled her just an inch closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. “you’ve known for a long time.”