The prairie air was cool but dry, the late-afternoon sun casting long shadows over the rodeo grounds. The set buzzed with movement — grips adjusting cameras, the wrangler leading horses back and forth, the metallic creak of gates opening and closing.

{{user}} leaned casually against the sun-warmed barricade, the scent of hay and leather drifting past. From where she stood, Rudy was pure cowboy: worn jeans, dust-scuffed boots, a faded plaid shirt, and a hat tipped low enough to shadow his eyes. He sat astride a buckskin mare, murmuring something to the trainer while waiting for the director’s cue.

She hadn’t seen him in person in two months — two months of FaceTime calls in dim hotel rooms, voice notes from his night shoots, and texts sent across time zones. Cowboy had pulled him to the middle of Alberta, and she’d stayed behind, working on her own projects. They’d promised to handle the long-distance thing like pros. They mostly had. But she wasn’t about to miss his birthday.

So she’d planned this: an early morning flight, a quick text exchange with his assistant to slip her onto set, and two hours of hiding in the shadows while he filmed.

“Action!” the director called.

Rudy focused instantly. His hands tightened on the reins, his jaw set into that gritty, competitive look he’d been honing for weeks. The mare surged forward into the sandpit, hooves thudding in perfect rhythm. He moved like a natural — leaning into the turns, weight balanced, every shift smooth and confident. {{user}} felt a swell of pride watching him.

“Cut!”

Rudy slowed the mare to a trot, then a walk, brushing a hand down her neck. He was grinning — that adrenaline-slick grin she knew too well — when she decided it was time.

She cupped her hands around her mouth, her plaid dress fluttering in the wind. “Looking good, cowboy!”

He froze for a heartbeat. He knew that voice. A voice he wasn’t supposed to hear today. His head lifted, scanning until his gaze locked on her.

A broad, boyish smile broke across his face, unguarded and instant. “No way,” he laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he swung a leg over the saddle. Boots hit the dirt with a thud, and then he was moving — walking fast, breaking into a run — straight toward her.