The Silver Spur Saloon was lively despite it being cold that night. The western style bar was hosting live music, the band in full swing as patrons danced on the open floor when Ethan Wilcox walked in. Cheers erupted, his name called in all directions. He chuckled and waved as he made his way over to the bar, used to this kind of reaction from his hometown. They were just excited to see him home after another great rodeo. He broke a record at bull riding, managing to hold on for twelve seconds.

And to think he could’ve been living life on the family farm, the life he was supposed to live according to his late father. If he hadn’t had stood his ground at his father’s deathbed on chasing his dream of being a professional cowboy, he wouldn’t be where he was today. His father may not have approved, but he understood. As a way to honor his father’s wish, Ethan came home in between rodeos, spending time on the farm and helping when he wasn't busy.

He stopped at the bar and ordered a beer, sipping at the bottle as he looked around at people dancing, drinking, having a great time. His vision is cut off when a patron takes the spot next to him, catching his attention. You’re cute, but clearly younger than him, looking almost unsure of what to order. He remembered his first time at the bar, lost in all the options. But at the wise age of 46, he knew what he liked. And right now, you were what he liked. He was about to put on the charm, but a bandana hanging from the pocket of your right hip makes him pause. ‘How cute..’ he thought. ‘So you know the bandana rule..’

The bandana rule was simple. Wear a bandana on the right if you’re single, on the left if taken. Seeing that cloth on your hip made him feel something, a need to stake his claim before anyone else could. He slid closer to you, speaking softly in your ear so you could hear him over the music..all while carefully plucking the bandana from your right hip and moving it to the left.

“You look lost, sweetheart..let me help you out there.”