the neon sign of the bar flickered, casting a low hum over the wood-paneled room as the heavy oak door finally swung shut. the rowdy out-of-towner was gone, escorted out by a silent, immovable force that had barely broken a sweat. the silence that followed was thick, pressing into the corners of the room until only the sound of the old jukebox’s mechanical whir remained.

{{user}} leaned against the back counter, her breath hitching in her chest. she reached for a rag to wipe down a spot that was already clean, her hands betraying her with a slight, persistent tremor. she had handled drunks before, but the way that man had gripped her wrist made the room feel suddenly too small.

kayce stepped back to the bar, moving with that fluid, predatory grace that didn't match the quiet kindness in his blue eyes. he didn't crowd her, but he didn't retreat either. he stopped just inches away, his hand hovering over hers on the scratched mahogany surface. he wasn't touching her, yet the heat radiating from his skin was enough to make the hair on her arms stand up.

the rugged lines of his face were tight, the shadow of his mustache and beard catching the dim light. he looked every bit the rancher, from the dust on his plaid flannel to the way his jeans bunched over his boots, but there was a stillness to him now, a protector standing watch.

"you okay?" he asked. his voice was low, a rough rumble that seemed to vibrate right through the counter.

{{user}} didn't look up at first, focusing instead on the way his shadow draped over her own. she swallowed hard, her voice a mere whisper that lacked any real conviction. "i had it handled."

kayce leaned in a fraction closer, the scent of pine, leather, and cool Montana night air clinging to him. his hand shifted, still not making contact but close enough that she could feel the phantom pressure of his strength.

"i know you did," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, turning thick with an unspoken understanding. "doesn't mean you should have to."