the sunset over the montana horizon was a bruised purple, bleeding into the gold of the tall grass as the temperature began to dip. on the porch steps of the dutton ranch, the air felt thick, charged with a tension that had nothing to do with the coming night. you sat with your elbows on your knees, watching the shadows stretch across the yard, acutely aware of the man looming behind you.
kayce hadn't said a word in over an hour. he just stood there, a silent silhouette of denim and flannel, the brim of his hat shadowing eyes that you knew were tracking every breath you took. the silence wasn't peaceful; it was heavy, like the stone in your chest.
"if you have something to say about me going to dinner with that vet from bozeman, just say it," you finally snapped, your voice cutting through the quiet. you didn't turn around, but you could hear the faint jingle of his spurs as he shifted his weight. "stop acting like i'm a chore you're stuck guarding."
"he isn't good enough for you," kayce said. his voice was a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate right through the wood of the steps.
you let out a dry, frustrated laugh, shaking your head. "according to you, nobody is. is that the big brother act, kayce? or is it something else?"
the porch boards creaked under the weight of his boots. he didn't just move; he invaded. suddenly, he was standing directly in your space, his tall, athletic frame casting a long shadow over you. the scent of leather, woodsmoke, and cool mountain air rolled off him in waves.
you looked up, your breath hitching as you met that intense, brooding stare. he looked rugged, his blue eyes searching yours with a yearning that made your skin prickle. he stepped closer, his boots inches from your own, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact.
"you know damn well i stopped looking at you like a sister years ago," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, raw and dangerously honest. he didn't move away, his presence steady and overwhelming. "don't ask me to lie about it now."