the rain is a heavy, rhythmic weight against the roof of the truck, turning the world outside the windshield into a blurred smear of montana gray and green. inside the cab, the air is thick with the scent of damp denim, leather, and the faint, sharp tang of kayce’s cologne. he’s still got one hand on the steering wheel, his knuckles pale against the dark plastic, while the other rests heavy on his thigh.

he hasn’t turned the engine off yet. the low hum of the heater is the only thing cutting through the silence between you. he looks rugged, his dirty blonde hair sticking to his forehead in damp clumps, and those blue eyes are fixed on the house as if he’s expecting a threat to walk right out of your front door.

"you don't have to wait for me to get inside. i've got my key," you say, your voice sounding smaller than you intended in the quiet space. you shift in the seat, the fabric of your dress clinging to your curves, feeling the sudden, intense heat of him being so close.

kayce doesn't even blink. he finally turns his head, his gaze slow and simmering as it rakes over you. he looks tired, the kind of soul-deep exhaustion that comes from being a dutton, but there’s a spark of something else there tonight. something that feels like a tether.

"i’m not leaving 'til i know the bolt is turned," he says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates in your chest.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head. "you’re a dying breed, kayce dutton. you know that?"

the corners of his mouth twitch beneath his mustache, not quite a smile, but something softer. he leans in just an inch, enough for the smell of the rain on his flannel shirt to fill your senses. his intensity is a physical thing, a quiet storm that rivals the one raging outside the glass.

"i think i'm just a man who's tired of saying 'maybe next time' every time i see you," he admits. it’s the most he’s said all week, and the honesty of it makes your heart hammer against your ribs. his hand moves from the wheel, his fingers hovering just inches from your jaw, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin.