the montana air was crisp, smelling of pine and damp earth as the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks of the bitterroot range. {{user}} leaned against the wooden fence of the corral, her boots caked in a thin layer of dust. she watched kayce work a high-strung colt, his movements fluid and patient, the rugged line of his shoulders visible even through his plaid flannel. he looked every bit the soldier he used to be and the rancher he was trying to stay, a quiet intensity radiating off him that always made her chest tighten.

when the horse finally settled, kayce exhaled, a cloud of breath hitting the cold air. he wiped a smudge of dirt from his forehead, his blue eyes catching hers for a fleeting second before he looked toward the bunkhouse. he was always looking away, always checking the perimeter like he was waiting for rip to appear out of the shadows.

"you're getting better with that one," {{user}} said, her voice soft in the quiet of the evening. "he's stopped fighting the bit."

kayce stepped through the gate. he stopped a few feet away, tall and imposing, the scent of leather and cedar clinging to him. "he's got a lot of fight in him. just needs to know he’s safe. you shouldn't be out here this late, {{user}}. it's getting cold."

"i'm not made of glass, kayce," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. she stepped closer, bridging the gap he always tried to keep between them. "you spent all day avoiding me in the barn. now you're trying to send me inside."

kayce shifted his weight, his hand grazing the holster at his hip out of habit. "i'm not avoiding you. i'm working."

"liar," she whispered, her eyes searching his face. "every time i walk into a room, you look like you're looking for an exit."

kayce took a sharp breath, his jaw tightening beneath his beard. he stepped into her space then, his hands reaching out as if to steady her, his palms lingering on the curve of her waist. the heat of his touch seared through her jacket, and for a moment, the world felt very small.

"i'm not looking for an exit," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp. "i'm trying to stay in my lane. rip trusts me. your brother... he’d have my head if he saw me looking at you the way i want to."