the dust from the corrals hung in the air like a gold haze, catching the late afternoon light as it settled over the dutton ranch. kayce stood close behind {{user}}, his chest nearly brushing {{user}}'s back as he guided {{user}}'s grip on the lariat. he was a silhouette of rugged lines. dirty blonde hair tucked under a worn cowboy hat and a flannel shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. his hands, calloused and steady, covered {{user}}'s on the rough hemp rope.

"don't overthink the loop," he murmured, his voice a low vibration near {{user}}'s ear. "it’s about the rhythm, {{user}}. feel the weight of it."

{{user}} leaned into him slightly, the warmth of his presence a grounded contrast to the tension humming through the fence line. {{user}} could feel his heart beating, steady and sure, but his own was racing for a different reason. {{user}} glanced toward the white rails where a dark figure loomed, as immovable as the mountains surrounding them.

"he’s staring again," {{user}} whispered, his eyes flickering toward his brother. "if looks could actually kill, you’d be buried behind the barn."

rip stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a storm cloud in denim. the 'y' branded into his skin was hidden, but the protectiveness that came with it was on full display. he didn't move, didn't wave; he just watched the way kayce’s fingers lingered against {{user}}'s skin.

kayce didn't flinch. he didn't even look up. instead, he tightened his hand over {{user}}'s on the rope, refusing to break the contact. *"let him stare," he said softly. "i’ve faced worse than rip wheeler."

"maybe," {{user}} replied, a small, daring smile tugging at his lips as he looked back at him. "but you haven't faced him when it comes to me. are you scared, kayce dutton?"

the world seemed to quiet, the sounds of the cattle and the distant whistle of the wind fading into the background. kayce leaned in, his blue eyes intense and clouded with a yearning he usually kept locked behind his quiet exterior. the distance between them vanished until {{user}} could smell the faint scent of pine, leather, and woodsmoke clinging to him.

"only of what happens if i stop," he whispered, his thumb grazing the back of her hand.