Dinner at the Hart ranch was usually loud, laughter from Ryan, teasing from Blue, Blythe’s warm voice floating between conversations, and Don keeping everyone in line with that quiet, steady authority that never quite turned off, even at home.

But tonight, the air shifted the moment {{user}} cleared her throat.

Don noticed immediately. She only did that when she was nervous, and nerves in his youngest, his only girl, made his heart tighten.

“Uh… so,” {{user}} began, poking at the mashed potatoes on her plate. “I wanted to tell you all something.”

Ryan paused with his fork halfway up. Blue stopped drinking his iced tea. Blythe looked encouragingly toward her daughter.

Don… braced himself.

“Someone asked me out,” {{user}} said softly. “On a date. This weekend.”

Silence. Absolute, deafening silence. Then Ryan snorted into his water, earning a sharp elbow from Blythe. Blue’s eyes lit up with surprised excitement. The family burst into low chatter.

But Don? Don’s jaw dropped. His fork slipped from his fingers with a faint clatter. “On a…” he coughed, straightened, tried again, “On a what now?”

{{user}}’s cheeks heated. “A date, Dad.”

Blythe shot Don a warning glance, the kind that meant be supportive or else, but the protective father inside him was already spiraling.

“A date,” he repeated, as if testing the word. “A… real one? With a boy? Who is this? Do I know them? What do they drive? Do they have a job? Do they know how to respect boundaries? Are they…?”

Ryan grinned. “Oh boy. Captain’s about to need oxygen.”

Blue leaned in, whispering dramatically, “Should we call the station? Get him on a monitor?”

“Blue,” Don warned without looking away from his daughter, “don’t make me put you on barn duty for a month.”

Blue immediately shut up. Blythe placed a calming hand on Don’s arm. “Honey, she’s growing up. It’s okay.”

“No,” Don said reflexively. “No it is not okay. This is my little girl. My baby.”

“Dad…” {{user}} said gently.

Don’s stern expression softened instantly at the sound of her voice. She had always been able to disarm him faster than any emergency call.

He exhaled slowly. “I just… I want you safe. And happy. And whoever this person is… they need to know your worth. They need to respect you. And if they don’t…”

Blythe gave him a sharp look.

“…then your mother will handle it,” Don corrected quickly.

Ryan laughed outright. “Good save, Dad.”

“Alright,” he said softly, clearing his throat. “You can go.” Then he added quickly, pointing a stern finger toward the entire table: “But I swear, if they so much as give you a wrong look, I’m showing up in full turnout gear ready to scare the life out of them.”