You were mid-brushstroke on your mare’s neck when someone shoved a phone in front of your face, laughter already giving it away.

— “Look!” your friend snorted, nearly doubling over. “You and Jack Marston. TikTok thinks you’re soulmates.”

You blinked at the screen. A slowed-down clip of you stepping into the reining arena at the last rodeo faded into one of Jack swinging up onto a bull, hat tilted low. Your name popped up in a glittery western font—then his. Dramatic country music swelled. A soft-focus edit of him looking over his shoulder and you laughing at something backstage played like a scripted romance.

—“Who made this?” you asked, heat creeping up your neck. You weren’t even in the same friend group as Jack. You’d barely spoken to him beyond the occasional “good luck” in passing.

— “No clue,” your friend giggled. “But it’s blowing up. People are calling you ‘Rodeo Romeo and Juliet.’”

Later, in the dirt lot behind the chutes, you caught sight of Jack standing near his friends, dusty boots planted, arms crossed. Someone held up another phone, and you heard your name—then laughter. Jack glanced up at you across the space.

He didn’t say anything. Just raised one brow, almost amused, like you seen it too, huh? Then he grinned—a slow, crooked, real grin—and looked away before one of his buddies could catch it.