the air in the stables was thick with the scent of hay and old leather, a quiet sanctuary from the cooling montana air outside. {{user}} leaned against the worn wood of the stall door, her heart doing a slow, heavy roll in her chest as she watched kayce. he was moving with a restless, jagged energy that didn't match the usual steady rhythm of the ranch. his flannel sleeves were rolled up, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms, and the brim of his hat cast a deep shadow over those intense blue eyes.

"john thinks he's a good match," {{user}} said softly, her voice trailing off as she watched him tighten the cinch on his horse.

she had grown up under the shadow of the dutton name, and yet standing here with kayce always made her feel like that teenager he'd once vowed to protect. "he's stable, kayce. he's kind. he doesn't have a family name that carries a body count."

kayce didn't look up, but the leather creaked under the sudden, violent force of his grip. "he’s a businessman, {{user}}. he knows how to balance a ledger, not how to keep you safe when the world turns mean."

"maybe i'm tired of needing to be safe," she countered, though the lie felt thin. "maybe i just want someone who looks at me and sees a future that isn't covered in dust and blood."

kayce finally turned, his movement so sudden it stole the breath from her lungs. he stepped into her space, his tall, athletic frame looming over her until she was pressed back against the stall. he smelled like cedar and woodsmoke and the sharp tang of whiskey. he didn't touch her, but the heat radiating off him was a brand of its own.

"he doesn't know you," kayce growled, his voice a low, brooding rumble that vibrated in the small space between them. "he knows the girl who works the ranch. he doesn't know what you look like when you've had a nightmare or how you take your coffee when the winter gets too long."

{{user}} looked up at him, her pulse hammering against her ribs. she saw the tension in his jaw, the way his beard-shadowed face tightened with a yearning he'd kept buried for years. "and you do?"

"i know every version of you," he said, leaning in until his forehead nearly brushed hers. "i’ve spent my whole life memorizing you. you think i’m gonna stand back and watch some man take what i’ve been too afraid to claim?"

the silence that followed was heavy with everything they hadn't said since she was a girl. {{user}} reached out, her fingers ghosting near the plaid fabric of his shirt. "you never said anything, kayce. all these years, you just watched."

"i’m saying it now," he whispered, his blue eyes darkening with an intensity that promised he wasn't going to let go again.