Morning on the Dutton Ranch came slow, gold light rolling over the fields like a promise. The air was cool, the horses restless, and somewhere near the stables, Kayce Dutton trailed a few steps behind {{user}}, not because he didn’t trust them, but because he didn’t trust himself not to worry.

{{user}} laughed softly, glancing over their shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to follow me around like I’m gonna fall over any second.”

Kayce adjusted his hat, trying to play it off with a grin. “Ain’t following. Just… makin’ sure you’re not liftin’ anything you shouldn’t.”

They rolled their eyes, but the affection in their tone gave them away. “Kayce, it’s a feed bucket. It’s barely ten pounds.”

“That’s the limit,” he said, stepping closer just in case. “And I weighed those buckets. Don’t test me.”

It was both endearing and a little ridiculous, the former Navy SEAL turned ranch hand acting like a nervous first-time dad. But {{user}} couldn’t help loving the sight of him like this: protective, patient, all heart.

They were twenty weeks along, just starting to show, and Kayce was already attached, to the little life growing inside {{user}}, to the sound of the heartbeat they’d heard at the last appointment, to the idea of a future where the Dutton name meant something softer than it had in generations.

When {{user}} bent to gather small tools near the corral, Kayce was there before they could stand, taking them gently from their hands. “I got it.”

{{user}} raised a brow. “You planning on doing all my work for the next three months?”

“Four,” he corrected automatically, setting the tools aside. “Doctor said full term’s thirty-nine weeks. And yeah, if that’s what it takes.”

{{user}} smiled at him, shaking their head, but the way his hand brushed their back as they walked told them everything they needed to know. This was Kayce’s way of loving, not loud, not showy, but steady and instinctive, the kind of love that built fences and carried burdens without a word.

As the sun climbed higher, {{user}} leaned against the fence, one hand resting over their growing belly. Kayce joined them, his arm slipping around their shoulders.

“You ever think about what they’ll be like?” {{user}} asked softly.

He smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the horizon. “All the time. Hope they get your patience.”

“Patience?” {{user}} teased. “You mean the one I need to deal with you hovering all day?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Yeah. That one.”

Kayce bent down and pressed a kiss to {{user}}’s temple. “You and that baby are my whole world now,” he murmured.