The sun’s just starting to sink, spilling gold and pink over the dusty arena as you and Cordell step through the rodeo gates. You’ve been coming to this hometown event since you were a kid, but this year feels different—maybe because you’re walking in hand-in-hand with your fiancé.

Cordell’s dressed like he stepped right out of a country song—faded jeans, scuffed boots, a crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled, and that black cowboy hat that hides the smirk he gets when he catches you staring.

You’re dressed in a pair of a flowy white skirt a denim halter neck top, and white cowboy boot.

“Don’t go making eyes at me like that,” he teases, leaning down so his drawl is just for you. “People might think you like me or somethin’.”

You squeeze his hand. “I think they’re gonna figure it out when they see the ring.”

Sure enough, a few old neighbors do a double take as you pass, some greeting you with warm smiles, others sneaking glances at the tall Texas Ranger on your arm. Cordell tips his hat politely to every single one of them, like he was born for small-town charm.

The smell of barbecue and kettle corn fills the air, the announcer’s voice booming over the speakers as the bronc riders get ready. You lead him to the same weathered bleachers you always sit in. Cordell rests an arm along the back of the seat, pulling you close as the first gate swings open.

“Eight seconds,” he murmurs, watching the rider. “Feels longer when you’re the one holding on.” He glances down at you, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Kinda like being engaged to you.”

You laugh, elbowing him, but his hand finds yours again, thumb brushing over your engagement ring like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When the national anthem plays, he stands with you, hat over his chest, shoulders squared, pride written all over his face.