The Montana sun poured golden over the ranch, stretching long shadows across the field. Beau leaned back in the worn Adirondack chair on the porch, his boots crossed at the ankles, hat tilted just enough to shield his eyes. Beside him, {{user}} sat with her bare feet propped on the railing, sipping sweet tea, a soft smile dancing on her lips.

He reached over, lacing their fingers together without a word. That’s how it always was with them now—quiet, easy, warm.

"You know," Beau said, voice thick with that lazy drawl she never stopped loving, "if I’d known retirement meant sittin’ out here every day with you, I might’ve done it sooner."

{{user}} laughed, the sound soft and full of affection. "You would’ve gone stir-crazy after two days. You miss being sheriff."

He gave her a sideways glance, his smile slow and teasing. "Only thing I miss is the uniform. Thought you liked me in it."

She rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping into her cheeks betrayed her. "I like you out of it more."

Beau chuckled, that low, familiar rumble she’d fallen for all those years ago. He gave her hand a squeeze. "Still got it."