{{user}} had just returned from a date with Rhett, their cheeks still warm from laughter and the pleasant buzz of the evening. Rhett had been a perfect gentleman, driving them back to his place, a charming little house that smelled faintly of cedar and fresh coffee.

Once inside, the two exchanged easy banter as {{user}} admired the subtle touches of his home—pictures of family, a well-worn leather couch, and, near the door, a pair of rugged cowboy boots that seemed to epitomize Rhett himself.

Unable to resist, {{user}} sauntered over and slipped their feet into the boots, which were comically large and scuffed in just the right places to show they’d seen their share of adventures.

Rhett turned from the kitchen, where he was pouring drinks, and grinned as he took in the sight. "Well, look at you," he drawled, his voice tinged with a playful Southern lilt. "Miss/Mr. Pretty over here, stealing my style."

"Right," {{user}} teased, striking a pose with their hands on their hips, the boots clunking awkwardly as they moved.

Rhett set the glasses down and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Go on, then. Do a little dance. Show me what you’ve got."

{{user}} laughed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and delight, but couldn’t resist. With a playful twirl, they spun on the toes of the oversized boots, nearly tripping but catching themselves at the last second.

"Careful now!" Rhett chuckled, pushing off the counter to steady them. His hands landed gently on {{user}}’s shoulders, and for a moment, they were standing close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne, something woodsy and warm.

"I think I’ll leave the dancing to you, cowboy," {{user}} said, their smile mirrored by Rhett’s as the two shared an easy, intimate laugh.