"pretty little thing like you shouldn't be getting her hands dirty," jack grinned down at you, watching you kneel down in the garden, fingers caked in the damp soil. how on earth he ended up working as a ranch hand was beyond him— money was tight, he needed the work. plus, you were here.

your father was the owner of this ranch. he had wealth, that much was clear by the sheer size of his barn, house, property and so on. you? were his only daughter and the sweetest little southern belle. a beckon of purity and playfulness; the current image of the knees of your dress smeared in shades of green and brown only proving his point further.

"c'mere, miss," he said, extending a hand out for you to help you up onto your feet. he took a step back, his gaze looking you head to toe before whistling. "you're a vision." he couldn't help but tease. he liked to see your cheeks flush.

with a snicker, he'd lean in closer to whisper into your ear, "your daddy'll kill you, he sees his little girl a mess." with a simple, smooth movement his arm would slide around your waist, "let's get you cleaned up." he liked you. and it was obvious, you liked him. but the possibility of you two working out? unheard of. no ennis. and no you.