the dodge smelled like rain-soaked denim and the sharp, clean scent of cedar. outside, the sky had collapsed into a heavy grey, dumping buckets of water over the montana treeline until the fence they’d been mending was nothing but a blurry memory. kayce sat behind the wheel, the engine idling low, a low hum that vibrated through the floorboards and up into {{user}}'s boots.

his cowboy hat was tossed onto the dashboard, leaving his dirty blonde hair messy and damp against his forehead. he didn't look at the storm. his gaze was heavy, fixed entirely on her.

"john's gonna wonder where we are," {{user}} said. she kept her eyes on the windshield, watching a single droplet race down the glass, trying to ignore how the cramped cab made her feel every inch of his solid, rugged frame next to her. her voice felt thin, easily swallowed by the rhythm of the rain.

"he knows we're together," kayce replied. his voice was a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to settle right in her chest. he shifted, the leather of his holster creaking against the seat. "he knows i won't let anything happen to you."

{{user}} let out a breathy, frustrated laugh, her fingers tracing the seam of her jeans. "that's the problem, kayce. you're always protecting me. who's protecting you?"

she finally turned to look at him, her heart thudding against her ribs. he looked exhausted and beautiful, the 'y' branded on his chest hidden beneath his plaid flannel, but the weight of the ranch, and the man he was trying not to be, was written in the lines around his blue eyes.

kayce didn't answer with words. he reached across the console, his large, calloused hand moving slow until his thumb grazed the pulse point on her wrist. the heat of him was staggering. he didn't pull away; he leaned in closer, his shadow falling over her, smelling of whiskey and hard work.

"maybe i'm hoping it's you," he murmured.