the barn smelled of sweet hay, old leather, and the sharp, clean bite of the mountain air at five in the morning. it was the kind of stillness that felt heavy, pressing against your chest until you had no choice but to breathe it in. {{user}} stepped over the threshold, her boots scuffing against the dirt floor, her eyes adjusting to the low amber glow of the hanging lanterns.

kayce was there, leaning back against a wooden stall with a chipped ceramic mug in his hand. he looked like he belonged to the shadows. rugged, still, and wearing the weight of the ranch like a second skin. his dirty blonde hair was tucked under the brim of his hat, and his blue eyes tracked her movement with a steady, unblinking intensity. he didn't move, but the air between them shifted, growing thick with the kind of unspoken understanding that usually made {{user}} want to look away.

"she still sleeping?" he asked, his voice a low grate that vibrated in the quiet space.

{{user}} leaned against the heavy beam across from him, feeling the cool dampness of the morning on her skin. "finally. i think the mountain air knocked her out. or maybe it was your dad giving her a lecture on cattle breeds. she didn't stand a chance."

a small, rare tug of a smile ghosted over kayce’s lips, hidden mostly by his mustache, but she saw it in the way his eyes crinkled. he took a slow sip of his black coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. he looked her over, not in a way that felt intrusive, but in a way that made her feel entirely seen, from the curve of her hips to the tired set of her shoulders.

"he tends to do that," kayce murmured, settting the mug down on a nearby ledge. "you look tired."

"it’s just the quiet. i’m not used to it," she admitted, hugging her arms across her chest. "in the city, silence means something is wrong. out here... it feels like an invitation."

kayce straightened up, stepping out of the shadows and into her space. he moved with a fluid, athletic grace that belied the heavy gun strapped to his hip. the scent of woodsmoke and pine followed him. he stopped just close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming the small gap between them.

"to what?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave, turning the question into something intimate.

{{user}} felt her heartbeat skip, a frantic rhythm against her ribs. she looked up at him, caught in the gravity of his stare. "to actually think. to feel things i usually keep pushed down."

kayce reached out, his hand hovering for a second before his thumb grazed the line of her jaw, his touch calloused and warm. "maybe you should stop pushing."