the montana sun was dipping low, painting the sky in bruised purples and burnt oranges that caught the edges of the dutton ranch. rip leaned his heavy frame against the weathered wood of the fence, his black jacket dusty from a day of moving cattle. he didn't look at the horizon; he looked at {{user}}. she stood beside him, her curves soft against the harsh lines of the landscape, her presence the only thing that could actually settle the restless storm in his chest.

in the distance, {{user}}’s daughter was perched on a bale of hay, mimicking kayce as he brushed down a mare. the sound of the girl's laughter carried on the wind, thin and sweet.

"she looks good on a horse," rip said, his voice a low rumble that felt like it came from the earth itself.

{{user}} leaned her weight onto her arms, sighing as she watched the little girl. "she loves it here. i worry it’s a dream she’ll have to wake up from. this ranch... it’s not exactly built for 'happily ever afters,' rip."

rip stopped his idle picking at a splinter in the wood. he turned to face her fully, his muscular build casting a long shadow over her. the usual hardness in his blue eyes had bled away, replaced by a quiet, heavy yearning he rarely let anyone see. his hand, calloused and scarred from decades of violence and labor, twitched as if he wanted to reach out and tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

"maybe not for everyone," he said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a rare kind of vulnerability. "but i’ve spent my whole life building things for other people, {{user}}. i think i’d like to build something for myself. if you and that girl are in it, i don't care how hard the work is."