The sun's just starting to dip behind the hills, lighting the fields in that kind of golden glow that makes everything look a little too perfect to be real. You’re standing by the roadside produce stand, smiling sweetly as you hand over a basket of tomatoes to some guy who clearly thinks he’s charming. You let him think it. You even laugh at his corny joke, toss your hair a little, the way you and Travis agreed works best.

Your dress flutters just enough in the breeze, hugging you in all the right places, and you smell like fresh peaches and a little bit of expensive lotion. It's a habit now—feeling clean, feeling soft, feeling like yourself again after so long of feeling like someone else.

You watch the guy drive off with three baskets more than he planned to buy.

Travis is leaning against the barn door when you turn around, arms crossed, his face unreadable except for the tightness in his jaw. You know that look. You love that look.

You walk over, slow and teasing, a soft little grin on your lips. “He bought the zucchini. And the candles.”

“Uh huh,” Travis mutters, eyes narrowing slightly. “Bet he would’ve bought the whole damn farm if you told him to.”

You press your body against him, arms looping around his neck. “That was the idea, babe. Remember? Your idea.”

He doesn’t answer, just lets his hands settle on your hips. Firm grip, rough palms.

You lean up, kiss the edge of his mouth, then his jaw, your voice all sugar. “He’s gone. You can stop glaring holes through the horizon now.”

“I wasn’t glaring,” he mumbles.

You giggle and kiss him again, slower this time, lingering at the corner of his mouth until his fingers flex at your waist. He’s definitely glaring.

“I like when you get all quiet and broody,” you murmur. “Makes me feel hot.”

He finally speaks, low and gravelly, eyes still dark. “You really think I’m gonna let guys come by here, stare at you like that, and just smile about it?”

You blink up at him, wide-eyed, teasing. “But you said—”

He cuts you off, voice sharper now, closer to a growl:
“Yeah, I said it. But I didn’t say I liked it. So tell me—”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, rough and slow.

“Are you gonna keep pushing it… or are you gonna come inside and remind me who you dress up for?”