dee

You woke to unfamiliar surroundings.

Your brows furrowed as your eyes adjusted to the dim, golden morning light. Low wooden ceiling. A worn dresser with a few pill bottles lined up neatly. A photo frame with faces you didn’t recognize—blurry and indistinct in your still-hazy vision.

You blinked a few times, rubbed your eyes, and then it clicked.

Joel’s cabin.

The memories of the night before came rushing back—soft moans, whispered words, his hands all over your skin. You smiled to yourself, heat rushing to your cheeks. The soreness between your legs was a quiet, pulsing reminder of just how real it all had been.

You turned to your side expecting to see him there, but the bed was empty. Still warm.

From beyond the door, you heard the soft shuffle of movement—wood creaking under boots, the faint clink of ceramic. You sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet hit the cool hardwood, and you scanned the room, looking for your dress or… anything. No luck.

Then your eyes landed on his flannel shirt, slung casually over the armchair. You pulled it on, the sleeves long over your hands, the scent of him still clinging to the fabric. 

You cracked the bedroom door open.

There he was, standing by the tiny kitchenette with his back to you, pouring coffee like it was just another quiet morning in a quiet life. His hair was slightly mussed, his t-shirt clinging to the shape of his back. He moved slow, methodical, like someone who’d already been up a while.

He didn’t look your way, but his voice rumbled low.

“Mornin’, sugar.”

You smiled, padding in barefoot. “Morning,” you murmured, voice still husky with sleep.

He turned then — and when he saw you in his shirt, his brows lifted just slightly. His eyes softened.

“Well, don’t you look somethin’,” he said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

You crossed the space between you, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I couldn’t find my dress,” you said lightly.

“I ain’t complainin’.”

His hands settled on your waist, pulling you in gently. He kissed your temple first, slow and sweet, then tilted his head to look down at you.

“You sleep okay?”

You nodded. “Better than I have in weeks.”

He leaned in for a kiss and you turned your face with a bashful laugh. “Joel—morning breath.”

He chuckled, lips brushing your cheek. “I don’t mind. I just wanted to kiss you.”

You looked up at him, heart squeezing a little at how easy this felt, how soft he was with you in the morning light. then you let him kiss you, soft and sweet, leaving a smile on your lips when he pulled away.

“Hi,” you whispered.

His eyes searched yours like he was memorizing the moment.

“Hi,” he whispered back. 

He turned back to the mugs on the counter, pouring the coffee like it was second nature. “How d’you take it?” he asked over his shoulder.

“With almond milk,” you said, deadpan.

He paused, turned to look at you, one brow lifting. “Oh sure,” he said dryly, “lemme just head out and milk some almonds real quick.”

That made you laugh, a soft giggle escaping as you leaned against the counter. “I’m kidding.”

“Yeah, you better be,” he muttered, amused, reaching up to open the cabinet above. “Well, unless you wanna chew on some trail mix and hope for the best, I’ve got powdered creamer.”

You nodded, still smiling. “Sure. I’m not picky.”

He shot you a playful look. “Coulda fooled me, askin’ for almond milk like we’re in some goddamn city café.”

He handed you your mug and you took it with both hands, letting the warmth soak into your fingers.

“Thank youuu,” you sighed dramatically, taking a small sip. “Hmm,” you hummed, lips curling into a soft smile. “That’s actually really good.”

Joel gave you a look over the rim of his own mug. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He took a slow sip of his black coffee. “Better than that six-dollar stuff you get in the city?”

You gave him a cheeky glance over your mug. “Mmm… maybe.”

“‘Maybe’?” he arched a brow.

“Well…” You let the suspense hang a beat longer. “This one does come with a pretty hot barista, so it gets bonus points.”

Joel scoffed, chuckling as he leaned a hip against the counter. “Hot? Is that right?”

“Very right,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow.

With a low chuckle, he stepped closer as you hopped up onto the counter. He settled between your legs like he belonged there, setting his mug down before his hands slid gently along your thighs, kneading softly.

“Sore?” he murmured.

“A bit,” you admitted. “I’ll survive.”

“Sorry, baby,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Should’ve taken it easier on you.”

“I didn’t exactly tell you to stop,” you whispered with a grin.

He chuckled against your skin. “That’s fair.”

His hand stilled as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, eyes soft. “Last night was…” he started, but didn’t finish.

You smiled, heartbeat picking up. “Yeah,” you breathed. “It was.”

Your eyes met and held, something electric and tender pulling taut between you. You lifted your hand, running your fingers through his tousled hair, then trailing down to brush your thumb along his lower lip.

He let you, a crooked smile forming. “What’re you thinkin’, sugar?”

You bit your lip, voice low. “Nothing.”

He smirked. “That so? ’Cause I can hear you thinkin’. You lookin’ at me like we’ve got time for whatever’s runnin’ through your head.”

You laughed softly, thumb still resting on his lip. “Sorry. I just… I want more.”

Joel exhaled, the warmth of it brushing your skin. “I know you do. I do too, baby.” His hands gave your thighs a gentle squeeze. “But I got work today. And you can’t stay here all morning.”

“I know,” you sighed, letting your hand fall from his face. “What’re you working on today?”

“Got my patrol today,” Joel murmured between sips of coffee. “Walk the edge of the property, check the fence lines. Make sure nothin’s broken or loose—don’t want the horses slippin’ out or coyotes gettin’ in.”

You watched him over your mug, chin resting on your hand as you listened. He looked so good in the mornings, sleep-tousled hair, gravel in his voice, the soft stretch of cotton across his shoulders.

“And after that?” you asked.

“Creek,” he said simply. “Need to make sure the trail’s clear. Last week one of the trees was leanin’ funny, and that path overgrows fast.”

Your brows perked up. “There’s a creek on the ranch?”

“Mm-hmm,” he nodded. “Tucked way back past the woods. Not many folks know it’s there unless someone points it out. It’s usually quiet, real peaceful. Sometimes gets booked out for photo shoots, engagements stuff. They try to make it look all natural like they just stumbled on it,” he smirked. “Takes a lot of clearing to make it look that effortless.”

A slow smirk spread across your face. “Sounds like the kind of place someone might… accidentally wander into.”

Joel gave you a long look. “Is that so?”

You shrugged, fighting back your smile. “I mean, it’s my vacation. Seems a shame not to explore.”

He let out a low chuckle. “You’re plannin’ somethin’. I can see it all over your face.”

“What if I’m not?”

He took a slow step closer, resting a hand on the counter beside you. “What if you are?”

Your voice dropped a little. “Then I guess I hope you’re real thorough on your rounds today.”

Joel chuckled, rubbing his palm along his jaw, clearly thinking it over. “You know if anyone sees us out there—”

“No one will,” you cut in, voice soft but sure. “It’s just one little walk. To a very hidden place.”

He watched you for a beat longer, then sighed like he was already giving in. “God help me,” he muttered.

“So… is that a yes?” you grinned.

“Be at the edge of the west trail by one,” he said under his breath, then tapped the tip of your nose with his finger. “And wear boots, sugar. Ain’t carryin’ you through the mud.”

You grinned. “Yes, sir.”

You were practically glowing when you arrived at breakfast. The hot shower had worked wonders, rinsing off the remnants of last night and the lingering ache between your thighs. You felt… floaty. Light. And maybe just a little smug. Dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a tank top, you stepped into the dining hall humming to yourself, basking in what had to be the hottest morning of the summer.

The room was already bustling, the buffet table lined with eggs, fruit, and pastries. You grabbed a plate and reached for a croissant just as Amy appeared beside you in line.

“Morning,” you chirped.

“…Morning,” she said, narrowing her eyes the moment she heard your tone. “Well, someone’s in a good mood.”

“The weather’s nice,” you replied breezily.

Amy blinked. “It’s the hottest day of the year. Its a humid death trap outside.”

You just shrugged with a smile and moved to your usual table—Amy’s family table, the one you’d quietly adopted since day one. You took a bite of your croissant and hummed with satisfaction, completely unaware of the way Amy was now staring at you like she was putting puzzle pieces together.

Then, she gasped. “Oh my God…you bitch.”

You looked up mid-chew, brows furrowed. “What?”

She leaned in across the table, eyes wide. “You had sex.”

Your eyes went wide as you nearly choked on your bite. “What?! No—why would you say that?”

“You totally did,” she whisper-shrieked, grinning like she’d just uncovered state secrets. “You’re glowing. You’re humming. You walk funny.”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!” you hissed, cheeks burning.

Amy stifled a laugh. “You so did.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved another piece of croissant in your mouth just to avoid speaking.

“Was it Joel?” she whispered and you shushed her again. “Oh my god it is!” she gasped, squealing.

Amy leaned in again, eyes gleaming. “You have to tell me everything. Don’t be selfish.”

You swallowed hard, your face still warm as you muttered, “Can we not do this at breakfast?”

“Fine,” she said, leaning back smugly. “But you’re not getting out of this. You owe me.”

You glanced around the table, suddenly hyper-aware of every family member within earshot. Then you leaned in and whispered, “Later. And you better not say a word.”

Amy smirked. “My lips are sealed… unlike someone else’s legs.”

You kicked her under the table. “Ow!” she giggled.

“There you are, sweetheart!” your mom called out, spotting you just as you were settling into your seat. She approached with a plate balanced in her hands, Aunt Margaret trailing behind her in a crisp linen dress, smiling like she had something up her sleeve.

“Good morning, girls,” Aunt Margaret said as she took the seat beside Amy, giving her a perfunctory smile before turning her attention to you. Your mom slid into the empty chair next to yours.

“We have that spa appointment in thirty minutes, remember?” your mom said brightly, like it was a surprise she’d been waiting to spring on you.

“Spa?” you echoed, blinking.

“Yes, the one with me and Aunt Margaret. Facials, massages, the whole thing,” she said, patting your hand like you were a child about to be rewarded for good behavior. “You said yes yesterday, don’t you remember?”

You didn’t. You vaguely recalled them talking at you last night, while you were distracted, probably staring across the lawn at Joel.

“Oh… right. Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “Sure.”

Aunt Margaret’s smile sharpened. “It’ll be good for you. I’ve been saying you need a little reset. A proper one.”

A reset? You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You knew what this was. This wasn’t about a facial or a back massage. This was a setup. A strategic mother-aunt intervention, disguised in eucalyptus steam and cucumber water.

“Honestly,” Aunt Margaret continued, sipping her tea, “some of those breakup blues are written all over your face. A good facial will clear that right up.”

You smiled thinly, stabbing at your croissant with a fork. “Wow. Thanks.”

Your mom rubbed your shoulder. “It’ll be fun, sweetie. Like old times. Just the three of us. A little girl time.”

“Hmm.”

“Amy, you can come too if you want!” your mom offered with manufactured cheer.

Amy didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, thanks Auntie, but Lily and I are going to that pottery thing after breakfast.” She flashed you a very clear ‘ I’m sorry, I tried look.’

“Just us then,” Aunt Margaret said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

You could feel it coming now. The slow march toward whatever it was they’d planned. An ambush cloaked in lavender oil and forced smiles. You could already hear the dreaded words: “We just want what’s best for you.”

And you still had to survive it with a smile.

Thirty minutes later, you were draped in a soft white robe, seated in a plush chair with your feet soaking in a basin of warm water that smelled faintly of rosemary and orange peel. A green mask cooled your skin, a pair of gentle hands kneaded at the knots in your shoulders, and your nails were being shaped and buffed with expert care. It was, objectively, the perfect setting for relaxation.

And yet, you were wound tighter than a twisted phone cord.

Despite the scent of lavender and eucalyptus filling the air, despite the gentle clinking of glass and the mellow, acoustic cover of a Top 40 song humming through the speakers, your entire body remained stiff. Even the masseuse noticed.

“You’re pretty tense here,” she murmured kindly, kneading just above your shoulder blade.

I wonder why, you nearly said, but bit the words back and smiled instead.

Across from you, Aunt Margaret broke the quiet first, like a landmine you’d stepped on without noticing. “So…” she began sweetly, “anyone new?”

You blinked, then shook your head with a tight smile. “Nope. Just me.”

“Oh, honey, why?” she asked, voice dripping in that tone she always used when pretending to care but really just circling the shark tank. “You’re such a gorgeous girl, highly educated… it’s a wonder you’re still single.”

You gave a little laugh and played along. “Yeah, well, I’m just enjoying being single right now.”

Your mother, who’d been mostly quiet while sipping her cucumber water, chimed in with a too-bright chuckle. “Just don’t enjoy it so long you forget to take care of yourself.”

You turned slightly, trying to keep your expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the clock is ticking, sweetheart,” she said lightly, as if stating the weather.

“I’m twenty-five,” you said, flat.

“Exactly. When I was your age, I was pregnant with you!” she declared, like it was a badge of honor.

“Mhm, and I had my second child by then,” Aunt Margaret added, nodding proudly.

You felt the heat rising under your face mask, your hands curling slightly on the armrest despite the manicurist gently holding your fingers. You took a slow breath in through your nose, trying not to let it show.

“Well, that was twenty-five years ago,” you said coolly. “Times change.”

“Yes, yes,” your mom waved the comment off like an annoying fly, “you girls today are all about independence and careers and whatnot. I’m happy for you, I am.”

Here it comes.

“But look at your cousin Amy!” she said, gesturing broadly like Amy was some perfect exhibit. “Married, stable, a sweet little baby, and a home of her own by the lake. And she still looks great in a swimsuit.”

You clenched your jaws, feeling like disappearing and like blowing up on their faces at the same time. Its no secret to you that your mother doesn’t really like how you looked, always making comments on your soft tummy or your thighs. you wish you could say those comments never affected you but it does to some degree

“We’re just looking out for you, honey,” Aunt Margaret added with that sugary tone that always made your jaw clench. “We just want what’s best for you.”

Of course they are.

You nodded, choosing silence over whatever comment might land you in family exile. 

They turned their attention briefly to the spa staff, chatting about pressure points and skincare routines, and for a moment, you dared to believe they’d dropped it. That maybe they’d had their say and moved on.

You exhaled, just starting to relax into the massage, when Aunt Margaret struck again like clockwork.

“You know,” she said lightly, too casually, “Clara’s son Matthew is flying in tomorrow.”

And just like that, your shoulders tensed right back up.

“Who?” you asked, even though something about their smiles already put you on edge.

“Matthew,” your mom answered brightly. “You two used to do summer camp together, remember? He’s the son of that friend of Margaret’s—he’s coming up to the ranch tomorrow.”

You frowned. “That Matthew? I barely remember him. We were, what, thirteen?”

“Well,” Aunt Margaret chimed in, “you’ll have time to catch up. He’s single, you’re single… who knows?”

You paused, then gave them a flat look. “So this spa day was a setup.”

“Oh, honey, don’t be dramatic,” your mom said with a dismissive wave. “It’s not like we’re marrying you off. We just thought you’d enjoy spending time with someone your age. Someone with… potential.”

You forced a little laugh, even though your shoulders were starting to tighten again beneath the masseuse’s hands. “Is this because I’ve been disappearing a lot lately?”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been mingling with the rest of us,” Aunt Margaret said gently, sipping her spa water. “We thought it’d be nice for you to have some company.”

“Right,” you said, staring ahead. “Because god forbid I enjoy a few days of peace and quiet by myself.”

Your mom sighed, as if you were being unreasonable. “Sweetheart, we’re just trying to help. You’re young, beautiful, and it wouldn’t hurt to explore your options.”

You let out a breath, keeping your tone even. “And those options just happen to show up tomorrow.”

They both smiled, proud of themselves, like they’d just tied a bow on the perfect little plan.

You closed your eyes, trying your hardest to relax. But the only thing you could think about was how fast you wanted to get out of this robe and find Joel. Because at least with him, it felt like you had a choice.

You were freshly scrubbed, polished, and glowing as you made your way to meet Joel. Your skin was soft, your face dewy from the facial, your nails perfectly manicured. From the outside, you looked like someone who’d just had a lovely spa morning.

But your expression told another story. Your brows were slightly pinched, lips pressed together like you were trying to keep something in. You felt pent up. Like your whole body was trying to shake off the hour-long ambush disguised as pampering.

When you spotted Joel waiting where the path curved out of view, your shoulders finally dropped a little. He caught your eye, smiled that quiet smile of his, and turned to lead you down the trail, further into the trees where no one would spot the two of you.

He stopped just past the bend—his usual hiding spot. When you caught up to him, he turned to face you. “Hey, sugar,” he said softly.

You let out a sigh and stepped into him, your arms wrapping around his torso, face buried into his chest. He held you without question, his chin resting lightly on your head.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“You alright?” he asked, his hand smoothing along your back, then pausing at the tension in your shoulders.

You nodded, too quickly. “Yeah.”

He leaned back a little to look at you. “You sure?”

You gave him a small smile. “Just… long morning.”

His thumb brushed gently along your cheekbone, like he wanted to press further—but didn’t. Not yet. “Well,” he said after a pause, “let’s go fix that.”

“Creek’s this way.”

You nodded and followed him, your hand brushing his as the two of you slipped further into the quiet, hidden stretch of land that felt like the only place you could breathe.

The path curved and narrowed, branches brushing your shoulders as the canopy above filtered golden light through green. You followed close behind Joel, your shoes crunching softly against the pine needles and packed dirt.

And then — the trees parted.

The creek appeared like something out of a dream, shimmering in the sunlight. It wound lazily through a cluster of smooth rocks and mossy banks, its water crystal-clear and cool, cutting through the heat of the summer day like a promise.

You stopped in your tracks, blinking.

“God,” you breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

Joel looked back at you, that soft, crooked smirk playing on his lips. “Told you.”

You took a few steps forward, the air cooler here, the gentle sound of the water trickling over stones instantly calming something inside you that had been taut and restless all morning.

“I can’t believe this is part of the ranch,” you said, eyes still taking it in. 

Joel crouched by the edge, dipping his hand into the water. “It’s off the usual path,” he murmured. “Most folks don’t know it’s here unless they’re shown.”

You turned to him, already dropping the tote bag you’ve been carrying on to the grass, untying your shoes quickly. “Then I’m really glad you showed me.”

He looked up at you then — really looked — and for a second you saw something flicker in his eyes. Something tender. Maybe even proud.

“I figured you’d like it,” he said.

You peeled your socks off, then tiptoed toward the shallow edge, letting the cold water lap at your ankles. You gasped, laughing. “It’s freezing.”

Joel chuckled low in his throat. “Ain’t gonna stop you though, huh?”

“Nope.”

And he just shook his head, smiling at you like you were the best thing he’d seen all week.

Then, as the sun hit the water just right and the breeze whispered through the trees, you looked at him again — the man who made this strange week feel like it belonged only to the two of you — and you knew you didn’t care how cold the water was, or how short this moment might last. 

“Come on,” you called, laughing under your breath as you waded deeper into the water. “It’s cold, but it’s nice.”

You turned to him with a grin and reached for the hem of your tank top, peeling it off and tossing it toward him along with your shorts.

Joel caught your clothes mid-air with an amused look, brows raised. “Bossy,” he murmured, but there was no bite to it—just that soft edge of fondness he was never quite able to hide around you.

You watched as he folded your things and set them neatly on a nearby log, then tugged off his shirt and jeans. He stepped into the creek in just his boxers, hissing at the cold with a muttered curse.

You giggled as he made his way toward you, slow and sure, and you swam backward just enough to tease him.

When he finally reached you, his arms slid easily around your waist, pulling you in until your bare chest pressed to his.

“You’re giggly,” he murmured, brushing a wet strand of hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“Happy?”

You nodded, heart thudding in your chest. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he whispered, and then he kissed you.

It was soft at first—gentle, unrushed—but it deepened quickly, heat blooming between you in contrast to the cool water around you. His rough hands slid down your sides, then beneath the water to your thigh. With one smooth motion, he lifted your leg to wrap around his waist, making you yelp and laugh into the kiss as he carried you, the water swaying around you both.

“Joel—” you breathed, clinging to him as his mouth moved against yours, urgent now, his tongue slipping past your lips as you moaned into him, letting him take and give in equal measure.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped between kisses, his voice low and hoarse. “You make me feel like a damn teenager.”

“Yeah?” you murmured, pressing another kiss to his lips before trailing lower—down the rough line of his jaw, then to his thick, sun-warmed neck. He let out a guttural groan, one hand tightening on your thigh, the other sinking lower to squeeze your ass.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warned, his voice dark with want.

“Who says I can’t?” you whispered against his skin. “I want you.”

There was a subtle edge to your voice—need, yes, but something else too. Desperation maybe. A quiet ache you didn’t know how to say aloud. You just needed to feel close to him. Needed something that wasn’t your family’s expectations or the pressure building in your chest.

Joel picked up on it—he always did—but he didn’t pull away. His hand found your waist, grounding you. “You really wanna do this here?” he murmured, brow gently furrowed as he looked down at you.

“What?” you teased, voice dipping into a sultry purr. “You scared?”

He exhaled a shaky laugh, but you felt it—him, hard against you beneath the water.

“I can feel you, baby,” you whispered near his ear. “You want me too.”

His eyes closed for a moment like he was trying to summon every ounce of restraint he had left. When they opened again, they were dark and sure.

"God help me," he growled, and then his lips were on yours—slow and deep, as if he’d made a life-altering decision. You moaned into the kiss, your hand trailing down his stomach until you felt the firmness of his burgeoning desire beneath your palm. "Fuck," he groaned, his hips thrusting eagerly against your touch.

 You grinned wickedly, "Should I continue, Mr. Miller?" you whispered, leaning in to taste the skin of his neck, "Mmh... fuck—are you sure, sugar?" he murmured, and you nodded, biting your lip with a teasing nod. "Uhuh," you whispered, and Joel finally surrendered. His lips crashed onto yours and he guided you backward until your back pressed against a rugged rock near the water's edge, both of you submerged from the waist down. He grunted into your mouth and lifted one of your legs to wrap around his hips, his lips breaking away only to yank your bothersome panties aside.

"So fucking wet for me already, huh?" he murmured, his fingers trailing along your heated, slick entrance. You whimpered, biting your lip, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "This little pussy misses my cock, huh?" he taunted, and you nodded eagerly. "Words," he demanded, his rough thumb circling your clit just right. "Ahngh—yes, I miss it," you whimpered, your hips arching into his hand. "Hm... I know you do... greedy girl," he muttered.

"So desperate you’d let me fuck you out here in the wild," he chastised with a shake of his head, his finger slipping inside as you sighed, "Filthy," he whispered, curling his finger with perfect precision. "Hahngh!" you gasped, and he chuckled darkly, leaning in to pepper your skin with kisses as he fingered you with devastating slowness. You didn't complain, savoring every sensation, letting him take you however he pleased.

You sighed, fingers threading through the hair at the back of his head. "Joel..." you moaned softly, and he groaned in response, moving from your neck to claim your lips again, all tongue and teeth, before adding another finger, making you moan into his mouth. "Better keep quiet, baby," he murmured between kisses. "It feels so good, Joel... ahh," you panted, biting your lip. "I know it does, baby... my fingers stretch your pretty pussy just right, huh?" You whined and nodded desperately.

Joel was all you could breathe or think, the way his hands worked over your hips, your ass, his mouth greedy for your skin, on your kiss-swollen lips. You couldn’t keep still; kept grinding against his palm, desperate for more, soaking his fingers, even as the shock of cold creek water made your body shiver, nipples hard, thighs trembling. The heat of him pressed firm against your cunt, caging you against the rock, and every sound you made got muffled by his mouth or the wind or the sloshing of water. He fingered you until you were shaking and frantic, until you clawed at his back to get him closer, needing more, now.

He must’ve read it in your face—or in the guttural way you’d groaned his name, because he slid his boxers off with one hand, kept you pinned with the other, and pressed the head of his cock to your aching slit. For a second he held—just rubbing the head of his cock smearing the slick of your arousal thoroughly on the heated skin, teasing. His eyes fixed on yours, hungry and tender and just a touch amused, he couldn’t believe you’d let him do this here, in the open, sunlight scattering over your shoulders and water streaming down your spine.

“You sure, sugar?” he whispered, and you nodded, grabbing his shoulders for balance as you guided his cock to your entrance, slowly breached your tight cunt, the stretching coaxed a whimper from your throat.

He gritted his jaw, holding steady, letting you take your time, and when your hips were flush, he buried his face in your neck, letting out the smallest, raspy moan that makes you wetter if that’s even possible. You rocked together, slow and the creek rippled all around, suddenly nothing mattered but this. The stress and tension from earlier all faded away with the feeling of you and him connected as one in the most intimate way possible.

You locked your ankles behind his back, you could feel the muscles in his hips flexing as he started to move inside you. Every thrust pushed you against the stone, the roughness scraping your lower back, but the bite of pain made it sweeter somehow, sharper, reminding you that this is real and not just some cowboy fantasy you read on your kindle on one of those lonely nights. 

Joel was gentle, at first—just pushing into you slowly, letting you adjust , one big hand on your hip, the other squishing your thigh so tight you could practically feel each finger imprinting against your skin. The water lapped at your joined bodies, cold only along your calves and shins; everywhere else was fever-hot, friction building, the sun beating down on you.

“God, you feel so good, sugar,” he grunted, each word puffing into the curve of your shoulder. He held you up like you weighed nothing, like he could do this all day if you wanted. And maybe he would’ve, if you asked him.

But you didn’t want slow, not really.

You wanted it wild. You wanted it deep. You wanted more than just the way he could cup your jaw or kiss your mouth open—you wanted the rough edge of him, the greed that flashed in his gaze when he thought you weren't looking, the way he could take you and make everything else disappear. 

So, you dug your nails in at his shoulders, and you whispered in his ear, “Faster, please.” Your voice sounded desperate, even to yourself, but you didn’t care. 

Joel grunted, low in his throat, and his grip on your thigh shifted—he braced you harder, tilting you up on the rock’s edge, water lapping around your hips as he drove into you faster, deeper. The sharp slap of skin echoed against the creekbed, mingling with the gurgle of water and the harsh little pants you couldn’t keep in.

The idea of keeping quiet and discreet is long gone. You kept moaning and whimpering his name desperately, clinging on to him like a lifeline. He panted and muttered “Come for me baby…mhh yeah give it to me,” his words spilling out his lips uncontrolled, almost as if he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Then it took you by surprise, his thrusts stuttering and before you knew it he groaned and came inside you, filling your womb with his hot seed.

"Fuck," he panted, resting his forehead on your shoulder. "Shit, baby, I'm sorry," he murmured, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "Hey... it's okay," you chuckled softly, running your hand through his hair, trying to reassure him. But inside, you felt a twinge of frustration. "No, no, it ain't okay... fuck, I didn't mean to cum before you do..." he murmured, his voice laced with genuine disappointment. You wanted to console him, to show him it was alright, but a part of you couldn't shake off the lingering dissatisfaction.

"It's perfectly normal, Joel," you whispered soothingly, planting a kiss on the side of his head. He let out a frustrated grunt, "It shouldn't be, sugar," he sighed heavily, pulling away from the warmth of your neck. His fingers raked through your damp hair with a tender urgency. "You deserve to be spoiled, baby... let me make it up to you?" he proposed softly, sending a shiver down your spine. In an instant, he hoisted you up, positioning you on the large rock you had been leaning against. With no hesitation, he parted your legs and dove in with his tongue.

His mouth, hot and hungry, found your center without preamble. He pushed your thighs open wide, the rock cold and rough against your ass as you lay back with a shudder, staring up at sun-dappled leaves. It was all you could do to keep from arching off the stone when Joel flattened his tongue against your clit and sucked hard—like he was trying to pull every last ounce of satisfaction out of you with his mouth.

His hands anchored you, fingers bruising your thighs as he devoured your sopping cunt, slow at first, just firm strokes over your sensitive clit, then flickers, then a rough suck that arched your spine and made you gasp out loud. You grabbed at his hair, instinctive and wild, needing to touch him, needing the leverage, your vision gone blurry in the sun. You’re so fucking close—You’ve been teetering there since he first pushed you against the rock—and every whine and grunt from Joel, every soft “good girl” or “so fuckin’ sweet” sent you closer and closer. When he pressed two fingers inside you, you choked on a sob, grinding down on his hand, needing more.

“Yes! Ahngh I’m cumming- pleasepleaseplease” you rambled desperately. Joel didn’t stop once, not even to breathe. He seemed determined to make you unravel, to give you every bit of satisfaction he felt you’d earned. You could feel the rough scrape of his stubble prickling the inside of your thigh, the heavy warmth of his tongue, and the thick, teasing drag of his fingers pistoning in and out. Your vision blurred; you didn’t care if the whole damn forest heard you scream when your orgasm finally crashed through, so hard and sweet you thought you might black out for a second.

You went limp against the rock, panting, sweat beading on your brow even in the cool shade. The both of you were quiet, not that you could speak at that moment. All you could hear was your quiet panting, the sounds of water from the creek, soft rustling of the wind hitting the leaves, and a quiet bird song. 

Joel rested his cheek on your thigh for a moment as he caught his own breath, then pressed a lazy kiss to your skin. His hands were gentler now, tracing small circles against your calves as if to coax you back to earth.

After a long stretch of silence, you finally managed to prop yourself up on your elbows, peering down at him through half-lidded eyes. Joel was still nestled between your thighs, lips swollen and slick with evidence of what he’d just done to you. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

A crooked, devilish smile tugged at his mouth. “I do okay?” he rasped, voice rough and low. You let out a breathless giggle. “Are you kidding?”

He grinned wider. “Tell me, baby,” he murmured, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns along your thigh like he wasn’t ready to stop touching you.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, breath still uneven. “You made me cum so hard.” Joel laughed, low, and just a little smug. “Damn right I did.”

Joel pressed one last kiss to your thigh before pulling away, the water rippling as he stood and reached for his boxers, slipping them back on with a soft grunt. You turned your head lazily, propped up on one elbow as you watched him.

“Where are you going?” you asked, voice still warm and heavy from afterglow.

He glanced back over his shoulder with a crooked smile. “Didn’t you say you wanted to tag along while I worked today?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Well, sugar, I gotta do the ‘work’ part now,” he chuckled, reaching for his clothes.

You pouted, flopping back dramatically against the smooth rock. “Now? After what you did?”

He laughed under his breath, pulling his shirt over his head. “Yeah, now- and don’t give me that look” he chuckled and pointed his finger at your face, then added more softly, “Won’t be long. Just gotta check the fences, take a look at the creek trail. Then I’m yours again.”

He walked back over, crouching beside you, fingers brushing damp hair from your face. “Lay back, enjoy the sun, breathe a little.” He planted a soft kiss on your temple, and you fought back a smile.

“You better come back,” you murmured, giving him a mock-serious look. “What if I get eaten alive out here?”

“Mm,” he said thoughtfully. “Could happen.”

“Joel,” you warned.

“Relax,” he grinned. “Bears nap in the heat. You’re probably safe.”

“Probably?”

He was already heading toward the trees, toolbox in hand. You sat up and squinted after him. “Joel?!”

He looked back over his shoulder, barely hiding his laugh. “I’m kiddin’, sugar. You’re safe. Ain’t nothin’ comin’ for you ‘cept me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as he disappeared behind the trees. Laying back against the sun-warmed rock, you closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh, still buzzing from what Joel did to you.

After you finally gathered yourself and peeled off the rock, your legs still a little shaky, you dried off just enough to slip your clothes back on — your shorts and tank top clinging slightly to your still-damp skin. You wandered over to the tote bag you’d slung on a tree branch earlier, packed last-minute when Joel had casually mentioned a “creek check.” You hadn’t known what to expect, but something told you to be prepared for something.

You laid out the throw blanket you’d grabbed from your room, spreading it across the sun-warmed grass. From your bag, you pulled out your dented water bottle, your well-worn sketchbook, a pen, and your small pocket watercolor kit — its edges stained from years of use.

Settling onto your stomach, you let the world slow down as you painted whatever caught your eye. The way the creek shimmered under the sunlight. A ladybug making its way along a blade of grass. The curve of a rock half-sunk in the streambed. Your brush moved without pressure, just following where your gaze lingered. It was quiet. Peaceful. Until you heard it again — the familiar crunch of Joel’s boots on dry ground.

You turned, smiling at the sight of him emerging from the trail. “All done?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Gotta check that stretch of fence over there.” He gestured to a shaded side near the bend in the creek.

You sighed dramatically and rolled onto your back, staring at the sky like your heart had just broken.

He smirked. “You’ll survive,” he called, already halfway to the fence line.

But as he bent to pull weeds and tug on a sagging post, something about the way the light hit his shoulders made you sit back up. You grabbed your sketchbook, flipped to a blank page, and started quickly scratching lines in pen. It was loose, fast—like catching a moment before it slipped away.

You squinted, trying to capture the angle of his jaw. The curve of his nose. The way his shirt clung to his back. Then he moved again.

“Wait!” you shouted.

Joel snapped his head toward you, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Stay there!” you insisted, propping yourself on your elbows.

He looked thoroughly confused. “I ain’t a dog, darlin’.”

“Stay!” you repeated firmly, pointing to where he’d been standing.

He let out a dramatic sigh, grumbling under his breath. “Fine, I’m stayin’,” he said in a mock-defeated tone.

You grinned wide. “Good. Now look that way. Perfect. Okay, don’t move.”

He shifted his gaze to the spot you indicated, lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. A moment later, his eyes flicked toward you again and narrowed. “Hold on. Are you… are you drawin’ me?”

“Don’t move!” you yelped without looking up, causing him to immediately face forward again with a muttered, “Aye aye, boss.”

You giggled softly, your strokes becoming more focused as you captured him just right — or at least tried to. A few minutes passed, the breeze rustled the leaves, and finally, you sat back and closed your sketchbook with a satisfied little hum.

“Okay, you can move now.”

Joel let out an exaggerated groan and rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck like he’d just been released from a statue pose. “’Bout damn time,” he muttered, brushing dirt from his hands as he wandered back over to you.

“Can I see?” he asked, nudging the sole of your foot gently with the toe of his boot.

You clutched the sketchbook to your chest with mock seriousness. “Nope.”

“What?” he frowned, hands on his hips. “C’mon, I stood there like a scarecrow for ten whole minutes. That deserves a peek.”

You grinned. “Yeah, and I’m not done yet. Plus, aren’t you supposed to be working?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You tryin’ to boss me around now?”

You waved a dismissive hand at him. “Go on. Git.”

He blinked, then let out a laugh. “Git? Aw hell, I am rubbin’ off on you, sugar.”

You gave his thigh a weak little shove with your foot. “Shoo!”

Joel chuckled and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright! I’m goin’. But when I come back, I better get to see it.”

“We’ll see,” you called after him.

“Tease,” he muttered over his shoulder, and you just smiled, watching him disappear around the tree line again, boots crunching in the grass as he went back to whatever he was doing.

You were quiet, utterly absorbed in your sketchbook as your pen moved quickly across the page. Joel should’ve been finishing up his inspection, but instead, he found himself standing there, just watching you.

You looked so peaceful—lying on your stomach in that blanket you shouldn’t have brought out of the guest rooms, surrounded by patches of wildflowers, hair tumbling around your face, feet swaying back and forth in the air like you didn’t have a single care in the world. The sunlight caught on your skin, the soft curve of your back barely visible where your shirt had ridden up, and he swore you didn’t even know how beautiful you looked like this. Unbothered. Happy. Focused.

He didn’t know you could draw. You never told him. And that made him smile—because every time he thought he had you figured out, you surprised him. And every little surprise just made it harder for him to keep his distance.

He knew it couldn’t last forever. He knew there were only so many stolen hours left. But right now, in this quiet sliver of the world with you, he let himself pretend.

You glanced up and caught him staring. He didn’t even try to look away. You smiled—soft, sweet, like you’d seen right through him—and then turned your attention back to your page.

Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and turned back toward the fence line.

He wasn’t ready for this to end.

“You done?” he asked as he scooted you over on the blanket and sat beside you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting up from where you’d been lying, shoulder brushing his. “You can look now,” you murmured, handing him the sketchbook.

He took it like it was something delicate — something precious — and went quiet as his eyes scanned the page. You’d sketched him fast, sure, but it was him. His unruly curls, the strong shape of his nose, the scruff, even the lines around his eyes — it was all there. Not perfect, but honest.

“Wow, sugar…” he murmured, eyes still on the page. “This is amazing.”

You smiled and nudged his side with your elbow. “You’re just saying that,” you chuckled.

He shook his head, more adamant this time. “No, no really, baby… wow. This is—wow.” He turned to you then, his hand cradling the back of your head as he kissed your temple. “Thank you,” he whispered, then leaned in and kissed your lips, soft and slow.

“Thank you for being my muse,” you murmured against his mouth.

He smiled, glancing back down at the page as his hand drifted to your hip, resting there lazily. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then quietly, “Last time someone drew me was Sarah.”

You looked at him, softened. “She used to draw too?”

He nodded. “Yeah. All kinds of stuff. Animals, people, little comics sometimes. Real talented kid.”

“She sounds creative,” you said, your voice light.

“Hm. She is,” he said, smiling a little. “She’s workin’ in that field now. Creative director at some photography agency in Dallas.”

“That’s so cool,” you said genuinely. “You must be so proud.”

Joel let out a breath, his smile growing. “Yeah, I am. Sometimes I look at her and think… no way someone like her came from me.”

You tilted your head, brows pinched. “What’s so hard to believe?”

He gave a half shrug, still staring at the sketch in his lap. “I don’t know. I’m just a guy with callused hands and busted boots. Been fixin’ fences and drywall most my life. Never had a creative bone in my body..well, maybe ‘cept my woodworkin’… But somehow I raised her.”

“You must’ve given her what she needed,” you said gently. “That counts.”

He nodded slowly, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Then after a pause, you asked, a little hesitant, “What about her mom?”

He tensed just slightly, and you instantly regretted asking. “Sorry — was that too—”

“No, no,” he cut in quickly. “It’s alright.”

There was a beat, then he spoke, quieter this time. “We were young when we had Sarah. I was twenty-one. She was twenty. I married her ‘cause I thought that’s what we were supposed to do. Have a family. Make it work.”

He paused. His thumb was moving gently over the fabric of your shorts now, almost without thinking.

“But Sarah was one when her mom realized she didn’t want any of it. She just… left. Left a note, divorce papers, and that was it. I raised Sarah on my own.”

Your chest ached. “Oh, Joel…”

He looked over at you with a small, tired smile. “Don’t feel sorry for me, sugar. I don’t want pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” you said softly, hand settling on his thigh. “I just… it must’ve been so hard. To do that alone. So young.”

He didn’t say anything. His gaze dropped to where your hand lay on him, his own drifting over to cover it.

“But you did it,” you whispered. “You raised someone strong and kind and creative. You gave her that. That’s something to be proud of.” there was a beat before you gently uttered “i’m proud of you.”

He looked at you then, a little stunned — like the words landed somewhere deep. “No one’s ever said that to me,” he murmured. “That they’re proud of me.”

Your heart squeezed. “Well, it’s about time someone did.”

He held your gaze for a long moment before he leaned forward again, kissing you softly, gratefully.

“C’mere,” he murmured, voice low and soft as he shifted beneath you. He gently tugged you closer, guiding your head to rest in his lap. You moved easily, letting your cheek press against his thigh, your hand resting over his knee as you settled into him.

His fingers threaded through your hair, slow and gentle, like he had all the time in the world. You watched the sky above, all dappled light and drifting clouds, but your eyes kept drifting to him — his profile against the golden light, the way his gaze wandered toward the trees, quiet and far away.

“I don’t wanna move from here,” you sighed.

He chuckled, glancing down at you with a fond, crooked smile. “Comfy, huh?”

You hummed your agreement.

“We can stay a little longer,” he said, stroking behind your ear. “I finished my rounds earlier than I thought.”

“You were speeding through it, huh?” you teased.

He smirked. “What can I say? I got fast hands, baby. You know that.”

You laughed, nudging your nose against him. “Yeah, unfortunately, I do.”

He laughed quietly with you, the sound low in his chest. Then silence fell again — not awkward, but warm and unhurried.

You broke it softly. “Did you grow up here? You said this was your parents’ place before the resort bought it out.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah… we were here until I was about thirteen. Then we moved to Texas, stayed with my uncle Terry. Real military type. My pa thought it’d be good for us… especially Tommy.”

You raised a brow. “Tommy was the troublemaker?”

Joel grinned, a little proudly. “That he was.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed, seeing how he runs the place like a tight ship.”

“That’s Terry’s doin’. And Maria’s too,” he added with a smirk. “She keeps him honest.”

You smiled, and he looked out toward the creek, his voice softening. “Me and Tommy used to spend summers out here, in this exact creek. Catch frogs, splash around, get in trouble with ma when we came back soaked.” He chuckled, eyes glazing with memory. “Sarah used to love it too, when she was little. She’d collect rocks and name ’em like pets.”

You smiled at the image. “Sounds like a lot of memories in this ranch.”

“Yeah…” he said after a pause, his hand slowing in your hair. “Sometimes it’s all I see when I walk around here.”

You tilted your head to look at him better. “That a good thing?”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Most days, yeah. Other days…” He trailed off, shaking his head gently, like brushing away the heaviness.

You reached for his free hand and laced your fingers through his. He squeezed back without a word.

“You ever thought of leaving?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost hesitant, as your thumb traced slow circles over the back of his hand.

Joel’s gaze lingered on the treetops for a long moment before he exhaled, slow and heavy through his nose. “No… not really,” he said, and his fingers tightened just slightly around yours. “I mean—I’ve thought about what it’d be like, sure. But actually goin’?”

He shook his head, voice quieter now. “I got my brother here. Tommy needs someone around who remembers the way things used to be. Sarah’s all the way in Dallas, buildin’ her own life… I don’t wanna get in the way of that. Don’t wanna weigh her down with some old man missin’ his kid.”

You squeezed his hand gently, but let him keep going.

“Out there, I’d be on my own,” he said. “No history. No ties. Just startin’ over… and I don’t think I got the energy for that anymore.”

He looked down at the grass for a second, then added, “But here? Here I get to take care of what’s left of my folks. Their land, their trees… their damn old fence line. I get to be close to Tommy, keep one foot in the past.” A beat. “It’s not glamorous. But it’s mine.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling in your chest. “Makes sense,” you said gently, eyes still on his. “It’s home.”

Joel gave a soft, wordless sound of agreement, his fingers still moving slowly through your hair. The steady rhythm, the warmth of the sun, and the sound of the creek nearby almost lulled you to sleep.

Until he spoke again.

“Sugar,” he murmured.

“Mhm?” you hummed, eyes still closed.

“What do you want to happen… when you leave?”

Your eyes cracked open at the question. He was looking down at you, his brow slightly drawn, eyes searching yours.

“I really don’t wanna talk about that right now, Joel,” you said softly, turning your face away.

“Why not?” he asked gently.

“Because I don’t wanna ruin this moment,” you murmured.

He was quiet for a beat. “Okay,” he said, but then added, “Just… we gotta talk about it sometime, sugar. Clock’s ticking.”

You let out a groan, harsher than you meant to. “Again with the fucking clock.”

Joel’s hand stilled in your hair.

You exhaled sharply and sat up a little, wiping your cheek even though no tears had fallen yet. “Shit. I’m sorry. That wasn’t about you.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited — calm, steady, present.

“My mom and my aunt ambushed me this morning,” you said finally. “At the spa. I forgot I even agreed to go with them. And the second I sat down, it was like… full interrogation. About my life, my choices. Talking about how I’m wasting time, how I should be settling down, that I’m gonna be thirty soon and I better act fast or I’ll be—what did she say—‘letting myself go.’” You let out a bitter laugh.

Joel’s brow furrowed, but he stayed quiet, his hand moving again — now over your back.

“It’s always like that with them,” you continued. “I’m either too much or not enough. Too opinionated, too single, too selfish. I could be doing everything right and they’d still find a way to cut me down. And I know I’m an adult, I know I could’ve said no or walked out but—have you seen them? Felt how they are? They talk to me like I owe them something for existing.”

You didn’t notice the tears until you sniffled, suddenly aware of the tightness in your throat.

“I’m just so tired of it, Joel. Tired of feeling like I have no place that’s just mine. No space to figure myself out without being picked apart.”

You blinked rapidly, brushing the heel of your hand under your eye — and that’s when Joel shifted, cupping your face gently.

“Hey, hey…” he murmured. “Shhh, it’s okay. I got you.”

His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, catching what little wetness was there.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. And for the first time all day, you felt the ache in your chest begin to ease. “M’sorry” you sniffled and hid your face, pressed against his stomach. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, baby…i’m here…its okay.” 

He didn’t say a word, just held you. One arm wrapped securely around your back, the other resting on your head, fingers combing through your hair in a slow, grounding rhythm. You breathed him in: sun-warmed flannel, cedar, skin. The smell of safety. His quiet presence soaked into your bones, and little by little, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

You didn’t realize how long you stayed like that, tucked against him like he was the only solid thing in the world. Maybe he was.

“Thank you,” you murmured eventually, your voice hoarse from emotion.

Joel leaned in, kissed the crown of your head. “For what, sweetheart?”

“For being here,” you said, the words barely a whisper, but heavy with truth.

He gave a soft smile, but didn’t answer—not with words. He wanted to say I’ll always be here, but even the lie felt too cruel. So instead, he kissed your temple, gently, and let it speak for him.

You were quiet for a while, until finally you spoke again.

“Joel?” you murmured.

“Mm?” he hummed.

“At the spa this morning…” you started, your eyes searching his face, trying to read him. “They told me someone’s coming to the ranch tomorrow. A guy.”

He frowned, not understanding at first. “What kinda guy?”

“His name’s Matthew. Apparently we met once at some summer camp when we were kids? I don’t even remember him that well,” you scoffed, shaking your head slightly.

Joel stayed still, quiet, his hand pausing in your hair.

“They want me to spend time with him,” you continued. “My mom, Aunt Margaret. They think he’s a good match. That we’d ‘get along’ and he’d be ‘good for me.’” You laughed once, a brittle little sound. “They said it’s not an arranged thing, just… a nudge.”

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his voice calm. “And how do you feel about it?”

You let out a breath. “Like I’m being handled. Like they’re trying to hand me off to someone they can approve of.”

He let that settle in the silence, his thumb rubbing small circles on your arm.

You gave a dry little laugh. “It’s just… funny. They’ve been worried I’ve been sneaking off, thinking maybe I’m depressed or whatever. But if they knew I was sneaking off to you…”

Joel raised his eyebrows slightly, looking down at you. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’d go over real well.”

You both chuckled at that—but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Then Joel exhaled, slow. “That what’s been eatin’ at you all day?”

You nodded. “That, and the way they talked to me. Like I’m behind. Like I should’ve already figured all this out.”

Joel didn’t say anything—just brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “You ain’t behind. You’re living. That’s more than most folks can say.”

You turned your head, looked up at him—his furrowed brow, the quiet worry in his eyes. You felt it then, in your chest: he wasn’t just someone you were running to. He was someone who saw you.

And that was more terrifying than anything.

a/n here's a lil bonus! i drew what reader drew :) also a lil bonus, next chapter is gonna be a bonus day 5 pt 2!! yippieee!! they just have a lot of hours left in the day and i didn't wanna waste that heheh, anyways thank you for reading! we're so close to the ending now and i don't wanna end it if i'm being honest... lmk what you think, also lmk if you wanna be tagged on the next chapter!

Taglist: @bau-muffin, @javierpenaismyhusband , @dilf-docs , @heavydirtygirll, @somedayheaven , @loveisacowboyyy , @lyssaspengler, @buckyinluv, @sadgirlcait, @anoverwhelmingdin, @wencontre, @umadirectioner, @galotti7

Joel barely had time to exhale after you walked away, lips still tingling, head spinning, before he heard Tommy’s boots crunching hard against the gravel behind him.

“You outta your goddamn mind?” Tommy snapped, voice low and sharp.

Joel turned just enough to look at him. “Don’t start.”

“I will start, Joel,” Tommy said, stepping closer, eyes flashing. “I saw that. I saw you leanin’ in. What the hell were you thinkin’, huh?”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “She asked me to come with into town. I went. That’s it.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Looked a hell of a lot like more than just errands. You almost kissed her outside the staff entrance.”

Joel didn’t answer. He looked away, jaw tight.

Tommy shook his head. “You think nobody else is gonna notice that? You think you can get away with sneakin’ around with one of them?”

“She’s not like them,” Joel muttered.

Tommy’s voice snapped. “She’s exactly like them. Rich, bored, here for a week of cowboy fantasy before she gets bored and flies back to wherever the hell she came from. And you? You’re just the help, Joel. That’s all we are.”

Joel’s fists curled at his sides.

Tommy pressed on. “You know who isn’t gonna be so forgiving? The company that owns this place. We’re already on thin ice with them. You remember the last email? They flagged your fuel receipts. Your overtime hours. They’re watching us.”

Joel shifted his weight like the truth of it physically weighed him down.

“All it takes is one mistake and they’ll gut this place,” Tommy continued, quieter now, more furious than loud. “Replace us with cheaper labor, roll us out like some damn theme park. You think they’ll keep you on if they find out you’re messin’ around with a guest? That I’ll keep my job?”

“You gonna risk all this for a fling?” Tommy sighed, his hands on his hips.

“I ain’t messin’ around,” Joel muttered.

Tommy threw his hands up. “Oh, that makes it better. Christ, Joel. You know better than that, hell- you taught me better than that.”

Joel didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Because it wasn’t just about the kiss, or the girl, or the ranch. It was about how he looked at her. And how much he already knew it wasn’t going away.

Tommy shook his head like he was too tired to keep fighting. “You need to end it. Before someone else sees.”

Then he turned and walked off toward the main building, boots loud against the quiet.

“And get those damn groceries to the kitchen, they waitin’ on you,” Tommy said before he closed the staff door with a loud slam.

Joel stayed where he was.

Heart thudding. Mind racing.

Hands still curled in fists, aching from holding back more than just a kiss

“Joel? Joel—”

Maria’s voice cut sharply through his thoughts. He blinked, eyes snapping back into focus.

“Yeah? Sorry, I was uh—”

“Yeah, yeah, focus up,” she said, waving a dismissive hand as she turned toward the gathered staff. A dozen or so stood in a loose semi-circle near the barn, coffee cups in hand, squinting against the morning sun.

“Alright, folks, today’s the big day,” Maria continued, voice carrying clear and firm. “The  grandparents’ wedding anniversary celebration—fifty years married, if you can believe it.” A couple of the staff gave soft chuckles or murmured impressed sounds.

“Tommy and I will be manning the main festivities up by the lodge,” she went on. “We’ve got lawn games, a live band coming in at five, and a photo booth being set up near the pergola.”

Joel shifted his weight, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. His eyes flicked toward the lodge involuntarily.

Maria caught the glance but didn’t comment, just pressed on. “Joel, you’re on standby today. Float between spots, make sure everything’s running smooth, supplies, crowd flow. If anything needs fixin’, I’m expectin’ you to be two steps ahead of it.”

He gave a tight nod. “Got it.”

Her gaze lingered on him for half a second longer, as if she wanted to say more, then let it go.

“Alright, let’s make it a good one. We want them talkin’ about this for years—no slip-ups, no surprises.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. No surprises. 

Joel gave Maria a stiff nod and watched the rest of the staff scatter, voices already fading as they moved toward the event setup near the main lawn. He stood still for a moment longer, rubbing his hands together like he could work the tension out through his palms.

Standby.

Right.

That meant stay outta trouble. Stay visible, but not too visible. Be helpful, but don’t get in the way.

Mostly, don’t get caught staring at her.

He exhaled hard through his nose and turned, heading toward the barn. From where he stood, he could already see the cluster of white tents going up on the front lawn, tables being rolled out, folding chairs carried by two and threes.

He caught a glimpse of her. Just for a second.

She was standing at the edge of the setup, not far from her family. Dress light and summery, hair tied back. She looked like she belonged there—comfortable, confident, laughing at something her cousin said.

If Joel had any sense at all, he’d take that image and walk away.

But his eyes lingered.

God, she looked good when she smiled. And he knew, he knew what she tasted like when she whispered his name. He could still feel her hands in his shirt, still hear that breathless sound she made when he kissed her like it was the only way to stop himself from falling apart.

“You gonna risk all this for a fling?”

Tommy’s words from last night snapped through his mind like a whip. The pressure from corporate had been ramping up—calls, emails, reminders about “professional boundaries” and “guest satisfaction metrics.” The kind of stuff that made Joel’s stomach turn.

They didn’t care about this place. Not like he and Tommy did.

And if anyone caught wind of Joel getting too close to one of the vacationers—especially someone from that family?

They’d lose more than their pride.

He muttered a curse under his breath and turned his back to the main lawn. There was work to do. Things to fix. A dozen ways to keep busy, keep useful, keep away.

But even as he grabbed a toolbox and made for the far fence line, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting.

To her.

To last night.

To what might’ve happened if he didn’t stop himself. 

And to what might still happen, if he didn’t find a way to shut this down soon.

You were dressed in a soft pastel sundress, pale yellow with fluttery straps — color-coordinated with the rest of your family, of course. Your mother had laid it out the night before and made a big deal about how “fresh” and “youthful” it looked on you. You smiled, nodded, played the part. Because that’s what today was about: showing up, smiling for pictures, and making sure the grandparents’ anniversary looked like a spread out of a lifestyle magazine.

You stuck close to Amy when you could, let her little ones distract you, let her husband make you laugh. But your parents — and most of the extended family — seemed weirdly unwilling to let you out of their sight. Maybe it was because you vanished yesterday. Maybe it was the lie you gave this morning over coffee, something about allergies and heat exhaustion. Amy backed it up without hesitation. But still, they hovered. Like something was off.

And they were right. You were off.

Because he was here. You had seen him.

Joel.

Not a ghost or a memory — not a maybe — but here. In the crowd. Just far enough to keep his distance, just close enough that it hurt. 

You spotted him midmorning during the lawn games — off to the side helping Maria set up canopies and tables. Later again near the stables, talking to a wrangler. Then during the first round of speeches, when he walked right behind your group to move something, eyes fixed anywhere but on you.

It was maddening. He was right there. Always there. But not once did he meet your eyes. Not once did he even acknowledge you.

And after everything that happened in that barn — after that kiss, after the way he held you like he never wanted to let go — it felt like being gutted.

You wanted to scream. Or grab him by the collar and shake him. Or kiss him again until he stopped pretending it didn’t matter.

You tried not to let it show. You smiled when your aunt asked if you were feeling better. You clinked your champagne glass when your grandparents gave a speech. You let your little cousins drag you into a three-legged race that ended with grass stains and polite applause.

But your heart wasn’t in it.

Every time you caught a glimpse of him — the shape of his shoulders, the familiar way he moved — your chest ached. It wasn’t the distance that killed you.

It was the fact that he was close.

So damn close.

And still choosing to stay far.

The whole day had been a carefully orchestrated performance. You were paraded around the anniversary festivities like a show pony, smiling through group photos, politely declining seconds of cake, and trying to laugh at your uncle’s jokes.

And through it all, Joel had been right there.

Not gone. Not out of reach. Just maddeningly near—crossing the lawn with chairs slung over his shoulder, fixing up the microphone setup with those steady hands, talking to guests with that low voice that made your chest ache.

But not once, not once, did he look your way.

By midafternoon, it was getting pathetic.

You weren’t even being subtle anymore. First, you hung around the drink table while he was checking the ice buckets—stood there like an idiot with your empty glass, waiting for him to maybe glance your way. He didn’t.

Then you tried passing by the barn on your way to “nowhere in particular,” slowing your steps when you spotted him talking to another staff member outside. He looked up… but not at you. Right past you, like you were part of the scenery.

Each time it happened, your stomach sank deeper.

At lunch, you’d even dared to linger a little too long behind your family’s table as he walked past. You swore you saw him hesitate, like he’d felt you there. But he never turned around.

It was driving you crazy.

And the worst part was that he was everywhere. Helping with the sound system, adjusting the decorations, talking to Maria and Tommy near the games tent—always just close enough to make you feel like a ghost.

You weren’t sure what pissed you off more: that he wouldn’t talk to you, or that no one else seemed to notice your unraveling. Amy had given you one long side-eye after the third time you sighed too hard during croquet, but even she hadn’t pressed.

You ended up sitting beside your grandmother on a shaded bench near the flower arrangements, your aperol spritz sweating in your hand as you watched the party unfold across the lawn. And you watched him lean over the fences with that infuriating, effortless focus—while you were stuck pretending you weren’t waiting for something. Anything

You couldn’t take much more of this. You took another sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of your glass. Your stomach had been twisting all day and you weren’t sure if it was from frustration, nerves, or last night’s kiss still echoing in your body like a secret.

“You’re fidgeting,” your grandmother said beside you, her voice soft and amused.

You stilled, startled. “Sorry.”

She smiled faintly. “Don’t apologize. Just makes me think something’s eating at you.”

You shrugged, setting your drink down beside you. “It’s nothing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart. That’s the tone of someone lying through their teeth.”

You sighed, staring out at the party. “I guess I’m just a little… off today.”

“Off how?” she asked, not pressing but still watching you closely.

You hesitated. “Yesterday I wasn’t feeling well. Allergies or something.”

“I know,” she said gently. “But that’s not what I meant.”

There was a pause. The music from the band drifted through the warm air, cheerful and at odds with the knot in your chest.

“I saw the way you’ve been looking over there,” she murmured, like she was talking about the weather. “At the man in the work shirt.”

Your head snapped toward her. “Gams—”

“I’m old, not blind,” she said, chuckling. “I’ve been around enough young people to know a look when I see one.”

You flushed, heart stumbling. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” she said lightly, lifting her glass of lemonade. “Then why does your face look like it’s on fire?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to swallow the heat rising up your neck. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh, honey.” She patted your knee. “If it wasn’t, it probably wouldn’t be worth it.”

You looked down at your lap. “He’s just… ignoring me. Pretending nothing happened.”

“But something did,” she said gently.

Your throat tightened. You didn’t answer.

Your grandmother leaned back, watching the crowd. “He looks like the type who takes a while to make up his mind. But once he does…” She gave a small smile. “Well. Men like that don’t do things halfway.”

You glanced over, unable to help yourself. Joel was standing near the band now, arms crossed, listening to Maria talk. He still wouldn’t look your way.

You clenched your hands in your lap.

“You can’t chase a man like that, sweetheart,” your grandmother said softly. “But you don’t have to sit here letting him think you’ve given up either.”

You turned to her, surprised.

She winked. “I won’t tell your mama. Now go take a walk or something before you combust.”

You grinned and murmured “Thanks gams,” as you rose up from your seat.

You walked off without telling anyone, weaving through the crowd until you spotted him at the edge of it all. Joel stood by the fence, arms crossed over his chest, watching the festivities like he was somewhere else entirely.

You stepped up beside him, just a few feet away, careful not to touch.

“Joel,” you said, quiet and even.

He didn’t look at you, just replied your name in that same low, unreadable tone.

You shifted your weight, watching the rolling hills beyond the ranch, trying to act like your heart wasn’t pounding.

“So—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, cutting you off.

You glanced at him, brows drawing together. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just talking to you.”

His jaw worked. “Doesn’t matter.”

You turned fully now, facing him. “Can’t we just talk, Joel?”

He finally looked at you—and that was all it took. One glance. His eyes flicked to yours, and something in him faltered.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, turning away slightly like he needed to shield himself from you.

“Why can’t I look at you?” you asked.

“Because I don’t trust myself when you do.”

You swallowed. “Then say something that makes this easier.”

He shook his head, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “There’s no way to make this easy. For either of us.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, voice steadier now.

“I’ve been keepin’ my distance,” he corrected gruffly.

“Same difference.”

His eyes finally found yours again, and this time he didn’t look away. “You want me to pretend like that kiss didn’t mess me up?” he said lowly. “Like I haven’t been thinkin’ about it every damn minute since?”

Your breath caught, hope flaring too fast, too hot.

“But that don’t change the fact that this is wrong.”

“Then tell me to leave,” you challenged, voice trembling. “Say it and I’ll walk away.”

He didn’t say it.

He just stared at you, jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked. And for a second, you swore he was going to close the distance between you again.

But he didn’t. He stepped back.

“I can’t do this here,” he said, voice strained. “Not now. Not with all of them watchin’.”

You watched his back as he turned and walked off, leaving you by the fence—burning with everything you didn’t get to say.

“Then where?” you asked, folding your arms tight against your chest, trying to steady your breath. “If I shouldn’t be here, then tell me where.”

Joel’s eyes flicked toward you, jaw working. “Don’t do this here,” he muttered, glancing around like someone might catch you just standing too close.

“I’m not trying to start anything,” you said, voice low. “I just want to talk.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, then dragged a hand over his mouth. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. You could see the war in him clear as day—shoulders tense, gaze darting anywhere but your face.

You softened. “Joel…”

He finally looked at you, like he couldn’t help it anymore. And it made your stomach twist, the way he did. Like you were gravity and he was just tired of fighting it.

He hesitated, then said gruffly, “Later. After dark. Back of the stables.”

Your heart jumped, but you kept your voice even. “Okay.”

His eyes lingered a second longer—more than he should’ve allowed—before he turned, muttering, “Don’t be late.”

And just like that, he was gone again.

By sunset, you sat quietly at the long outdoor dining table, your half-empty glass of wine cradled between your hands. The golden hour stretched lazily over the lawn, turning everything syrupy warm—soft light, long shadows, and the low hum of cicadas joining the smooth sway of the band the family had hired.

From your seat, you watched the couples—your aunts, uncles, even your parents—moving slowly together on the grass. Arms around waists, heads leaned on shoulders, the occasional kiss on a cheek. Everyone looked perfectly content in their little matched sets, like a catalog shoot for love and stability.

You let out a small sigh and glanced to your left, then to your right. Your cousins were either off dancing with their partners or had migrated inside to tuck their kids into bed. All that was left at your end of the table was a crumpled napkin, your untouched slice of cake, and a few younger teens still absorbed in their phones.

Great. You were officially at the kiddie table.

You fiddled with your fork, pretending not to notice how alone you felt. Not lonely, exactly—just… extra. Like a place setting someone forgot to clear. You’d smiled and chatted and laughed through dinner, but now that the music had started and the stars were coming out, the ache set in a little deeper. Everyone had someone.

Except you.

You picked at the edge of your dessert plate, dragging your fork through the icing like it might offer some kind of distraction. The music shifted to a slower tune—something older, probably chosen by your grandparents—and the band’s singer let her voice fall into a smoky hum. It floated across the lawn like something delicate and private, made just for the couples still swaying out there in the twilight.

You rested your chin in your hand, watching your uncle dip your aunt dramatically, both of them laughing like teenagers. You didn’t even realize you were smiling a little until it faded.

It wasn’t about needing a dance partner. You weren’t aching for someone to grab your hand and spin you under the stars.

But it still stung.

Because you used to have that—someone who made you feel chosen, even in a crowd. And then he cheated, and the memory of it left a bruise that hadn’t quite faded.

Now, just as you’d started to feel something new tug at your heart, and you let it do. Just when you thought you found something that felt real, he pulled away.

And you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe love just didn’t run in your blood the same way it did for the rest of your family.

Your eyes drifted to the edge of the lawn—toward the darker part of the path leading out to the barns and stables, past the halo of lights strung up in the trees. You squinted, unsure what you were hoping to see.

Nothing moved.

You looked back down at your plate and pushed it away.

Maybe you’d just go for a walk. Clear your head. Maybe circle by the stables, totally casually. No big reason. Just some air.

You told yourself it wasn’t about anyone. It was just a long day. You were restless. That was all.

You stood quietly and slipped away from the table  before anyone could ask where you were going.

You found yourself wandering toward the stables. It was quiet—emptier than usual. The hush was almost comforting.

You made your way to Dolly’s pen.

“Hey, Dolly,” you murmured.

She huffed softly, poking her head over the gate. You smiled and ran your hand gently along the side of her face.

“You get lonely too?” you asked with a quiet chuckle.

Dolly blinked slowly, like she understood.

“Yeah…” you sighed. “I’m talking to a horse,” you added, half-laughing at yourself.

Then came the sound—heavy footsteps on gravel.

You turned your head and saw Joel in the doorway, pausing like he hadn’t expected to see you just yet.

“Oh… you’re here already,” he said, surprised.

“Oh. Right… that,” you murmured. “Sorry, I was just wandering around…and now I'm here.”

He stepped in a little closer, eyes landing on you, then Dolly.

“You were talkin’ to her?”

You let out a breath and nodded. “She’s good company,” you said softly.

Joel leaned against the wall beside you, close but not touching. You didn’t look at him when you asked,

“You done avoiding me now?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“It’s not that simple, sugar,” he said eventually.

You huffed. “Figured you’d say something like that.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

He paused, eyes still on Dolly, like it was easier than looking at you.

“Something like this…” he started, voice low, “it doesn’t end good.”

“And you’re so sure about that?” you asked, not hiding the sting in your voice.

“Yes, I’m sure.” His voice was firmer now. “You’re one of them. The guests. I work here. That’s not somethin’ I can just pretend don’t matter.”

You stared at him. He kept going.

“I’m too old for this kind of risk,” he muttered. “Too old for you,” he added.

You turned your head to him, finally really looking at him. He was staring at the ground like he was counting every stray piece of hay, doing anything not to meet your eyes.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” you said softly.

“Joel, I’m not asking you to quit your job or run away with me. I’m not asking you to marry me.” You let out a quiet breath. “It’s just… what I felt with you…this connection…it’s real. And I haven’t felt something real in a long time.”

”Maybe it’s stupid, selfish even,” you looked down, voice even smaller now. “But I just wanted to feel again.”

Joel didn’t say anything, but you could feel the silence shift—charged, heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he stood still, battling himself.

Then, finally, he stepped closer. Slow, deliberate. Until he was right in front of you, his presence blocking out everything else.

His hand, rough and warm, tilted your chin up. You met his eyes, and this time, he didn’t look away. He studied you, quiet and searching, like he was trying to see through the layers, to make sure this wasn’t some fleeting whim. And whatever he saw in you—it was enough.

“You sure about this, sugar?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

“Yes,” you breathed.

He exhaled, thumb brushing gently along your bottom lip. “No one can know,” he murmured.

You nodded.

Then finally, finally, he leaned in. And when his lips found yours, it was soft, careful at first. Like a secret. Like something sacred. And it made you feel real, in the most aching, beautiful way.

You kissed him back—slow at first, but aching, hungry beneath the surface. Your hands slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer like you couldn’t get enough, and you couldn’t 

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, then suddenly pressed you back against the stable wall, his mouth claiming yours in a deeper, needier kiss. His hands were on you—one at your waist, the other cupping the side of your face with a surprising gentleness that contrasted the urgency of his lips.

You let out a soft, involuntary moan, fingers tangling in his hair. And as your lips parted on that breath, he didn’t hesitate—his tongue swept into your mouth, slow but sure, coaxing yours to meet him in a rhythm that made your knees weak.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, your breaths came shallow and uneven, lips still tingling. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting eyes that had gone darker—stormy with something unspoken, something barely restrained.

“Fuck, sugar…” he breathed, his forehead resting against yours like he needed the contact just to steady himself. His voice was rough, low, wrecked. “You make it damn hard to be a gentleman.”

His hands, still holding you like you might slip away, slid slowly from your waist down to your hips—fingers splaying, grounding himself in the feel of you. The touch made your breath catch, your stomach flutter.

You didn’t say anything—couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you. Not with the way your whole body was already leaning back in, ready for more.

Then you grew bold and whispered, “I don’t want you to be.”

He let out a deep, rumbling groan from his chest, a sound of pure, unchecked desire. Before you could even process it, his lips were back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that stole your breath. "You're fucking trouble," he muttered against your mouth, his voice a low, strained rasp. You could only moan in response, your body melting under his touch, your core clenching with need.

His calloused hand slid down to grip your thigh, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. In one swift, decisive move, he hitched your leg up to wrap around his lean hip, pulling you impossibly closer. You gasped as you felt the thick, hard length of him pressing against your stomach, a promise of what was to come. "Joel," you sighed, your voice a needy whimper, drunk on the feeling of him.

He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips, a tortured sound filled with lust and longing. "Fuck, baby, you can’t keep making noises like that," he panted, his breath hot against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured “tell me to stop before i drag you to my cabin and fuck you propper.” 

“Fuck,” you panted then bit your lip, “Don’t stop.”

With a sense of urgency, he took your hand in his, practically dragging you out of the stables. He paused at the door, peeking left and right like a man on a mission, ensuring the coast was clear. Then, with a tug of your hand, he led you quickly down the narrow path towards his staff cabin, nestled at the edge of the property.

You had to jog to keep up with his long strides, your heart pounding in your chest as anticipation coiled tight in your belly. The cool evening air rushed past you, but it only seemed to fuel the fire burning under your skin, the fire he had ignited with his touch.

He rushed you inside his cabin, locking the door behind you with a decisive click. You barely had a second to register your surroundings before his mouth was back on yours, hungry and insistent. His hands found your waist, guiding you backward with practiced ease, step by step, until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the bed. You tumbled gently onto the soft mattress, breath catching, heart racing.

Joel stood over you for a beat, gaze sweeping over the sight of you spread out before him, as if committing it to memory.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about this, sugar,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel.

He climbed onto the bed, his broad frame caging you in, a question lingering in his eyes. “Last chance to back out,” he said lowly. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “Please.”

A deep groan escaped him, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing skin, then teeth—trailing kisses and teasing nips that sent a shiver straight down your spine.

“If we’re doin’ this,” he murmured against your throat, “I’m doin’ it right.”

“Right?” you breathed.

“Mm,” he hummed, mouth sliding lower to your collarbone. “Means I’m gonna take my time. Gonna make you cum at least twice before I even think about slippin’ inside you.”

The way he said it—those dirty words wrapped in that low Southern drawl—made your whole body tense with need. You felt your breath catch as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes searching yours, serious even through the heat.

“You gonna let me do that, baby?”

You bit your lip and nodded quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Use your words.”

Your thighs pressed together instinctively at his tone, but you obeyed.

“Yes, Joel.”

A slow, wicked smile curled on his lips. “Atta girl,” he murmured.

He shifted lower, slow and deliberate, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, trailing down to the edge of your dress’s neckline. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice rough when he murmured, “You looked beautiful in this today.”

Your chest tightened at the confession.

“Had to will myself to look away,” he added, lips brushing the dip between your collarbones.

“I didn’t think you were looking,” you breathed.

That earned a low, rumbling chuckle from him, his stubble grazing your skin as he tilted his head.

“Only when you weren’t lookin’ at me,” he muttered, his hands gliding down your sides, mapping every curve like they were something sacred. He let out a long, almost exasperated breath. “Where the hell’s the zipper on this thing…”

You giggled softly, biting your lip, then reached down to help him find it at your side. He huffed out a quiet laugh, amused, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

And then he stilled.

For a moment, he just looked at you, searching your face for any hint of hesitation, his gaze slow and steady, like he needed to be sure that there wasn’t the smallest flicker of doubt in your eyes.

All he found was hunger. Trust. And pure need.

That was all the permission he needed.

With a gentle hand, he eased the straps of your dress down your shoulders, watching the fabric slide like water down your skin. Inch by inch, he took in every new bit of you revealed to him, reverent in his touch, like you were something rare he never thought he’d be allowed to hold. And he savored it. Like he wanted this moment burned into memory.

The dress pooled silently to the hardwood floor, and Joel’s breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on you—on the soft curves of your body, the delicate lace of your bra, the shape of you that had haunted his thoughts all damn day.

“Fuck…” he murmured, almost to himself. “Look at you, sugar.”

His hands came to rest on your waist, wide and warm as they smoothed up your sides, his thumbs brushing along your skin with a reverence that made your heart skip. You felt his gaze drinking you in—like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile, but failing. Because the way he looked at you… it made you feel like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And maybe you didn’t always believe that about yourself. Maybe there were parts of you you’d been taught to second-guess.

But right now you chose to believe his view of you, you let yourself feel perfect. 

His thumb brushed along the edge of your bra, just where the lace met your skin, slow and reverent. “Can I take this off too, baby?” he asked, voice low and a little rough.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips—almost a laugh, really—because for all the urgency in the way he kissed you earlier, for how quickly he led you here, now he was being so careful. So gentle.

“You don’t have to ask,” you murmured, nodding, voice soft with affection.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, deep and warm. “Tryin’ to be a gentleman here.”

You gave him a teasing look. “I thought I told you not to be.”

That did it.

He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth, and then his hands moved behind your back, steady and sure. The clasp came undone with ease—too easily, you thought, and he must’ve caught your expression because he smirked, just a little. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Not my first time with tricky hooks, sugar,” he murmured against your skin as he eased the straps from your shoulders, his touch as careful as it was possessive.

And when the lace slipped away and hit the floor, the look in his eyes made your whole body burn.

"Mmh," he murmured, his teeth gently tugging on his lower lip as his large hands moved up to cup your naked breasts, kneading the soft flesh with his rough fingertips. "Perfect fucking tits," he whispered, his thumb pressing and tracing deliberate circles on your sensitive nipples. You exhaled a small, breathy moan, and he noticed your vulnerability, compelling him to carefully pinch and roll your nipples between his thumb and index finger. "Hahngh," you gasped, feeling the heat rise in your chest as he let out a deep growl from his throat.

"The noises you make..." he murmured, taking a moment to look into your eyes before leaning in to flick his tongue over your hardened peaks, while his free hand alternated between feather-light caresses and firmer squeezes on the other breast.

He was patient but deliberate in his actions, teasing you until you couldn't help but ask for more. You felt the dampness of your panties become unbearable, your hips shifting restlessly on the bed. "Joel, please," you whimpered softly. His eyes locked onto yours as he hummed in response, acknowledging your unspoken request as his hot kisses traveled down the valley between your breasts and across your quivering stomach.

This time, he didn't hesitate or ask for permission; instead, he hooked two fingers around the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs before tossing them carelessly to the floor. "Let me see you, baby," he murmured as he gently nudged your knees apart with his firm hands.

His warm breath wafted over your exposed skin, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on every inch of you―possessive, adoring, hungry for all that you were offering. The bristles of his stubble grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses closer and closer to your dripping wet cunt. Every lingering caress you felt, every teasing pause he took, seemed to unravel another knot in your belly.

Finally, he settled himself between your legs, his large hands gripping the curve of your hips to hold you steady against the mattress. “Pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice raw and thick with desire. And then, without warning, his tongue slipped between your folds―sweeping a languorous path through the slick arousal that had pooled there. The sensation nearly caused you to buck into his mouth; but he held you firm, relishing the way your body begged for more while he took his time learning what makes you gasp and whimper.

Joel alternated between slow, torturous strokes of his tongue and quick, insistent flicks that targeted your sensitive clit―never allowing you to predict what came next. Your entire body quivered beneath him as you gasped out his name, your fingers twisting into the dark strands of his hair while your hips ground against his face in search of more friction, unashamed. 

He didn’t stop, just kept giving and giving. Until  breaths turned shallow and heavy, “Joel, ahng fuck baby i’m gonna cum,” you whined and shift your hips. He groaned and pinned your hips harder to the mattress and doubled his efforts, making your breath catch and you let out a lewd mewl. “Joel! Ahngh- baby- nnghh!” you moaned and finally your legs trembled, your legs instinctively clamped his head. A wave of pure ecstasy hit you and you came. Hard. You were left trembling and boneless beneath his mouth.

He licked a last, lazy stripe, then pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh before drawing himself up over you, his face flushed and wet with your release, smile crooked and wolfish. "There she is," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek, proud of how undone you were, how loose-limbed and ruined by his touch. You tried to muster a clever retort, but all that came out was a shaky laugh. 

He kissed you, his beard rough and his tongue tasting of you, kissing you with an urgency that reminded you he still wanted—wanted badly. "You tasted so fucking sweet," he murmured as he pulled away, his voice a low rumble. His hand drifted downward, his rough fingers tracing a deliberate path over your slick skin. "Are you going to give me one more, baby?" he whispered, his words like a gentle command. Your hips instinctively bucked to meet his touch, and he chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. "Hmm, that's what I thought."

He slowly urged one finger inside, and you gasped, a soft moan escaping your lips. "Yeah, baby, there we go... Does that feel good?" he cooed, his tone both teasing and tender. You nodded, biting back a whimper, "Nghh—yes," you managed to reply, your voice a breathless admission of pleasure. His lips curled to a smirk, “good girl.”

"You're so fuckin' tight," he groaned, easing you open with his thick finger, then a second. "Goddamn." His pace was patient, careful, like he was intent on learning everything about how your body wanted to be touched—when to keep it slow and when to curl his fingers just right. You buried your face in his neck, breath hot and uneven.

"Don't hide from me, sweetheart," Joel said, and guided your chin up so he could see your eyes, so he could watch you fall apart for him. "I want to see every fuckin' thing you feel." It was almost too much—his gaze, his hands, the attention, the resurrection of something wild and alive inside you.

You thought of protesting, making some half-joking complaint about being watched, but all that would come out was a needy, embarrassingly desperate whine as his fingers curled and pressed perfectly on your g-spot, His rough palms grinding on your already extra sensitive clit.

He grinned at the sound, hungry and a little smug, and leaned in to catch your helpless little noises with his mouth—kissing you through it, swallowing every gasp, giving you something to hold onto as the pleasure built. 

His fingers moved in and out agonizingly slowly, making you dizzy with your need for more. "Joel, please," you begged, desperation lacing your voice as your hips bucked uncontrollably. "Patience, baby," he murmured, his voice gruff yet gentle. "Gotta get you ready and stretched for me," he insisted, maintaining his maddening pace. "Hahngh—Joel... Ngghh," you whined again, defiant and yearning. "Shhhh, I know, sugar, I know," he whispered soothingly. 

Your desperation transformed into audacity, your free hand embarking on a daring journey between his legs. It slid against the rough fabric of his jeans, palming the hardened bulge that strained beneath. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath, hips instinctively rocking towards your touch. "Fuck, sugar," he muttered, voice thick with need. Your hand continued its exploration, tracing the length of him through denim, eyes wide and glazed, shimmering with pure, unadulterated want.

He groaned when he met your gaze, your eyes reflecting a storm of desire. His fingers quickened their pace, just a touch, "You want my cock that bad, huh, baby?" he muttered, voice hoarse with lust. You bit your lip, nodding, a silent plea. "Take it out then," he commanded, chin gesturing downwards.

Eager, you didn't need to be told twice. Your hands worked at his pants, deftly unbuttoning, unzipping, just enough to free him. You nearly gasped as his cock sprang free from its confines, thick and veiny, the angry red tip glistening with beads of pre-cum. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath, the sight of him sending a jolt of heat through you.

"Yeah, you like that, sugar?" he whispered, fingers moving faster, drawing out a gasped moan from you. "See why I gotta stretch this tight little pussy out?" His words were crude, raw, dripping with need and promise.

You whimpered, a ragged breath caught in your throat, and wrapped your hand around his length with trembling fingers. The skin was soft, heated, so alive, and you reveled in his sharp intake of air and the way he twitched in your grip. “Christ,” he rasped, head tipping back, his fingers stuttering inside you for just a split second as your thumb traced a slow, teasing circle over the head of him.

For a few breaths, you found a new equilibrium—your hand pumping him, his fingers plunging inside you. It was a game of escalation, of mutually assured destruction, of who would break first.

And of course it was you.

He withdrew his dripping fingers only to thumb over your clit, hard and insistent, and that was all it took. You shattered, hips jerking, vision going white at the edges, your whole self squeezing down on this sharp, sweet ache. He watched, greedily, taking the sweet sounds of your loud moans when you came once more. 

“Look at you, baby,” Joel crooned, voice melting into roughest honey. He slowed his hand, coaxing you through the tremors, head bent to watch every twitch and quake as you spilled over his fingers and soaked his palm. He licked his lips, then brought his hand to your mouth, offering you the taste of yourself. “Open.” You did, dazed and eager, sucking his fingers clean. He grinned at the hungry way you took them, at the gleam in your heavy-lidded eyes. “Good girl.”

You whimpered when he drew his hand away, already empty and greedy for more, a pulse that throbbed everywhere at once. He kissed you again, messy and desperate, all-consuming as the heat surged between your bodies.

"Wait here," he murmured, rising from the bed with a sense of urgency, striding over to his nightstand. He yanked open the drawer, rummaging through the clutter with a growing sense of frustration. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "What's wrong?" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. "It's been so long since I've been with anyone," he confessed, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I, uh... I don't have a condom," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You grinned, a chuckle escaping your lips, "That's okay."

"What do you mean that's okay?" he asked, his brows knitting together in confusion. "It means I'm on the pill," you smirked, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You watched as his gaze darkened, a primal intensity taking over. "You mean you'll let me fuck you raw?" he muttered, disbelief mingling with desire. You bit your lip, nodding slowly, your heart racing as he made his way back to you, unbuttoning his shirt and let it fall to the ground. You take in the view of him fully bare, for you and only for you.

He trapped your body beneath his, murmuring in a hushed, fervent tone, "You sure about this, baby? 'Cause once I start, I'm not sure I can stop." You nodded, breathless, and whispered back, "I'm sure," followed by a moment of charged silence before you implored, "fuck me, Joel."

A deep, primal groan escaped him as he pried your legs apart, pressing them firmly against your chest. His ravenous eyes devoured every inch of you—your flushed cheeks, lips swollen from passionate kisses, your chest rising and falling heavily—and finally, the sight of your yearning, glistening depths. He urged you to grip your legs, commanding with an authoritative growl, "Hold them there."

With a hunger that could no longer be contained, he stroked his rigid length, a few deliberate pumps, before guiding himself into you.

He slid inside you in one long, slow push, and the stretch was immense—it made you see stars, made you claw at his arms and bite down on a wanton sob. “Fuuuck—baby, you’re so tight—” he groaned, the words shuddering out of him like a prayer that hurt to say. He paused, breath shaking, and leaned in to press his forehead to yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you did, and the eye contact made the sensation a thousand times more raw. He kissed you, slow and deep, swallowing every wanton moans and whimpers that left your lips. Then he pulled out, inch by inch, and slid back in again, and the friction from the mere movement had you gasping, your head spinning.

He set a rhythm that started out careful, like he was memorizing the way your pussy felt around him, but soon enough the urgency took over. He pistoned his hips with a hunger you felt in your bones, the pressure building with every relentless thrust. Your hands keeping your knees to your chest like he asked you to, until he yanked your legs to rest against his broad shoulders, making his cock hit the blinding spot inside you.

"Ahnngh! There! Joel-fuck hhnnghh," you cried out, your voice dripping with desperation and raw desire. "Yeah? There, baby?" he taunted, his movements relentless, pounding into you with that perfect angle that obliterated everything else from your mind. 

"Fuck, you sound so good, baby," he panted, his hips driving with fierce determination, his arms wrapped tightly around your legs, pulling you closer to him. "C’mon, sing for me, sugar," he grunted, a command that sent shivers through your spine. And you did, your moans and whimpers pouring out uninhibited, echoing loudly in the room, though you barely noticed the volume, lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

Your body convulsed as his thumb bore down, grinding tight, relentless circles on your clit. It was your undoing. Every muscle tensed, snapping like a live wire, your spine arching as a raw, primal scream tore from your throat. He didn't just ride you through it; he fucking powered through, pinning you helplessly against him, his cock buried to the hilt as shockwaves of pleasure ripped through you. He was feral, sweat dripping from his hair, jaw locked, eyes feasting on the carnage of your orgasm.

He tore out of you, leaving you gasping, clenching around nothing. Before you could beg for more, he manhandled you, flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up, presenting your ass to him. "I’m not fucking done with you," he growled. Without warning, he impaled you, his cock slamming deep, forcing another desperate cry from your lips. "FUCK! Oh god! JOEL!" He was merciless, the room echoing with the brutal sound of his hips crashing against your ass, his balls swinging, slapping against your throbbing, oversensitive clit with each vicious thrust.

He reached beneath you, snaked an arm around your waist, crushing you back onto him in hard, punishing snaps that had your face pressed to the mattress. Dirty words spilled from him, choked and shaky: "Perfect fucking pussy—taking me so good—goddamn—gonna fill you up, fuck—" Your mind blanked, every thought burned away by the pulsing sensation between your legs and the thick, searing pressure of him inside you.

"You fucking love this, don't you?" he rasped, pulling your hair until your back bowed and your mouth fell open in a wrecked sob. His free hand shot around your throat, not quite choking, just holding—possessive, anchoring, and it made you melt. You nodded frantically, unable to form a word, only a hungry, whimpering "please—please—" as his cock split you, heat pooling low in your belly for another intense orgasm.

With a primal urgency, Joel drove into you with two forceful thrusts, finally surrendering to the overwhelming sensation. He erupted inside you, painting your insides white with his release. "FUCK! Yes, baby—take every drop of my cum," he roared, his voice a guttural growl as he plunged even deeper, determined to ensure his seed reached the farthest depths. You were lost in a haze of ecstasy, so overwhelmed that you barely realized your own climax had crashed over you in tandem.

It flashed by in a blur, a rush of sensations that left you dazed. It wasn't until Joel's voice, filled with admiration and awe, reverberated in your mind that you became aware of what happened. A warm, liquid sensation trickled down your thighs, a testament to the intensity of your climax. The release had been so powerful that it left a noticeable splash against him, seeping into the fabric beneath, creating a dark, damp stain on his navy blue sheets.

Joel paused, pulling out with a slick, wet sound, and for half a second, there was just the sound of you both panting—chests heaving, your knees trembling. He looked at the mess you made, at the way his cock glistened, at the liquid pooling down your thighs, pride and hunger warring in his expression.

"Jesus Christ, sugar," he breathed, his thumb tracing the curve of your ass. "You’re fucking perfect." He slapped your ass—hard, a sting that radiated delight across your skin, then leaned down and pressed his tongue to your still-aching cunt, licking you up, swallow and all. "Made such a mess for me," he mumbled, between greedy, deep sucks.

Your limbs twitched with aftershocks, overstimulation so acute it bordered on pain, and you tried to squirm away—but his hands gripped your ass, holding you open and steady, and he tongued your clit until your thighs clamped on his bearded jaw and you half-sobbed, half-laughed into the pillow.

"Stop, stop," you gasped, wriggling free, but he only smiled—wolfish, proud—and pressed a final, searing kiss to your swollen cunt before letting you collapse, boneless, onto the messy sheets. Joel rolled beside you, his chest still heaving, and flung an arm heavy over your waist, pulling you back against him.

After a moment of ragged breathing, you both gradually settled into a calm. "You okay, sugar?" he murmured softly, his voice tender and gentle, a stark contrast to the intense passion he had shown just moments before. You nodded, releasing a weak, breathy chuckle. "You ruined me," you admitted with a playful grin. He chuckled in response, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Yeah, sorry about that," he murmured, gently stroking your arm before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just gonna be sore tomorrow," you replied, feeling the pleasant ache. He smiled and chuckled warmly. "Damn right you are."

Joel, ever the considerate gentleman, slipped out of bed,  then you heard the soft sound of running water. He returned with a warm wet cloth and a glass of water, crouching beside the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say anything, just tended to you with such gentle care it made your chest tighten.

He wiped you down slowly, his touch unhurried. “You okay?” he asked softly, brushing his knuckles along your thigh once he was done.

You nodded, a soft smile curling on your lips “Yeah.”

Joel climbed back into bed and opened his arms without a word, gathering you back in his arms, your face tucked against his chest. You knew you should probably leave before anyone noticed you were gone, but the thought of moving felt impossible. Wrong, even—his body was warm, his arms felt safe, and your legs still trembled slightly from what he’d just done to you.

“I should probably go,” you murmured, though you didn’t move.

His hand on your back didn’t budge. “Stay.”

You looked up at him. “You sure?”

He nodded and pulled you closer until your legs tangled beneath the sheets. “Yeah,” he said. “Just… stay.” He kissed the top of your head, then your temple. His voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ll wake you before the sun’s up. Promise.”

You smiled into his chest, your fingers resting lightly over his heart. “Okay.”

Joel tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you once more — soft, slow, nothing like the hunger from before.

“Goodnight, sugar,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered, eyes finally fluttering closed.

a/n don't look at me....i felt filthy after writing this one lmao. but i hope you guys enjoyed this one! they finally fucked!! yippieee!! your comments and reblogs have really helped me stay motivated to continue this fic so thank you guys so much! let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist ily all!

Taglist: @bau-muffin, @javierpenaismyhusband , @dilf-docs , @heavydirtygirll, @somedayheaven , @loveisacowboyyy , @lyssaspengler, @buckyinluv, @sadgirlcait, @anoverwhelmingdin, @wencontre

You set five different alarms to make sure you’d be up by five. You got ready—showered, did your hair, light makeup—and picked something cute but casual: a baby blue sundress you packed, paired with comfy walking shoes. It felt like getting ready for a first date. Which, technically, it wasn’t—you were just tagging along with Joel on some errands. But still. Just you and him. Away from everyone else. You were a little nervous… but mostly, you were so damn excited.

By the time 6 AM rolled around, you were already heading out to the front of the ranch. You sent a quick text to Amy on your way:

“Running errands with Joel to the town. Cover for me if anyone asks.” She probably wasn’t even awake yet.

Out front, you spotted him—leaning against his truck in a dark blue shirt, arms crossed, biceps on full display. Then he turned his head, and his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

“Well, look who’s up and early,” he teased.

You giggled. “Hey, cowboy.”

“Hey, sugar,” he said, softer now. “C’mon, get in. It’s a long drive to town.” He opened the door for you, you thanked him and he nodded before running off to his side and getting in as well.

“Seatbelt,” he murmured, and you clicked it on.“How long’s the drive again?” you asked as the truck rumbled to life.

“’Bout an hour to the nearest town,” he said, eyes on the road.

You nodded, watching the early morning light stretch across the fields as the ranch disappeared behind you. “You do these errands often?”

“Every week,” he replied. “Stuff for the kitchen, cleaning supplies, hardware, things that need fixin’. All the boring stuff.”

“Was surprised you wanted to come,” he added with a low chuckle. “You’ve got way better activities back at the ranch.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah… was surprised I said that too.” Then you shrugged. “I don’t think errands are boring, though.”

“No? Compared to, say, archery lessons?” he teased.

You grinned. “Well, in that case, it’s safer for everyone if I come with you.”

That pulled a real laugh out of him and you giggled along with him.

Then, after a beat, his voice softened. “You look… you look real pretty, by the way.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “You think so?”

He nodded, eyes still on the road. “Yeah. That dress suits you.”

You glanced out the window, smiling to yourself. “Thanks, Joel.”

You watched the scenery roll by through the window, the cab wrapped in a comfortable silence.

“Do you usually drive in silence?” you asked, glancing over at him. Joel raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… no music, no podcast, no audiobook?” you teased.

He chuckled. “Don’t think you’d wanna hear my old country stuff.”

“Why not?” you shot him a playful look. He shrugged, smirking. “Don’t seem like the type to listen to it.”

“Well, you’d be right,” you grinned. “But I still wanna hear your music. Your picks.”

He glanced at you, amused. “You sure?”

“Come on, show me the reins, cowboy.”

He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Alright then.” Joel pulled the truck gently to the side of the road and leaned over to the glovebox on your side, popping it open. Your heart skipped a little at how close he was. Inside the compartment there’s a whole stash of cassette tapes.

“What’s your pick, sugar?” he asked, eyes scanning the labels.

You laughed. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I have no idea what counts as good country music.”

“Well then,” he murmured, pulling one out with a worn label, “Guess it’s my job to show you.”

He slid the tape into the player. “We’ll start with a classic…”

A slow guitar twanged from the speakers, soft and easy, like the start of a daydream. Joel pulled back onto the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gearshift.

“Who’s this?” you asked, tilting your head slightly at the rich, honey-warm voice that started to hum through the cab.

“Don Williams,” he murmured. “Ever heard of him?”

“Not even once,” you admitted with a quiet chuckle.

He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting as he let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, figured as much.”

You returned the smile and looked out the window, the landscape rolling by in the golden morning light. The song carried on, slow and gentle, like a lullaby for grown-ups. Your foot started tapping in rhythm almost without thinking.

“Not bad,” you said after a moment.

Joel glanced at you sideways. “Yeah? Thought you weren’t a country girl.”

“I’m not,” you grinned, “but I like this. It feels… nice. Kinda peaceful.”

He gave a small hum of agreement, eyes still on the road. “He’s got that effect.”

You let the music fill the silence between you, not rushed or awkward—just easy. The kind of quiet you didn’t mind sinking into.

Throughout the drive, he kept introducing you to his favorite country artists—Don Williams, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash. He’d glance over now and then, watching your reactions like they mattered. And every time you smiled or said, “I like this one,” he beamed a little, like you’d just passed some kind of secret test.

You couldn’t help it—you kept sneaking glances at him as he drove. There was something hypnotic about it. The way his hand rested so confidently on the wheel, the subtle flex of muscle in his forearm, the way he tapped to the rhythm with a quiet ease. He was humming again, low and gravelly, just barely audible over the soft strum of guitar from the stereo.

“Sing for me,” you said, nudging him gently.

He gave you a side glance, amused. “Again?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Mmhmm. I like your voice.”

He let out a small breath of a laugh, eyes flicking back to the road. “Thought I already gave you a show last night.”

“And now I want an encore,” you teased.

He smirked, shaking his head. “You don’t let up, do you?”

“Yep.” you said simply, popping the p.

That made him laugh, the kind that rumbled in his chest. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, like he was pretending to be reluctant—though the way he glanced at you, like he liked being asked, gave him away.

A few beats passed. Then, softly, he started to sing—just a few lines. And you leaned back in your seat, smiling like an idiot, soaking in every note like it was just for you.

When he stopped singing and the song came to an end, you threw your hands up and clapped like you were at a concert. “Wooooo!!” you cheered, grinning wide.

Joel let out a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face—one of those rare, unguarded ones that made your chest flutter.

Time always seemed to move faster when you were with Joel. One minute you were cruising along to Don Williams, the next you were pulling into a sleepy little town. He turned into a small parking lot and parked out front of a grocery store.

He glanced at you. “You comin’ in, or waitin’ out here?” You scoffed. “Obviously I’m coming in. I wanna help.”

Joel gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright then.”

You reached for your door handle, but before you could open it, Joel had already hopped out and jogged around to your side. You raised a brow at him as he opened it.

“Well, look at you,” you teased, stepping down. He gave you a small shrug like it was nothing. “Raised right, I guess.”

You followed him into the store, grabbing a shopping cart on your way in.

“I got it,” Joel said, reaching for the handle. You pulled it out of reach. “Nope. I’m pushing. I need to feel useful.” He let out a soft laugh. “Alright, boss.”

“So what’s on this big list?” you asked, and Joel fished a crumpled paper from his pocket.

“Lotta boring stuff,” he muttered, scanning it. “Cooking oil, sugar, salt, coffee filters, laundry pods… stuff to keep the place from fallin’ apart. Handwritten by Maria herself, so no substitutions.”

You grinned. “So no getting the fun cereal?”

“Nope. Unless you wanna deal with her,” he smirked.

You wandered through the aisles with Joel reading off the list like it was a mission, and you taking it way too seriously. When you finally handed him the right kind of sugar, he looked at it, nodded once. “Yup. That’s it.”

You grinned and lifted your hand. “That’s at least worth a high five.”

He gave a small shake of his head but still slapped your palm lightly, a little smirk tugging at his mouth.

“You’re humoring me,” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Little bit,” he murmured, but didn’t pull his hand away right away. His fingers brushed yours for just a second before he turned and kept walking.

You stood there, biting your lip to hide the way you were smiling like an idiot before hurrying after him with the cart.

In the snacks aisle, you picked up a box of animal crackers and wiggled it at him.

“Come on. These count as essential supplies, right?” He raised a brow. “Only if you plan on feeding the horses with ‘em.”

You tossed them into the cart anyway.

You passed the frozen aisle and spotted a tub of ice cream, eyes lighting up. “Do you think Dolly would like a frozen treat?” you asked, already halfway to grabbing it.

Joel glanced up from his list, one brow raised. “Is that for Dolly… or for you?”

“Definitely for Dolly,” you nodded slowly, not very convincingly.

He smirked. “’Cause if it’s for you, there’s a real good ice cream parlor I could take you to after this.”

You squinted at him, pretending to weigh your options. “Okay… it’s probably too much sugar for a horse anyway,” you said, setting the tub back with a little sigh.

The cart was getting heavy with supplies, wheels creaking as you pushed it toward the checkout line. You and Joel had made good time, crossing off most of the list, and now you were both standing side by side, waiting behind a woman with two screaming kids and way too many cans of soup.

Joel scanned the items in the cart again. “Shit. Think I forgot somethin’.”

You glanced up at him. “You want me to grab it?”

“Nah, I got it. Just stay put, I’ll be quick.” He gave your arm a soft pat before heading off down one of the side aisles.

You leaned your arms on the handle of the cart, letting your weight sink forward. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and the radio was playing some soft country tune you didn’t recognize. You were zoning out a bit, looking out to the moving conveyor belt in front of you.

And then, out of nowhere, a bouquet of daisies landed in the cart right in front of you.

You blinked. “What the…”

You turned your head, and there he was—Joel Miller—acting like he hadn’t just dropped a bunch of fresh daisies next to the bag of sugar and dish soap. He was standing a few feet away, pretending to examine the display of gum and travel-size hand sanitizer near the register, his face unreadable.

“What’s this for?” you asked, lifting the bouquet slightly, your heart already beating faster.

He glanced at you briefly, then looked away just as quick. “For the ranch. Foyer could use somethin’ fresh.”

“Oh,” you said, trying not to sound too deflated.

He sighed through his nose, then rubbed the back of his neck, his voice dropping lower. “Nah. It’s for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and he finally looked at you again, a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Figured it kinda matched your dress,” he added, quieter now.

You looked down at the bouquet in your hands, the little white petals and yellow centers. They weren’t fancy, not by any means, but they were sweet. Thoughtful. Your throat went warm.

“Really?” you asked again, grinning now, unable to help it.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but his lips twitched into a nervous half-smile. “Yeah. I mean—I don’t really know what kind of flowers you like. Just thought these might suit you.”

You looked up at him and beamed. “I love daisies, actually.”

His shoulders dropped a little, like that was the answer he didn’t even realize he needed. “Well. Good then.”

You held the bouquet close to your chest. “Thanks, Joel.”

He cleared his throat, fiddled with a pack of gum he wasn’t going to buy, and nodded. “You’re welcome, sugar.”

Finally the lady in front of you left the cashier, he patted your arms. “C’mon,” he murmured and your heart fluttered yet again.

You followed Joel back to his truck, arms half-full and ready to help—only for him to stop you with a raised brow and your bouquet of daisies.

“Here,” he said, placing the flowers gently in your hands like they were something delicate. “You sit. I’ll handle the rest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, just for the sake of it—but the moment your fingers wrapped around the stems, your protest disappeared. You were smiling too hard to form words anyway. With a soft huff of a laugh, you climbed into the truck and sat down, watching him through the windshield as he moved around to load the groceries like it was nothing.

When he finally climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled in, you turned toward him, still grinning. “So… where to next?”

Joel hummed low, starting the truck. “Gotta pick up feed for the horses. Big bags of the stuff.”

You nodded, already picturing him hauling fifty-pound sacks like it was no big deal. But then he added, almost offhandedly, “The ice cream parlor I told you about? It’s on the way.”

Your face lit up. “We are?”

He smirked as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah, sugar. We’re gettin’ ice cream.”

You let out a soft, happy little noise, hugging the bouquet to your chest. “I knew running errands with you was the right call.”

The truck rumbled down the sleepy roads of the small town, and you looked out the window, watching as the morning light warmed up the faded buildings and quiet sidewalks. Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the petals of your bouquet, careful not to crush them. You turned your head slightly to peek at Joel—and caught him already looking at you.

“What?” you asked with a smile.

He quickly looked away, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Nothin’,” he mumbled, eyes locked on the road now, but you could tell he was smiling too.

Five minutes later, the truck rolled to a stop in front of a tiny mom-and-pop ice cream shop. It looked like it hadn’t changed in decades—hand-painted signage, chipped blue benches out front, and a little bell on the door that jingled when you walked in.

Behind the counter stood an older woman, maybe in her sixties, with silver-streaked hair tied back in a bandana. Her eyes lit up the second she saw Joel.

“Well, well—look who finally showed up,” she called out. “Been a while, Joel. Thought you gave up on us.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, been cuttin’ down on sugar,” he muttered.

She waved him off with a laugh, then looked at you. “And you brought someone!” she said brightly.

You smiled, and introduced yourself.

“Just runnin’ errands,” Joel cut in quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as if the words burned his mouth.

The woman gave you a knowing look and leaned in across the counter. “She’s a pretty one, huh, Joel?”

Joel gave a low laugh—tight, nervous—and stared very hard at the ice cream cooler. “Can we just get two scoops of vanilla and whatever she wants,” he said, voice rougher than usual.

You caught the way he wouldn’t quite look at you, and you bit your lip to hold back a smile. “I’ll have the chocolate mint,” you told the woman behind the counter.

He paid before you could even pretend to reach for your purse, giving you a look that shut down any protests. You followed him out with your cone in hand, the two of you settling onto a chipped blue bench out front, the early afternoon sun warming the seat beneath you.

“I didn’t take you for a vanilla guy,” you teased, eyeing his cone. and how he looked licking it in such a man way, putting his cone sideways and all. it definitely put some…thoughts in your brain.

Joel glanced at you, amused. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” you said, giving him a look. “Just figured you’d be more of a… rum raisin or coffee kinda guy. Something old.”

He turned his head toward you, one brow lifted. “You callin’ me old?”

You tried not to laugh, biting your spoon. “Old like old-fashioned.”

He gave you a narrow look, but there was a tug of a smile at the edge of his mouth.

“And besides,” you added, voice softening just a bit, “I don’t think old is a bad thing.”

Joel licked his ice cream slowly, his eyes drifting back to you with a different kind of curiosity. “No?”

You shrugged, faking innocence even though your heart was beating a little faster. “Means they’re more experienced.”

He froze for half a second—and then choked mid-swallow.

You flinched toward him. “Whoa! Are you—?”

He coughed into his fist, eyes watering a little as he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m fine. Just… ice cream hit wrong.”

You handed him a napkin, trying and failing not to smirk. “Right. Definitely just the ice cream.”

He took it from you, muttering something under his breath with a shake of his head. You looked away, grinning like an idiot again, your cheeks warm.

You didn’t say it out loud, but… you liked this. Him. The way he got all flustered when you flirted too directly.

You kept eating your ice cream, trying to play it cool. But yeah—your heart was definitely not listening.

“You can’t say stuff like that to me,” he muttered, a quiet laugh in his voice as he stared down at his ice cream.

You glanced over at him, putting a spoonful of ice cream past your lips, brows raised. “Why not?”

He didn’t answer right away, just shook his head like he was trying to hold something back. “You’re a smart girl,” he said finally, low and steady. “You know why.”

You tilted your head, lips pressing into a small smile. Oh, you had a pretty good idea why. Maybe it was because he liked you—really liked you—and you throwing out lines like that wasn’t fair if you didn’t mean them. Maybe it was because it made this harder for him, trying to stay careful, keep some kind of line intact. But you wanted to hear him say it. You leaned back just slightly, pretending to think. “Hmm… no, I don’t think I do,” you said sweetly, acting like you were waiting for a real answer.

He looked at you then—really looked—and there was something in his eyes that made your stomach flip. Something unspoken and heavy and soft all at once.

He didn’t say a word.

Instead, he reached over, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Got some ice cream,” he said softly, swiping at a smear near your lip.

Your breath caught.

“Messy girl,” he added, voice low and warm, and his thumb lingered just a second too long.

You swore the air shifted around you. Like something tipped. Your mouth was dry and you were suddenly aware of how close he was sitting.

That teasing little moment had turned sharp and dangerous and sweet all at once—and you realized this wasn’t just flirting anymore.

You were in it now. Both of you were.

“Where to next?” you asked, watching him shift the truck back into drive.

“Gotta buy some feed for the animals,” he murmured, easing out of the parking lot.

“Mmm, okay.” You leaned back into your seat as the road stretched ahead.

“Store’s on the edge of town,” he added, glancing at the rearview mirror. “We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

You nodded, reaching to turn the radio back on. The cassette from earlier clicked to life again, filling the truck with soft twangy guitar and the hum of an old country voice.

With Joel focused on the road, you finally checked your phone. Your lockscreen lit up with a stack of notifications—Amy, of course.

07:00 - i just woke up

07:00 - what the fuck?? when did you agree to join him??

07:01 - why didn’t you tell me sooner??

07:12 - hello??

07:15 - you can’t text me that and leave me out in the dust

07:30 - whatever i’m getting breakfast, please tell me ur alive

08:30 - babe i need updates

The most recent was just ten minutes ago, your full name written in all caps. You bit back a laugh and snapped a quick picture of the bouquet Joel got you—propped on the dashboard, daisies bright against the blurry shape of the road outside. Sent.

She didn’t even hesitate:

09:00 - OH MY GOD IS THAT FOR YOU???

09:00 - FROM HIM???

You giggled quietly to yourself.

“What’s goin’ on there?” Joel asked without taking his eyes off the road.

“Nothing,” you said, smiling at your screen. “It’s Amy.”

“She know you’re with me?”

“Mhm. I trust her.”

09:01 - mhm 😋

09:01 - BIIITTTCCHHHH

09:01 - tell me EVERYTHING

You glanced over at Joel, who was tapping his fingers to the beat, focused as ever.

09:02 - later, can’t talk rn

09:02 - but i think he likes me

09:02 - bitch…obviously

09:03 - you wear protection now

09:03 - jesus amy we’re nowhere near there yet

09:04 - it will be there sooner or later

09:04 - omg my baby’s growing up 🥹

09:04 - shut up i’ll talk to you later

You slipped your phone back into your bag with a smirk, letting yourself sink into the moment—the hum of the truck, and the open road ahead.

“You don’t have to come with me to this one,” Joel said as he pulled the truck into the loading dock behind the feed store.

You gave him a look. “What? No way. I’m your little helper today.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Exactly. Little. I gotta load up some heavy bags in here, darlin’. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself.”

“Oh, I’m not that little. I have muscles, you know,” you said, flexing dramatically. “There’s gotta be something I can help with.”

He sighed in that way he always did when he was pretending to be annoyed but actually didn’t mind one bit. “Fine. You can tag along,” he muttered, climbing out of the truck.

Before you could even reach for your handle, he was already coming around the front to open your door for you. Again. You stepped out with a grin. “You know I can do that myself, right?”

“I know,” he murmured, closing it behind you.

The moment you stepped inside the feed store, the air hit you—a strong mix of hay, grain, and something distinctly… barnyard. You did your best not to wrinkle your nose and followed Joel closely, trying not to look like you were second-guessing your life choices.

“Hey, Tim,” Joel greeted the man behind the counter with a nod.

“Joel! Got your order ready—‘round the back,” the guy replied, pointing toward a stacked pile of massive feed bags.

Joel went to pay, then both men got to work with practiced ease, lifting the fifty-pound sacks like they were nothing. You tried very hard not to stare at Joel’s arms—at how his sleeves stretched, his forearms flexed, and how annoyingly effortless it looked.

You cleared your throat. “What can I help with?”

Joel glanced at you, then gestured with a nod toward a few smaller bags stacked nearby. “You can carry those, sugar.”

You smiled brightly and grabbed one of them, reading the label. “Horse treats?” you said, amused.

The bags were definitely smaller than what they were carrying. But not light, either. You lifted one to your chest, adjusted your grip, and followed Joel out the loading door with a little huff.

“You okay back there, sugar?” he asked without turning around.

“Mhmm! Easy—mmh—easy peasy,” you grunted, trying to sound casual while your arms were already beginning to ache.

Joel let out a soft laugh, and you could’ve sworn he slowed his pace just a little for you.

“Stubborn,” he muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.

The men made several trips, loading heavy sacks of feed onto the truck bed. You were still wrestling your second bag of horse treats out of five while Joel and Tim had already stacked six massive feed bags like it was nothing.

Joel leaned against his truck with his arms crossed, watching you with an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you huffed, struggling to hoist the bag up onto the truck bed. You let out a grunt as it landed with a soft thud.

“You sure you don’t want help with those treats?” he teased.

“I got it,” you insisted, wiping the sweat off your brow.

He chuckled and pushed off the truck, walking around to the front. A second later, he returned and tossed you a bottle of water. You caught it, eyebrows raised.

“You’re sweatin’ more than me, sugar,” he said, grinning.

You unscrewed the cap and took a long sip, then held it up like you were toasting him. “That’s cause I’m doing all the important work.”

“Oh, right,” he drawled, playing along. “Those horse treats don’t carry themselves.”

You smiled, drinking again as he glanced at you, still grinning. The sun hit his face just right and his hair was a little damp from the heat, and you suddenly felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.

He nodded to the last two small bags. “You got it, champ?”

“I got it,” you said again, lips quirking.

He ended up helping anyway, of course. The final sacks were stacked neatly in the bed of the truck, and you wiped the back of your hand across your forehead with a satisfied sigh.

“We did it,” you huffed, trying not to sound too proud of yourself—but you kind of were.

Joel glanced over at you, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then, with the ghost of a smile, he lifted his hand.

“Alright,” he murmured, “gimme five.”

You blinked in surprise—he wasn’t exactly the high-five type, recalling back on how he acted when you asked for one earlier in the grocery store. But nonetheless, your face split into a grin as you slapped your palm against his with a loud smack.

Your laugh bubbled out before you could stop it. “That was the most reluctant high five I’ve ever seen.”

He shrugged, hand dropping back to his side. “Didn’t wanna leave you hangin’. You earned it.”

You grinned and held up your hand again. “Gimme one more then!”

Joel smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to let it turn into a full smile. He gave you another high five—but this time, his fingers lingered, slipping between yours just for a second. Pinkish hue crept up to your cheeks.

“Get in the car, sugar,” he murmured, voice low and warm as he gently tugged your hand, steering you toward the passenger side and urged your flustered-self inside.

“Back to the ranch?” you asked as you clicked your seatbelt into place.

“Nope,” Joel said simply, shifting the truck into gear and easing out of the parking lot.

You turned to him. “No?”

He kept his eyes on the road. “Takin’ you to eat.”

A grin spread across your face. “Really?”

He glanced over and chuckled when he saw the look you were giving him. “You haven’t eaten, right?”

You shook your head. “Skipped breakfast for you.”

“Good. Don’t want you leavin’ some Yelp review sayin’ we starve guests at the ranch.”

You giggled, settling back in your seat, a warm flutter in your chest.

Twenty minutes later, the truck rolled into a gravel lot in front of a diner that looked like it hadn’t changed since the ’60s. Only one other car was parked out front.

Inside, the door jingled as you stepped in behind him. The smell of coffee and fried food hit immediately. An older woman behind the counter looked up and lit up with a smile.

“Joel! Long time no see.”

“Hey, Marge,” he greeted with a polite nod. “Yeah… been busy.”

Her eyes flicked to you, and her smile widened. “And you brought someone! Is this Sarah? She finally came to visit?”

You felt Joel tense beside you.

“No,” he said after a beat. “Not Sarah.”

“Oh—sorry, hon. Lord, this mouth of mine,” she laughed, flustered, and turned to grab some menus.

You followed Joel to an empty booth. The two of you slid into the vinyl seats. You opened the menu, but your eyes didn’t really focus on the words.

“Sarah?” you asked gently.

He nodded. “My daughter.”

You nodded too, pretending to read, unsure if you should say more. But the question was already forming on your tongue.

“She live around here?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Got her own life up in the city. East coast.”

You hesitated, then asked quietly, “How old is she?”

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers drummed once against the edge of the table.

“’Round your age,” he murmured, still not looking at you.

Your stomach twisted a little. “Oh,” you said softly.

You both were quiet , and then Marge came to take in your orders. Once she left it was silence again, heavy with a new sense of tension. The both of you clearly deep in your own heads.

“Does it bother you?” you asked quietly, not looking at him.

Joel turned to you. “What?”

“That I’m her age.”

He was quiet again, and when he finally did answer, it wasn’t what you expected. “It should.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “But it doesn’t?”

He looked at you like he was trying to find something. Maybe a way out. Maybe a reason to stay.

“I’m tryin’ not to think about it,” he said honestly and you nodded understandingly. Then, almost out of self-defense, you exhaled sharply and forced a crooked smile. “Well, we’re both doing a real bad job of not thinking about it, huh?”

That earned you a small smirk on his lips. Marge came to your table and handed out your drinks, you said thank you to her and she walked away with a smile glancing at the two of you.

You took a breath and then leaned in, arms crossed on the table. “Okay, uh… when you’re not doing ranch work, what do you do?” you asked, clearly trying to steer things into safer waters.

He shrugged lightly. “Always workin’. Always somethin’ needs takin’ care of on the ranch.”

“C’mon,” you grinned. “You must have some kind of free time.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, like he was debating whether to tell you. Then finally, he murmured, “I do some woodworking.”

Your eyes lit up. “Wait—really? Like, making little statues and stuff?”

He tried not to look smug at your interest, but the corner of his mouth tugged just slightly. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

You tilted your head, teasing now. “So you’re good with your hands, huh?”

It took you a full beat to hear how that sounded.

Your eyes widened. “I mean—! I didn’t mean—”

Joel cut you off, low and amused. “I’m pretty good with ’em, sugar.”

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t quite hold back the laugh that bubbled up. He didn’t press the moment—just leaned back in the booth, smirking into his coffee like he wasn’t the least bit flustered.

The silence after that was comfortable. Cozy. But then, after a beat, he added, “Won’t be many more chances for it.”

You looked up. He didn’t say it with any kind of edge. Just stating the truth. A reminder.

“You’re only here a week,” he said, eyes on his plate now. “Week’s halfway gone.”

You swallowed your bite a little harder than before. “Yeah.”

He nodded slowly, then glanced out the window like he was watching the wind. “Don’t feel like it’s been that long.”

“It doesn’t,” you agreed softly. “It’s weird. Feels like I just got here.” You weren’t sure what else to say. And he didn’t add anything either.

The food between you slowly disappeared, and the conversation drifted to easier things—Joel told you stories of random guests that cracked you up. You asked about his horses, and he gave each one a personality like they were coworkers. Things relaxed again, but the clock was ticking in the background now, even if neither of you said it.

The road home stretched long and quiet, flanked by fading wildflowers and endless trees. Joel kept his eyes forward, hands steady on the wheel, jaw set in something close to silence.

You’d dozed off twenty minutes ago, somewhere just past the turnoff to a sleepy gas station, full from breakfast and warm from the sun pouring through the window. He didn’t blame you—it had been an early start. Still, it made something twist in his chest, seeing you curled up like that in the passenger seat. Comfortable. Trusting. Like you belonged there.

But you didn’t. Not really.

He told himself not to look too long, but he still did. You had a little crease between your brows, even in sleep, like you were dreaming something you didn’t trust yet. He wondered what it was. Wondered if it had anything to do with him.

He shifted in his seat, exhaled hard through his nose. The wind was soft today. The drive usually felt like nothing—just time to clear his head. Now it was too quiet. Now it felt like every mile was just giving him more room to think. Too much room.

Joel flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, rolling his shoulder. His chest still felt heavy from that look you gave him when he said Sarah was your age. You hadn’t said much after. Tried to keep things light. He appreciated it, even if it only made the guilt settle deeper.

What the hell was he doing?

He’d told himself he was just being kind. That taking you to a late breakfast didn’t mean anything. That the way his hand lingered after the high-five was just a reflex. But then you smiled at him in that damn booth, legs folded under you like you’d been doing it forever, like this wasn’t just a vacation. And that look in your eyes—like you saw something in him worth wanting.

And he’d wanted to kiss you. God, he’d wanted to.

He glanced over again. You’d shifted slightly, your head now tilted toward him, lips parted just enough to make his heart skip. He looked away fast, like it hurt.

“You’re not stayin’,” he muttered under his breath. Like saying it out loud might remind him of the line he wasn’t supposed to cross.

But it was already too late.

He turned the music down a notch, just in case it woke you. One hand dropped to rest on his thigh, and he caught himself clenching it into a fist, like that might ground him.

You stirred softly, not quite waking, and he looked at you one more time.

Just drive, he told himself. Just get her home. Even if every part of him already wanted more than that.

The shake of the truck jostling over a pothole pulled you from sleep. “Hm?” you murmured, blinking at the sunlight now slanting lower across your lap.

“Shit,” Joel said softly, glancing over. “Did I wake you, sugar?”

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “I fell asleep?”

“Yeah, you did.” He gave a small, crooked smile, eyes returning to the road. “That food really knocked you out, huh?”

“Guess so,” you mumbled, stretching a little against the seatbelt. Your voice was still thick with sleep, and you gave him a lazy smile. “How long was I out?”

“Little over an hour.” His voice was casual, but a bit strained. “You didn’t snore, if you’re wonderin’.”

You laughed, soft and slow. “Good to know.”

The truck hummed along the two-lane road, trees blurring past the window, the sky wide and blue above the hills. The peacefulness should’ve felt easy—comforting—but there was a weight to the silence now. You glanced at him. Joel’s hand was tight on the wheel, his jaw set like he was somewhere far off in his head.

“You’re quiet,” you said gently.

He nodded a little, but didn’t look at you. “Just thinkin’.”

You waited, but he didn’t elaborate.

About me? you wanted to ask. About what Marge said? About Sarah?

But instead, you leaned back in your seat, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You could feel something shifting again—something drawing back in him after such a warm morning. And maybe you didn’t want to know exactly what it was he was trying so hard to push down.

“How far are we now?” you asked softly.

“Close,” he said. “Almost back.”

A few minutes later, the ranch came into view, peaking between tall pine trees and his truck slowed. Joel pulled the truck around the side road that led to the staff entrance, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he slowed to a stop under the pale afternoon light. The engine ticked softly when he killed it, but neither of you moved to get out.

You bit your lip, glancing at him.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” you said gently. “I really did have a good time.”

He gave a slight nod but didn’t speak, eyes fixed on the windshield, fingers drumming restlessly on the steering wheel. That familiar quiet had returned—the kind that made you feel like he was somewhere far away again.

You tilted your head. “Joel… what’s going on?”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “Nothin’.”

“Don’t do that.” Your voice was soft, but firm. “Something changed.”

That made him look at you—finally. His eyes searched yours, and you saw the weight there, the push and pull of something he was trying hard to hold back.

“I just…” he started, then stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. “I forget myself, when I’m with you. I let it feel easy, like it’s alright.”

You blinked. “And it’s not?”

He gave a tired, crooked sort of smile. “You know it ain’t.”

“But you want it to be,” you said, watching him closely.

His eyes dropped to your mouth for just a second—barely a flicker, but you saw it. You felt it.

“I do,” he murmured, so low you almost missed it.

Your breath caught.

The air between you shifted—warm and buzzing. Joel leaned in just a little, as though testing a line he knew he shouldn’t cross. His hand brushed your seat, resting between you, close enough to feel.

Your heart beat a little faster. You weren’t sure who moved next—you or him, but the space between you was shrinking.

And then—

“Joel!”

The voice shot through the air like a slap. Both of you froze.

Tommy.

You quickly pulled back, cheeks burning as Joel cursed under his breath and straightened up in his seat. He looked toward the sound of his brother’s voice, brows drawn, expression already guarded.

Tommy was striding toward the truck, his face stormy.

“Joel, the hell you been? You were supposed to be back hours ago!” He caught sight of you “And you brought- Jesus Christ, Joel” Tommy shook his head in disbelief and frustration, his hand pinching his nose bridge.

Joel didn’t look at you. “Go on inside,” he said quietly.

“Joel…”

“Now, darlin’.”

You hesitated, then slipped out of the truck, the bouquet of daisies towed in your arms. The moment between you and Joel left unfinished, hanging heavy in the air.

The moment Joel dropped you off, he vanished — like the entire day hadn’t happened. Like you hadn’t almost kissed him right there in the cab of his truck. Like something in him had snapped shut again, locked tight.

You were worried is an understatement. The rest of the day you kept pacing around your room wondering what to do, how bad did you put Joel in trouble. But also, your heart still fluttered when you thought about what almost happened. It was a weird feeling, really—being excited and so goddamn worried at the same time.

By the time the sun dipped behind the mountains, painting everything in a soft orange glow, you couldn’t take it anymore. You have to find him.

You didn’t eat dinner. Couldn’t, really. Not with your stomach in knots and your thoughts spiraling in circles.

You threw on a hoodie and quietly slipped out the back door, careful not to make a sound as you crossed the wide porch and stepped down onto the path toward the barns. The evening air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of hay and cedar.

You found him in the far stall, brushing down a mare with slow, methodical strokes. His back was to you, same shirt from earlier, sleeves still rolled. Like nothing had changed.

“Seriously?” you said from the doorway, voice sharp. “You were just gonna hide out in here all night?”

He didn’t turn. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“Oh sure you’re not.”

You stepped inside, the straw soft beneath your boots. It was warmer in here, humid from the horses and the quiet heat of summer air. Still, the cold tension between you made your skin prickle.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Joel shrugged. “Didn’t ask you to.”

“That’s not the point,” you snapped. “You just dropped me off like—like nothing happened. Then disappeared.”

“You got home fine, didn’t you?”

“Joel.”

He stopped brushing. Set the comb down a little too hard. Then turned to face you, jaw clenched.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, low.

“I want you to stop pretending like what almost happened meant nothing.”

“I never said it didn’t.”

“You didn’t have to.” You took a breath, heart hammering.

“You’re running.”

“I’m tryin’ to do the right thing.”

“Is it the right thing, or just the easiest one?” you said, voice cracking. “You think this is easier for me?”

He stepped forward. “You think this is easy for me?” His voice was rough now. “You think I don’t think about it every goddamn time you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you see me. Like you want me. Like you know me.”

You stared at him. The barn was quiet except for the soft rustle of horses in their stalls and the sound of your own unsteady breath. You stood there, caught in the tension, debating—do you let this go? Walk away and save face? Or fight for it, even if it’s messy, even if it’s too soon?

You weren’t sure if this was too much too fast for someone still healing. But maybe that was the point. Maybe it wasn’t too much.

Maybe it was exactly what you needed. Not just something safe—but something real.

Him.

So you took a deep breath. And stepped forward. “I’m not sorry I see you,” you said. “I’m not sorry I want you.”

Joel’s eyes dropped to the ground. He shook his head, fists tightening at his sides. “Well, I am,” he said. “I shouldn’t want you.”

“That’s a lie,” you said.

And he didn’t argue. Didn’t speak at all.

Instead, he closed the space between you with three quick strides and his lips crashed on to yours like it was the only thing that could shut either of you up.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was everything he’d been holding back, his hands gripping your waist, your face, like he didn’t know where to hold you first.

You gasped into it, hands fisting in his shirt, holding on like he might vanish again. Like this moment was slipping through your fingers already. His lips were insistent, his facial hair scraping the soft skin of your face in the most delicious way.

He walked you backward until your back hit the wooden wall behind you, the boards cool through your shirt. A low, rough sound rumbled in his chest the moment he had you pinned. Your hands slid up his chest, finding their way around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. You were greedy now, needy, and your tongue traced the seam of his lips, asking—no, demanding to be let in.

Joel pulled back like he’d been caught in a fire, chest heaving, eyes wide. You stared at each other. Neither of you said a word.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Then he stepped back, just enough.

“Go,” he said, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Please.”

You didn’t want to. Every part of you screamed to stay.

But the look on his face, scared, guarded, overwhelmed, it told you this was all he could give for now.

So you backed away, one slow step at a time. Your lips still tingled. Your hands were still shaking.

a/n so….what do ya’ll think? we’re finally getting into the meat of the fic and i am so so excited to write it 😭 i hope you guys stick around for the next one bc mmmhhhh…anyways tysm for reading! you can comment if you wanna be on the next chapters taglist! also my inbox is open for feedback and ideas, ily all!!

Taglist: @bau-muffin, @javierpenaismyhusband , @dilf-docs , @heavydirtygirll, @somedayheaven , @loveisacowboyyy , @lyssaspengler

You didn’t expect last night’s moment with Joel to cling to your thoughts the way it did. You spent half the night lying awake, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, tracing their rough shapes in the dark and replaying his words over and over like a song stuck in your head. He’d been so gentle, so unexpectedly kind for someone who barely knew you. Sure, you told yourself he was just doing his job—being hospitable, making sure the emotionally unstable guest didn’t light a fire or wander off into the forest. But the way he looked at you when you told him the truth about Noah, the way he didn’t try to fix it or sweep it away with platitudes—that stuck with you.

There was a warm, fizzy feeling bubbling inside whenever you thought about Joel, and you did not want to acknowledge it. At all. Not after what happened with Noah just a month ago. Not after spending every waking moment for the last few weeks reminding yourself that love is a scam and men are emotionally illiterate. And definitely not when you’d only known this guy for… what, twenty-four hours?

Still, when he asked if you wanted to join the horseback riding excursion this morning, you said yes. Immediately. Like you were some breezy, capable outdoorsy woman who rides horses for fun on the weekends. You ignored the very real fact that the last time you sat on a horse, you were eight years old at a county fair. And you didn’t even ride it. You were placed on top like a doll while a teenage employee in a visor led the pony in a slow circle. You’d waved at your mom like you were Queen Elizabeth. That was your full résumé.

And yet… here you were. Nodding like you belonged as Tommy gave the group briefing near the stables. Your cousin Amy stood confidently beside her towering horse, while her husband Justin—who apparently did polo, because of course he did—adjusted his fancy boots. Uncle Martin, Amy’s dad, looked like he’d been born in a saddle. Even Lily, perched on Amy’s hip, kept trying to grab the horse’s mane like it was a plush toy.

You tried not to look too stiff as Joel and Tommy addressed the group.

“So I assume all of y’all are familiar with horses?” Tommy asked, his voice bright.

Everyone chimed in with confident yeses and casual nods. You clamped your lips shut and willed yourself not to raise your hand. Your palms were already sweating.

“Great,” Tommy said. “Because the trail’s got a few narrow bends once we get closer to the river. Nothin’ too wild, Some narrow patches on the trail, so keep your horses close and steady.”

You swallowed hard. Yep. Totally fine. You were alert. And possibly about to die. But mostly alert.

And then, just for a second, your eyes flicked to Joel. He was adjusting a saddle strap with ease, looking calm and composed like this was just another morning. When he glanced up and caught your eye, his mouth lifted in a barely-there smirk.

Oh no. He knows.

Tommy and Joel began leading the horses out of the stables, handing them off one by one to the group gathered around. There was a quiet shuffle of hooves on dirt, the clinking of tack, and the occasional excited chatter from the riders—most of whom looked way too comfortable around animals that large.

You stood toward the back, watching as Joel bent down to lift little Lily, who squealed in delight as he gently hoisted her up and helped Amy settle her onto the saddle. It was stupid, but something about the way he moved—with such ease and care—made your stomach flip a little. He didn’t even say much, just gave Amy a small nod and adjusted the stirrup. Efficient. Quiet. Solid.

Then he turned and made his way to you, leading a pale beige horse with a long, flaxen mane and a soft white patch on her forehead. She looked like something out of a fairytale… or a shampoo commercial. You tensed up slightly as the large animal came to a stop in front of you.

Joel gave you a lazy grin. “Glad you decided to join us, city girl.”

You swallowed and smiled back, hoping you didn’t look as panicked as you felt. “Yeah, well… couldn’t miss the chance to, y’know, take in the sights. Ride horses. Live the ranch life.”

He huffed a quiet chuckle and gave the horse a pat. “This one’s yours.” He glanced at her affectionately. “Name’s Dolly.”

“Parton?” you asked instinctively.

His grin widened. “Yep. Dolly Parton. All yours.” He held out the reins to you and you took them with what you hoped was steady confidence.

“She’s gentle,” Joel added, nodding at the mare. “Calm. Good with beginners.”

“Cool, cool. Love that for me,” you nodded, eyeing Dolly like she might explode if you looked at her wrong.

Joel held the reins out to you, and you took them gingerly, trying not to make it obvious that your palms were already sweating.

“She’s not gonna buck me off or anything, right?” you asked with a nervous laugh.

“Nah,” Joel said. “Only if you insult her music.”

You snorted, and your grip on the reins loosened just slightly. “Hey there, Dolly,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through her mane. “Be gentle with me. I’m fragile.”

Joel watched, clearly amused. “You need help mounting?”

You glanced at Dolly, who was objectively massive. “Yeah… she’s a big one. No offense, Dolly,” you added quickly, patting her flank like she might understand and get offended.

Joel moved closer, one brow raised. “Alright. Foot in the stirrup, I’ll give you a boost.” His hand found your elbow, steady and warm, guiding you into position. Your heart did something stupid in your chest, but you kept your face neutral.

You stepped into the stirrup and, with Joel’s help, swung (okay, scrambled) into the saddle. Somehow, you managed to stay upright.

“Nice n’ smooth,” Joel said. “See? Not so bad.”

You blew out a breath, adjusting your posture. “Yeah. Piece of cake,” you said, clearly lying.

Joel gave you a look like he could see right through that. “Just stick close,” he said. “I’ll be up front if you need anythin’.”

You smiled, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Joel.”

“Anytime, city girl,” he said, tapping Dolly’s side lightly and heading off to help the next rider.

You exhaled again, whispered a quiet “please behave” to Dolly, and hoped no one noticed that your legs were already shaking.

The group had just started down the winding trail, and you were doing your best to mimic whatever the people around you were doing—loosening the reins, sitting up straight, pretending you totally knew how to signal a horse to walk. Thankfully, Dolly seemed content to follow along with the others, her hooves plodding gently behind Amy’s horse.

“Yeah, keep it going, good girl,” you murmured, giving her mane a tentative little pat like you weren’t absolutely terrified of her sudden, massive strength.

For a while, things were smooth. You even started to relax, soaking in the warm morning light and the crunch of hooves against the dirt path.

But slowly—very slowly—you noticed the space between you and the rest of the group was growing. Like…concerningly growing.

“Wait—no, no, no, Dolly,” you whispered in rising panic as the others rounded a bend ahead. “Come on baby, don't do this to me.”

Dolly, in contrast, had zero worries. She had stopped completely, head lowered to nibble enthusiastically on a clump of grass by the trail.

“Oh, come on, girl. Not a snack break,” you pleaded, tugging gently on the reins the way you vaguely remembered seeing in movies. “Work with me here.”

Dolly flicked her ear but didn’t budge.

You sighed and looked around helplessly, as if someone might magically appear to help you out of your very equestrian dilemma. No such luck. Everyone else was ahead, blissfully unaware of your little detour.

“Okay… okay. I can fix this,” you muttered to yourself. “How hard can it be? I’ve seen enough movies for moments like this right?.”

You sat up straighter and cleared your throat. “Giddy up, Dolly!”

Nothing.

“Let’s go, girl. Yah!” you added, with a dramatic pat to her side.

Dolly let out a snorty huff in response, more annoyed than motivated.

You groaned and slumped forward, resting your upper body against her neck in defeat. “Dollyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the syllables like a child being told they couldn’t have candy for dinner.

And as if to really hammer in your humiliation, she took another bite of grass.

“Come on, Dolly. Don’t do this to me,” you pleaded under your breath, now bouncing a little in the saddle to try and get her attention. “I have zero survival skills and a tiny water bottle. Is that what you want for us?”

You heard the soft clop of hooves approaching, and before you even turned your head, you knew who it was. Joel. Of course.

You immediately straightened your posture and tried to act like you hadn’t just been draped dramatically over Dolly. You squinted off at the trees, as if you’d been admiring nature this whole time.

Joel pulled up beside you, his expression halfway between curious and entertained. “Everything alright back here?”

“Oh yeah,” you said quickly, with an overly casual shrug. “Me and Dolly are just… chilling…enjoying the serenity. You know. Taking the trail less traveled.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He glanced at Dolly, who was still nosing the grass like she had zero intention of walking again today.

“She’s not movin’,” he said plainly.

“She’s contemplative,” you replied, deadpan.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. “You sure you’ve ridden before?”

You hesitated, then muttered, “Depends on your definition of ‘ridden.’”

He gave you a look that was all too knowing. “That’d be a no.”

You groaned and dropped your head briefly. “Okay, fine. No. I haven’t. But I had enthusiasm and blind confidence, which I thought counted for something.”

Joel’s mouth twitched. “It does. Just not with horses.”

Joel clicked his tongue and nudged his horse a little closer to yours. “Alright, scoot your boot forward in the stirrup,” he said, voice low and easy, like he was trying not to spook either you or Dolly. “You’re sittin’ too far back on the saddle. That’s why she ain’t listenin’ to you.”

You awkwardly adjusted your seat, trying to mimic what he said. “Like this?”

“Almost.” He leaned over, and before you knew it, his hand was on the small of your back, guiding you gently forward just a few inches. You froze for a half-second—not from discomfort, but from how warm his touch was, how close he was. “There,” he murmured. “Better?”

You nodded quickly, eyes fixed on your hands. “Yep. Perfect. Totally professional now.”

Joel chuckled. “She might even believe you’re a cowgirl now.”

“I always knew I had it in me,” you said with a grin.

“Sure you did, city girl.” He looked at Dolly and gave a small whistle. “Come on, girl. Let’s get movin’.” And, just like that, Dolly started following Joel’s horse like she’d been waiting for him the whole time.

You blinked. “Oh my god. Are you a horse whisperer?”

He grinned as he led the way back toward the others. “Nah. Just spent enough time around stubborn creatures.”

You raised a brow. “Dolly or me?”

He glanced back over his shoulder with a wink. “I ain’t sayin’.”

The rest of the trail passed more smoothly. Dolly, now comfortably trailing behind Joel’s horse, seemed far more obedient with him around. With his calm voice offering the occasional instruction—“sit up straighter,” “relax your hands,” “you’re not strangling the reins, are you?”—you actually started to get the hang of it. Sort of.

You let your eyes wander more now, admiring the stretch of sunlit trees and the way the leaves shifted in the breeze. Every so often, you stole a glance at Joel. He looked completely in his element—comfortable, capable, his silhouette framed by the morning light filtering through the canopy. It made something flutter in your chest that you promptly ignored.

“We’re gonna take a different trail than the rest of ‘em,” he said over his shoulder. “That okay with you? Their route’s got steeper climbs—meant for folks who actually know what they’re doin’.”

You nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah, I’m not really in the mood to die today.”

He laughed, low and rough. “Jeez, you always this intense?”

“Only when I’m clinging to life on a moving animal,” you shot back, grinning.

Joel guided both horses toward a gentler path, winding up a quiet hill. The sound of the group faded behind you, replaced by birdsong and the soft rustle of trees. When you reached the top, he stopped his horse and gestured with his chin.

You gasped.

Below was a patchwork of green—rolling hills, thick clusters of trees, and just beyond them, a shimmering sliver of river catching the morning light.

“Wow,” you breathed, taking it all in.

Joel gave you a glance, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thought you’d like that.”

“I do. It’s… really something.”

Joel glanced at you and smiled. “Not bad for your first ride, huh?”

You nodded slowly, still caught in the view. “Not bad at all.”

And for a quiet moment, neither of you said anything. Just two strangers—somehow not feeling so strange anymore—watching the world go by from the back of two horses.

“You get quiet when you’re in awe,” he said softly.

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

He gave a small, crooked smile. “Noticed it last night too. You get real still when somethin’ matters to you.”

Your stomach did a strange little flip, and you quickly looked back at the view, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That obvious, huh?”

“Not to most,” he said, almost like a secret. “But I been watchin’.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The breeze carried the sound of rustling leaves and distant birdsong. You suddenly felt very aware of how close his horse was to yours — how natural it felt, having him near.

“I like it here,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

Joel nodded. “Yeah. I figured you might.”

When you glanced over, he was already looking at you, but he didn’t look away. His expression was unreadable, something quiet and careful resting behind his eyes.

The moment hung there, soft and full. And just as you started to turn your gaze back toward the trees, you felt it — his fingers, just barely brushing the back of your hand where it rested on the reins. A light, fleeting touch.

“Come on,” he said after a beat, voice low. “Trail gets even prettier past the ridge.”

You followed without a word — but your hand still felt the memory of his touch, like warmth held in sunlight.

You and Joel continued down the quiet trail, the horses’ hooves crunching softly beneath you. For a while, neither of you said anything—just the occasional creak of leather or birdsong overhead.

“You don’t talk much, huh?” you murmured, glancing over with a faint smile.

Joel let out a low chuckle. “Haven’t we been talkin’?”

“I’ve been talking,” you teased. “You’ve been listening.”

He huffed. “That so?”

“Mhm. Give me something, Mr. Joel.”

He smirked. “It’s Mr. Miller.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “So I only get your last name? Come on, tell me more.”

“Like what?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Hmm… like how long you’ve been working here?”

“Fifteen years,” he said simply.

You let out a whistle. “Wow. Long time.”

Joel gave a small laugh. “Yeah. Back then it wasn’t this fancy place you see now. It was just our folks’ old ranch. Me and Tommy ran it ourselves for a while—bout four years or so—kept it small. Then one of those management companies came knockin’. Wanted to turn it into a resort.”

His voice had a note of quiet resignation. You caught it. “You didn’t wanna sell?” you asked.

He shook his head slowly. “Not really. Felt like lettin’ go of somethin’ important. But Tommy said we needed it, and he wasn’t wrong. So… I went with it.”

You were quiet for a second. “You regret it?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “Met a lotta people since then. Most of ’em just here for the experience. Selfies, spa treatments, overpriced boots. Rich assholes type of people”

You gave a sympathetic laugh.

He looked away, then back again—something gentler in his gaze. “But once in a while… I meet people like you.”

You blinked. “Like me?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “Sweet. Genuine.”

That flutter in your chest kicked up again. You looked down at your reins, smiling to yourself, cheeks warm in the morning light.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, “I’ll try not to ruin my record.”

Joel chuckled again, low and rough. “Don’t think that’s possible, sugar.”

By the time you and Joel reached the stables, the rest of the group was still trailing behind, their voices distant along the winding trail. The yard was quiet, save for the soft huff of Dolly’s breath and the creak of her saddle as she shifted beneath you.

Joel dismounted first, his movements practiced and easy. He glanced up at you, one hand already reaching.

“Easy, sugar,” he said, voice low and steady, touched with the kind of warmth that made your stomach tighten.

You took his hand without thinking, and the moment your palm met his, something sparked. His hand was rough, calloused, but warm—solid in a way that made you feel suddenly, wildly unsteady. His other hand hovered just shy of your waist, not quite touching, like he didn’t want to cross a line. Still, the nearness of it made your skin prickle.

With your other hand pressed to his shoulder, you eased yourself down. You felt the strength beneath the worn fabric of his shirt, and tried to make the dismount look natural—even graceful—but your heart was pounding too loud to focus on anything but how close he was.

Your boots hit the dirt with a soft thud.

You let go reluctantly, pretending to brush imaginary dust off your jeans just so you didn’t have to look up right away. “Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes just in case he could read the color rising to your cheeks.

He gave you a quick nod and stepped back, always polite, always knowing when to pull away. But you missed the contact the second it was gone.

A few minutes later, the rest of the group rode in. Tommy was the first to speak.

“There y’all are!” he called, swinging down from his saddle. “Everything okay?”

“Dolly got a little distracted,” Joel said, giving the horse a knowing pat.

Tommy laughed. “Of course she did. That lil’ rebel.”

You barely had time to smile before you noticed Amy riding in just behind him, her daughter Lily perched in front of her. Her eyes landed on you and Joel standing next to each other, and the look she gave you was unmistakable: one arched brow, a crooked grin, pure mischief. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

The second she dismounted, Amy was on a mission. She strode right up, holding Lily to her hip without breaking stride, and grabbed your arm.

“Tell me everything,” she whispered urgently as she pulled you away from the group.

You snorted. “Nothing happened.”

“Bull. Shit.” She narrowed her eyes at you. “You’re all flushed and glowy. That is not the face of someone who just went horseback riding.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t fight her when she dragged you in the direction of her cabin.

Behind you, her husband called out, “Amy? Where are you going?”

“Girl talk! Don’t come in the room!” she shouted without looking back.

“But I need to shower—”

“Too bad! Use the spa!”

“Yeah, Daddy!” Lily chimed in, and you both burst out laughing.

Amy barely let you get two steps into her room before she yanked you inside by the wrist. With practiced ease, she kicked off her boots and crouched to help Lily tug off her little pink cowgirl ones.

“I need to know everything,” she said, her voice sharp with excitement.

Then she turned to Lily, her tone softening instantly. “Baby, go play with your toys. Mommy’s gotta talk to her cousin about grown-up stuff.”

Lily lit up and nodded, already making a beeline for the soft rug near the window where a pile of plastic horses and a glittery stable waited. She plopped down and started narrating a dramatic horse rescue in a sing-song voice, completely immersed.

Amy turned back to you with the same look she used to wear in college when she was about to interrogate you about a new crush. “Alright. Spill.”

You opened your mouth, but she was already dragging you toward the bed.

“Sit. Talk.”

You laughed as she pushed you down gently. “Amy—nothing happened, okay? We just… talked.”

“Bull sh—” She glanced toward Lily and caught herself. “Crap. Total crap. I can see that blush, honey.”

“What blush?” you said too fast, already giggling as you touched your cheek. “This is—no. You’re imagining things.”

Amy crossed her arms and gave you that look. The one that said don’t insult me.

You sighed and dropped your shoulders in surrender. “Okay… fine. He helped me with Dolly, alright? I was struggling a little, and he stepped in. It was—nice. And then we kind of took a detour.”

Amy’s eyebrows shot up. “A detour?”

You groaned. “Not like that.”

“Sure. And I’m a nun.”

You swatted a pillow at her, laughing despite yourself. “He just showed me this hilltop. It was really pretty. We talked. That’s all.”

Amy narrowed her eyes, unconvinced. “You’re leaving something out.”

You hesitated. “…He called me sugar.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my God, did he?”

You nodded. “Multiple times.”

Amy nearly bounced. “Bitch.”

“Shh!” You both looked toward Lily, but she was too busy making a horse gallop across the rug to care.

You lowered your voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t mean anything, right? I mean… that’s just, like, Southern charm. Or hospitality. Politeness. He probably calls all the women ‘sugar.’”

you groaned and flopped on to the bed, Amy flopped beside you, lying on her side so she could face you. “Babe. You’ve got the glow. I’ve seen it before, and I’m seeing it now. He said it in that voice, didn’t he?”

You groaned into your hands. “That voice should be illegal.”

“I know!” she said, laughing. “It’s like molasses and sex had a baby.”

You smacked her with a pillow and she let out a muffled wheeze, trying not to laugh too loudly.

“Keep your voice down,” you hissed, glancing at Lily, who was thankfully too absorbed in her little world.

You flopped back onto the bed, hands over your face. “I don’t know, Amy… this is so stupid.”

Amy tilted her head, her teasing expression softening. “Why do you say that?”

You let your hands fall to your chest. “This whole… thing. Whatever it is. I haven’t even let myself think about dating since Noah.”

She gave a low whistle and sat beside you. “Damn. He really fu—”

“Language,” you muttered, glancing toward Lily playing on the rug.

Amy held up her hands. “Sorry. He really messed you up, huh?”

You gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. He did. And I thought I was over it, or getting there at least. But now this little crush is popping up and I feel like I’m back in high school.”

Amy nudged your knee with hers. “You know what that tells me? That you’re still human. You didn’t shut down completely. That’s a good thing.”

You stared at the ceiling. “But what if it’s just me clinging to the first guy who’s nice to me?”

“Maybe it is,” she said simply. “But maybe it’s not. And even if it is just a little crush—it doesn’t have to be more than that.”

You glanced over. She looked calm. Assured.

“You don’t have to marry the guy. You don’t even have to date him,” Amy added. “Just… let yourself feel it. Flirt back. Enjoy it. You’re allowed to. It doesn’t have to be serious to be something.”

You went quiet, absorbing that.

“And let’s be honest,” she continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “a man like that calling you ‘sugar’ multiple times? He’s not just being polite.”

You felt your face burn. “I hate how giddy it makes me.”

Amy grinned. “That’s the point, babe. Let it make you giddy. No pressure. No expectations. Just… see where it goes. And don’t be so scared to feel something again. Noah doesn’t get to take that from you too.”

You blinked fast, swallowing a sudden lump in your throat. “You always know what to say.”

“I’ve had practice,” she said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. ”Now tell me more”

Then you talked to Amy about everything that happened, feeling like you’re teenagers again.

The rest of the day blurred by in a haze of warm sunlight and overthinking. You’d spent the afternoon helping Amy with Lily, pretending not to replay every second of the ride with Joel in your head. His voice. The way he’d said sugar. You cursed your own heart for fluttering so easily.

But by the time the sun dipped low behind the Tetons and the scent of firewood drifted through the air, your nerves had settled into something gentler. Curious. Hopeful, even.

The campfire was set up near the main lodge, a wide circle of Adirondack chairs gathered around the flames, lanterns swinging gently from nearby posts. Someone had already laid out a spread of hot cocoa, cider, and the kind of marshmallows that looked genetically engineered for s’mores.

Everyone was busy with their own conversations, laughter and soft chatter weaving through the cool evening air. You stuck close to Amy and her family—you’d learned by now that your other relatives were less likely to bombard you with questions when you were safely tucked in beside her.

You knelt beside Lily, helping her roast a marshmallow to gooey perfection.

“Can I have more, Aunty?” she asked sweetly, bits of melted chocolate already smudged around her mouth.

You chuckled. “You haven’t even finished that one yet.”

Lily blinked at her half-eaten s’more, then grinned wide. “Oh yeahhh,” she said before returning to it with enthusiastic munching.

You smiled, brushing hair from her forehead, then glanced up—and froze for a second.

Across the fire, Joel had just settled onto a log beside Tommy and Maria. He moved quietly, almost unnoticed, until he lifted a guitar onto his lap. Without a word, he began to play.

A soft, steady melody drifted into the night—something gentle and nostalgic, like a song that belonged to the land. A few people turned at first, surprised, before their conversations resumed, letting the music melt into the background.

But not you.

You couldn’t look away.

Your eyes stayed fixed on his hands—his large, calloused fingers moving with a skill and ease that felt completely at odds with the gruff man you thought you were starting to know. The music came from somewhere deep inside him, unspoken but clear.

And then he looked up.

His gaze met yours across the flickering firelight.

You startled slightly, caught in the act. But then your lips twitched into a small, involuntary smile.

You could’ve sworn—sworn—his mouth curved, just the slightest bit, before he looked back down at the guitar.

You turned your attention back to Lily, heart tapping a little faster than before.

Amy’s advice echoed in your mind like a refrain, soft but persistent.

So when the campfire began to wind down—conversations fading, chairs scraping back, and guests drifting off toward their cabins—you stayed put. The night had settled into something quieter, slower, and you weren’t quite ready to leave it.

Amy approached with Lily curled sleepily in her husband’s arms, her little head resting against his shoulder. “We’re gonna head out,” Amy said gently. “You coming?”

You glanced at Joel across the fire, still seated with his guitar. Then you looked back at Amy and shook your head. “Nah… I’ll go back in a bit.”

Amy gave you a knowing smile—warm, but mischievous. “Okay,” she murmured, not pressing. “Night, babe.”

“Night,” you said softly, watching as she walked off into the shadows with her family.

Then you turned back to the fire—and to him.

Joel was still softly strumming, the notes low and steady in the quiet night. Across from you, Tommy stood and stretched, Maria slipping her arm through his.

“We’re heading in,” Tommy said, patting Joel’s shoulder.

Joel gave a small nod without missing a beat. Then it was just the two of you.

He glanced your way, and you stood, chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek before slowly making your way around the fire to sit beside him.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey, sugar,” he murmured, and your heart did a little somersault.

“You’re not heading in?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Nah… night’s too nice.”

He hummed in quiet agreement, his fingers never stopping their lazy path along the strings.

“Didn’t know you could play like that,” you said, nodding toward the guitar.

“Yeah… been playin’ since I was a kid,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Really?”

“Mhm. Had a… dream once, to be a country music star.” He gave a sheepish smile, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

You grinned. “You sing too, then?”

He shrugged. “I’m not good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you teased.

He raised a brow at you, amused.

“C’mon, sing something for me,” you nudged him lightly with your elbow.

He laughed under his breath. “Nahh…”

“C’mooon,” you coaxed, leaning a little closer, playful now. “Just a little song.”

He looked at you again, his expression unreadable, the firelight catching the faintest smile tugging at his lips. For once, you didn’t look away.

“Please?” you said, softer this time.

He sighed in defeat, his fingers pausing over the strings. “Alright,” he murmured, then started to play again.

The melody was familiar—slow, rich, and aching with something you couldn’t name right away. Then he sang, and your breath caught.

His voice was beautiful in a rough, worn-in way. Deep and unpolished, but soulful. Real.

“You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You’re as sweet as strawberry wine…”

Your heart did that stupid leap again as he looked up at you while he sang. You grinned, a small, surprised giggle escaping before you could stop it. He glanced down again, letting the music carry him.

“You’re as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time…”

He kept playing, the fire crackling beside you both, the rest of the world quietly slipping away. When the chorus came again, you couldn’t help it—you hummed along softly.

The final chord faded into the night air. His hand stilled.

You were quiet for a moment.

“Wow,” you whispered. “That’s… that’s really good, Joel.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You know that one?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Tennessee Whiskey. Chris Stapleton, right?”

Joel looked at you, eyebrows knitting in faint confusion. “Chris who?”

You blinked. “Chris Stapleton. That’s his song.”

He shook his head slowly, a little amused. “No, darlin’. George Jones sang that long before Stapleton ever grew a beard.”

You frowned playfully. “George who?”

Joel let out a low chuckle, eyes crinkling. “Lord help me.”

You giggled, and Joel let out another warm laugh, the kind that made your cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You youngins really need to learn the originals,” he teased.

You gasped, playful and dramatic. “Youngins?!”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Alright, alright—settle down now.”

You laughed again, nudging him gently with your elbow, and for a second, everything felt light and easy.

The laughter faded, and a quiet settled between you. You both stared into the flickering firelight, the night still and warm around you.

“You should head in,” Joel murmured, voice low. “It’s gettin’ late.”

You shook your head gently. “No.”

He chuckled, glancing at you. “Why not?”

You hesitated, eyes on your hands in your lap. “I like it here… with you.”

There was a pause, and then his voice came soft and sure. “I like it with you too.”

Your heart fluttered. When you looked up, he was already watching you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You smiled back, bashful, your eyes darting back to the fire.

“Are you, um… leading another ride tomorrow?” you asked after a moment.

He shook his head. “Nah, not tomorrow. Gotta run some errands into town first thing in the morning.”

The words were out before you could stop them. “Can I come?”

He looked at you, surprised. “To town?”

You immediately regretted it. “Never mind, I didn’t mean—no, that’s dumb—”

He cut you off with a quiet laugh. “No, no, it’s not dumb. Just caught me off guard is all. Guests don’t usually volunteer to tag along with staff doin’ boring errands.”

You smiled, sheepish. “Still… I’d like to.”

He nodded slowly. “Alright then. If you’re sure. We leave at six—meet me out front?”

Your grin bloomed without hesitation. “I’ll be there.”

“You should rest up then,” he said, looking at you like he almost didn’t want you to go.

“Yeah, I should,” you murmured, rising to your feet. “Well… goodnight.”

“’Night, sugar,” he said with that soft, low drawl. “See you tomorrow.”

You gave a little wave as you walked off, heart light and warm, already counting down the hours till morning.

a/n sooo what do ya’ll think? heheheh next chapter is gonna be a doozy and probably the longest one yet and i can’t wait to put it out 😭 lmk if you guys wanna be put in the taglist for next chapters in the comments!! ily ya’ll thanks for reading 🩷🩷

Taglist: @bau-muffin, @javierpenaismyhusband, @dilf-docs, @heavydirtygirll, @somedayheaven, @loveisacowboyyy

Summer 2025

You're behind the wheel, cruising down a winding road framed by towering pine trees—a striking contrast to the usual backdrop of glass and steel skyscrapers. Ahead of you, a line of sleek, high-end cars snakes along the road, unmistakably belonging to your wealthy, highbrow extended family.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming isn’t the kind of place you'd expect to find people like them—it’s a little too middle-of-nowhere America. And yet, that’s exactly what draws them in.

Nestled in the valley is a ranch—but not your typical one. This is a luxury dude ranch, “Silver Spur Ranch” where the wealthy come to sample the Western lifestyle. Well, sort of. The real West usually doesn’t come with spa treatments and gourmet meals. Still, there are horses, rustic cabins, and sweeping mountain views which are pretty close enough for them.

“Noah would love this,” your mother sighed, gazing out at the sweeping valley.

Your neck stiffened at the mention of his name.

“Can you not bring him up, please, Mom?” you murmured, eyes locked on the winding road ahead.

“I can’t help it, hun. He became the son I never had,” she replied, throwing up her hands in mock surrender.

“Well, he’s not. And we’re not together anymore,” you said, sharper now. “So I’d really appreciate it if you could just... let it go.”

She fell silent—not in compliance, but in calculation. You knew her too well to believe otherwise. She was building her next line, rehearsing it in her head like a lawyer preparing closing arguments.

“I just don’t get it,” she finally said, her voice soft but edged. “You were with him for what, five years?” A beat passed before she pushed forward again, “Have your father and I not set a good example for you? Even your grandparents—fifty years, happy as ever! And you gave that good man up just because—”

“Cheating is not a just because reason, Mom,” you snapped, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles went white.

She waved her hand like she was swatting a fly. “Well, no, of course not. But Noah is a good man. He just made a... lapse in judgment.”

You laughed once, hollow and humorless. “A lapse in judgement? A lapse is forgetting an anniversary. Not sleeping with someone else. For months.”

Your mother looked away, lips pursed, like she couldn’t quite argue but still didn’t agree. The silence between you thickened, stretching across the cabin of the car and the valley beyond.

“I’m just saying, honey, a man like Noah—he’s hard to come by.”

You grimaced inwardly. Of course she’d say that. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around your mother’s unwavering loyalty to him.

Sure, he was polished. He came from old money—more than your family ever had. He knew how to dress, how to charm your mother with just the right words at just the right moments. He wasn’t bad looking either. On paper, he was perfect.

But inside? He was hollow. And for the last stretch of your relationship, so were you.

The rot had been setting in for months, invisible at first, until it was all you could feel. Then came the final blow: you found out he had been cheating. Days before he proposed.

And still—he did it. With your entire family watching, he dropped to one knee, smiling like nothing was wrong. A last-ditch effort to lock you in before the truth could catch up to him.

But you said no.

And you walked away.

It hadn’t gone over well. There were whispers, long stares, your father refusing to speak to you for weeks. Your mother never stopped calling it a “mistake” you’d made in the heat of emotion.

But it wasn’t emotion. It was clarity. Maybe for the first time.

The trip was meant to celebrate your grandparents’ anniversary—fifty years together. A milestone that, given what you knew about how awful men could be, felt almost impossible to grasp.

The entire extended family would be there, and you could hardly wait to be cornered with questions about your recent breakup and failed engagement. For seven whole days. A real vacation.

To say the timing was less than ideal would be generous. You could’ve opted out—God knows you wanted to—but that would’ve only fueled the whispers. And despite everything, under different circumstances, you would have wanted to be there. You loved your grandparents. They were the rare ones in your family who didn’t judge, didn’t press. Maybe it was because, unlike their children and grandchildren, they hadn’t grown up with money. There was a softness to them that hadn’t been bred out by status or social games.

They were the reason you came. Not the charade. Just them.

The ranch finally came into view, peeking through the tall trees like something out of a movie. It had a rustic charm, but you could tell it had been carefully renovated—polished just enough to suit the tastes of its upscale clientele.

Your car slowed as you passed through the front gate and followed the long gravel driveway toward the main cabin. The second your tires came to a stop, you were already reaching for the door handle, eager to escape the tension that had been simmering in the car with your mother.

You stepped out and made a beeline for the trunk, popping it open and reaching for your suitcase. But just as your hand closed around the handle, another—larger—hand landed over it.

“I got this, sugar,” came a warm, slow drawl, thick with a Texas accent.

You froze.

He was close—close enough for you to catch the scent of sandalwood, sun, and flannel. You instinctively stepped back, your eyes scanning upward.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. The kind of man who looked like he actually belonged on a ranch. You caught a glimpse of his profile: strong nose, weathered skin, hair streaked with silver that matched the salt-and-pepper scruff along his jaw and mustache.

“Long drive?” his voice broke through your thoughts, low and easy.

“Huh? Oh—yeah. It’s, uh... pretty far from, well—everywhere,” you said with an awkward chuckle.

He didn’t laugh, but his eyes lingered on you for a beat—curious, unreadable. Then, without a word, he reached down and hoisted your bags, one in each hand like they weighed nothing.

“Welcome to Silver Spur,” he said with a small, polite smile.

And just like that, he turned and walked off, disappearing with your luggage before you could even think of a reply.

The main lounge buzzed with the energy of your entire family gathered together. The interior was stunning—tall ceilings draped in dark wood, a grand stone fireplace, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of the land. You stood by your cousin Amy, the one you were closest to growing up. You’d shared so many memories, but things had shifted a bit since she married and had a baby. You were still close, just not as much as before.

One of the staff passed around welcome drinks—icy cold lemonade. You accepted with a grateful smile.

“How are you holding up?” Amy asked, her voice full of concern. You sighed. “So far, so good. You?”

Amy leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Lily wouldn’t stop fussing the entire way here, and Justin was no help,” she murmured, glancing over at her husband, who was bouncing their three-year-old daughter on his lap. “He somehow always appears to be there when she’s calm, though.” Amy chuckled softly, and you followed suit, shaking your head.

A sound of glass clinking drew everyone's attention to the man standing on the small stage by the piano. He looked strikingly similar to the guy who’d taken your luggage earlier—maybe a bit younger. Next to him stood a stunning woman with dark skin and a warm, radiant smile.

“Howdy, y’all! Welcome to Silver Spurs Ranch!” he called out, his voice smooth and welcoming. “I’m Tommy, and this is my wife, Maria,” he gestured to the woman beside him, who waved her hand in greeting. “We’ll be your ranch hosts during your stay.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man from earlier walking toward the stage and standing right next to it on the corner. You couldn’t tear your eyes away once you realized he was there.

“You like him too, huh?” Amy whispered, leaning closer.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered back, your voice a mix of surprise and mock offense.

Amy giggled, eyes twinkling. “What? You’re free now!” She gestured to her family with a smirk. “I, on the other hand…” She trailed off, pointing to her husband and daughter.

“You’re being ridiculous. We just got here,” you scolded playfully, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, he’s hot, so…” Amy teased.

You cut her off, whispering, “Amy, shut up.”

She laughed quietly. “Alright, alright!” she relented.

After a brief pause, as everyone focused on the ranch hosts listing activities for the stay, Amy leaned in again. “I didn’t know Silver Spurs Ranch came with a silver fox cowboy,” she whispered.

You bit back a laugh. “I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“That one over there is my brother, Joel,” Tommy said, pointing to the man standing a little off to the side. Joel. The name felt just right for him. He offered a small wave before slipping his hands back into his pockets, his gaze scanning the room.

“You’ll be seeing a lot of him,” Tommy continued, a proud smile on his face. “He takes care of the land and will be leading some of your excursion activities.”

You couldn’t help but watch Joel for a moment longer. There was something about him—steady, grounded.

Amy leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I gotta admit, he’s got that ‘I work with my hands’ kind of charm.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “You mean he’s got the ‘I wake up at 5 a.m. to ride horses and shovel dirt’ look?”

Amy grinned. “Exactly.” She looked back at Joel, her gaze lingering for a moment too long. “He’s definitely got that whole ‘silent, mysterious cowboy’ thing going on.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic about him. Not in a typical ‘movie star’ way, but in a way that made you want to know more. Maybe it was the confidence that seemed to radiate from him without ever needing to say much.

At that moment, Joel turned his head and caught your eye. His gaze flickered toward you briefly, almost like he was assessing you. It wasn’t a stare, just a quiet acknowledgment, but it still sent a little pulse of awareness through you.

Amy caught it too, her smirk widening. “Uh-huh. I see that look. He noticed you.”

“What look?” you asked, feigning innocence. You turned back toward the stage as Tommy and Maria continued talking, but your mind kept wandering back to Joel.

“Don’t act coy. He definitely noticed you,” Amy teased. “You’re going to have fun here, I can tell.”

You glared playfully at her. “Just because I glanced at him doesn’t mean I’m about to go on a horseback ride into the sunset with him.”

Amy let out a short laugh. “Not yet, anyway.”

Maria's voice cut through the conversation, bringing everyone's attention back to the front. "Alright, everyone, feel free to explore the ranch, or just take in the view. We know it's a long journey to get here so your rooms is ready, and dinner will be served in an hour."

As the crowd began to move in different directions, you felt a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity swirling inside you. You were supposed to be here to relax, but for some reason, everything—especially Joel—seemed to be pulling you in.

Amy nudged you with her elbow again. "So... what's the plan? You gonna go for it or just pretend you're not interested?"

You sighed, trying to hide your grin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, sure," Amy teased, "keep telling yourself that."

Dinner was set like something out of a magazine. A long, weathered farm table stretched down the center of the dining hall, dressed in ivory linens, wildflowers, and flickering candles that made the roasted dishes gleam like still life paintings. Your grandparents sat proudly at the head, fingers intertwined, laughing like they hadn’t seen fifty years go by. The rest of the family filled the table in loud, familiar clusters, the wine flowing too easily, the conversations layered over one another.

You were somewhere in the middle, boxed in by a distant cousin on one side and a sea of aunts and uncles on the other. You kept your head down, halfheartedly pushing food around your plate, bracing for the inevitable.

It didn’t take long.

“So… no Noah this year?” Aunt Debby asked, tilting her head with feigned casualness.

“Nope,” you replied, stabbing a perfectly innocent carrot.

“I figured we’d see him again. Didn’t you two usually take trips like this together?” someone else chimed in. A cousin’s wife, maybe—you didn’t bother to look.

“Not anymore,” you hummed, your hand curling into a fist beneath the table.

“That’s a shame. I really thought we’d be getting a wedding invite this year,” Aunt Debby said, swirling her wine with theatrical sadness.

“Well, there won’t be one anytime soon.”

Uncle Rick joined in without looking up. “Still can’t believe you let that one go. Good job, good family, good-looking.”

“Not good at staying faithful,” you muttered.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Aunt Debby asked, all syrup and fake concern.

You didn’t think before the following words that came from your mouth, you’re fed up by all the judgement coated with faux sugar coated concerns, You looked up. “I said, he cheated. For months. Before he proposed.”

The table fell quiet. Someone clinked their fork against a plate, a few chairs shifted.

Aunt Margaret recovered first. “Well... relationships are complicated. Everyone makes mistakes. Your mother and I both—”

“I know,” you cut in, turning your gaze to your mom. “You’ve made that very clear.”

The silence was heavier this time.

You folded your napkin, set it on your plate, and stood. The scrape of your chair on the wooden floor sounded louder than it should have.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you murmured.

“Oh honey, don’t be dramatic—” your mother sighed.

“I’m not. I just need air,” you said, sharper now, and without waiting for a response, walked out into the night.

The door swung shut behind you with a quiet thud.

You slipped off into the dark, wandering past the edge of the cabins until you found a quiet spot beside what looked like the horse stables. You needed to be somewhere out of sight—far from the dining hall, far from your family. Because after all that, you needed a smoke. And if anyone in your family ever found out, it’d be a full-blown intervention before sunrise.

From your pocket, you pulled out a small tin, flipping it open with muscle memory and placing a cigarette between your lips. You were just about to flick your lighter when—

“You know smokin’ ain’t allowed on this property.”

You jumped so hard the cigarette nearly fell from your mouth. “Jesus—fuck!”

You turned and saw him. Joel. Standing half in shadow, half lit by moonlight, looking more amused than stern.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, chuckling.

You let out a breath, your hand over your heart. “Yeah, well, you did.”

He nodded toward the cigarette. “You still gonna light that?”

You hesitated. “Can I?”

Without answering, Joel reached out and gently took hold of your arm, guiding you farther back into the shadows—near a thick row of bushes. Your heart stuttered a bit from the contact, the feel of his large calloused hand against your soft skin, and you were suddenly glad it was too dark for him to see the way your face flushed.

“Cameras,” he murmured. “You’re safe here. Go on.”

“Thanks,” you exhaled, grateful, and finally lit the cigarette. You took a long drag, the smoke easing something tight in your chest.

The night wrapped around you, quiet and still, save for the soft hum of cicadas and the slow rhythm of your breath. Joel didn’t move far—he stayed just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching the horizon like he had nowhere else to be.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, gentle. “Saw you stompin’ out here like you were fixin’ to do some damage.”

You laughed under your breath. “Might’ve, if someone hadn’t stopped me.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you in that steady way that invited you to keep going.

You sighed, watching the smoke curl upward. “They think I ruined my perfect life. That I threw it all away because I said no to a proposal.”

Joel tilted his head slightly, listening.

“He cheated on me,” you murmured. “For months. And then had the nerve to propose like nothing happened.”

Joel let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a real catch.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah. All sunshine and rainbows, that one.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was a steadiness to him—like he knew how to be still in a way most people didn’t.

After a moment, he shifted. “Listen, uh… it ain’t really my business, but—sounds to me like you dodged a bullet.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Joel looked at you, earnest beneath all the roughness. “You did the right thing.”

You glanced over at him. “Thanks… Joel, right?” you asked as if his name hasn’t been echoing in your head eversince Tommy said them.

He smiled, soft and crooked. “Yeah.”

“And I’m—” you said your name, almost shyly.

He repeated it back to you, the sound of it low and unhurried as it rolled off his tongue.

You gaze up at the sky, the stars shining much clearer here than in the city. It’s mesmerizing—you can’t remember the last time you saw more than two tiny dots scattered above.

Slowly, you sit down on the grass, and Joel lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re gonna ruin that pretty dress,” he teases.

You smile up at him. “I don’t really give a damn.”

He grins at that, then joins you, sitting down beside you.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” you murmur.

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m actually obligated to keep an eye on troublesome guests.”

You turn to look at him. His serious face slowly breaks into a smirk, and you chuckle softly. “Asshole,” you murmur.

Taking another drag of your cigarette, you sigh. “Must be nice, living out here, huh?”

Joel nods, eyes still fixed on the stars. “Gets real quiet. Makes it easier to think.”

You glance down, voice soft. “I could use a little of that.”

He looks over at you, expression unreadable for a moment. Then, quietly: “Then stay a while.”

You smiled to yourself and kept your eyes on the stars. The silence between you and Joel was comfortable, but there was something simmering beneath it—something you weren’t sure you wanted to acknowledge just yet.

“The stars are beautiful out here,” you murmured.

Joel let out a quiet chuckle. “Bet you don’t see many of those back in the city, huh?”

You shook your head with a faint smile. “Kind of forgot how many there actually are.”

“They’ve always been there,” you said softly, more to yourself than him. “Just hard to see when the sky’s all polluted.”

Joel hummed low in his throat. “That sounds like a metaphor for a lotta things in life.”

You turned your head toward him, a light laugh escaping you. “You always been this wise?” He grinned, subtle and a little self-deprecating, eyes still on the sky. “Nah. Just old.”

That made you giggle, the sound easy and real, and something in Joel’s expression softened. Then, without a word, he pushes himself to his feet and holds out a hand.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you back before they send a search party.”

You hesitate, just for a second, then take his hand. His grip is solid and warm, and when he helps you up, he doesn’t let go right away.

You both stand there for a moment—closer than before, still caught in that soft, uncertain pull—before he clears his throat and lets his hand fall away.

“This way,” he murmurs, nodding toward the path.

You follow him into the quiet dark, heart beating a little louder than before.

Joel walked with you back toward the main cabin where the guest rooms were. You led him through the quiet hallways, the old wood creaking underfoot, until you stopped in front of your door.

“Well, uh… this is me,” you said, a little awkwardly, your hand hovering near the doorknob.

Joel nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Get some rest. Breakfast’s at seven,” he said, then added, almost hesitantly, “Me and Tommy are leading a horseback ride along the river tomorrow. If you feel like joining.” His eyes flicked from the floor up to yours, and for a moment, you swore he looked almost nervous.

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Alright then. See you tomorrow, city girl.” He started backing away, slow and casual, and you turned to open your door. “See you tomorrow,” you murmured.

Just as he turned the corner, you called out softly, “Joel?”

He stopped and looked back, quick like he’d been waiting for it.

“Thank you… for tonight,” you said, meaning it.

He nodded once, that same quiet smile still on his face. “Anytime, sugar.”

Then he disappeared down the hall, and you stood there for a moment longer, heart just a little too full.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

The sun shone on the perfect suburban streets of Austin, Texas. So hot you could fry an egg if you wanted to. You rolled your windows down, driving down a neighborhood you’re not familiar with, and pulled up at the house that sits in the cul de sac, a dirty- no filthy ford pickup truck parked on its driveway.

This must be the place.

A sigh fell from your lips as you hopped off your car with your supplies in hand; a bucket, sponge, microfiber rag, and various soaps for different parts of the car. The heat was even worse after you’ve left the comfort of your air conditioned car, but the thought of being out of your clothes and soaked in suds and the cool water excites you.

Once you’ve discovered this lucrative market of bored, horny, lonely middle aged suburban guys— eager to see a show, and maybe get their car cleaned as well, you start to do this gig every summer. The money is good plus these guys tip generously.

Your service by its core is nothing but a mobile car wash, but the carwash is being done by you, clad in a skimpy bikini. c’mon, who wouldn’t want that right?

When you scored your first customer, you became a spectacle for the neighborhood. Your client shamelessly pulls out a lawn chair, having a grand ol’ time “enjoying the sun” as you wash their car. Neighbors walking out their houses mowing their already perfectly trimmed lawn, walking their dogs, cats, and some approached your client for a neighborly talk they probably haven’t had in months.

You’ve gotten the whole neighborhood out of their house basically, then your client list doubles with those people coming over to you and asking to do theirs next. Some cars don't even need washing, but you do them anyway with a smile knowing you’re gonna eat good that night.

Ever since then you decided to do this gig every summer, cheekily naming your little business “Suds ‘n Trunks”.

—

You ring the doorbell of the Miller’s residence and step back. You could hear a soft grumble from behind the door before it opened and reveal a scruffy, middle aged, handsome man. your eyes scans him quickly, his hair tousled, his shoulders broad, big arms, big hands, Jesus Christ you want to just-

“Can I help you?”

His gruff, deep, Texan drawl snaps you out of your trance and brings you back to reality.

“Uhm yes, Mr. Miller? you called for a car wash?” You asked him with a sweet voice you come to learn that older men love, it always works like a charm, making them tip you a fat wad of cash— these men just craved attention from a pretty girl, and you’re happy to give that to them.

“Oh..yeah you could uh, it's that one right there,” he motioned to the dirty pickup truck. You give him a smile and nodded, “okay, i’ll go on and get started then.” Joel nodded and shut the door immediately.

—

A red Ford bronco sat on his driveway, absolutely covered in filth. You usually don't deal with this much grime, dust, and mud. Granted, most cars you’ve washed barely need a wash, the clients just wanted to see you wet and covered in suds, which you couldn’t really blame them.

You took a breath and started to step out of your tanktop and shorts, revealing the red matching bikini you’re wearing underneath and started to go to work.

—

Joel was exhausted after doing several construction projects back to back yesterday, from dawn to the ungodly hours of the night resulting in his beloved truck — Shirley— looking like it had been dragged in the mud…literally.

Joel likes to take care of his things, Shirley is no exception. His free time on the weekends is often spent on his truck in the garage, polishing her to perfection. But after all the hard work he did, just the thought of washing her made his back groan in protest.

So he got the number of your services from his coworkers after they commented on the state of Shirley, a smirk planted on their faces and they kept snickering which Joel found odd, but he was too fed up and exhausted to think twice on booking your services.

Joel grunts as he settles on his couch, his cold bottle of beer in one hand, the tv remote on the other. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and turned on the TV.

It's finally his time for him to take his hard-earned relaxation time. which should be easy, but he could hear the annoying sputtering sound of his neighbor’s lawnmower.

That thing needs more oil. He thought to himself as he took a sip of his beer.

Then another sound of a lawnmower sounded from the other side of the house, even more annoying than the first.

What the fuck? Why are they all mowin’ the lawn at the same time? at this hour? he thought.

Then comes the obnoxious yapping of Mr. Thompson's french bulldog and chihuahua.

What the hell is goin’ on? it's a whole ruckus out there.

He groaned, frustrated that the whole neighborhood seems to be against his well deserved relaxing time. He grumbled as he strides towards his window, drawing up the blinds to see what the fuck is going on out there.

His eyes nearly bulged out, blush quickly crept up his neck to his cheeks, and his cock twitching in his pants instantly at the sight.

You, bend over in the hood of his car, wet, covered in suds, in a fucking bikini. He tried to look away, he really did, but the way your hips sways, your ass jiggled, as you scrubbed hard with the caked on mud on his truck— it was hypnotizing.

—

“What the hell are ya doin’?”

The sight of Joel's furrowed brow as he stared at you in your revealing outfit was a mix of disapproval and desire. Your sweet smile remained as you answered his question, "Mr. Miller! I'm just washing your car."

His gaze roamed over you, making you shiver with anticipation. "In that?" He grunted, clearly torn between his disgust and arousal. "Well, yes… It's part of my service."

The man stood silent for a moment, his confusion palpable. "Part of your service?"

"Uhm, yeah... It's a bikini car wash service… You didn't know?" you tilted your head, confused.

Joel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How the hell was I supposed to know?"

"The name is Suds 'n' Trunks," you reminded him softly.

"I know what it's called!" he huffed, clearly frustrated.

Unsure of how to proceed, you hesitated. "So, uhm, you want me to just dress up and go or—"

"No, finish your job," he grumbled, still irritated. Your eyes trailed down to the growing tent in his jeans, confirming the source of his conflicting emotions.

You hid your smirk and purred, "Yes, sir," before returning to your task. The knowledge that you had such a potent effect on him only fueled your desire to please him.

—

Your back is even more curved now, ass sticking up more than they should as you washed the side of his truck, knowing Joel is looking– watching you like a hawk while he sits on the porch, a beer in his hand and a cigarette on the other. you turned your head over your shoulder just to give him a small smile, which he returned with his jaw clenching.

You bask under his gaze, your body tingling, giving him the best show you’ve ever given. you squatted as you started to clean the lower part of the truck, your ass jiggle with every hard scrub you give.

The tension between the two of you is palpable, leaving Joel frustrated, he knows damn well you’re taunting him. He’s torn between wanting to yell at you for acting so unprofessional and embarrassing him in front of the watchful eyes of his nosy neighbors— or fucking you against the truck for payback.

He sits there watching you, contemplating on what to do. You gave him another cheeky look over your shoulder and that was it, his last resolve snapped, fuck it.

—

“Careful with her,” he said lowly as he approached you.

You turned your head, batting your eyelashes, “Hm?”

“You’re goin’ too hard on her, just painted that part,” he murmured as he got closer, just right behind you.

“But the mud is really caked on this part,” you told him and went back to scrubbing.

“A-ah, hey,” he tutted and leaned down behind you, his large palms sitting atop of yours “Gentle…easy does it,” he murmured, his hot breath fanned against your ear.

You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan as you felt his hardness pressed against your thigh. Your hand following his movements, “There we go…there we go, good girl,” he murmured and you swore every part of your body shivered.

“This is gonna take longer to finish, sir,” you murmured, your voice a mere whisper as you turned your head to him.

“I know…but you’re gonna get a bigger reward out of it, how’s that sound hm?” he muttered to your ear before abruptly pulling away from you and sitting back on the porch.

your breath hitched, heartbeat skipping, and the heat between your legs grew hotter. You turned your head towards him to see him sitting back at his porch, his head nodded at you to continue your work, a small smirk curved his lips.

—

You’re halfway done with the truck when his neighbor starts to approach you, a middle aged guy you came to learn named Michael. He’s been clearly hitting on you, and trying to get a closer look on what you’re doing. which usually doesn’t bother you but you could practically feel Joel's watchful eyes boring into your back.

“So you do this for a living?” he asked as he stood a few feet away from you, “It's just a summer gig i do,” you replied with a small smile, keeping the response light.

"Sweet, it's nice seeing a young, beautiful, hard-working woman," he chuckled. Your jaw tensed for a moment before you forced a tight-lipped smile.

"Can you do my car next? It's pretty dirty too," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. You felt a flush of annoyance, but your eyes met Joel's, who glared disapprovingly from his porch.

"Well, uh..." you hesitated, glancing back at Joel. He shook his head, a clear indication that he didn't want you to entertain Michael's advances. "Sorry, Michael. I'm booked for today... I gotta go somewhere after this."

Michael sighed, "Aw, just my luck," he lamented. "I'll ask Joel for your number, huh? I'll book you as soon as you're free." You chuckled, "Yeah, you go do that."

Michael made his way over to Joel, asking for your number. Joel nodded, but with a grunt, he gave Michael the wrong number. A smirk played on your lips as you returned to your work.

—

After what feels like forever you finally finished with the last drag of your microfiber rag. You let out a sigh and turned around to Joel sauntering his way. “All done Mr. Miller,” you purred.

He looked at his truck, all clean and shiny. A satisfied smirk graced his face, “you did a good job” he praised. “Good enough to get that reward?” you murmured with your head tilted innocently. Joel let out a small chuckle “Mmhm... come on inside and i’ll get it sorted for you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes gleamed with lust and you bit your lip in anticipation as he led you inside his house. The wind hits your wet body, the coolness leaves your nipples even harder, your body tingling with need.

By the time the two of you were inside, Joel’s body was taut, like a spring ready to burst. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, his large palms grab a hold of your wet body and pinned you against his door, you let out a surprised whimper at his sudden actions.

“Been a good girl for me huh? Takin’ care of my truck,” he murmured as he leaned down and his lips grazed your jaw to the skin under your ear. “Been naughty too haven’t you? Tauntin’ me with this sweet ass of yours,” he grabbed your ass and gave it a hard squeeze making you let out a small moan, he pulled you closer, his hard cock pressing against your wet bikini bottoms.

You couldn’t help but grind your hips against him, needy and desperate for friction, eliciting a small moan from you and a groan from him. “What do you have to say about that huh? Pretty girl?,” he muttered and nibbled on your earlobe, “I’m sorry sir” you panted softly.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be that sorry,” he chuckled lowly, his voice gravely and his accent was thicker than before “Think I would have to punish you… you thought it was funny huh? Makin’ me hard as a rock with those fucking neighbors watchin’?” he growled to your ear and slapped your ass, you whimpered and jolted forwards.

“I’m sorry sir..please don't punish me,” you whined and bit your lip. “You’re sorry huh? Go on, pretty thing, show me how sorry you are,” he murmured. You didn't need to be told twice, you fell to your knees, eyes wide as you looked up to his face, hands deftly undoing his belt and jeans and pulling it down along with his boxers.

Your mouth salivated just from the sight of his cock springing free, thick, veiny, and throbbing, just how you thought it would be. He gave you a nod to tell you ‘go on’, you leaned down and darted your tongue out, tasting the heady taste of his precum. He groaned and tossed his head back, hand tangling in your hair and pulled you in, you hummed and finally wrapped your mouth around his girth with a small whimper. Your jaw straining to accommodate him, tongue moving with practiced ease as you sink down deeper, taking in more of him.

“Fuck yeah..good fuckin’ girl…thats it,” he muttered and started to guide your head the way he wanted, you thrive with his praises, taking in him as deep as you could. Gagging and sputtering here and there but you didn't stop at all in search of his approval and satisfaction, you didn’t want to stop. The room was filled with the sound of his grunts and heavy breaths, along with the obscene sounds from you and your muffled whimpers.

Joel nearly came when he saw you starting to snake your hand between your legs, “Naughty fuckin’ slut, touchin’ yourself huh?” he groaned and started to thrust into your mouth, holding your head in place. “You want me to take care of that? Hm?” he growled and you whined as an answer. Suddenly he abruptly pulled you away from his cock, “get on the fuckin’ couch,” he muttered, you scrambled off the floor and quickly gotten on the nearby couch, “on your hands and knees, sweetheart,” he commanded and you did as he said, bending over, facing the backrest of the couch.

He stood behind you and pushed you legs wider, your head craned over your shoulder to look at him with your needy expression, bottom lip between your teeth. He gripped your chin and he leaned down, finally crashing his lips to yours. He was rough, didn’t even hesitate on pushing his tongue into your mouth, tongue dominating yours, making you whine and push your hips back, desperate, begging for him.

His kiss left you panting as he pulled away, he trailed kisses down your back, biting on the knot that holds your bikini top together and pulling on it and letting it unravel, his hand started to grope your tits, playing, pinching, pulling on your sensitive nipples. “Mr. Miller,” you panted “please..”

“Use your word, Baby, what do you need?” he murmured to the crook of your neck. You whimpered and kept moving your hips, “anything- please- your finger, mouth- anything, i need you,” you rambled desperately. Joel chuckled darkly, his large fingers playing with the knots of your bikini bottoms, “needy little thing,” he murmured before pulling on the knots and unraveling the red wet fabric, making it fall to the couch.

Joel practically growled at the sight before him, you, bent over with your ass high in the air, naked, your pussy dripping and ready for him. “Look at you..” he murmured and leaned down, groping your ass and pushing it apart to reveal more of you. “Mmh..” he grumbles before leaning down and placing a broad lick on your cunt. “Oh- god- Mr- mmhngh! Mr. Miller” you whined and pushed your hips more to his face. Joel groaned and started to really eat you out, his large palms splayed on your ass, face completely buried in your drooling pussy. “It's Joel, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he pulled away from your cunt for a second, “I wanna hear ya moan my name.”

“Joel..” you breathed, getting used to the feel of his name on your lips. Joel started to flick his tongue rapidly on your clit, making your eyes roll back and moan out his name, “fuck- ahh! Joel!” He grunted in response, “yeah that’s it, moan my name…mmhhh good fuckin’ girl.”

You were falling apart already at the hands of his tongue, moving on your pussy with practiced ease. Joel relished the sounds of your moans, and the sweet and tangy taste of your cunt. He groaned and started to push his thick fingers to your entrance, “Joel! Ahnghh! F-fuck! mmhngh!!” you cried out, he grunted and pulled away from your pussy for a second, “That’s it baby, you’re gonna cum hm? Gonna be a good girl an cum on my face?” he muttered and curled his digits to hit that heavenly spot within you, you whined in response, barely able to come up with words but nodded with your eyes closed in pleasure. “Good girl, c’mon, come on my face” he panted and started double his efforts, his tongue flicking on your sensitive clit, slurping all your juices, whilst his fingers kept hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, you back arched and your eyes rolled back, you swore you saw stars. His name kept falling from your lips in between moans and whimpers which he responded with praises.

“good girl, that’s it”

“you’re so pretty when you cum for me”

“tastes so good baby, there you go..”

He peppered kisses across your shoulders and back as he waited for you to come down from your high. “joel..” you panted and kept pushing your hips back to grind against his throbbing cock, eliciting a groan from his lips, “yeah? you want my cock, pretty girl?” he muttered and rutted his hips against you, his cock sliding against your cunt. “yes- please joel- please-“ you let out a loud moan when he suddenly pushed his cock into your core.

“fuuuck” he groaned as he pushed himself in “fuck- shit, baby you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he panted and gripped your hips tight. “joel! oh- f-fuck hhngh!” you whimpered and gripped the back of the couch. Joel pulled back until his cock is almost fully slipped back, you whined at the loss of his stretch, then he slammed back in. “Fuck! Oh- f-fuuckk! Joeel!!” you cried out, “Yeah baby that’s it- shit- yeah take it baby, take it” he growled to your ear and wrapped your hair on his hand and yanked it back. Your head tilted back at the force and he crashed his lips to yours again, swalowing all your moans and whimpers as he fucked you with a relentless pace.

“J-joel” you warned between pants, “Yeah i know baby- fuck- yeah i can feel it,” he groaned and panted “c’mon baby give it to me, cum on my cock, c’mon” he murmured and went faster. The sound of his skin smacking against yours gets louder and louder, the couch groaned and creaked in protest. You could barely utter any coherent words at this point, just slurring his name and how good it feels between moans and pants.

Your back arched and trembles as you cry out his name like a prayer. Joel slowed down for a second, letting you ride out the orgasm, “there you go…hmm there you go” he muttered soothingly, his hips rocking deliberately, slowly. “You can take more, sweetheart?” he murmured to your ear, you couldn’t help but nod. ”Good girl,” he praised to your ear and kissed your jaw before his arm wrapped around your waist, the other around your chest and pulled you up until his chest pressed against your back. He resumed his hard relentless thrusts, his hand on your chest groping and playing with your hard nipples. you felt like floating at this point, just taking everything he gave you like a good girl.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growled to your ear, you could barely talk just letting out sounds of pleasure, he spanked your ass hard and you gasped out a moan, “Yours! Hahngh! All yours!” you whined, Joel gripped your neck and pulled you closer to him “Who?” he demanded, you panted and choked out, “Yours daddy!” bingo.

He growled and bent you over again, his hand still tight on your neck, choking you just right. “Yeah that’s right, such a good girl for daddy,” he muttered and pounded into you. You kept choking out moans, calling him daddy over and over. He shifted his position, propping one leg on the couch to get a different angle, deeper, and it allowed him to reach that spot within you. “Oh my g- aahhngh!! daddy!! right there, oh fuck- fuck me right there!!” you cried out. He grunted and let out a dark chuckle, “there sweetheart?” he taunted as he thrusted extra hard aiming at that spot again. “yes!! yes- yes please- please i- daddy please” you rambled, begging for him, his cock has reduced you to nothing but desperate and needy. “well since you asked so nicely,” he said coyly before hitting that spot over and over again.

You felt you’re gonna shatter yet again in any second, a ticking time bomb set on your lower belly. “D-daddy i’m- hah- i’m-” you could barely finish your choked out sentence. “Yeah? Gonna cum again for daddy?” he panted to your ear, all you could do was nodded and give a whimper of confirmation. He chuckled darkly and his hand snaked down to rub your clit with fervor while his hips kept pounding to your ass, “Go on then, come for me, come for daddy,” he muttered to your ear.

Your vision blurred and you saw white. It feels like you’re barely conscious, your third orgasm hits you even harder than the last. You didn’t noticed whats happening until joel groaned, “Fuck yeah you’re squirtin’ on me baby- good girl- hhnngh good fuckin’ girl.” Your thighs trembled, wet with your release, red from his thrusts.

He finally let go of your neck and you gasped out for much needed air, his thrusts started to stutter. “Where do you want it?” he panted to your ear, “Inside, inside daddy, please,” you begged and started to move your hips to meet his. Joel couldn’t hold back any longer, 1, 2, 3 hard thrusts later and he came completely undone inside you. “Fuuuckk!! Fuck yeah- oh shit baby” he moaned, “fuck! makin’ me cum so much, pretty girl…oh yeah good fuckin’ girl,” he panted to your ear.

After his hips stilled, he pulled out of you, making you whine and clench around nothing, pushing his hot sticky seed out of you.

He chuckled and whispered to your ear, “look at you…all messy n’ dirty,” he cooed. “You cleaned my truck now it's time for me to clean you,” he murmured before peppering kisses down your spine yet again.

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