#rhett outer range

He hesitates because of your cat. You evil tortoise shell cat, Tonks.

You have told him enough horror stories that Tonks might as well be a cryptid. Scratched friends, ambushed ankles, guests held hostage on the couch. You always laugh when you talk about her, knowing to you she’s the sweetest cat ever, but he is not laughing now. He is allergic, badly enough that his eyes swell and his lungs tighten, and he has not worked up the nerve to tell you yet. The idea of admitting it feels like making a problem where there does not need to be one.

So instead Rhett pops an allergy pill and tells you he will be there soon, like this is no big deal at all. He even takes a second one after he’s managed to park his truck. Your house glows warm and soft when he pulls in, snow pushed aside in messy little heaps along the driveway. He makes a mental note to wake up early and shovel your driveway for you the next morning. You still have christmas lights strung along the porch even though the holiday has passed, and the sight of them makes something in his chest loosen. He knocks, then hears your voice through the screen door.

“Just come in, I’m in the bathroom!”

He pushes through the door and immediately scans the floor, eyes sharp and searching for any sign of movement. No Tonks. He exhales slowly, letting himself take in the rest of the place.

It smells like gingerbread from a candle burning somewhere deeper in the house, mixed with your laundry soap, the one that always makes him think of you. Lamps cast a low, golden light over the room, christmas decorations still scattered across shelves and side tables. He does not turn on the big lights because he knows how much you hate them.

He makes it to the couch, slips his hat off, and finally lets himself sit.

“Hey,” he calls out, trying to sound relaxed. “You better hurry up in there. I missed you.”

“I’m brushing my teeth,” you call back, playful and distant.

He smiles despite himself, then tenses again when he realizes how quiet it is. Too quiet. He has just started to think that maybe tonight he has somehow avoided the danger when he hears it.

A tiny purr.

Tonks hops up onto the cushion beside him like she has always been there. Rhett startles hard, nearly knocking his hat onto the floor. She sits with her tail wrapped neatly around her paws, green eyes fixed on him with open curiosity. She is much smaller than the monster he has built up in his head, soft and pretty, but his pulse still jumps.

They stare at each other. He slowly reaches out one finger, heart pounding like he is making the bravest move of his life.


“Ok,” he murmurs. “Nice kitty.”

She leans into his finger, purring louder, eyes drifting shut. Relief spreads through him in a rush. He cannot help the little smile tugging at his mouth. He knows he will regret even touching her later, his eyes already beginning to sting.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he whispers. He wonders if you exaggerated the ways he treats all your house guests.

Then she bites him.

It is not hard, just enough to make him flinch and pull back with a startled hiss, which immediately triggers a sneeze he barely manages to catch in his sleeve. Tonks stiffens, offended, then climbs onto his thigh and sits there like she owns it, staring up at him while purring even louder. Rhett completely stills, worrying that if he moves she will lose it and attack him.

“I’m not your enemy,” he whispers, trying to negotiate with a cat.

She answers by stepping onto his chest, then his shoulder, until she is standing on his stomach, perfectly balanced and completely in charge. His eyes water some more, his nose itching, breath shallow as he tries not to move.

“I don’t deserve this,” he mutters. He sneezes again.

Tonks flinches and lightly slaps his cheek with her paw, more insulted than angry, before settling down on him like she has won. That slap was a little warning, telling him he needs to watch it.

Rhett stares at her in disbelief, whispering, “You gotta be kidding me,” just as you walk out of the bathroom to find your cowboy boyfriend being fully conquered by your evil tabby in the middle of your softly lit living room.

You hover in the doorway for a second, toothbrush still in your mouth, watching Rhett stare down at Tonks like he has wandered into a hostage situation.

“You okay?” you ask, amusement laced through the words.

He glances up at you, eyes already a little watery. “Your cat just bit me and then sat on me like I owe her money. And then she slapped me!”

You laugh, crossing the room and crouching in front of the couch. Tonks is purring like she is on vacation, kneading his hoodie as if it is custom-made for her.

“She never does this,” you say, honestly surprised. “She hates everyone. I was going to lock her in the guest bedroom tonight so she wouldn’t attack you.”

“She has attacked me,” he says softly. His nose twitches again.

You finally notice how red his eyes look, how careful his breathing is. “Rhett… are you sick or something?”

He hesitates, then rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t wanna make a thing out of it.”

“Make what a thing?”

“I’m allergic to cats,” he admits. “Not hospital allergic. Just… this.” He gestures vaguely at his face.

Your smile fades. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “Took a pill before I came over. I really wanted to see you. I took two, actually.”

Your chest tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’ve been gone all week and I didn’t wanna hear you say I shouldn’t come.”

You lean over the back of the couch and kiss him, minty and soft, your hand resting warm against his cheek. “You’re ridiculous,” you whisper. “And I missed you too.”

Tonks makes an offended noise and climbs back onto his lap like she is reclaiming territory.

After a few minutes of half-heartedly trying to shoo fur off his shirt, you remember you have something for him. You jump up excited from the couch, and disappear into your room and come back with a small bag. Rhett calls after you, wondering where you were going but you ignore him.

“I still wanted to give you your christmas present,” you say, suddenly shy. You crawl onto the couch next to him and place it in his lap, as Tonks makes it hard for him to move around much. You adjust so you’re cross legged, staring at him nervously.

He opens it slowly, pulling out the leather hatband you got him. You were worried it wasn’t enough, or he wouldn’t like it. His thumb traces the tooling along the edge as he admires it.

“You remembered,” he says.

“You complain about yours every time you take your hat off.”

He laughs. “I do not complain.”

“You absolutely do.”

He looks at you like you’ve given him something way bigger than a piece of leather. “Thank you. You’re so sweet.”

You clap in excitement as he hands you a tiny red velvet box. It was wrapped in a matching red bow, and you lightly shook it next to your ear trying to hear what it could be. Rhett laughs as you struggle to tug open the bow. He watches you open it, eyes fixed on your face as you pull a small dainty necklace from the box. There was a little black heart dangling at the bottom, and you felt your heart race. It was incredibly pretty, but so simple. Rhett knows exactly what you like.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, already lifting it up to your neck. “Rhett, it’s perfect!”

As he finishes clasping it around your neck, you fling yourself at him, kissing him properly this time, arms tight around his neck. Tonks finally hops off in disgust, no longer caring as the attention was no longer on her.

When you pull back he sniffles and smiles, his eyes lazily shut like he’s drunk from your kiss. “Thank god she left. I was really startin’ to suffer.”

It didn’t take you long to drag Rhett back to your bedroom. You wanted to watch one final Christmas movie before the holiday was truly over.

The movie drifts on in the background while you stay curled together, neither of you really watching anymore. You decided to turn on a movie called ‘While You Were Sleeping’, it was your favourite holiday movie. You point out little things despite not paying much attention, whispering about scenes you love, about how Bill Pullman was your celebrity crush when you were a kid.

Rhett hums like he is listening even though he is mostly just tracing lazy circles against your arm, clearly more interested in you than the screen.

When the credits finally roll, you reach over and shut the tv off, the room falling into a quiet broken only by the heater clicking on and the faint glow of christmas lights from the living room down the hall.

You slide under the blankets first, smoothing them out like you are making space for him in something that has always been yours alone. He hesitates for half a second before following, careful with his movements like he is a guest in a place that matters.

The mattress dips with his weight and the bed feels instantly different, warmer, fuller. He shifts closer, then closer again, until his chest fits against your back and his arm settles around your waist. It feels easy, like this is something your bodies already know how to do. He presses a kiss just below your ear, the kind that barely lands but still makes you smile.


“I like it here,” he murmurs.

You start to answer, but the mattress moves at your feet. Tonks hops onto the bed, padding up the length of it like she is on a mission. She pauses only to flick her tail in your direction before climbing straight onto Rhett’s pillow and circling until she is satisfied.

He watches her claim it in disbelief.
“Unbelievable,” he whispers.

You laugh softly, reaching back to lace your fingers with his. The room settles again, quiet and warm, and you drift off between the steady sound of his breathing and the soft, smug purr of your cat, already thinking about how you are never going to want to sleep alone again.

—————

Inside, the place smells like old wood, beer, and the faint tang of cheap perfume. A jukebox hums some country song you don’t know but can hum along to anyway. You pick a stool near the far end, close enough to the crowd to feel human, far enough not to invite questions. The bartender- mid-fifties, flannel sleeves rolled to the elbow, slides a beer toward you without ceremony. You nod, grateful for the wordless transaction, and take a sip that smooths the road right out of your bones.

You don’t come here to be noticed. You just need to sit still, let the sound of laughter and music blur the day. But bars are porous, and you’ve never been particularly good at patching up small talk before it finds a way in. The first attempt comes quick. A tall blonde guy drops into the seat beside you, casual but deliberate. He has the kind of posture that suggests he’s confident about how this usually goes.

“Didn’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he says, leaning an elbow on the bar. “I would’ve remembered. You new in town or just visiting?”

You glance over, offering the kind of polite half-smile people give when they’re still deciding whether to be nice or not. “Just passing through,” you answer. “Needed a night off.”

“Ah.” He grins, like that tells him everything. “Patrick,” he says after pausing, offering a hand that smells faintly of cheap bar bathroom soap. “And you are…?”

You take another sip instead of answering immediately, letting the moment settle. “Just someone trying to enjoy a drink,” you say with a small smile, finally shaking his hand. “But hi, Patrick.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “What’s your poison tonight?”

“Beer’s fine.” You hold up your bottle. “I don’t have the energy for anything that ends with regret tomorrow.”

“That’s what beer’s for,” he says, signaling to the bartender. “Another for her, on me.”

You protest with a polite “Oh, that’s not necessary,” but the drink arrives anyway. You accept it because refusing it feels like more work than it’s worth.

Patrick’s easy, practiced charm keeps the conversation rolling. He asks where you’re from, what you do, whether you’ve seen the rodeo that comes through every summer. You fake a laugh or two at the right places, one that keeps things friendly but doesn’t open any doors. You’ve met a hundred Patricks in a hundred bars before. None of them were bad men, just men who talk like the night owes them something.

You reach for your new beer, fingers brushing condensation from the bottle, when you see him. Just over Patrick’s shoulder.

A man sitting at a table across the bar. Dark hair, broad shoulders, a cowboy hat tipped low enough to throw his eyes into shadow. He got a busted lip, and a cut on the bridge of his nose, like he just loves to get into fights. He’s got that sort of stillness that doesn’t come from being shy. A beer bottle rests in his hand, the same as yours, another one empty beside it, and the guy sitting next to him says something that barely earns a nod. His flannel shirt is rolled up high on his arms, revealing every delicious vein and muscle for you.

And he’s staring at you. Not in that way men sometimes do, like they’re testing how much you’ll tolerate. This is different, quiet, intent. Like he’s trying to solve something about you and isn’t sure he should. You blink, breaking the contact, but it’s too late. You can feel it now, the awareness, a thread stretching across the room. When you glance back, he smirks, slow and easy, the corner of his mouth catching the light.

Patrick says something you don’t catch. You laugh on instinct, hoping it lands in the right place, then take another sip to hide the flush of distraction. But when you look again, the cowboy’s still watching you. And this time, he’s mouthing something, just one phrase, a question.

Really? Him?

You bite your lip, trying not to smile. It’s ridiculous. You don’t even know this man. You don’t know his name, or why the hell he’s decided you’re the most interesting thing in this room. But suddenly, Patrick’s jokes sound like background noise.

“Hey,” Patrick says, leaning closer. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quickly. “Just…thought I recognized someone. Guess not.”

He raises a brow, clearly unconvinced but willing to keep going. “Well, if you did, they’re lucky. Not every night you find good company around here. Not somebody so good looking, at least.”

You give him another smile, the universal sign for you’re trying too hard, but before he can push for more, a shadow crosses the bar. You don’t realize how close the cowboy’s gotten until he’s right there, close enough to catch the scent of leather and cedar off his jacket.

Patrick straightens, irritation flashing in his tone, clearly uncomfortable at how close this stranger has gotten to you both. “Can we help you, man?”

The cowboy strangers voice is steady, deep. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, though the look in his eyes says otherwise. “Just looked like she could use a better drink.”

Patrick laughs dryly. “She’s already got one.”

“Not that kind,” the cowboy answers, lips twitching. Then his eyes flick toward you, a glint of humor buried somewhere under the seriousness. “You look like you needed saving from small talk.”

You open your mouth, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “And you decided you’re the rescue?”

“Could be,” he says. “Guess that’s up to you.”

Patrick huffs, finishing the rest of his beer in a swallow. “You two have fun,” he says, his tone clipped, his pride bruised. He drops a few bills on the counter and walks away, shoulders stiff.

You watch him go, then turn back to the stranger. “You always make entrances like that?”

He shrugs, settling onto the stool Patrick left behind. “Only when I have to.”

“You didn’t have to,” you say, but your tone softens around the edges.

“Didn’t want to watch you fake another laugh,” he says simply. He signals to the bartender. “Two more,” he says, nodding toward your bottle. Then, glancing back at you: “You from around here?”

“Nope,” you say. “Just passing through.”

“Thought so,” he replies, smiling faintly. “You don’t have the look of someone who stays put long.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you look like someone who’s still looking for something.”

You study him for a moment, trying to decide if that line was meant to charm or just landed that way by accident. His eyes—blue, or maybe green, it’s hard to tell under the dim light—hold steady on yours. There’s something quietly genuine there, unpolished.

“I never caught your name,” you say finally.

“Rhett,” he says. “Rhett Abbott.”

You repeat it under your breath, tasting the syllables like they mean something you don’t know yet. “Well, Rhett Abbott,” you say, “thanks for the rescue. Even if I didn’t need it.”

He grins, lifting his glass. “You looked like you might want it anyway.”

You clink bottles, the sound small and sure between you. Then, time starts to slip. One beer turns into two. Two into three. The jukebox cycles through songs you don’t know and ones you think you do.

Somewhere in the middle, Rhett orders shots. “Just one,” he says, “for courage.”

You laugh. “Courage for what?”

He grins. “Haven’t figured that part out yet.”

The tequila burns, but so does his smile.

You start to talk more easily, stories spilling out in pieces. You tell him about the long drive, about not knowing exactly where you’re headed. He tells you about the ranch, about days that start before the sun and end long after it’s gone. There’s a softness under his words, something that makes you lean closer without realizing you’ve done it.

“So you’re a cowboy, then,” you tease.

He tilts his head, pretending to consider. “Guess that’s one word for it.”

“And what’s the other?”

He leans in, voice low. “Stubborn fool, most days.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up easily now. You’re close enough to smell the beer on his breath, to feel the warmth radiating off him. When he says something funny, something you can’t even remember a moment later, you touch his arm without thinking, fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away, either. Just lets the contact sit there, easy and certain. You take another shot together, and another. The conversation slides between teasing and confessions, about small-town boredom, about places you’ve both dreamed of seeing. You learn he’s got a dry sense of humor, sharp when he wants it to be.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” you say after he challenges you to yet another round.

He smiles. “Not when I’m having a good time.”

You shake your head, grinning into your glass. “You’re dangerous, Abbott.”

He tips his hat back slightly, eyes glinting. “You don’t seem too scared.”

“Maybe I should be.”

“Maybe you should.”

The space between you narrows until your knees brush under the bar. Neither of you move away. Then he finds himself resting his hand on your thigh, not too high up at first. You don’t object. It slides up just a bit higher, and you feel like your brain is getting fuzzy at his touch. Your legs spread just a tad wider, almost on command to his touch. You can’t tell if he noticed, so you don’t draw anymore attention to it. The lights have dimmed, the crowd now thinned. The air hums with quiet music and the low pulse of something that feels like recognition.

Finally, Rhett glances toward the clock behind the bar, then back at you. “Where you staying tonight?”

You smile over the rim of your final beer as it hovers near your lips. You toss it back, chugging whatever was left. His eyes widen slightly, impressed at the way you’re able to hold your alcohol. “Are you finally gonna take me home, Abbott?” You tease, knowing that’s what you’ve been waiting for this whole time.

He grins, slow and sure, and stands, tugging his hat back into place. “Looks that way.”

He holds out a hand. You take it, a little unsteady from the drinks, and he helps you from your stool. Then, he reaches for your coat and helps you into it, his fingers brushing the back of your neck just long enough to make your breath catch. He tucks all your hair onto one side, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before he points towards the door. You grab his hand and he lets you lazily lead him to the exit. As you do, you don’t notice that Patrick is there, leaning against the wall near the exit, arms crossed, eyes sharp with irritation. Rhett doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t slow down, either. As you pass, he glances at Patrick and winks, just once, a quiet, satisfied little fuck you that makes you laugh under your breath.

Outside, the night air bites, and Rhett’s hand drops yours but then finds the small of your back, steady, guiding, a little bit possessive. His truck waits under the flickering streetlight, its paint dulled by dust and distance. He opens the passenger door for you, the cab smelling faintly of hay and pine and him.

You slide in, looking up at him with a crooked smile. “Always this charming, or just tonight?”

He grins, shutting the door softly. “Depends on who’s asking.”

Then he rounds the front of the truck, climbs in beside you, and turns the key. The engine rumbles to life, low and sure, the kind of sound that fills the space between words. As he pulls away from the bar, you look out the window and watch the neon sign fade in the side mirror.

————

The door to Rhett's house barely clicks shut before his mouth crashes back onto yours, all heat and hunger from that stolen moment at the bar exploding into something feral. You're both stumbling through the dim entryway, lips locked in a desperate tangle, hands fumbling at each other's clothes. His fingers hook into the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head, breaking the kiss for only a second, and you claw at his flannel, buttons popping free as you shove it off his broad shoulders. You giggle at the sound of the buttons scattering across the wood floor, a problem for tomorrow’s Rhett to deal with. The wall catches your back first, then his, bodies bumping and grinding as you kick off your shoes in a haze of urgency.

Rhett's in control now, his strong hands gripping your hips, guiding you deeper into the house while his tongue strokes yours, tasting like whiskey and want. “Goddamn, darlin', you're somethin' else,” he murmurs against your lips, his southern drawl thick and rough, sending a shiver straight to your core.

You whimper into his mouth, your own hands sliding down to tug at his belt, but he captures your wrists gently, pressing you against another wall. “Easy now. We gotta keep this quiet, don't want the whole damn ranch wakin' up.”

You nod, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, chest heaving as you huff and pant. Your skin's flushed, heart pounding. Rhett is standing in front of you, also trying to catch his breath, but it seems impossible as he admires you. He can’t help but wonder if the dark red laced bra was on purpose, like you meant to end up in somebody’s bed tonight. He stares at the heart shaped necklace tucked between your breasts, and he almost drools. Rhett's eyes stay there, dark and hungry, his gaze raking over you like he's starving. He's shirtless now, jeans hanging low on his hips, that intricate tattoo curling across his chest, bold lines and shadows that make your mouth water.

No words pass between you. the air crackles with silent admiration. His hat sits tilted on his head, framing the sharp lines of his jaw, and you can't tear your eyes away from the way his muscles flex under that ink, the trail of dark hair leading down into his unbuttoned jeans. He looks like sin wrapped in denim, and the way he's staring at you, like you're the only thing in his world, makes your thighs clench. Suddenly, Rhett lurches forward, scooping you up in one fluid motion. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, ankles locking as he storms down the hall toward his room, your bodies pressed so tight you can feel the hard ridge of his cock straining against his zipper, grinding into you through your jeans.

He kicks the bedroom door open and tosses you onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. You bounce once, both of you diving back in before you even settle, kissing everywhere, necks, collarbones, the scent of booze and sweat mingling as his stubble scrapes your skin.

His mouth trails down your throat, nipping at the swell of your breasts above the lace, while your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“So fuckin' beautiful, darlin',” he growls, voice low and accented, his hands working your jeans open.

You arch up, helping him shove them down your legs along with your panties, kicking them off as he sheds his own jeans, his thick cock springing free, hard, veined, and already leaking at the tip. The sight of him makes you throb, wet and aching.

Rhett doesn't waste time. He crawls over you, kissing a hot path down your stomach, his hat brushing your skin as he settles between your thighs.

“Gonna taste you first,” he says, that drawl wrapping around the words like velvet.

His tongue flicks out, parting your folds, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. He groans against you, the vibration shooting through your clit, and then he's devouring you, sucking your swollen nub, tongue thrusting inside your pussy, lapping at your juices like he's parched. Your hips buck, hands fisting the sheets, but you keep it quiet, just sharp gasps and whimpers as pleasure coils tight in your belly.

“That's it, darlin', so sweet and wet for me.” he praises, his accent thickening with lust, one finger sliding in to curl against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

You come undone on his mouth, thighs trembling around his head, biting down on your fist to muffle the cry as waves crash over you. But you're not done, not by a long shot. You push him back, needy and bold, and he lets you, rolling onto his back with a grin.

“Your turn?” he teases, but his voice is strained, cock twitching against his abs.

You straddle his thighs, leaning down to kiss the tip, tasting the salt of his pre-cum before wrapping your lips around him. He hisses, hand tangling in your hair, not pushing, just holding, as you suck him deep, tongue swirling around the head, hollowing your cheeks.

His hips jerk, but he keeps control, murmuring, “Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.”

You bob your head, taking more of his length, gagging softly when he hits the back of your throat, but you don't stop, hollowing and licking until he's throbbing, veins pulsing under your tongue. He pulls you off with a groan, eyes wild. “Can't wait anymore.”

He flips you onto your back, settling between your legs in missionary, his body caging yours. The head of his cock nudges your entrance, slick and ready, but you stop him with a hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his tattoo under your palm. “Wait!”you whisper, reaching for the edge of the bed where his hat tumbled during the frenzy. You snag it, settling it on your head with a wicked smile, the brim shadowing your eyes.

Rhett's breath catches, his gaze darkening to pitch. “Jesus, darlin', you in my hat... gonna ruin me.”

No more waiting, he thrusts in deep, filling your pussy in one smooth stroke, stretching you around his girth. You gasp, nails raking his back, the hat tipping but staying put as he starts pounding into you, urgent and relentless. Each snap of his hips drives him to the hilt, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“You're takin' me so good,” he pants, accent curling around every word, his mouth at your ear. “Tight little pussy squeezin' me like that-fuck, you're perfect.” His praises hit like sparks, the drawl making your clit throb even as he fucks you harder, bed creaking softly under the rhythm.

You've never been fucked like this, raw, consuming, like he's claiming every inch of you. It's too much, the hat on your head, his body slamming into yours, the way he watches your face, lips brushing your necklace as he murmurs, “Come for me again, yeah? Let me feel it.”

You try to stay quiet, but a choked moan escapes as the pressure builds, your walls fluttering around him. He grinds deep, circling his hips, and you shatter, cumming hard, pussy clenching in rhythmic pulses that milk his cock. Rhett follows with a muffled groan against your shoulder, burying himself to the root as he spills inside you, hot spurts flooding your core. Your bodies lock together, trembling through the aftershocks, breaths mingling in the quiet room.

He stays there a moment, forehead pressed to yours, hat still on your head as he chuckles softly. “That was... somethin' else….”

—————

The first thing you register is the light.
It filters through the curtains in long, pale strips, soft but unrelenting against your aching eyelids. Your head throbs just enough to remind you how many drinks you had, and the scent in the air, soap, dust, and something cedar-warm, tells you you’re not in the motel. You blink, letting the room come into focus. A small ranch bedroom: plain walls, wood floors, boots lined neatly by the door. There’s a blanket kicked halfway off the bed, the faint chill of morning seeping through the window. And then there’s Rhett.

He’s lying on his stomach, half-tangled in the sheet, face turned toward you but still asleep. His arm is draped across your lap, heavy and warm in a loose, unconscious hold that feels both possessive and tender. His hair is messy, his back marked by faint scratches you pretend not to notice. The rise and fall of his breathing is slow and even. You stay there a moment, letting the quiet settle, then ease his arm aside and slip from the bed. There’s a folded pile of clothes on the dresser, your jeans from yesterday and a clean T-shirt that’s unmistakably his. You smile a little at the thoughtfulness and pull them on, the fabric soft and faintly smelling of him.

The hallway is cool when you step out, the floorboards creaking under your bare feet. The house feels bigger than you expected, built solid but worn in places. There’s something lived-in about it, family pictures, a stray jacket on a hook, a dog bowl by the door. It feels… safe. You follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen. A pot sits half-full on the counter, still warm. You pour a cup, take a careful sip, and lean against the counter, wondering how exactly you’re going to get back to the bar to pick up your car.

“You’re not one of mine,” a deep voice says behind you.

You jump, nearly sloshing coffee over your hand. Turning, you find an older man in the doorway. tall, broad-shouldered, hair more silver than brown. His eyes are sharp but kind.

“Sorry! God, I didn’t mean to-“ you stammer, setting the cup down. “I’ll get out of your way! I thought he lived alone! I just-“

He lifts a hand, amused. “Easy now. You didn’t break in, did you?”

“No, sir,” you manage, cheeks burning.

“Then I figure you’re fine.” He steps into the light, the resemblance undeniable. “Royal Abbott,” he says, offering a hand. “And you must be the reason my son’s truck’s still parked out front.”

You hesitate before shaking it. “I’m… I’m just a friend.”

Royal chuckles, low and knowing. “You’re definitely my boy’s type.”

That earns another blush from you, and you duck your head, muttering something about coffee. He doesn’t press, just pours himself a cup and glances out the window toward the fields.

“You eat yet?” he asks.

“Not yet.”

“Well, come on. I could use an extra set of hands before breakfast. You ever feed horses?”

You blink. “Not exactly part of my usual morning routine.”

He grins. “Then you’re about to learn.”

You grab your coat from the peg by the door and follow him out into the crisp air. The sun’s climbing, spreading gold across the frost-tipped grass. Royal leads you toward the fence where a few horses are already waiting, their breath misting in the cold.

“Here,” he says, handing you a flake of hay. “Hold your hand flat so they don’t get your fingers.”

You do as told, a little hesitant, but when the nearest horse noses forward and takes the hay from your palm, something in you eases. It’s grounding, the quiet snort of breath, the soft weight of its muzzle.

“You’re a natural,” Royal says. “They can tell when someone’s got a good heart.”

You laugh under your breath. “I think they can tell I smell like beer.”

He chuckles, adjusting a latch. “That too.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation-about where you’re from, how small towns all look the same at night, how you hadn’t planned on staying long. Royal listens without judgment, nodding occasionally, offering small bits of ranch wisdom that sound like advice even when they’re not.

You’re mid-sentence when his tone changes, light and teasing. “Careful, you’ve got an audience.”

You follow his gaze back toward the house. Rhett stands on the porch, leaning against a post, arms folded. The same hat from last night shadows his face. He’s watching you, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. The image sends heat to your cheeks, flashes of last night’s laughter, his hat tipping down as he kissed you. You clear your throat and look away quickly.

Royal catches the motion and hides a grin. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, heading toward the barn. “Try not to scare my horses.”

You turn back just as Rhett starts walking across the yard. His stride is unhurried, confident, the morning sun catching the stubble on his jaw. When he stops in front of you, he tips his hat up and studies your face.

“Morning,” he says. His voice is rough with sleep. “You’re even prettier in daylight.”

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You must say that to all your accidental houseguests.”

“Can’t,” he says easily. “You’re the first one.”

You shake your head. “Your dad already interrogated me, by the way.”

“Yeah?” His grin widens. “And you survived?”

“Barely. He invited me to help with chores. I think he likes me.”

“He’d have to,” Rhett says. “I already do.”

The line hangs between you, simple and sincere. You look past him to the fields, the horses, the steady quiet of the ranch. “This is… nice,” you admit. “All of it. Kind of makes me want to stay.”

He steps a little closer, his smile soft now. “Maybe you should.”

You meet his eyes. “Maybe I’d consider it, if it’s like this all the time.”

His hand finds yours, warm against the morning chill. “It can be,” he says. “Least I can do is make you some breakfast and prove it.”

You laugh. “You cook too?”

“When I’ve got a reason.” He squeezes your hand gently and nods toward the house. “Come on, before Dad eats everything.”

You let him lead you back through the yard, boots crunching over the frosty grass. The porch creaks under your steps, the smell of coffee and wood smoke drifting from inside.

For a moment, you glance over your shoulder, the wide field, the quiet horses, the sun turning everything gold, and think maybe this small, accidental stop in a nowhere town was worth taking after all.

Inside, Rhett hands you a mug and opens a carton of eggs with an easy smile. “Hope you like breakfast messy,” he says.

You were halfway down the cereal isle, trying to decide which one was best for your lazy mornings, when a voice called out behind you. Cursing to yourself, you turned around, that something that pulled you here revealing itself faster than you thought.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Royal Abbott. The man who was like a father to you when you had nobody else. He was older now, lines carved deeper into his weathered face, but the steady weight of his gaze was the same. Calm, sharp, like he could still see right through her.

“Royal,” you greeted, your smile wide.

“It’s been what, ten years?” he said, pushing the brim of his hat back. “Thought I saw a ghost walkin’ past the produce section.”

“I visit here sometimes,” that was a lie. “You’ve just never caught me before.”

They exchanged polite updates about their current lives, he asked after your mother, you told him about life since you’d left. When he suggested lunch, you hesitated, then agreed. This was going to lead somewhere either really good, or really bad.

The diner was quiet that afternoon, the smell of frying bacon and strong coffee hanging in the air. Royal asked more questions, listening with that measured patience of his. You returned the courtesy, inquiring about Perry, about Cecilia, and then, with a careful, almost offhand tone, about Rhett.

Royal’s eyes flickered, the kind of look that suggested he was weighing his words. He never knew what happened between you and his son the night you left town, the only person who had witnessed the fight being Cecilia. She spared him the details. “He’s around,” he said. “Workin’ the ranch. Keepin’ busy.”

You only nodded, though your gaze dropped to your coffee cup. You hadn’t seen Rhett since the night your friendship shattered in an argument too loud for the porch to contain. And it was your fault. And now, after all these years, the thought of him was still a knot in your chest.

Royal sipped his coffee, then set the mug down with a quiet clink. “You know,” he said, almost casually, “you oughta come by the ranch. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the place. We’ve made a few changes.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the handle of your cup. The ranch was more than a piece of land, it was summers spent racing through fields with Rhett, nights under skies so black and full of stars it felt like the world had no end. It was also the place you last stood, red-faced and shouting, tears running down your face before driving away for good.

Royal seemed to read the hesitation in your eyes. He reaches forward and grabs your hand, running him thumb over it in a comforting way. It made you smile, forgetting how much you missed this

“It’d be good,” he added gently, “for all of us.”

Soon, you found yourself agreeing before you knew what you were getting yourself into.

————

The gravel crunched under the tires as you pulled into the drive later that afternoon behind Royals truck. The ranch looked almost exactly the same, weathered fences, the barn casting its long shadow across the pasture, cattle grazing lazily in the late-summer sun. You stepped out of your car, dust kicking up and you lightly tapped a rock in front of you, procrastinating walking yourself up to the house.

As you stuffed your hands in your sweater pocket and began to walk toward the house, your legs trembled slightly. Cecilia was on the porch, wiping her hands on a dish towel when she finally made eye contact with you. Her expression froze for just a moment when she recognized who was with Royal.

“Well,” Cecilia said, her voice even but cold. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You offered a small smile, unsure if it was welcome. “Hi, Mrs. Abbott. It’s… been a while.”

“That it has,” Cecilia replied. She didn’t step forward, just studied you for a long beat, as if weighing something unspoken. They both knew what had happened, how it had ended with Rhett, the shouting, the slammed door. But then, slowly, Cecilia’s face softened. She came down the porch steps and placed a warm, steady hand on your shoulder. “And it’s Cecilia, no Mrs. Abbott. It’s good to see you, though. Really. I mean that.”

After a few minutes of chatting, Royal had gone inside with Cecilia, leaving you on the porch for a moment. The air was warm, the kind that carried the hum of cicadas and the faint scent of hay. You let your gaze wander over the fields, hoping to see anybody else in the Abbott family, Perry, Amy…and that’s when she saw him.

Rhett was by the fence line, working a stubborn post into the ground. He was broader than you remembered, the years adding muscle and a steadier way of moving. His hat shaded his face, but even from this distance, you could tell it was him. For a moment you panicked, and thought about slipping inside, avoiding the collision altogether. But then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, he straightened and turned toward the house. His eyes found yours. He froze.

The post dropped from his hands. And then he was moving, fast, the kind of run that didn’t care about dust or distance. Your breath caught as he closed the space between you, his hat tumbling off somewhere along the way. Before you could say a word, his arms were around you, lifting you clean off your feet. You let out a startled laugh, your hands clinging to his shoulders as he spun you in a wide, dizzying circle. It was the kind of hug that said more than words could, the kind that held years of absence, and maybe something else neither of you could name yet.

But as your feet touched the porch again, the warmth of his hold sent you reeling backward into memory…

Your voice sharp with frustration, his face flushed, the sound of a screen door slamming in the dark. You’d told him to grow up. He’d told you to leave if you really wanted to. You remembered the way his eyes had looked in that last moment, hurt, stubborn, and so unlike the boy you’d grown up with-

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice cut through the memory, low and rough from breathlessness, “I thought I was seein’ things.” his country accent was smooth, like music to your ears. And just like that, the years between you vanished.

You stepped back just enough to look at him, still a little breathless from the hug. “You look different,” you said, though it wasn’t entirely true. He was still Rhett, still the boy you’d known, but with something heavier settled behind his eyes.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Guess you do too. But I’d know you anywhere.” He scratched at the back of his neck, a nervous habit you remembered well. “I kept tabs on you, y’know. Heard things. Saw a few pictures online when you didn’t think anybody was lookin’. Folks talk.”

Your chest tightened. “You did?”

“’Course I did,” he said, like it was obvious. “Couldn’t just forget you.”

You stared at the worn boards of the porch under their boots. “I wanted to call,” you admitted quietly. “More times than I can count. But every time I picked up the phone… I’d see it again. That night. The way we yelled at each other. The way you looked at me when I left.”

The smile faded from his face, replaced by a tightness in his jaw. For a second, it seemed like he might say something about it, argue, explain, maybe even apologize, but instead, he glanced toward the door.

“C’mon,” he said abruptly, reaching for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Let’s get you inside before Cecilia starts wonderin’ why I’m keepin’ you out here in the heat.” And before you could protest, he was pulling you over the threshold, the lingering ghost of your old fight trailing behind you.

The Abbott house smelled exactly the way you remembered, warm bread, coffee lingering from earlier in the day, a faint undertone of cedar from the old wood beams. Rhett didn’t let go of your hand until they reached the kitchen, where Cecilia and Royal were standing by the counter. Cecilia’s eyes immediately dropped to where your hands were joined, and her expression tightened just enough for the air to shift. She looked at her son, then at you, and something wary flickered in her gaze. Rhett finally released you, but only to step close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. It was subtle, but it made the distance between you feel nonexistent.

Cecilia busied herself straightening the dish towel in her hands, then leaned slightly toward Royal, her voice dropping to a whisper. “This is exactly what I was worried about-” Royal cut her off with a low, annoyed grunt, shooting her a look that said not now. It was enough to make Cecilia straighten and press her lips together.

When she turned back, her smile was faint but polite. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?” she asked, though it sounded more like a decision than a question.

The words caught you off guard, but you nodded. “I’d like that.”

Rhett grinned, already moving toward the fridge. “Good. You’re not gettin’ away that easy.”

Somewhere deep down, you knew Cecilia’s watchful eyes would follow you all evening, but the idea of leaving right now didn’t cross your mind once.

The Abbott dining table felt just as you remembered, long enough to fit everyone, the polished wood nicked with years of family meals and conversations that went on long after the plates were cleared.

Royal sat at the head, trading stories with Perry, who was already filling you in on every ridiculous thing that had happened in town since you’d left, happy to see the girl he saw as his little sister back at the dinner table. Amy sat beside you, bright-eyed and eager, asking question after question about where you’d been, what you’d seen, and if you still liked Mrs. Winslow’s lemon bars from the café.

Rhett stayed close, his arm brushing yours now and then as he reached for something. He laughed at nearly everything you said, like he couldn’t help it, and the sound made something deep in your chest ache in the best and worst ways. Everyone was warm, welcoming, everyone except Cecilia.

Cecilia sat across from you, calm and composed, her fork moving slowly through her food. Every so often, she’d ask a question in that careful, measured tone that could pass for polite to anyone who didn’t know her.

“So,” Cecilia said between sips of iced tea, “what brings you back after all this time?”

The question was simple, but it landed heavy. You hadn’t planned for this- hadn’t expected to be sitting here at all. You told herself you were just passing through, just stopping to pick up a few things from town. But something had pulled you back to Wabang.

You missed this table. You missed the sound of everyone talking over each other. You missed Rhett’s laugh. You missed this family like it had once been your own. Hell, it was your own. “After Ma passed a few months back i just…just needed to see home again,” you said carefully, though your voice caught slightly on the last word. You didn’t think about your mom much. Didn’t talk about it too much. But you missed her, flaws and all, very deeply.

Cecilia studied you for a beat, her expression giving nothing away. Then she nodded once, as if filing the answer away somewhere private. “I’m sorry about your mother. She was a good woman.”

The conversation at the table carried on, Royal telling a story that made Perry laugh so hard he had to set his glass down, but every now and then, you caught Cecilia’s eyes on you, quiet and assessing. And though your smile never faded, you could still feel the weight of those questions unspoken. The kitchen was warm with the hum of conversation drifting in from the dining room, the clink of plates and running water filling the rest of the space. You stood at the sink beside Amy, passing dishes back and forth, one scrubbing, the other rinsing.

Amy giggled at nearly everything you said, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Amy said for what felt like the third time. “Uncle Rhett’s been acting so weird lately, and now I think I know why.”

You laughed softly, flicking a bit of suds toward Amy, who shrieked and splashed you back with warm water. It was easy with Amy, like no time had passed at all. From across the room, Rhett leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them. He wasn’t smiling wide, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there at the table, a look that said he was content just to see you there again, so quickly fitting back into the edges of his life.

The moment was so natural that you didn’t notice Cecilia until her voice cut in from behind Rhett. “Amy, sweetheart, why don’t you take those towels and help your granddad outside?” Amy glanced between them, reluctant, but she obeyed, giving you a big hug before slipping past Cecilia with one last smile toward you.

Cecilia stepped into her place beside the sink, watching as you continued to scrub the dishes. “You’ve still got a way with her,” she said softly.

You smiled faintly, unsure how to respond. “She’s always been easy to love. I left when she was so young.”

“I know.” Cecilia’s tone stayed gentle, but there was a weight in it now. She pick up the towel Any left behind, folding it neatly on the counter before meeting your eyes. “And so has my son.” The words settled heavily between them.

“I want you to know something,” Cecilia continued. “I’ve missed you. I’ve loved you the same as I always did. You were like my only daughter. But I love my son more. And I won’t see him hurt the way he was the night you left.” She paused, her gaze steady. “I saw everything that happened that night.”

Her throat felt tight, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. “If you’re going to be back in this family’s life,” Cecilia said quietly, “you’d better make sure it stays that way, without the heartbreak.”

The only sound in the kitchen was the faint clatter of silverware being set down somewhere in the dining room.

“I understand,” you whispered. Cecilia gave a small nod, then picked up another plate to dry as if nothing had just been said.

Rhett stepped into the kitchen, his boots scuffing lightly against the tile. “Hey,” he said, glancing between the two women, oblivious to the charged quiet hanging in the air. “You wanna get outta here for a bit? Go down to The Buckhorn, grab a few drinks… properly catch up?”

Before you could answer, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek. “Love you, Ma.” Cecilia softened instantly under the gesture, her expression warmer.

She gave him a small push toward the door. “Go on, then.”

He reached for your hand without hesitation, tugging you gently toward the hallway. You glanced back over your shoulder, giving Cecilia a small wave. This time, Cecilia smiled, really smiled, like the edges of her earlier words had softened, if only for a moment.

————

The Buckhorn was loud in the easy, familiar way a small-town bar always was, country music on the jukebox, low chatter at the tables, the smell of beer and fried food hanging in the air. Two drinks turned into four, four turned into six, and now you sat side by side in a booth, both leaning forward over the table, laughing so hard you were nearly doubled over.

“I’m telling you, it was your idea,” you said, wiping at your eyes. “You were the one who said we could sneak into the feed store and ‘borrow’ the pellets for your slingshot.”

Rhett pointed at you, grinning so wide it hurt. “Nope. Not true. That was you, darlin’. You were the one who said it’d be fine ‘cause Mr. Talbot liked you.”

You gasped in mock outrage. “You’re misremembering on purpose. And you know it!” You both went back and forth, interrupting each other with half-finished sentences and bursts of laughter, neither willing to give up the point.

Somewhere between the banter and the clink of glasses, it felt like you’d slipped right back into the rhythm you lost years ago, like the fight, the years apart, the ache of what had been broken was just background noise to this moment.

Your laughter ebbed in fits and starts, little echoes fading between you until only the low hum of the jukebox and the clink of ice in your glasses filled the space. Rhett leaned back in the booth, still smiling faintly, but his eyes had shifted, less mischief, more weight. He turned his beer bottle slowly in his hands, watching the condensation bead and slide down the glass.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice lower now, “we’ve been sittin’ here all night, talkin’ ‘bout every damn thing except the one thing we probably should.”

Your smile faltered, the air between you suddenly heavier. “Rhett…” He looked at you then, his gaze unsteady in the way only someone tipsy and raw could manage.

“That night.” His voice caught slightly. “The night it all went to hell. We never talked about it. Not once. We just… stopped. You just left.”

You sat back, heart thudding. “You told me to leave. We were kids. We didn’t know how to-“

“No.” He shook his head, leaning forward, elbows on the table now, eyes locked on yours. “We knew exactly what we were doin’. I just… I don’t understand what the hell happened between us.”

Your throat tightened. Without thinking, you reached for your glass and threw back the rest of your tequila, the burn giving you something else to focus on for a second. You lost count of how many you’ve tossed back at this point. You set it down harder than you meant to, the sound sharp in the quiet that had settled around them.

When you finally looked back at him, he was already watching you, impressed at the way you finished your drink, but there was something else there too. His face was flushed from the alcohol, but his eyes, God, his eyes, were bright with something that looked far too close to tears.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “I missed everything about you.”

The words hung there, fragile and dangerous, and you knew whatever you said next would pull them further into the past they’d both been avoiding.

You swallowed hard, tracing the rim of your glass with trembling fingers. “You have to understand,” you finally said, voice low and uneven, “I was with someone back then. Someone I loved. And all those feelings between us, they made everything so complicated. I couldn’t just… fall into this with you, Rhett. Not then. Not like that.”

He stared at you, the faintest shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Why couldn’t you just let me be happy?” you asked, voice breaking. “Why couldn’t you just let me be happy?”

He took a breath, leaning closer, his words thick with emotion. “I couldn’t let you be happy-“

His sentence was cut short by a familiar voice from the entrance of the bar.

“Well, look who’s back in town.”

You and Rhett both turned toward the doorway. There, standing like a deer in headlights, was him, Boone, your ex. The one who had sparked the fight that fractured everything between you and Rhett. The one you believed was worth leaving everything you actually loved for. His grin was wide, teeth flashing as he pushed off the wall and strode over like he owned the place. Without hesitation, he dropped his arms around you, pulling you into a big, almost possessive hug. There was lots of hugs being passed around today. His hands then cupped your face, fingers tracing her jaw, and to your surprise he kissed you, soft but claiming in a way.

Rhett’s jaw tightened as he watched, his eyes darkening with a storm you’d never seen before. He took a long chug from his beer, trying to steady the anger bubbling under his skin.

Boone pulled back, still holding your face, smiling like he’d won something. “I missed you,” he said, voice low, but full of smug satisfaction. “Why did you come back? after we parted ways i knew, i just knew you’d come back at some point.”

You pulled away slightly, cheeks flushing, not just from the unexpected kiss but from the tequila already working its way through you. The mix of relief, and confusion tangled inside your chest.

As Boone launched into a casual catch-up, asking about where you’d been and what you’d been doing, you found yourself nodding along, words coming out automatically, all while Rhett sat across the table, watching, his expression unreadable snd fierce. As you spoke, the idea that you once loved Boone became more and more confusing. You wondered if you ever actually did, or if it was just something to pass the time, to make your life easier.

You looked into Boone’s eyes, your voice softer now. Even if you never did love him, he deserved closure. “I’m sorry. For how things ended between us.”

He sighed, the warmth in his smile fading. “Yeah… me too.”

You shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at your lips. “It’s just what I do, I guess. Leave. I don’t know why.”

He reached out, hands settling gently on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “Come back with me tonight. Let’s try again.”

You opened your mouth to say no, to explain, but before the words could leave her, Rhett was already out of his seat. You didn’t notice how long he was standing there, waiting for you to walk away from Boone. But you never did. Rhett never gave you the chance.

His fists flew faster than you could process, and the bar erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped back, and voices shouted as Rhett and Boone collided in a brutal, no-holds-barred fight on the floor.

People scrambled to pull them apart, arms grappling, bodies straining, but neither would give an inch. Rhett was on top of Boone, his one hand holding the collar of Boone’s shirt, the other in a fist flying repeatedly towards his face. Boone didn’t stand a chance, trying to both block from the hits and shove Rhett off of him. He got a few good hits, but it wasn’t much help.

You rolled your eyes and stepped back just enough to grab a glass of whiskey off a passing server’s tray, tipping it back in one long chug, the burn grounding you once again. Seven drinks now? Maybe. Then you stepped forward, voice sharp and commanding. “Rhett! Get off him.”

You leaned down and grabbed the back of his jacket, and yanked him upwards, the adrenaline giving you the extra strength to move the large man. He looked startled as you pushed him back against the wall, steadying his rage with firm pressure and a hand on his chest. Once he was calm, you turned to Boone, helping him to his feet.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Grabbing your sweater from the chair, you didn’t look back as you stormed out into the cool night air.

Behind you, Rhett followed, his lip split and bleeding, knuckles raw and bruised, but his eyes never left you.

Rhett’s truck rumbled to life, the engine’s low growl filling the space between them as you pulled away from the bar. The cab was thick with silence, thick enough to press against your chest. Rhett kept stealing glances at you, his jaw tight, eyes searching. But you stared straight ahead, hands clenched in your lap, refusing to meet his gaze or speak a word. The road stretched out in front of them, the only sound the tires humming against the asphalt and the occasional creak of the truck settling. When you finally pulled into the ranch, you opened the door and slammed it hard behind you, the sharp crack echoing in the quiet night.

Fumbling with your keys, your fingers trembled as you tried to unlock your car door. You knew driving right now was the worst idea, the alcohol hitting you in waves at this point. Rhett’s footsteps came quick behind you, boots thudding on gravel.

“Wait!” he called, voice rough but desperate.

You didn’t turn, hurriedly sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

“Hey!” Before you could pull away, he reached out, grabbing your arm.

You twisted sharply, yanking free and shoving him back with more force than you intended as you stepped out of the car.

The space between you crackled with tension, anger, pain.

The night was thick, the kind that settles in your bones and won’t let go.

you were younger then, freshly eighteen, with tears streaming down your cheeks as you ran from the ranch, the gravel crunching beneath your boots. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, hands shaking as you wiped at your face, desperate to stop the flood of tears you couldn’t hold back.

“Of course you’re gonna leave!” a voice called after you, raw and furious. A younger Rhett was pounding across the yard, his anger spilling out like wildfire. “That’s what you do best! You run the moment things get hard!”

You spun around, voice rising with a mixture of hurt and defiance. “What do you know about my life? About anything?”

“I know more than you think. You’re my best friend, I know everything about you!”

“I love him!” you shouted, voice cracking. “I love Boone! I don’t love you! Why can’t you just accept that?”

Rhett’s jaw clenched, eyes burning with something she hadn’t seen before. It’s almost as if you could see his heart breaking as you uttered the words ‘I don’t love you.’

“I won’t accept it. Because I know you. You don’t love him the way you think you do. You love the comfort. The stability. The easy way out.” His hands were waving, trying to get his point across. “You belong here! with me, on this ranch. But you’re too blind to see it. Too stupid.” He says, anger in his voice.

He flinches at his insult, it felt so wrong to say to you, but he didn’t take it back. Rhett knows you love him. He refused to believe that you couldn’t feel the same way he did. Hopelessly, head over heels in love with his best friend.

You shook your head, tears spilling again. “No, Rhett. You’re the stupid one. You need to let me be happy.” Without another word, you turned, climbed into your truck, and drove away, leaving everything behind, including him.

Back in the present, the night air was heavy around you, Rhett’s breath still rough from the fight at the bar. You swallowed hard, the memory burning fresh in your mind, as they stood just yards apart, both knowing the wounds of that night hadn’t fully healed.

Suddenly you shoved him hard again, purely out of anger and defiance, the heel of your hand driving him back against the side of the truck. Your words spilled out in a messy rush, slurred by the whiskey and tequila burning through your system.

“This was a mistake. Coming back here was a goddamn mistake.” Your voice cracked as you screamed, the pain and anger pouring out like a flood. “What the hell is wrong with you?“

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “What the fuck do you want from me? Why do you even care?”

Rhett’s face twisted with a mix of desperation and frustration. His voice rose, breaking through your storm of words.

“I care because I’m still in love with you!” He took a breath, the weight of years in his gaze. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Since the day I helped you up after you scraped your knee falling off your bike.”

Rhett’s voice cracked as he raised his hands in frustration, the ache of years bottled up spilling out in every word. “I couldn’t stand watchin’ you with him back then. Hell, I couldn’t even stand watchin’ you with him tonight, in that bar. I wanted to kill him, take his place. Watching him kiss you like that, like you’re his. I wanted you all to myself.”

His hat hit the ground with a sharp thud, and he ran a hand through his hair, breath shaky. “I want you happy. With me. Nobody else. Just like back then. You loved me. You’re lying to yourself if you say anything else.” He stepped closer, eyes searching yours desperately. “I want you here. With me. Until we’re old. I’ve never stopped thinkin’ about you, not once.”

The words hung heavy in the cool night air, raw and filled with longing. You shook your head, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, voice breaking as you whispered, “Rhett, please...”

He took a step closer, his anger softening into something more vulnerable, more real. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you close, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“Tell me you don’t want this too,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me you haven’t thought about me every single day since you’ve left, the same way I’ve thought about you.” His breath caught, and he held you tighter. “And if you say it... I’ll let you go. I’ll never speak to you again. I’ll let you go and be happy, live your cookie-cutter lifestyle with Boone.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with all the words they hadn’t said, and the ones you both desperately wanted to hear.

He waited for you to answer, but you said nothing, just stood there, breath raggedy, eyes glistening in the dim light. Slowly, Rhett leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours. He hissed slightly at his fresh split lip grazing against yours as you kissed him back. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like you were both afraid to break the fragile thread holding you together. You tasted like vanilla lip gloss and whisky, sweet and sharp all at once, and it sent a shiver down his spine. His hands moved with growing confidence, fingers curling into the back of your sweater as the kiss deepened.

Without breaking the connection, he pressed your back against the cool metal of the truck. Your breath all but stops as his mouth claimed yours harder, urgency igniting between you. He lifted you into his arms effortlessly, your legs winding tightly around his waist, pulling you even closer together. For the first time in years, all the walls you’d built crumbled in that one, fierce kiss, finally feeling what you both imagined their whole lives. He deepened the kiss, his lips trailing from yours down to the sensitive skin of your neck. Even never having touched you in this way, Rhett somehow knew exactly how to drive you wild. Your fingers, a little unsteady and bold from the drinks, found the buckle of his belt, fumbling with it as you pressed closer.

A low murmur escaped Rhett, finding it hard to collect his thoughts as you undid his jeans. “Do you want to take this to my room?”

You shook your head, breath hot against his skin. “No… I need you now. Can’t wait. Besides, nobody’s awake anyway.

He smiled against your neck, warm and full of promise. Slowly, finally, his belt came undone, loosening just enough, and he placed you down while his other hand began to trace the curve of your jeans, undoing the buttons with careful intent. You paused for a moment, staring at Rhett, both pairs of jeans undone but neither of you sure what to do next.

Suddenly Rhett grabs you and turns you around, shuddering as he pushes your front against the cold metal of the truck. Any kind of gentleness was gone now, both of you just needing to feel something from the other. You hear his jeans settle lower, exposing him just enough to be able to fuck you, and slip them up quickly in case anybody came around. Soon enough your jeans were down too, your underwear also tugged to your knees and out of the way.

It wasn’t long before the positions were switched and Rhett leaned you forward more, hearing the sound of spit on his hand and slicking himself as he got himself ready. You used your hands to brace yourself on the edge of the truck as you felt him line himself up, pushing into you slowly. He shivered at the feeling of you, all but finishing right then and there. He imagined this moment over a thousand times, he never thought it would feel this good though.

You grunted at the feeling of him now fully seated inside you, neither of you moving to give you a chance to adjust. Rhett ran his hands up your back, rubbing the skin before his large hand landed on the back of your neck, silently asking permission to continue. you nodded quickly, not able to say a word, too desperate to feel something and too scared somebody was going to come out at any moment and catch you both. Soon enough, Rhett was pounding into you, the gravel crunching under your feet as you both tried to keep silent.

You shut your eyes tight and bit down on your lip so hard you swore you drew blood, but noises still began to slip out of your mouth. You couldn’t keep your balance anymore, holding onto the truck just wasn’t enough. The way he was moving wasn’t gentle. Rhett was releasing years of tension, frustration, and what felt like anger. Like he started out in a loving way and turned into wanting to punish you for ever leaving him in the first place. And yet, you loved every second of it.

“Fuck Rhett-“ you yelled at a particularly deep thrust as he hit your cervix hard, bruising it and for sure making it hard for you to walk after. He quickly slapped his hand over your mouth, and pulled you up as he continued to thrust, your back now against his chest.

“Quiet Darlin, before you wake up the whole ranch.” he says, his voice gruff, also trying to keep his moans at bay.

Soon Rhett’s thrusts became sloppy, and you both became a moaning mess. Basically drooling over how hard you were being fucked, he lets go of your mouth. You were so close now, both finally finishing at the same time with one final deep thrust.

After a few moments of standing there, panting, and taking in the moment of what just happened, Rhett slowly pulls out of you. You turn to face him, and he brushes the hair out of your sweat covered face, smiling softly. You’re both now pulling your pants back on, a quiet stillness settled between you, words caught somewhere between what had just happened and what they both felt but couldn’t quite say.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay? Did i hurt you? I wasn’t expecting it to…Be that rough, i meant.” Rhett looks guilty, staring at the rocks on the ground to avoid the contact with you, as if he had done something wrong.

you sighed, and pulled his hand towards your face, nuzzling into his warm palm. “I’m okay, i promise. It was amazing.”

Rhett’s fingers began brushing your chin until you met his gaze. His eyes were soft, vulnerable. “I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with feeling. “Please… never leave me again.”

Your breath hitched, and without hesitation, you whispered back, “I never will.”

The weight of those words hung between you, binding the past and the future in a fragile, hopeful promise.

——

The early morning light filtered softly through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the room. You stood by the counter, wrapped in Rhett’s oversized shirt, the fabric still smelling faintly of him. The night after the truck was spent in his room, laughing, memories being shared, sex as many times as you guys were able to. You’ve never been happier other than in this moment.

Your hands cradled a steaming mug of coffee as you moved quietly, careful not to break the fragile calm that had settled after last night. In the room down the hall, Rhett waited, the door left slightly ajar, giving you the space you needed, but close enough that you could feel him there.

The silence was interrupted by the soft creak of the back door opening. Cecilia stepped inside, her presence gentle but steady. For a moment, you both simply looked at each other, no words, just a quiet understanding in the shared space.

Then Cecilia’s voice broke the silence, soft but clear. “Are you sticking around this time?”

You turned to face her, a small, confident smile playing at your lips. “You’ll have to get used to me being around.”

Cecilia’s face softened, and without hesitation, she stepped forward and pulled you into a big, warm hug. “It’s good to have you home, baby.”

The words wrapped around you like a promise, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she really was. Rhett’s footsteps were quiet but certain as he stepped into the kitchen, closing the door gently behind him. Cecilia, knowing when it’s her cue to leave, silently exits the kitchen. He paused when he saw you, wrapped in his shirt, the soft morning light catching the hint of a smile on your lips. To him, you’ve never looked more beautiful.

Without a word, he crossed the room and slipped his arms around you, resting his chin on her head. You leaned into him, the warmth of his embrace grounding you more than words ever could.

“We’ve got a lot to fix,” he murmured, voice low but sure. You nodded against him.

“I know. And I’m ready.”

For the first time in years, the past no longer felt like a weight between you, but a foundation, rough, imperfect, but yours.

you didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled when he was turning back to the board. you smiled at that moment, knowing you’d have him in the palm of your hand soon.

professor abbott was, to say the least, hot. some girls at the university took the class purely to be in the same room as him. at first, you were actually there to learn from him. he was the smartest professor at your university. you didn’t realize just how much you had to learn from him.

one day, you walked in, being the first to arrive and saw him with his outstretched on his desk, his long sleeve button down rolled to his elbows and hands splayed on the desk to hold himself up.

you took your usual seat, not taking your eyes off of him. the swell of his veins through his hands and forearms made you bite the inside of your cheek. you sat back in your crossing your legs along with your arms in front of your chest.

one small move created friction between your thighs, so you sat impossibly still. your eyes not leaving him.

he knew you starring. he knew it was you who walked in, you were always first, five minutes early- every. time.

he had a small smirk on his face as he watched you cross your legs when you sat down out of his peripherals. the reading glasses that sat on the tip of his nose didn’t really do anything, he wasn’t reading the essay in front of him, he was too busy concentrating on the girl sitting only a few feet from him.

your thighs pressed together as he looked up at you.

“good morning,” his thick, country drawl scratching at his raspy voice. you thank the universe that he still had the accent. it definitely helped you late at night in your dorm when your hand journeyed down your body.

“morning,” your voice just above a whisper. you sit up a little straighter, your hands now folded in your lap. your sun dress barely reaching mid thigh, you pulled it down ever so slightly. not because you felt as though your professor was creep but because you didn’t want his disappointment.

“your essay is good,” he said picking up the paper he was reading before you came in, “it was an… interesting read,”

“so you didn’t like it?” you questioned him.

his eyes narrowed at you, “did i say that?”

he went quiet as he waited for your answer. when you realized he actually wanted you to answer, you could feel your eyes glimmer with excitement.

he walked in front of his desk and leaned back on to it, his hands griped the desk as he holds himself up on it.

“no,” you answered louder than your ‘morning’ answer.

“what did i say?” he asked, now moving his arms to cross in front of him.

your eyes don’t stray from his, the shy smile on your lips grew, “my essay is good. it was an interesting read,”

“why do you think that?” he asked, his eyes slightly squinted at you, his head tilted to the side by half an inch.

you shrugged, “i don’t know,”

“i need a better answer than that,” he said gruffly.

your thighs clenched together again. his eyes darted down to your legs then back to your eyes.

“you do that a lot?” he asked.

“what?” you challenged. you made your voice lighter and softer as you said it, feigning innocence. you batted your lashes at him a couple times.

he chuckled deep in his chest and looked away from you. his eyes trained on the window, he pushes himself off his desk and walked close to you, stopping at your desk.

the desk you sat at stretched long both ways. there was a top but underneath was open.

you’ve daydreamed a lot about your professor under the table, under your sundress.

he splayed his hands on the desk, his arms stretched out.

boldness took over you. you reached out, tracing the veins on the back of his hands and up through his wrist to his forearm.

“i like these,”

“i didn’t ask,” he threw back at you but he didn’t move away. he allowed you to trace the veins once more.

you didn’t pay much attention to his harshness, you could see it in his eyes he didn’t want to be mean.

he just wanted to see what you’d do. he liked the boldness of you. he enjoyed that you didn’t back down from his firmness. you went along with his lewd language and was able to keep up.

you reached down to hand and lifts it. you traced the callouses on his palm and dragged two of your fingers down his thumb. you looked up to him bringing his thumb close to your lips.

you opened your mouth as the door at the back of the room opened.

your professor didn’t move his hand immediately, he waited for a second to see what you’d do. when you didn’t pull away or drop his hand, he stepped away.

he cleared his throat walking back or his desk, picking up your essay and placing it in a drawer at his desk.

you keep your eyes on him as he leans his hands on his own desk again, waiting for everyone to come in and sit down. he looked around the room before looking back at you. he had the ghost of a smirk before addressing the class and getting started.

this cat and mouse game, the back and forth went on for a few weeks.

it all changed today though. he gave you a B on the best essay you’d ever written. the read ink was scarce through your pages but it was still there.

you put on the dress you knew he liked, a short, white sundress with the thinnest material possible. you were going to torture him for this.

you showed up on times today. not five minutes before, not ten, right on time.

every time the door opened rhett’s eyes went to it, silently hoping you’d walk through the door. every time it wasn’t you his mouth formed a straight line and his jaw clenched.

where were you?

then you finally walk through the door.

rhett thought his teeth was going to shatter then way he barred down on them. his jaw might get locked from how hard he clenches it.

your white dress, the white dress, seemed shorter today, the material thinner. the black shoes you wear have a gold buckle on the top and your white socks had ruffles at the top of them.

your eyes didn’t move from his from the moment you walked in to the moment you sit down. your essay was already in your hand and set it down on the desk in front of you.

his eyes look down to it then back to you. a smile crossing his face, he nods slowly.

you knew exactly what he was doing and he knew exactly what he was doing.

even being in the room for thirty seconds you couldn’t stand his stare. his knowing stare.

you’re upset about that grade, huh? his eyes ask, what are you going to do about it?

his lips swipes his tongue across his bottom lip knowingly. his grin only grows when you stand, gripping your paper and walking to his desk.

rhett leans back in his chair crossing his arms, “yes ma’am?” he asks, the grin staying wide.

“a B?” you question, “this is the best essay i’ve ever written and you gave me a B?”

“is this really about the grade?” he asks lowly, leaning forward on the desk.

you pop out a hip, hand on his desk and lean down, “what’s that supposed to mean professor abbott?”

his eyes drift down to your chest then back up. he stands, towering over you, “take your seat,” he demands in the same low tone.

“you don’t get to order me around,”

his brows raise at your defiance. his grin turning in a slow smirk, “sit down,” the demand was raspier, more firm. it sent a shiver down your spine.

you huff and turned walking back or your desk, he calls you by your last name with a miss in front of it, “see me after class,”

you roll your eyes sitting down in your seat. you don’t take notes the whole class, you just sit there seething.

an hour later and a half later the room clears out.

rhett wipes the board, not turning around until he hears the door click shut. even then, he only spares a glance around the room. his eyes landing on you and smile gracing his handsome, but stupid face.

“your attitude gone now?”

“no,” the short, curt answer didn’t make him happy.

he turns from the board to face you, “you don’t care about that grade,” he nods to the paper in front of you, “if you did, you wouldn’t have showed up in that little dress i like. you wouldn’t have leaned down like that an hour and half ago. you wouldn’t be sitting there with your legs crossed,”

you look down and see your legs crossed, your thigh aching from how they clenched through out the class.

“you piss me off,” you tell him, but you don’t move your legs.

“uncross your legs,” he challenges you.

“no,” you challenge back, “i’m not a child. you don’t get to tell me what i can and can’t do.”

“i think you want me to,” he accuses walking up to your desk, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward on them.

“you think i’m here in this dress,” you begin tracing the veins of his handsome again, “to beg you to fuck me in your classroom so you’ll give me a better grade?”

“is that what you want?” he asks you.

you stare at him through your lashes, “do you?”

“i asked you a question,” he says putting his knee forward, bumping yours.

“so did i,”

“you need to learn some manners,” he says taking his hand away from yours as you lift it.

you frown as he takes away his hand. the tow of you have a starring contest. he lifts his boot pushing your legs apart and settling it centimeters away from you.

“you can have my hand back, say please,”

you wanted to be weirded out. you wanted to hate this. you wanted yourself to want to stand up, tell this guy to fuck off and leave but you just couldn’t.

“please,” you say in the softest voice you could manage that wasn’t a whisper.

rhett smiles, pushing his boot into you. the friction causing your thighs to squeeze his boot.

he lays his hands back in front of you, your finger tracing the veins again. you lift his hand bringing it closer to your mouth. his thumb sticks out and lays itself on your tongues. your mouth closes around it. your tongue swirls the finger and suck at it slightly.

your eyes never move from his. his float to your mouth every now and then but mainly stay on your eyes.

you shift your lower half forward rubbing against his boot. you moan against his finger. there’s a low groan the comes from his throat.

his other fingers softly grip your jaw, tilting your head up. he takes his thumb out your mouth putting it into his own, then pulls it back out.

you frown and stand, already missing the connect his boot had with you. you walk around the desk and stand inc front of him.

“now what?” you ask, inches from his face.

his hands places themselves on your cheeks, but most of his hand is on your jaw. he pulls you forward, connecting his lips to yours. your hands grip his button down, fistfuls of the shirt being pulled towards you.

you moan against his lips and he smiles at the sound. his kisses move from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. he finds your pressure point, that one specific vein and licks it. he kisses it again and sucks the area.

“fuck,” you breathe out, your head falling back and to the side to give him more room. his hands roam down to your thighs, he squeeze them and pats one. you get the hit and hop up, he pulls you and settles you on the desk.

his hands float back up to your waist, under your dress, kneading at your skin. you were so soft against his calloused hands. you assumed he was a country man of sorts. his boots and stetson hat gave away a lot. you thought it was hot.

his lips find yours again. it was easy for them too. his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and your mouth opens quick. he tasted good, the marlboro was an easy taste to identify. you thought of the smoke leaving his mouth just to invade your own.

you were growing impatient. your hands journeyed down and started to unbutton his shirt, he pulls away to give you some air.

“this fucking shirt,” you murmur looking down at the buttons.

“you got a mouth on you,” he tells you, replacing your hands with his own and unbuttoning the shirt and taking it off way quicker than you ever could.

“do something about it,” you tell him in a sultry voice with a smile he couldn’t refuse.

he matches your smile and grabs your hips, pulling you towards him and off the table. you land on your feet and he spins the two of you around, knowing he’ll need something to lean back on.

“knees. now,”

you follow his instructions quickly, falling to your knees. you stare at his belt buckle, its huge, you lift your hands and undo his belt, then his button and zip to his blue jeans. you pull his jeans and boxers down at the same time.

his cock springs free and damn it if it’s not the biggest one you’ve ever seen. you haven’t had much experience but fuck, it was big.

you look u pat him with doe eyes and open your mouth, you stick your tongue out and lick his cock from the base all the way to the tip. leaving the tip with a kiss.

“come on pretty girl, don’t keep me waiting. put that pretty mouth to good use,” he says, his hands going to the back of your head and gripping your hair.

“yes sir,” it was the first time you didn’t respond with an attitude or a quick comeback- you couldn’t even think with his cock so close to you.

“you do like being ordered around,” he tells you.

you sink it into your mouth, your tongue under it. you feel his tip touch the back of your throat and you haven’t even made it to his base yet.

“oh fuck,” he breathes, watching you take his cock deep into your mouth.

you pull back, taking your hand and stroking it first. rhett brings his hand up that was gripping the desk and spits in his hand, he lowers it down to you, “spit,” you spit into his hand and he strokes himself with you.

you drag your tongue across his slit where pre cum has formed and sink your mouth on him again. his hand grips your hair tighter as he begins to guided you.

“look at me,” he demands, your eyes dart up to his.

his hips buck once and tears form at the corners of your eyes. he pushes your head a few times careful not to hurt you.

his other hand comes to your cheek and his thumb wipes at the tear coming down your face, “you’re doing good,” he praises, “ain’t never had someone this good,” he tells you, “you’re good, pretty too,”

the wetness between your thighs grows. you’d have a spot on your underwear if you had any.

he pulls you back, “good girl,” he murmurs pulling up up to him again. he turns the two of you again so you’re back is to the table, he lowers himself. he lifts you dress up and chuckles.

“yeah you didn’t just come here upset about a grade, did you?” he asks dragging his thumb through you.

you shudder at the feeling, shaking your head, “mmm mmm,”

“words,” he says, continuing to drag his thumb through you.

“no. no i didn’t. mr. abbott- please,”

“call me rhett darlin,” he tells him.

“r-rhett… please,”

“please what?” he asks, quickening his pace, then focusing on your clit.

“fuck me, please,” you whine.

“that’s better,” he takes his hand from, earning another whine from you, licks his thumb like it’s nothing and and grabs you under your thighs. he lifts you and you’re fast to wrap your legs around him.

he turns and walks a little laying you on his desk.

he pulls you closer to him, lining himself up with your entrance.

he pushes into you slowly, his hands griping your hips. you’ll definitely have bruises when it’s all said and done but the painful let good. so so good.

you’d let this man ruin your life and you think you’re already letting him do it right now.

he pushes in further, you let out a slightly pained whine, “too big,”

“you’re doing so good,” he says as he begins moving back and forth.

it hurts but you like it. a lot. the stretch, the grip his hands have on you, his words. you hang onto his words.

“taking me so well,” he tells you in a cooing voice. he reaches up moving some hair out of your face, “look at me baby,”

you open your eyes to se whim looking at you. his eyes full of amazement and bliss.

“you okay?” he asks, you nod, “words darlin,”

“i feel… really good sir, thank you,” you squeeze your eyes shut as he bottoms out. he stays there for a moment, closing his own eyes and cursing under his breath.

“there’s those manners, good girl,” he says. he starts rubbing your hips, knowing his grip was firm.

you wanted to roll your eyes, to be a brat but you just couldn’t. you didn’t want to stop the pure bliss running through your veins.

rhett picks up the pace, back and forth, finding a rhythm with your hips that are moving but only barely.

your hands find his wrists, you wanted to feel all of him. he pulls you up by grabbing your worst and holding you close to his chest. one hand holding himself up on the desk and the other on your lower back keeping you up.

your nails claw at his back, he loans from the feeling. the feeling of your nails, your chest on his, you.

you were warm and he liked it, fuck did he like it. if he could stop and just stay like this forever he’d gladly take the offer.

“rhett, will you… please,” he knew what you were saying, he reaches down between you two and rubs circles on your clit. slow and sensual at first, your moans and whines and huff telling him to move back.

“come on baby,” he tells you in a deep voice, right near you ear.

you can feel it building up inside you, higher and higher begging to be let out.

“faster,”

“me or my finger?” he asks.

“you,” you breathe out.

his hips pick up pace immediately, back and forth, the sloppy sounds of you slick between the two of you, skin on skin. it was loud in the big room.

“shit, darlin,” he says keeping his pace.

“r-rhett-”

“go ahead,”

the permission sent you over the edge. your hands tangle in his hair, lightly pulling- you needed something to hold on to. your mouth coming down on his shoulder, biting to keep the moans from being to loud.

“fuck,” you moan against his shoulder.

“can i come inside you darlin?” he asks, the question of consent made you go even more crazy. you nod against his shoulder.

the bite sent him over the edge. a few more pumps and he was gone. his knees shake slightly, his hand moving to you middle back, keeping you close as you both twitch. he leans forward, moving his other to keep him up on the desk, not letting you down on it.

he shudders against you, you matching the same shudder. thank god you always remember your birth control.

after a few moments, you move your teeth from his skin. you kiss the bite a few times, apologizing.

“sorry about that,” you tell him.

“you can do that to me whenever you like darlin,” he tells you, his thumb making small circles on your back, “you’re heaven,”

you latch onto him, keeping yourself up right. you pull your head back to look at him. his gaze is dazed and euphoric.

he pulls out, slipping his boxers and jeans back on along with his shirt, once he’s dressed, he helps you off the desk: your thighs ached in a delicious way and your hips were sore. you loved it.

his hands ghost your hips, “you okay?”

“never been better,” you smile up at him, helping him button up his shirt.

he matches it, leaning down and kissing you. the kissing was soft and sweet… at first. then the both of you became hungry for more, but when your eyes caught the clock behind him you pull back.

“you have a class in five minutes,” you say biting your lower lip.

“you think i care when you’re here in front of me?” he asks.

“it’s your job,” you tell him, “we can do this again. right?” you look at him, making your eyes wide and glossy. a pleading stare.

“whenever you’d like darlin,”

you give him a kiss on the cheek, “bye mr. abbott,”

he gives you a bye back adding your lat name with a miss in front of it.

you weren't uncomfortable but you definitely felt out of place. your eyes were darting around trying to take everything. your eyes were lit up with curiosity and wonder.

"oh there's some open seats," your friend, sarah, exclaims pointing and then pulling a little too hard towards them. you're sat front row.

now you're sat near the bulls entrance to the arena. your eyes were glued to the men getting ready to hop on one of the animals.

one of the bulls jerks in the rails and your body tenses.

"easy girl," sarah pats your knee, "you're so tense. ease up."

you eyes still haven't left the rails.

one man climbs the rails and sits atop the bull. his blue jeans melting nicely with the chaps he wears. you could see his belt buckle from here. his long sleeve plaid button down with a brown vest over it looked good on him. his dark brown hat tried to hide long curls but you saw them poking out from under the hat.

"who's that?" you ask nodding to the man.

sarah smiles, "why? you like what you see?" she asks.

you roll your eyes with a smile and nudge her with your shoulder, "oh hush, seriously who is that?"

the rail opens and the bull rushes out already trying to buck the cowboy off. his hand is tight on the reins with his other lifted high in the air. he reaches up to his hat and pulls it off holding it.

one powerful buck from the animal and his hat is tossed in the air along with his body. his hand releases the hat and it flies towards you. you reach forward grabbing it as his body hits the dirt ground.

you grip the rim of the hat as you wince, watching him hit the ground. he's quick to stand, though, dusting his jeans off and rubbing his jaw.

he begins to look around for his hat and a surge of confidence flows through you.

"hey cowboy!" you shout to the man.

he turns towards you and you lift his hat, "looking for something?"

he chuckles and places his hands on his hips, walking towards you. he stops a few feet from you, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

"well i haven't seen you around before," he tilts his head with a cocky grin.

you toss the hat towards him like a frisbee.

"why? you would've remembered if you had?" you ask mirroring his crossed arms, you pop out a hip.

"damn straight." his deep, raspy accent does something for you, "thank you darlin," he winks.

he places his hat back on his head and turns walking back to the rails and climbing over them.

"what the fuck was that?" sarah asks.

"i have no idea," you turn to her with a grimace, "did i just embarrass myself?"

"judging from how he's still looking at you, i doubt it." she says and nods behind.

you turn your head and the man is starting back at you, he smiles with a nod. you smile and give a small wave turning back to sarah.

"you've just flirted with rhett abbott," she tells you with a big smile, "impossible to settle down with him."

you nod taking your seat again, "anything else i should know,"

"him and this girl maria have been off and on for a couple years but i wouldn't worry about her," sarah explains.

you look over to rhett again and he's talking to a girl, long dark hair and a tight long sleeve, "her?" you ask with a curious tone.

sarah looks over and nods, "yeah, that's her."

rhett smiles at something maria says and you conclude right then and there you will not be getting in the middle of whatever that is.

you will not be someone who breaks people up for their own gain. you don't that be flirted right back at you, if he's got someone you will not be causing anything.

you miss the next rodeo because of your new job. everyone seems to be hungry after a rodeo.

you clean tables until they shine or try to at least. the tables are so old and have a weird film on them, it's almost impossible to get whatever that stickiness is off.

nearing midnight, a couple of guys come in and sit in a booth in the corner. you get their order started and ring up a few others.

when the last couple steps away you look up through the diner window and see a familiar bull rider smoking a cigarette. the girl next to him, who you remember to be maria, looks angry.

she gestures towards the diner and stomps off with a huff. you hoped she was okay, and hoped you weren't the cause of whatever argument they just had.

rhett flicks the cigarette to the ground and stomps is out under his boot and pulls the door open. he sniffs and wipes his nose, a frown evident on his face. his eyes are trained to the ground while he weaves through tables.

he makes it to the bar, taking a seat with a sigh. then he finally lifts his head and he silently kicks himself for not looking up earlier. his frustrated sigh melts into a high and wide smile.

"hey sweetheart," he tries a new nickname, "didn't know you worked here," he tilts his head.

"i did just move here, remember?" you ask placing a hand on your hip.

"right," he nods, "thought i missed you tonight,"

"rhett abbott were you looking for little ole me?" you ask faking a gasp with hand over your chest.

he shrugs and leans back in his chair, "was just checking to see if you caught my hat again,"

"mhmm. well a girls gotta make some money so here i am," you tell him, "with that being said, what can i get ya?" you ask for his order.

you can see the shimmer in his eye as he thinks about asking for a date or a drinks some time but he reluctantly leaves that option.

"just a water, please," he decides.

you nod, "comin up," you turn grabbing a glass and filling it with water and placing it in front of him, "you want somethin to eat?"

he shakes his head, "no, no i'm alright." he avoids your eyes, taking a sip of the water.

you tilt your head slightly with squinted eyes, "you sure you're alright?"

you may not know him fully but you can tell something's up and you got nothing but time. the four guys in the corner have already scarfed down their food and left the money on the table.

he looks up to you, holding the glass by the top and letting it dangle from his fingertips. he sets the glass down, "you're observant aren't you?" you think for a split second that he was mocking you but his face is showing genuine interest.

you shrug, "i'm good at readin people,"

he gives a small smile and rubs his eyes, "i didn't do too hot tonight. so guess i wa glad you weren't there," he mutters the last part with the glass already close to his lips. he takes more sips from the glass and sets it down again, "not my best night. can i get a whiskey on the rocks,"

you nod, turning to grab the whiskey bottle, "well you don't put the pressure on yourself that you're going to be the best every time, right?" you ask turning back around and pouring the dark liquor in the glass before him.

"of course i do. my dad more so,"

"your dad?"

he nods, "royal abbott," he smacks his lips and throws the whiskey back.

"another?" you ask, he nods.

you pour the liquor again, "i'm sorry," you tell him, "you did good the night i was there. it was just an off night," you encourage him.

"thanks darlin," he smiles and throws back the whiskey again.

he leans forward and pulls out his wallet and lays down a bill.

"have good night, thanks for listening," he says standing to his feet.

"any time," you match his smile.

he starts walking through the table and reaches to the back of his jean pocket and pulls out some marlboro reds and a lighter.

you pick up the bill and your brows furrow, "rhett!" you call after him, he turns with his brows raised. his eyes go from yours to the bills in your hands to your eyes again.

"keep the change," he winks with a smirk and walks out, lighting a cigarette.

you look down at the fifty in your hands and roll your eyes. you break it and spill the extra thirty dollars into your back pocket.

♡︎✰ ✰ ✰✰ ✰ ✰♡︎

sarah meets you near a food stand inside and already has a drink ready for you the next week at the rodeo.

"watermelon mint margaritas!" she exclaims.

you shrug, why not, and take the drink. one sip and you groan at how good it truly is. you never thought watermelon and mint would be good together.

"we have to get you on the mechanical bull tonight," sarah grins with her eyebrows raised.

you shake your head swallowing a sip of your drink, "what? no, there's no way,"

"oh come on everyone does it at least once," she pleads.

"get me another drink and i'll think about," you tell her with a chuckle.

"what're you drinking?" the deep, raspy voice asks behind you.

you turn, "it's watermelon mint marg..." your words trail off as rhett stands before you.

his eyes look darker in this light, or lack thereof. the shadows that dance across his face highlight certain bones, like his cheekbones. they protrude out and you can make out some stubble on them.

his jaw is pronounced and sharp, set in a hard line though he's smiling. his lips look soft. you didn't need to touch them to know that, the warm pink color glossy from licking them all night.

his brown curls still peek out from under his hat, they look slightly wet from sweat but you'd still run your hands through them, twirl the curls around your finger.

you want him wrapped around your finger.

"hey cowboy," you say, forcing a not-nervous smile. you can't have the cocky bastard knowing he makes you even slightly nervous.

"darlin," he nods, he looks to sarah, "ma'am," sarah just smiles.

"as if we didn't go to school together all our lives," sarah laughs.

rhett shrugs, "manners. my ma would kill me if i didn't show em," he replies.

"oh i know," sarah tells him, "i'm going to the bathroom, have fun," her voice slips into a sing song tone at the last part as she floats away.

you force yourself to not roll your eyes at the obvious gesture of getting you and rhett alone.

"so another drink then the bull?" he asks, his grin spreading across his face.

"bet i'll stay on longer than you," you bet him.

he raises his eyebrows, "really? we'll see,"

he walks you over to the bar and pays for another drink for you. you go to protest but he's already handing cash over the bartender. she thanks him and makes your drink.

he hands it to you, "thank you," you thank him. he merely nods.

you take a sip and roll your eyes back, "here, you have to try this,"

he shakes his head, "can't drink darlin, i'm a rider,"

"so am i," you murmur and you think he misses it but he doesn't. he tries to hide his smirk with a rub of his jaw though it doesn't do much.

once you finish your drink he stands in line with you for the mechanical bull. once you're at the front he walks up there with you.

his touch is light but yo still feel his hand son your hips as he helps you up and over.

"take this," he hands you the rope, "and grip it as hard as you can," he taps your thigh with the back of his fingers, "grip your thighs just as tight. if the bull goes forward so do your hips,"

"you're gonna regret helping me," you tell him, "might even steal your career,"

"uh huh," he nods, grinning like an idiot. he takes his hat off placing it on yours and walking off. he hops off the inflatable ground and jumps over the fence that encases the inflatable ground.

he stands back, arms crossed.

there's a bell and the bull starts to move. it spins for a moment then jerks forward.

"whoa," you say as you move forward. you remember what rhett said, mov your hips with it.

you roll your hips forward, looking down at the bull, one hand grip the the reins and the other high in the air. there's a whistle and you just know it's coming from rhett's mouth.

you smile at the sound and thought.

rhett watches you with a careful eye. he was focused on your smile as you rode but then it's like he saw your brain start thinking of what he said to you. his eyes went from your smile to your hips.

with each roll it became impossible for him to not watch. you move seamlessly with the bull and he could see your thighs tighten at certain spots, those jeans looked good on you.

when you rolled your hips while looking down and when the bull jerked forward your hand splayed on the body of it in front of you.

then he had to look away or he'd rip you off that bull.

you're jerked to the side and and the mechanical bull bucks up, pushing your body back, your hips follow back. after about four seconds it speeds up. you rock your hips and squeeze your thighs as much as you can.

the bull does a combo as spinning you, bucky up then jerking you to the side and you fall off. your back hits the inflatable ground.

rhett is above you a second later, he clears his throat, "well you lasted eight seconds which is a qualified ride but my longest is eleven seconds," he tells you offering his hand to you.

you take it, your soft skin against his calloused one sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you up with ease, the veins in his arm protruding out and his bicep muscles on full display.

when rhett felt your hand on his something in him shifted. why is someone as soft and playful as you giving him the light of day or in this case a star in the middle of a dark sky. he didn't understand why you were giving him any attention at all.

"so, better luck next time,"

you roll your eyes, "you have to admit i rode it pretty well,"

"really well," you replies back.

this time the flirty tone hit you like a brick to the head.

"are you and maria a thing?" you ask, stopping the rhythm the two of you had, taking your hand away from his.

his hand felt empty, was empty. the sudden change in temperature threw him off. the softness gone. he always loses the softness, your softness so quickly. it irritates him.

"what?" he blinks at you.

"the girl? from the night we met and the night at the diner? i don't- i don't want to intrude on anything," you explain.

realization hits him, "oh no, she's a friend. we had a weird thing in high school but there's nothing behind it," the genuineness in his voice convinces you. he reaches out for your hand but you pull back and press just a little harder.

"i'm serious rhett, i don't want to ruin anything," you tell him. you didn't want there to be anything going on. you want to through caution to the wind and fall for or with him but you had to make sure.

"i'm serious too," he says taking your hand and you let him, "there's nothing. that night at the diner, we were talking about family shit and how shitty that tournament was that night. you're not a problem," he tells you, "and i'd let you ruin me over and over again,"

you smile, "you're trouble,"

he shrugs. he looks down at a watch on his wrist, "i'll see you in the stands yeah?"

you nod, "yeah," you go on your toes and kiss his cheek, "good luck,"

you see the blush move across his cheeks even in the dark of the night. he starts to walk away but you grab his wrist, "your hat-"

"keep it on, looks better on you," he winks.

if this boy keeps winking his eye's gonna get stuck.

you let his wrist loose and he jogs away towards the arena.

sarah finds you and complains about having to watch from a distance. she pulls you to the front row seats that were reserved for you two. you smile like an idiot knowing it was rhett.

your eyes never stray from the bull rider rails. finally, rhett climbs up the rails and settles onto the bull.

you watch the arena lights dance across his face. his show stopping, beautiful face. his stubble shines in the lights with his brown curls on full display.

rhett slips his hand under the reins and grips them tightly. he pats the side of the bull and takes a deep breath.

he can't help it. his head moves to the side, to you. he looks over and you're already looking at him, watching him. he smiles at the attention, he never wants to see you without that smile.

he nods to you, you tip your- his hat at him with a wink. if he can do it you can too.

he looks forward now, taking a couple more deep breaths before nodding at the men. a buzzer goes off, the gate opens and the bull bucks out.

the bull jerks and spins but rhett is still holding on. his free hand is high in the air and watches his other hand that grips the reins. his thighs tighten and his hips roll and now you u destined why he was all flustered after watching you.

at the thirteen second mark the bull bucks and jerks and rhett falls off to the side. the bulls back legs go up and look like they'll come down on rhett.

"rhett!" you yell standing to your feet, leaning over the railing then suck in breath as the bulls legs go down.

rhett's fast. he rolls to the side and stands quickly moving away and climbing up a railing. he looks over to the score board.

thirteen seconds. holy shit.

"yeah baby! come on!" he shouts jumping down the railing and looking around. his eyes spot you once more and he rushes over, climbing your railing.

you take his hat off and put it back on his head. he tips it up as he leans up, you follow his lead. your lips touch in excitement and you end up melting into him. your hands on his jaw, pulling him closer.

you pull back, "you're trouble rhett abbott," you repeat.

“so are you,” he says breathlessly, stealing another kiss.

♡︎✰ ✰ ✰✰ ✰ ✰♡︎

as the months go by you and rhett become inseparable. you're at every rodeo? every tournament, right there front row.

he settles onto the bull, looks over to you with a nod and you return one then he's off. you never get bored of it.

you were getting a bit… jealous.

you lean against rhett’s truck, waiting for him to come to you. he had sponsors to talk to and there’s no telling what his dad had to say about his performance tonight.

you’ve opened the back door and are leaned against the back seats. your arms crossed over your chest.

the parking lot is empty by time you see rhett walking towards you.

“hey darlin,” he smiles, “sorry to keep you waiting,”

you shrug, “i don’t mind,” his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, his lips attaching to your neck. your hands rake through his curls poking from under his hat.

“you know,” you begin, a smirk floating onto your face, “you do a good job at making me jealous,” this stops him.

rhett knows for a fact you’re not the type to get jealous easily, you never have. even when the whole thing maria happened when you first met, you weren’t jealous just didn’t want to intrude.

“what’s that now?” he pulls away from your neck, hands moving to your waist.

“you always get to ride this bull,” you start, a finger tracing his jaw, “i never get to ride you,” you tilt your head with a faux frown.

he chuckles or scoffs your brain can’t tell difference before his hands squeeze your waist and he’s pushing you back into his truck. his mouth going to yours in an animalistic way.

he’s acting like a thirsty man and you’re his oasis. you are the very thing keeping him alive and going, in more ways than one.

his knee nudges your thigh from underneath, his foot resting on the foot step. there’s the tiniest bit of friction from his own thigh on you and you moan, your mouth opening and head tilting back.

“mm mm,” he hums shaking his head, “come here,” his hand pulls your head back down. his mouth reconnects with your sand he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

he loves the taste of you. once again, he’s starved. he gets one taste of you and it’s like he hasn’t eaten in years.

you lick across his bottom lip and tug at it. he opens his eyes to look at you do it and jesus christ he could fall out right now.

his hands move down your neck with a feather like touch down your chest, stomach and finally

ending at your jeans.

he says your name softly, gently.

“can i?” he asks.

“please touch me,” you nod. you lean back, hands grasping the the back seats on the side.

you watch as his hands undo the button and he slowly pulls down your zipper.

you roll your hips forward trying to create some friction, but he stops your hips with his hands. you groan tilting your head back.

“rhett please,”

“now you got me all worked up and you tryin to rush what i want to give you, huh?” he asks breathlessly, “you wanna ride?”

you nod desperately.

he opens your jeans and slides a hand down the front of you. inside your jeans, inside your parties until he hits it.

one ghost like swipe across your clit and your legs are already shaking.

“rhett..” you breathe. he pushes his knee behind your thigh again and you open wider.

“hold on,” he voice rasps. two of his fingers running along your folds, coating you with your wetness.

“damn baby, you been waitin for this huh?”

you nod, you lean forward, you forehead laying on his shoulder.

“you get all dolled up, come to my tournament, tell me how jealous i make you when i ride them bulls. you thinking of me when i do?”

you nod.

“come on use your words pretty girl,” he says, slipping a finger into you.

you gasp, “fuck. yes, yeah,”

“good girl,” his voice seems to float to your ears and run through your veins all the way to your clit.

“rolling my hips, squeezing my thighs,” when he says it you do it. you roll forward on his hand and try to squeeze your thighs.

“come on, ride my hand darlin,”

you follow his instruction, rocking back a forth on his hand. his thumb presses against your clit a couple of times before he starts to circle it. he slips another finger in for you.

“oh shit-“ you moan, “rhett,” you rock fast and harder, “r-rub. faster,” you’re out of breath.

he smiles at you. he watches the way your

brows pinch together, the way you eyes squeeze shut, the way your mouth hangs slightly open.

you grab onto his shoulders, your nails sinking into his skin. he hisses slightly enjoying the small amount of pain.

his smile widens as he thinks about you marking him. he’s all yours and he palms to keep it that way.

“rhett… i’m gonna-“

before you can finish his mouth is on yours and he picks up his pace. you match him and a few seconds later you’re unraveling.

you moan against his lips, your body going numb. you slump against him and then move back slowly to lean against the truck. his leg keeps you in place.

he pulls his hand out, immediately tasting you. he groans at the taste.

“sweetest thing i’ve ever tasted,” he says. you watch him lick his fingers clean, “no bull can do that,” he tells you.

he leans forward kissing you again.

he smiles into the kiss and pulls back only slightly, “now, you still jealous?”

“i’ll say it every night it means you do that,” you tell him. you raise your hands and hook his jaw, pulling him in again to kiss you.

when done, he buttons and zips you back up. he walks you to the passenger side and helps you climb in. he buckles you seat belt and kisses your knuckles, then he shuts your door.

• there were little things that he did that you didn't notice until you sat down and thought about it.

first it was holding the door open for you. he's serious about it too. the first time you ride in his truck and opened your door when he parked  he reached over you and pulled it shut.

"what are you doing?" you asked, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"you don't open your own door,"

before you could respond with your usual stubbornness, he had already gotten out and closed his own door. you sat still with crossed arms as you watched him walk in front of the truck and stop at your door.

he pulled it open, offering you his hand. you thought about knocking it away and hoping out yourself but the way he was looking up at you... you couldn't resist taking his callused hand and stepping out of the truck towards him.

"thank you," was all you could get out. he smiled taking your hand and walking towards the door or rather the gate to the rodeo.

• god forbid you pay for your own- well anything. as you sat on your second date with him you pull up your purse you had resting on the ground and pulled out your card and a few dollar bills and fives for a tip.

as you went to reach for the check, rhett took it from under your gentle touch, slipping his card into the top of the check book without sparring a glance to the price.

"rhett," you said firmly.

"what?" he asked with genuine confusion.

"my turn to pay," you deadpan.

he laughed. he actually laughed.

you sat back, crossed arms and a smile on your face.

"i'm serious. you got the first one and i want to get this one,"

after he stoped his laughing fit he sat forward, "okay fine, let me see," he held out his hand, asking for your card.

you place it on his hand. he takes it, opens the check book, and then he slips a card into his pocket.

for some reason, you were convinced he’d actually let you pay. then when the waiter came back and handed the check back to rhett, he opened it revealing his card. he thought he was slick, trying to replace yours with his.

you kick his shin under the table playfully.

"rhett abbott," you exclaim.

he just shrugged handing you back your card that hadn't been swiped for the dinner.

you snatch it from him throwing it in your purse.

"you ever gonna let me fend for myself?" you ask.

"not while i'm around sweetheart," he says placing a toothpick in his mouth and standing asking for your hand.

he walked you back to his truck and you stppped before your door. he looked back at you as he opened your door, smirking.

you take his hand as he helps you up and in, before he closed the door, he griped your thigh with a wink, "good girl," and shut the door.

you blushed sinking into your seat.

• he won't even let you walk on the side of the sidewalk that's close to the road. you didn't notice it at first. you didn't notice because you didn't have to or need to. when you're with him, you don't have to be aware of... anything. you get to just be.

he helped you out of the car, taking your hand in his, he held your right hand as he guided you to the sidewalk of the small strip mall. before your feet hit the pavement he moved so you'd be on the other side of him, so he now held your left hand. him in between you and the street.

it was a parking lot but cars still rolled past too fast for his liking.

• he even has polaroids scattered around of you. some cute. the ones in his truck are of you with a bright smile or sleeping. the ones in his bedroom are just the same. the ones in his wallet... well those are different. a couple of you in lingerie and kiss mark on them from your lipstick that you so graciously gave.

in his truck, one is taped to the dashboard where all the meters are. anytime he looks down at how fast he’s going he gets a glimpse of you.

there’s one in the mirror above him. when he pulls down the visor and opens the small mirror a picture of you falls out. big smile, pretty sun dresses and saddles.

when he opens his wallet to grab his card or show his ID, there you are behind said cards. black or red lingerie and the kiss marks always make him smile.

he wants to make sure that anything he does, you’re right there with him.

• he wears one of your hair ties around his wrist. every time you pull your hair up and look for one he just holds our his arm. he found the package of your favorite hair ties and bought a few pack just to make sure he always has one.

he didn’t care how many you lost, he’d always have one for you. he keeps an emergency pack in his glove box of his truck too.

• this is one someone had to point out to you. any time you were moving around the kitchen and he’s there with you his hand covers the corners you go around.

one time at a restaurant you knocked your napkin to the side and it fell to the floor. you weren’t even talking to him, he was talking with your family with his head turned the other way but he saw you bend down and his hand instinctively reached out and covered the corner so you didn’t hurt yourself coming up.

• he always wants to hold you. your hand with suffice sometimes.

he had to take perry and amy to someone’s house and you volunteered to ride in the back with amy. she fell asleep almost immediately.

perry and rhett talked the whole time but as soon as the truck started moving rhett’s hand found your knee behind the passenger side front seat and gave it a squeeze. you looked down at it and took his hand in your own.

if you’re in the front seat his hand in on your thigh. always.

• at the rodeo, before walking in, he’d move his hat from his head to your own and right before he went out on the bull he’d walk over to the rails and you’d give it back to him. this time you move it form your head to his. he always leans in, tipping the hat up, and kisses you. a good luck kiss that has never ran out on him.

• you always carry his lighter for his cigarettes. his carton sits in his back right side pocket and his lighter in your back right side pocket.

you could be anywhere: at the rodeo, talking with friends or at a family gathering and he’d walk over to you, reach into your pocket grabbing the lighter and lighting his cigarette and placing it gently back into your pocket.

there was one time someone asked if he could use a light from the lighter and rhett said no and put the lighter back in your pocket. you couldn’t help the smile that ghost your lips.

• before every rodeo he’d ask you what color you’re wearing and he’d match you every. single. time.

you’re wearing blue jeans and a red tank top? he’s wearing blue jeans and his red t shirt with his jean jacket over it.