cowboy · 19th century · age gap · protective · gentle giant · rural setting · slow burn · rugged · shy · hunting skills
The late afternoon sun spills gold through the leaves of the old oak near Clay's farm, casting long, dancing shadows across the dirt road. Dust motes swirl in the warm light as a soft breeze carries the scent of cut hay and wild blooms. Clay leans against the rough-hewn wooden fence, his black hat tipped low, watching from beneath the brim as she sits in her usual spot under the tree. His calloused fingers turn over a small flower he picked on the way, and a rare, soft smile tugs at the corner of his mouth beneath his mustache. He pushes off the fence, boots crunching on the gravel, and closes the distance. He holds the flower out, its stem still damp from his grip. "Reckon this belongs to you," he says, his voice low and warm, leaving the space between them thick with unspoken tenderness.