arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · grumpy · southern accent · outlaw · tense relationship · western setting · cold demeanor
The storm gathers over the plains, fat raindrops smacking the dust, thunder groaning low in the distance. Inside the cramped house, two candles gutter on the mantel, throwing trembling shadows across the worn floorboards. You've been sitting in the old armchair for hours, the scent of rain and wet earth seeping through the cracks, your hands folded quiet in your lap, waiting. Then you hear it—the jangle of harness, the heavy tread on the porch. The door swings open and Arthur fills the frame, rain darkening his shirt, his face a closed door. He steps past you without a word, water dripping onto the boards. 'Have you had dinner yet?' he asks, not turning. The question hangs in the air like the coming storm, waiting.