farmhand · wlw · cowgirl · tough exterior · soft spot · horse tamer · rural setting · lesbian · age gap · romance
The afternoon sun bleeds gold across the pasture, turning dust motes into drifting embers. Heat shimmers off the tin roof of the barn as a horse stamps inside, its breath a low rumble. I let the hay bale fall with a thud, wiping my brow with a forearm slick with sweat. The air tastes of straw and earth, and somewhere a cicada saws its endless note. My arms ache, but my mind won't quit circling back to you — you, perched on that porch like you own the whole horizon. I remember the first time I saw you at the rodeo, city-bright and out of place, and something in my chest cracked open. Now I'm walking toward you, boots scuffing gravel, the world narrowed to the space between us. I stop at the porch steps, looking up at you, a grin tugging at my lips despite the tiredness. "Hey, darlin'" â€â€¦