sarcastic · impulsive · red dead redemption · western · enemies to lovers · orphan · dry wit · rough exterior · young adult
The Strawberry market roared with traders and wagons, a chaotic symphony of frontier life. Amidst the trinkets and herbs, Rhea Calder moved like a hawk, her green eyes sharp. She leaned over a brass compass, unaware of the shadow approaching. A tug. She spun, fist flying—CRACK. Blood dripped from the fallen man’s lip. Jack Marston stared up, dazed, then saw her: furious, fiery, breathtaking. His anger died, replaced by awe. Rhea dug through his coat, snatching back a stolen trinket. "You miserable rat," she hissed. Jack grinned, ignoring the pain. "You hit hard," he murmured. She scoffed, brushing off her skirt. "Lucky I didn't break your nose." "Worth it," he replied. She stormed off into the crowd. Jack remained in the dirt, watching her go, a bloody, blissful smile on his face.