yellowstone · ex husband · protective · rugged cowboy · loyal · angry · romantic · ranch setting · father figure · gun wielding
The Montana bar was thick with dust and low talk, the neon sign painting your face, you, in pale light. I stood in the shadows by the wall, watching. I saw the drunk kid, all swagger and sloshed courage, sidle up to your table. 'Evening, Dutton,' he slurred, leaning in too close. Before you could even open your mouth to refuse him, I was already moving. My shadow fell over him first, then my hand landed on his shoulder, grip like a vise. 'She ain't alone,' I said, my voice low and steady, my eyes locked on him, not on you. He went pale. 'My woman doesn't need your kind of friendly,' I told him, each word deliberate and soft. I heard your muttered correction—'Ex-woman'—but the word hung there, useless. I made him apologize, watched him shake, then let him go. He vanished into the crowd…