Depressed Cowgirl in Pink

Chapter 4 part 1

Rhett

Walkin’ the fence line with Zoe’s reins in my hand, and Hope right beside me... well, hell, I’ve had worse mornings.

Sun’s out but it ain’t harsh. That kind of early fall warmth that kisses your skin without bitin’. The kind that makes you forget, for just a minute, that fall’s comin’. The horses walk easy—Zoe, calm as ever, and Rob with that slow, ploddin’ gait of his like he’s got all the time in the world. I ain’t rushed 'em. Didn’t see the need.

Hope walks beside me, not sayin’ much, and God help me, I’m tryin’ not to stare.

But... damn.

She’s somethin’.

Ain’t like any girl I’ve known out here. She’s all soft curves and city edges, sneakers that still got too much tread, skin that ain’t seen enough dirt yet. But she holds herself like someone who’s had to walk through fire and decided she’d rather burn than ask for help. That kind of woman... yeah, that’ll twist somethin’ in a man if he’s not careful.

And I ain’t been careful since she stepped onto my porch.

She laughs easy, though. Real. Like she don’t got time for fake. I don’t think she even knows how pretty she is when she smiles that way. Not the kind of pretty you see in magazines or movies, all polished and tryin’ too hard. Hers sneaks up on you. Hits you right in the ribs when you least expect it.

And here I am—lookin’ like every dirt-road cliché in the book. Worn boots, callused hands, hat that’s seen better years. I ain’t dumb. I know girls like her don’t stick ‘round places like this. They don’t fall for ranch boys who smell like hay and sweat and saddle oil.

But still... I look at her like a man looks at somethin’ he knows he shouldn’t want. And can’t stop wantin’ anyway.

Shit.

She glances over at me and smiles—tucks a piece of hair behind her ear like she don’t know she’s killin’ me with that little move.

“This place really is beautiful,” she says, real quiet.

“Yeah,” I mutter, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. “Ain’t much, but she’s home.”

She nods like she gets it, like maybe home’s not a place for her either—it’s just somethin’ she’s tryin’ to find again.

We walk a bit farther, past the old fence posts, the grass tall enough to brush her legs. I keep my eyes on the trail, but my thoughts... well, they’re all tangled up in her.

She smells like rain and somethin’ sweet I can’t name. Ain’t no perfume. Just her.

And I know I got no business thinkin’ this way. She’s not stayin’. She’ll get her car fixed, get a few days of rest, maybe make Daisy a few dog friends, and then she’ll be gone—back to wherever girls like her belong. Places with real sidewalks and wine lists and apartments with locks that don’t stick.

But still... part of me wonders what it’d be like if she did stay.

What it’d be like wakin’ up to her walkin’ barefoot across my kitchen, stealin’ my coffee. What it’d be like to hear her laugh echo through these hills. What it’d be like to ride side by side at dusk, her hair catchin’ the wind like fire.

I ain’t a dreamer. Never been. The ranch don’t leave room for that kinda thinkin’.

But Hope?

She’s got me dreamin’ anyway.

Hope

Rhett saddles Zoe for me and another horse for himself, then leads both of them outside.

“This here’s Rob,” he says, patting the chestnut gelding. “We mostly use him for breeding.”

Before I can ask anything else, his hands are suddenly on my waist. With one strong lift, he hoists me up onto Zoe’s back—doing more of the work than I am. His grip is firm, sure, like he’s done this a hundred times... just not with me.

He starts explaining something about posture and reins, but I can’t hear a word. All I can think about is the heat of his hands on my hips, how they lingered just a second too long. Every time he touches me, it’s like something warm and reckless lights up in my chest.

Is he my soulmate or something?

My brain is coming up with far too many excuses to “accidentally” brush against him again.

“Part of the morning routine is checkin’ the fence line,” he says, mounting Rob in one smooth motion. “We look for holes or fur, signs that somethin’s tryin’ to get in—or out. Wild animals’ll go for livestock if they can. Gotta stay ahead of that.”

I nod, pretending to listen, but my focus is drifting. Our horses walk side by side, slow and steady. Every so often, our legs bump lightly. Each time, my breath catches just a little.

The soreness starts to creep into my thighs and lower back—Zoe may be sweet, but she’s still a horse, and I’ve never spent more than ten minutes on one before. Still, it’s worth it. The ride is peaceful, almost meditative. If I close my eyes, it’s like flying—bumpy, rhythmic, free.

The breeze tickles my cheeks, carrying the fresh scent of wet grass and distant pine. The fields stretch out in soft waves, still damp from last night’s rain. Mountain peaks rise in the distance like sentinels, watching us from the edge of the world. For the first time in a long time, I feel... good.

When we head back, Rhett dismounts first and comes to help me down—just like he helped me up. His hands find my waist again, and this time, when he lowers me to the ground, he doesn’t let go right away. He pulls me against him—my body flush to his, my palms landing on his shoulders for balance.

His arms are solid around me, and I feel his chest rise and fall against mine. My fingers tighten just slightly as I feel the flex of muscle beneath them.

He’s looking at me now, eyes dark and unreadable. There’s a tension in the air—thick and electric. I know that look. It’s the kind a man gives right before he does something reckless. Something right.

He glances at my lips, then my eyes, then back again in that slow triangle that makes my breath hitch.

And then he kisses me.

Not gentle. Not asking.

Claiming.

His lips crash into mine, hot and demanding, catching me mid-breath. My mouth parts on instinct, and he takes full advantage, tongue sliding in like he owns the space. I gasp, and his hands move—one gripping the small of my back, the other sliding down, finding my curves like he’s memorizing them.

My heart is hammering, body pressed tightly to his, and I can feel—all of him.

Hard. Solid. Growing.

It’s sudden, intense, and completely unraveling.

When he pulls back just enough to look at me, his breath is shallow, eyes still dark with heat.

And all I can think is...

God, I hope he doesn’t teach every girl to ride like this.