#and promising to go on another adventure with us to make new memories | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

puckinghischier · 5 months ago

Text

Choices

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: jack proves that he will always choose reader, no matter what anyone has to say

notes: so, the first part of this is literally my favorite thing i’ve ever written. the ending? meh. i don’t hate it, but i definitely think it could have been done better, i just struggle so hard with endings 😭. i also lowkey don’t like the title, but literally couldn’t think of a different one. anyways, i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

can be read as a part 2 to this fic, but can also be read by itself

request: Could you write something with Jack getting defensive/choosing her? Maybe he gets cornered by an ex flame or someone about what makes reader so special to get him to commit to a serious relationship when he didn't with her

[6.7k]

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up tonight? I know you said they’re just some old family friends, but I want to make a good impression,” you question Jack, standing in front of the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

You’re wearing a pale, yellow sundress with daisies imprinted all across the fabric. Jack insisted the Lawsons were just old friends of the family, having owned the house down the street since he was just a kid.

Since meeting Jack’s family last year, you’ve been his plus one to every single trip he’s made home. At thanksgiving he brought you home for a quick, two day trip to meet his grandparents and a few pairs of aunts and uncles, before having to fly out again because of his game schedule. Around Christmas the two of you split your time, spending the actual holiday with your family, then flying to meet Jack’s family for New Year’s activities, where you met several cousins and old school friends of Jack’s.

This year, you’re celebrating the Fourth of July in Michigan, finally getting to experience the infamous Hughes lake house. Jack was able to convince you to spend an entire month here at the large house, telling you the trip was for the Fourth festivities, but suggesting you leave a few weeks beforehand, wanting you to get the full lake house experience.

You had spent your days switching between joining his family on the large pontoon boat sitting at the end of their dock and going out on adventures with Jack alone on the pair of Jet skis Quinn had bought after his first paycheck came in during his rookie year. A few nights a week, Jack would tell you to put on something nice, showing you around the small town a few miles away from the house, taking you to each of his favorite childhood spots for dinner.

One night he had told you to put on the nicest dress you brought, then proceeded to take you to an old, beach themed bar. He sat across from you at the high top table in a collared shirt and khakis, the rest of the patrons around you in their bathing suit cover ups or shorts and t-shirts.

You scolded him, telling him you two looked like fools in there, all dressed up to eat fried seafood. He laughed, telling you the only fool in the room was him, because he was “foolishly and wholly in love with you.” You rolled your eyes at his mushy-ness, a blush making its way to your cheeks at the same time.

That memory, however, is the reason you no longer trust Jack when he tells you to either dress up or dress down for dinners. Including tonight.

“I promise, you don’t have to dress up. You could wear your bathing suit for all I care,” he calls out from the bathroom where he’s ‘fixing’ his hair, which usually means brushing it and then ruffling it around with his hands. “I mean, mom might not be too happy if you’re sitting at the dinner table in just a bikini, but I’d sure enjoy the show.”

You scoff at his words, turning to go and stand in the doorway of the ensuite, crossing your arms.

“I’m being serious, J. I want to make a good impression on these people. They’re really good friends of your parents. Your mom was telling me how you all used to spend almost the entire summer together, constantly over at one another’s houses for dinner and fire talks,” you remember how excited Ellen was to be having her friends over for dinner tonight, claiming she hadn’t seen them in years because of how busy their lives had gotten.

Ellen also mentioned they had a daughter around your and Jack’s age who was in with her parents for the summer. Her name is Sarah and she’s a department director of some big advertisement company in New York. She stopped coming around as often around the same time Jack got drafted to the Devils, according to Ellen. Her job being too demanding for her to make the trip every summer.

You were excited to meet yet another person that knew Jack as a kid. You were hoping to rope a few stories out of her over the course of dinner, wanting to know as much as you can about Jack’s childhood from those around him. Sometimes you really hate the fact that you haven’t known Jack his whole life. You count yourself one of the luckiest people alive to be able to share his life with him now, but you’re always picturing him growing up, wanting to know every detail of what makes Jack, Jack.

Quinn and Luke are always eager to tell you anything you want to know about Jack, from the time he wanted to be “TP man” for Halloween and proceeded to wrap his entire body in toilet paper, wearing the empty rolls on his hands, to the time he wanted to ask his eighth-grade crush out on a date, but instead blurted out that he had to go home to massage their dad’s feet.

You always enjoyed hearing stories about him from people that weren’t his mischievous brothers, though. Like when his grandma told you about the time she got home to see that Jack had rearranged her kitchen cabinets, placing everything he saw her use on a regular basis closer to where she could reach it after watching her drop her favorite mug while trying to put it away on the second highest shelf that morning. Or when his best friend from high school told you about the time Jack gave him a ride home from practice, stopping in to say hello to his parents when Jack heard his little sister crying in her room because she couldn’t figure out her math homework. Jack stayed over for nearly two hours to help the little girl with her multiplication table and gave her words of encouragement the entire time.

You knew Jack was someone special, his calming energy easing your nerves from the first time you ever spoke to him. Hearing the stories that confirm he’s been this way his whole life, from the people that have known him far longer than you, though, makes you burst with so much love for the man you think your heart might actually explode one day.

“And I’m being serious, Sunshine, what you’re wearing is fine and won’t change the fact that they’re going to absolutely love you, just like everyone else does,” Jack walks over to stand in front of you.

You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides. Jack reaches down and takes each one of your hands into his, stepping forward slightly.

“I just…I care about how the people that know you view me. It’s important to me that the people important to you know that I love you, not that I’m just trying to ride on the back of some hot shot hockey player,” you whisper, referencing a blog post you were sent by one of your coworkers back in Jersey, asking if the girl in the picture was, in fact, you sitting on Jack’s lap in a crowded bar you went to for a post-game celebration.

The post talked about how you had been seen with Jack at a few games and were seen leaving several bars with him over the course of a few weeks early into your relationship. The blog site was a silly, hockey gossip blog, more concerned about who the players were sleeping with than any of the games themselves, but the accusation made your heart sink nonetheless. You knew you were with Jack for no reason other than you love him and he makes you feel safe, comfortable, and loved. Jack knows you’re not with him for his money, and anyone close to him knows you’re not with him for his money or fame.

He could quit hockey tomorrow and it wouldn’t change even an ounce of your feelings towards him. With or without hockey, he’s still your Jack. The Jack that makes you honey lavender tea every night because he knows it helps you sleep. The Jack that somehow manages to bring you flowers after every home game, no matter how late it is. The Jack that insisted you move in with him after your lease ended because his apartment is closer to your new job, but really because he was tired of not coming home to you every night. The Jack that showed up to your graduation this spring, bringing nearly his whole team and his family, the group cheering so loud when you walked across the stage everyone in attendance laughed, the person handing you your diploma commenting “sounds like you have a few fans out there.”

Even though you know that Jack knows, and his family knows, each time you meet someone new from his life, you feel the need to prove yourself. It’s part of the reason you were so anxious to meet his parents all those months ago. You worry that each person you meet has seen or read an article like the one you were sent. You worry they’ll think you’re not right for Jack, or that you’re only with him to get a taste of the popularity and lifestyle that comes along with his job. All you want is to show them how much you love him for him, and how you never want to leave his side.

Jack looks down at you, bringing your joined hands up to his mouth, pulling them together and kissing your knuckles.

“I promise you, no one here thinks that,” he starts, his words oozing with sincerity. “There is not a single person that matters to me in my life more than you. And absolutely no one’s opinion of you matters to me other than your own. Do you think you’re with me for the wrong reasons?” He asks you, waiting for you to answer him.

You shake your head no, breaking his eye contact.

“Hey, look at me,” he squeezes your hands that are still resting near his mouth, bringing your eyes back to his. “Then absolutely nothing else matters, okay? I know who you are, and you know who you are. Last time I checked, we’re the only two in this relationship, so that’s the only two people I’ll ever be looking to for opinions concerning my choices in this relationship, got it?”

You nod, a little embarrassed you were ever worried in the first place after his small speech, but still needing the hear his words nonetheless.

You’re still looking up at him, opening your mouth to tell him how much you love him when your stomach growls between the two of you, loud enough you nearly jump back.

Jack’s eyes flicker down to your stomach and back up to your eyes, the amusement in them making the blue shade shine even brighter.

“On that note, let’s go get you something to eat,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead before dropping one of your hands, the other still intwined with yours, pulling you out of the room behind him.

Jack led you down to the kitchen, digging around in the fridge to sneak you a snack before everyone sat down for dinner, knowing the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour.

After he was satisfied that you weren’t going to starve, thanks to the small bowl of fruit he found, the two of you walked out to the back deck, joining everyone else.

The Lawsons had already arrived, Jim and Ellen standing on the other side of the large deck, conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson separately.

Mrs. Lawson is a short, slim woman. Her hair is flawlessly styled into a ‘looks lazy but really took an hour’ up do, wearing a light purple, short sleeve pleated dress that fell just above her ankles, a simple pair of sandals on her feet.

Her husband is a tall man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a matching polo shirt and khaki shorts, a pair of Hey Dude brand shoes on his feet.

As soon as the two of you walked out onto the porch, Ellen was immediately halting her conversation to introduce you to the guests.

“Oh! There they are! Aren’t they just dolls? Look at them!” she gushed, walking over to greet the two of you.

You smile warmly at her, your relationship with Jack’s mom almost as dear to you as your relationship with your own. The two of you were able to sit and talk with one another during the hockey game her and Jim had come into town for the first time you met them. You both were invested in the game itself, considering all three Hughes boys were on the ice that night, but the intermissions were full of conversations and stories. You left the rink that night feeling like you had gained another mother, exchanging numbers with Ellen and promising to keep in touch. You now have weekly phone calls with Ellen, her interest in your life and well being matching that of her interest in her son’s.

“Mom, we literally saw you an hour ago on the boat, calm down,” Jack tells her, earning soft smack to his chest from you.

“Don’t be a grump, Jack. She’s telling us how good we look and you choose now to suddenly act like you don’t love being told you look pretty,” you scold.

Jack looks down at you with his mouth slightly open, putting on his best fake offended face.

“See, I told you she keeps him in check for me. Now I don’t have to carry the burden all by myself anymore,” Ellen tells Mrs. Lawson, earning a laugh from the woman standing just behind her.

You and Jack continue to have a small stare down until he conceded, choosing to flash a smile at you instead, sticking his tongue out like a child and earning a small giggle from you.

“Y/N, this is Deborah, but we all call her Deb. Deb, this is Y/N, my new baby girl,” Ellen breaks up yours and Jack’s moment, introducing you to Mrs. Lawson.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you Mrs. Lawson,” you say, removing your hand from Jack’s so you could step forward and give a small, greeting hug to the woman in front of you.

“Oh honey, Mrs. Lawson was my mother-in-law, please, call me Deb,” she tells you as she pulls back from the hug.

“Okay, Deb is it,” you laugh, stepping back beside Jack.

“C’mere, I need a hug from you too, Jack,” she motions Jack over to her, your boyfriend walking over to give her a slightly longer hug than you shared with her. “My, you’ve grown up, haven’t you? Last time I saw you, you were just getting ready to declare yourself draft eligible. Now look at you, the real deal.”

Jack blushes as he steps back towards you, knowing how shy he gets when complimented.

He may be cocky on the ice and in interviews, but you’ve learned that when it comes to the people that are close to him, Jack is extremely humble. He turns a light shade of pink any time you compliment how well he played after a game, or when his mom calls to tell him she watched his game on tv and cheered so loud she woke their cat up anytime he scored a goal.

“Just enjoy playing the game, is all,” he slips his hand back into yours. You give it a light squeeze.

“Ron, quit talking golf and get over here! Come say hi to Jack and his girlfriend!” Deb turns and shouts to her husband behind her. Both Mr. Lawson and Jim leave their spot by the heating grill and walk over to join your small group.

“Jack, how are ya, boy?” Mr. Lawson walks up, pulling Jack from your hold, bringing him in by his arm for what you call a ‘guy’ hug, each having one arm slug over the other’s shoulders, their clasped hands trapped between their chests.

“Getting by alright. Happy to have a bit of a break. Couldn’t wait to show Y/N here the ways of the lake house,” Jack motions to where you stand slightly behind him.

“Oh gosh, where are my manners. Hi, sweetheart, I’m Ron,” Mr. Lawson sticks his hand out towards you, shaking it softly.

“Hi, Jack’s told me a lot about you two. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Lawson” you reference both of the Lawsons, repeating part of your greeting to Deb.

“Oh, no, Mr. Lawson is my father, I’m just Ron, dear,” he mirrors his wife’s earlier statement, stepping over to place his arm around her waist.

You chat with the couple a bit longer, noticing after a few minutes that Quinn and Luke are nowhere to be found. Neither was their daughter Ellen had mentioned earlier.

“Not to interrupt, but where are Quinn and Luke?” you ask just as Ellen finishes telling Ron and Deb about a recent cruise her and Jim had been on.

“Oh, they took Sarah out for a spin on the boat before dinner. She said she missed the water, so away they went,” Deb explains, looking over to Jack. “She’s so excited to see you again, Jack. She always talks about wanting to get across the bridge to see a game, but you know her, a workaholic and all.”

You sense a slight rigidness in Jack’s body language at the mention of Sarah. He responds with a simple “Yeah, that’s a shame,” not offering any other words about the mystery girl.

You were confused. You had thought Ellen said the boys were friends with Sarah growing up. Why did Jack tense up when she was mentioned? Had there been some sort of falling out? Was he not excited to see her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when you brought her up earlier, causing you to assume he just didn’t know much about her, having lost contact after they both were busy and didn’t have as much time to spend at the lake anymore.

As soon as Jack had finished speaking, you heard loud laughter coming from the long deck at the end of the house’s yard, seeing three figures quickly approaching the porch you were standing on.

“See, told you I could still beat you, just like when I was a kid!” you hear an unfamiliar voice call out, footsteps coming up the wooden stairs leading to the porch.

“Not fair, you didn’t tell me it was a race until you were already at the end of the deck,” you recognize the voice this time, Luke uttering his words between fast breaths.

As you look towards the stairs, you see one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen in your life step onto the porch.

She had jet black hair that fell to her mid back, perfectly pin straight. She had the greenest eyes you think you’d ever seen, and her tan skin was a shade that people usually had to be photoshopped to achieve. She was wearing a sundress similar to yours, but hers was a baby blue color, complementing her skin tone and hair perfectly. It fell right at her mid-thigh, and had a floral print running across the fabric.

“Hey, everyone. Hope we didn’t miss dinner,” she said, waltzing over to the wet bar to grab a bottle of water as Luke and Quinn make their way up the stairs, coming to stand a few feet from you and Jack.

“Oh, not even close, honey. You’re just in time. Your dad and Jim were just about to put the chicken on the grill,” Deb tells her daughter, beaming at her.

She walks over to join everyone, not stopping until she’s stood right in front of Jack.

“Oh, Jacky! I’ve missed you so much! It’s been so long!” she wraps him in a hug. His arms stay pinned to his sides, his body going rigid with discomfort. You notice the looks from Quinn and Luke, confused at their wide eyes.

He coughs, causing her to detach herself from his body, but not removing her hand from his shoulders.

“Well, that hockey training sure has been good to you, hasn’t it Jacky,” she continues, squeezing his biceps with a smirk before dropping her hands, completely ignoring you.

The second her hands leave his body, Jack is stepping back over to you, placing his hand on your waist.

“Uhh, Sarah, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, Sarah,” Jack says, squeezing you to his side.

“Oh! You’re the new girlfriend my mom was telling me about. How sweet!” she coos, placing her hand on her chest. “Jack, she’s so pretty. But, what happened to Macey? You know, the one with the pretty blonde hair? Oh, and the absolute insane body. Seriously, I need her personal trainer’s number,” she asks, looking around at everyone.

You think about your brunette hair and know exactly what she’s trying to do.

“Not in the picture anymore. Didn’t really like the fact that she kept sticking her tongue down some Philly player’s throat when she came to visit me during an away game,” Jack spat out, grinding his teeth.

“What a shame. I liked her,” Sarah waved it off, making a small pout with her lips. “But, I’m sure you’re great too!” she added as an after thought, flashing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen.

You feel a presence step up behind you, Quinn slyly whispering “ex-girlfriend” in your ear, suddenly making Jack’s body language and her backhanded warmth towards you make sense.

“Okay, well, time to go get the food on the grill. Food will be ready in around thirty,” Jim claps his hands together, sensing the need to break up the awkward moment.

“Oh great, I’m absolutely starving,” Sarah exaggerates her last word, turning and walking towards the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.

You stand there, not knowing how to process what just happened, Jack’s grip on you as tight as ever. You look over to Ellen, who gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Deb sighs and shakes her head in amusement, completely oblivious to her daughter’s fake niceness and obvious flirting with Jack. “She’s something else, isn’t she? Such a little firecracker,” she reflects, nothing but adoration in her tone and on her face.

“Yeah, one that backfires into the innocent bystanders,” Quinn mumbles under his breath, earning a snort from Luke. Ellen shoots them a glare, darting her eyes towards Deb to see if she heard, but the older woman was still staring adoringly at her daughter in the kitchen through the glass doors.

Thirty minutes later, just like Jim announced, everyone was sat at the large outdoor table, food covering the large surface.

The food was amazing, the bowl of fruit from earlier long gone as you sat down to fill your plate, wanting seconds of almost everything.

“Jack, will you hand me the potato salad, I swear, I can’t get enough of it,” you ask your boyfriend who’s sitting to your right.

He reaches over and grabs the bowl, scooping a spoonful on to your plate for you. “That good? Or you want more?”

“No, that’s good. Gotta save room for dessert,” you tell him, picking up your fork to dig in.

Jack places his hand on your thigh, smiling over at the little happy dance you do when you scoop the potato salad into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m so full,” you hear Sarah say, raising her voice to make sure the whole table hears her. “I wish I could be like you, Y/N, I’d love to have seconds, but I just cannot hold another bite, I’m already so bloated as it is,” she places her hands over her stomach to emphasize. “You’re so lucky you’ve already snagged a man and don’t have to worry about watching what you eat anymore.”

You stop mid-chew, her words sinking in.

You look around the table, everyone looking at you. Deb and Ron are smiling at you, not at all reacting to their daughter’s words, likely not even understanding the connotation of what she just said. Ellen and Jim are looking at Sarah, their eyebrows raised in shock. Quinn is glaring at her while Luke’s mouth is dropped open.

Jack’s hand is digging into your thigh, his other hand closed, clenches in a tight fist on the tablet next to his glass of water.

You finish chewing your food and swallow thickly, placing your fork down and sliding your plate away from you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop on my account. I’d kill to be able to be as comfortable as you are. Not having to worry about impressing anyone anymore, just being able to know you’re loved, no matter what you look like,” she continues, taking a sip of her water to hide her smirk.

You bow your head, your face a shade of red you can physically feel, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

Luke coughs, a faint “bitch” heard by your ears.

“Okay, I think it’s time we clear the table for dessert, shall we,” Ellen pipes up, her own smile strained.

“Great idea, let me help you,” Deb, either still oblivious or intentionally ignoring the hurtful nature of her daughter’s words, starts to stand.

“No, I got it,” Jack surprises you by standing, taking everyone’s plates and quickly stomping off of the porch.

You could feel the anger radiating off of him when Sarah was talking, probably choosing to leave the area before he said something he would regret.

“Here, let me help, too,” Sarah stands, taking a few food dishes in her hands and stepping inside behind Jack before anyone could protest.

The table is silent after she leaves. You sit there, debating on just sliding out of your seat and under the table, wanting to hide. Luke, who was sitting next to you, brings his hand over to rest on your shoulder, trying to provide some comfort.

You look over at him to see a concerned look as he mouths a silent “You okay?”, nodding your head yes, despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

You look up again, straight at Sarah’s parents, wondering how they can be so ignorant about their daughter’s malicious words.

You meet Ellen’s eye, seeing a sad, pleading look, begging you to forgive her with her expression. You give her a small smile, shaking your head to tell her it’s alright.

Ron is the one to finally break the silence, looking around at everyone with a genuine smile, once again proving your suspicion they’re unaware of the shift in atmosphere.

“Ellen, please tell me you made your famous cheesecake. It’s been too long since I’ve had a slice,” he speaks, unable to read the room.

Ellen partakes in empty small talk with Deb and Ron about how she makes her cheesecake when you decided you need to go check on Jack.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go help Jack,” you say flatly, standing from your seat and all but running inside, the urge to walk over and shake the Lawsons while shouting “your daughter’s a bitch!” in their face your cue to leave the table.

You enter the kitchen, seeing the dishes both Sarah and Jack brought in littering the counter, but neither one of them was to be found in the spacious area.

You walk through the house, calling out Jack’s name softly as you pass the stairs, making your way to the small sitting room at the front of the house.

“Jack, I don’t get it. What does she have that I don’t? What about her makes her any better than me?” you hear the sound of Sarah’s voice coming from the foyer.

“What the hell do you mean? Everything! She has everything you don’t!” you hear Jack exclaim, stopping in your tracks.

Were they talking about you?

“Jack, we were good together! We had fun. I don’t understand why you ended things between us. Hell, I took a job in New York because you said you were probably going to New Jersey to play. We could have been the new it couple of New Jersey!” it was Sarah’s turn to raise her voice.

Jack shakes his head, a dry laugh making its way out of his mouth. “What part of I didn’t want to don’t you understand?” Jack spits out. “You had fun. You chose to move to New York. You thought were good together. There was never any we in any of that.”

You can practically see the veins popping out on Jack’s forehead through his tone, even though they were out of view.

“All you ever cared about when we were together was the fact that I was about to play professional hockey. You didn’t care about me, you just cared about what I could offer you!” he shouts again. “The fact you just admitted you cared more about being the “it” couple more than you cared about wanting to be with me proves it.”

“Well, sue me for wanting to live the life of the rich and famous,” Sarah says, scoffing.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jack huffs out. “Y/N doesn’t care about living the life of the rich and famous. She just wants me. She wants Jack, not ‘Jack Hughes, star forward, number one overall draft pick’,” he puts on his announcer voice.

“All my life, people have only ever cared about how well I played hockey. Every coach, every teammate, every girl. They all saw me as a hockey player. They wanted me on their team, or in their bed, because they wanted what came with me: attention and popularity,” Your heart breaks at Jack’s voice, never having heard him sound so deflated before.

“Hell, you introduced me to people as a future professional hockey player before you ever introduced me to them as your boyfriend,” he continues. “With Y/N, that’s far from the most interesting thing about me. When she first introduced me to her family, she told them I was her best friend’s brother,” he refers back to the first time you took him home to meet your family, the subject of hockey not coming up until your dad asked if he liked sports, only to berate him for not being a football player. Later that night he asked him how hockey worked. Your dad has never missed a Devils game since, either in person or on tv.

“Her favorite fun fact to tell people about me isn’t a stat, or how many hat tricks I’ve scored,” he keeps going. “It’s that I love to sing Shakira when I’m in the shower. Or that I’m the only other person other than her dad that has ever made her laugh so hard water has come out of her nose,” Jack lightly laughs.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay-“ you hear Quinn’s voice rounding the corner.

Cutting him off with a “shhh” you place your finger on your mouth to tell him, and Luke who trails behind him, to be quiet, pointing to the sitting room where Jack and Sarah are arguing.

“So, yeah, I would say I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of me, but I’m not. I’m not sorry that I broke things off with you. I’m not sorry that I found someone that actually loves me for who I am. And I’m not sorry that I brought the woman that I plan on marrying here with me, and you just so happened to be here too,” Jack tells her, his voice still holding a slight trace of anger.

“I am sorry that I never told my parents what really went down between us, telling them we just agreed it would be too hard and we needed to go back to being friends, because maybe they wouldn’t have invited you over tonight. I am sorry that I didn’t take Y/N out for dinner, trying to avoid what’s happening right now. I am sorry that you can’t begin to fathom someone can see through your forced smiles and backhanded comments, seeing how cold and rotten you really are on the inside. And I am sorry that your poor, sweet parents were given such a malicious bitch as a daughter,” He finishes.

“You know, my mom said Ellen told her you showed her a ring, but I thought it was just a gift. You’re really going to propose to her?” Sarah asks, annoyance clear in her voice, spitting out her last word with unmistakeable disgust.

“Of course it’s true. Bought the ring months ago, been carrying it around with me every since. Showed mom the night she met her, told her I was serious about her and that she’s the one. I think part of me knew that from the moment I met her,” you hear Jack say, hearing the tenderness in his voice when the subject turns to you.

Your head whips over to Luke and Quinn, your eyes wide and your mouth handing open. The panicked look on their faces is all the confirmation you need to know that you heard Jack right. He bought you a ring. He bought you a ring and showed his mom. He bought you a ring and showed his mom and was going to propose to you.

Before you know what you’re doing, your body is leading you to the entryway where your boyfriend is arguing with his ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N, no, wait,” Quinn tries to stop you, but it’s too late.

“You bought me a ring?” you ask as you enter the room, seeing Jack and Sarah standing several feet apart from each other.

“Oh, great, the woman of the hour,” Sarah rolls her eyes at you, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her side.

You shoot her a glare, not at all concerned about her comments from earlier anymore.

You turn your head to Jack, who’s face looked as panicked at Luke and Quinn’s.

“Jack, you said you bought me a ring. Is that true?” you ask him, begging him to answer you.

Jack gulps, nodding his head yes.

“Right…” is all you can say, trying to digest what’s happening.

You look back and forth between Jack and Sarah, your gaze finally landing on the unimpressed one of Sarah.

“Listen, I don’t care what happened between you and Jack however many years ago, but I don’t appreciate you coming to his family’s house and acting like a nasty bitch to me because you got dumped and I’m the one getting the ring,” you tell her, earning a shocked scoff from her. “So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you took your nasty attitude and sad insecurities out of this house and elsewhere. I have something I need to discuss with the man that chose me .”

You hear the faint snorts of Quinn and Luke behind you, while Jack’s face moves from panicked to shocked as he looks between the two of you.

“God, you don’t have to ask me twice. All of this melodrama is giving me a headache. You’re not worth this. I can get any guy from the Knicks roster, I don’t need to waste my time on hockey players anymore,” Sarah says before she storms out of the room.

You watch her go, giving her a sweet smile and a wave on her way out.

“That was…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Jack tells you, walking over to where you stood.

You roll your eyes at him, hitting him in the chest once he gets close enough to you.

“Ow! What was that for?” Jack asks you, rubbing where you thumped him

“For not telling me that Sarah was your ex-girlfriend when I was telling you how excited I was to meet her earlier” you exclaim while looking up at him, poking him in the chest with each word

“I didn’t want you to feel like you had anything to be worried about and get even more in your head about this dinner,” he tells you, grabbing your finger and pushing your hand down to your side.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did,” you roll your eyes, bringing your hand up to softly smack his chest again.

“God, woman, stop hitting me!” Jack yelps again. “What the hell was that one for?”

“For buying me a ring only a few months into our relationship! And then for not telling me you were going to propose, you idiot!” you exclaim, throwing your arms around.

“Well, I don’t know if you know this or not, but most proposals are usually a surprise,” he tells you, grabbing your arms and holding them apart, preventing you from hitting him again.

“Still. Why would you buy it so soon into us dating, Jack? What if you ended up hating me once we hit six months, or you found out I snored and decided you didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of your life?” you ask him, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.

“I knew that you were it from the moment I met you. There’s absolutely no chance of me ever getting sick of you, or hating you,” Jack tells you honestly, the intensity behind his eyes causing you to believe his words. “Also, you do snore, and I think it’s cute, don’t worry.”

You try to hit his chest again, but your arms are still being held by his hands.

“So, is this a good time for me to say I never really liked Sarah,” Luke chimes in, reminding you that him and Quinn are standing in the entrance of the room.

“Luke, you’re such an idiot,” Quinn tells him, flicking him on the back of his curly head.

“What? It’s true. I liked Y/N the second I met her, but Sarah was always just a bitch,” Luke rubs the back of his head as he speaks. “Why do you think Quinn and I took one for the team and took the wicked witch out on the boat so we could keep her out of your hair for as long as possible?”

“Thanks, Luke,” you chuckle, shaking your head.

“Well, I guess it’s time to tell mom that she knows you’re proposing,” Quinn says, looking towards Jack.

“Oh, no, no one is going to know that she knows. I had this whole thing planned out, and I’m not letting Y/N ruin her own proposal,” Jack says, finally letting go of your hands.

“Do I at least get to see the ring?” you ask him, hopeful.

“Nope,” Jack shakes his head, popping the ‘p’.

You huff, crossing your arms and looking at him with a pout, until you remember his words from a few minutes before.

“Wait, you told Sarah you carry the ring with you everywhere, does that mean it’s here? In this house?” Jack’s face falls, eyes looking anywhere but your own.

“No…”

Your face lights up, looking towards the stairs before back at Jack, turning and making a run for your room.

“Oh no, you don’t!” he runs after you, catching up to you in no time.

He grabs you by your torso and swings you around, sitting you back at the bottom of the stairs as he guards them.

“Not fair, your stupid hockey speed and reflexes can shove it,” you pout again.

As you stand at the bottom of the stairs, Quinn and Luke watch the two of you, admiring how perfect the two of you are for each other.

Luke thinks back to when he decided to introduce you to his older brother, knowing he made the right decision, the two of you bringing out the best versions of the other.

And when he stands, hidden with his family as he watches his brother get down on one knee, proposing to the girl that stood at the bottom of the stairs, demanding to see her ring, he knew sneaking into Jack’s room and moving the ring to his own room was the right move, the shock on your face worth the two week long silent treatment you gave him when you found out what he had done.

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requiemforthepoets · 3 months ago

Text

i’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar are two peas in a pod, but as you both grow up and began carving your own paths, everything just changed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this one’s a bit new, i tried writing in third pov. so i hope this little experiment will be okay. hope you’ll enjoy this one :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: angst, mention of death and sad ending (if you squint enough)

Once, their lives had been intertwined like the roots of an old tree, growing together. From the time they were children, she and Oscar had been inseparable, they’d always share everything—school days that are filled with laughter, birthday parties that are often celebrated together and marked by chaotic games, playing by the streets under the bright sun during the summer and countless sleepovers in a tent by the backyard, where they would both whisper secrets under the starlit skies. Those were the golden years, spent building forts out of blankets and dreaming of grand adventures. They are each other’s constant—constant presence amidst the ebb and flow of growing up.

It was one autumn afternoon, as they are both sat beneath the sprawling oak tree in Oscar’s backyard, he looked at her with wide eyes that are filled with excitement.

“I’m going to be a race car driver,” he said, as his voice are laced with a mix of determination and excitement. She grinned, heart swelling with pride, “I’m going to be an artist!” She exclaimed, voice full of hopeful ambition.

They promised—pinky promised, a promise that holds the highest regard of promises, that no matter where their dreams take them, they would always find a way back to each other, in this spot beneath the oak tree, and right in this moment.

But as the years passed by, their lives began to diverge. Oscar’s path took him into the fast paced world of racing, while she decided to move and pursue her studies in another country. She immersed herself in the world of art, and the moment she graduated, she began to work tirelessly in her own studio. Their lives, once so closely knit, started to drift apart. Phone calls became less frequent, messages less personal. Soon, they found themselves swallowed by their own ambitions, those promises that were made under the oak tree are slowly becoming a distant memories.

Today, she was back in town for a brief visit, her heart unexpectedly drawn to the familiar Brighton streets—a familiar yet distant street and an unspoken hope that maybe, just maybe, things could feel like they once did. The street was much quieter now than the last time she remembered, lined with the same old trees and houses, but the sense of nostalgia was evident. She could still hear the echoes of the shared laughter and see the faint traces of their carefree childhood days, making her smile to herself.

Mrs. Lee, a kind old lady that had been their neighbor for almost forever, was still around. She had managed to stop by for a chat, and she was happy that Mrs. Lee could still remember her despite being gone for too long. Mrs. Lee had told her that Oscar was in town, having just finished a successful race season and dropped by earlier at Mrs. Lee’s house to say hello.

The idea of running into him was both exciting and nerve-wracking for her, she didn’t know if she’s ready to face the man who was once her closest friend, that is now a celebrated figure. Despite of losing contact with each other, she never failed to support Oscar. When she got the time, she would tune in and watch Oscar’s race.

As she walked past the old houses, she saw Nicole, talking to someone outside a small café, the kind where she and Oscar used to grab ice cream after school. Her heart skipped a beat, hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should approach her or just quietly walk away. The fear of Nicole no longer know or recognize her lingers, since it has been years since she left Australia.

But as if sensing her presence, Nicole turned her head and saw her. Nicole’s eyes widened in surprise, and a genuine, warm smile spread across her face. She quickly said her goodbyes to the one she’s talking and immediately rushed to her from across the street, where she were stood.

“Oh my goodness, y/n? Is that really you?” Her voice was filled with a mix of disbelief anf happiness. She nodded, trying to steady her nerves. “Hi, Nicole. Yes, it’s me, little ol’ y/n. It’s been a long time.”

Nicole pulled you into a tight hug, her embrace as familiar as ever. “It really has, darling. You look great! What brings you back here?” She broke the hug and looked at her softly.

“Oh, you know, I’m just visiting the house and the folks,” she said, her voice slightly cracking. “And thought I’d walk around and see how things have changed.” Without replying, Nicole hugged her again.

“Have you and Oscar already seen each other? I’m sure he would be thrilled to see you! He’s just inside the café grabbing a few drinks.” She smiled in excitement. “Not yet, I just got here and dropped by at Mrs. Lee for a chat.”

“Come on then!” Nicole gently guided you towards the café, and as she got closer to the establishment, she can see the familiar figure of Oscar.

The nerve had began settling in, she doesn’t know how Oscar would react to seeing her again after so many years. They had lost contact and she’s not sure if Oscar even remembers her.

“Look who I bumped into!” She said excitedly as she approached Oscar, with her trailing right after Nicole. Oscar’s eyes went wide, causing her to smile and shyly wave at him.

“y/n?” He quickly brushed off his shocked reaction and had been quickly replaced by a smile. “Hey, Oscar. Been a long time, huh.”

Oscar rushed towards you, engulfing you in hug. A hug that felt like home. “Way too long.” He responded while still hugging you. “I didn’t expect that you’ll be back in Australia.”

She chuckled, “well, here I am. In the flesh.”

“y/n, why don’t you come over for dinner?” Oscar just looked at you, hopefully. “Yeah, sure. I would love to.” Nicole cheered excitedly.

The dinner at the Piastris went very well, it is nice to see them again, and she was surprised how Oscar’s sisters had grown so much—to which they were happy to see her again, and Chris was glad as well that she’s back in Australia. Right after dinner, Oscar had invited you by the backyard. She had followed him and realized that they were heading to the oak tree where they used to sit and talk about everything.

“I can’t believe that this tree’s still here. Wow.” She said in amazement. “Yeah. I never really wanted this tree to be removed, honestly. It holds a lot of memories.” He chuckled.

They both sat down under the oak tree and looked up at the star, just like what they did back when they were still kids. There was a comfortable silence between them, until she decided to break the silence.

“You’ve really made a name for yourself,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, y/n. That means a lot,” Oscar replied, “and you? How’s everything going on with you?” He turned to look at you.

“Busy, but good.” She answered. “I’ve been working on some big projects. It’s fulfilling and keeps me busy, you know. But I sometimes miss how life had been easy for us back in the old days.” Oscar nodded, understanding.

“I’m really sorry for what happened to your parents.” She smiled at him. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“But still, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most.” She sighed. “It’s okay, Oscar. Really. As they say, life has many ways of testing a person, and this might be mine…” she trailed off.

“How do you feel now?” He asked. “I’m okay. I mean it still hurts, but learned to kept myself busy, you know—emotions can’t can’t hit a moving target…” she trailed off.

“So what are your plans now?” She pondered for a bit. “I don’t know. I don’t really think much about future plans, if I’m being honest. Wherever the wind will take me, I guess? I’m happy where life took me these past couple of years, and I intend to keep it that way.” Her response caused Oscar to chuckle.

“So, you’re more like carpe diem?” He replied, “eh, pretty much!” They both laughed at her response.

They continued talking, reminiscing about the everything. It fascinated her the life that Oscar managed to achieve, and she couldn’t even be more prouder for him. Yet, as they spoke, she felt a tug of longing for what could have been and the feelings that she had harbored toward Oscar for the longest of time. She had always imagined a future where their paths might cross in different way, but now it seemed clear that their time had passed.

“It has been a fun night, Oscar. I really did miss this.” She turned towards him and smiled softly. “It has been, really.”

“As much as I want to stay up late and catch up, I still haven’t recovered from my flight.” She chuckled. “Well, it’s best you go and rest.” He smiled.

They both head back inside the house and bid her goodbyes to Nicole, Chris, and her sisters.

“Thank you so much, Nicole and Chris for a lovely evening.” The couple smiled at her. “You’re very welcome, y/n. If you need anything, just come or call us.” Nicole said.

“You’re welcome here anytime, kiddo. You’re basically a family to us.” Chris patted her shoulder. “I will. Thank you so much again.” They hugged her briefly.

Oscar walked you to the gates, before she leaves, she turned to him. “Thank you, Oscar. It was really nice seeing you again.” He smiled. “It was really nice seeing you again too. It was due time we see each other again.”

He hugged her again once more, but a bit tighter this time. “Promise me you won’t be a stranger,” he said, his voice carrying a bit of the old familiarity.

“I promise,” she replied, though she knew that the distance between them would always remain. “Take care of yourself, Oscar.” With one last pat at his shoulder, she walked away.

There was a lot of things that had been unsaid tonight. But despite the heaviness she felt in her chest, there are things that are better off unsaid. Seeing Oscar so happy and successful was bittersweet. Her feeling for him, once so strong, but in the end, only three things had mattered—how much you loved him, how you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things are not meant for you.

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coco-loco-nut · 7 months ago

Text

Peter

pairing: George Russel x Reader

summary: George broke his promise to you, never coming back

a/n: no Carmen hate, I couldn't bring myself to write another sad ending

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

_____________

George Russell was everything to you. Your childhood best friend, first and only love, and first heartbreak. You used to follow him around like a lost puppy, him your fearless leader as you made up adventures. You look at the old cedar closet in your childhood bedroom, the one the two of you believed would lead to Narnia one day.

"Y/n, you okay?" your friend nudges you, noticing you not paying attention to the race. The two of you lay in your bed with snacks, as tradition dictates between you and her. Even after all these years, George still holds the place of your best friend, even after he's hurt you.

"Was it something I did? Why doesn't George call anymore?" you ask the question that has been on your mind for the past could years. Your mind travels back to the last time you saw him.

"Y/n, please don't cry, It's just goodbye for now, not forever," George says before leaving for another race. He just said that the two of you need to take a break while he focuses on his racing for the next couple months and you go to university.

"You'll come and find me?" you sniffle, not wanting him to leave, knowing the truth deep down.

"Of course, I promise, just have some growing up to do," George references your favorite book, wiping the tears from your eyes. You were just babes, barely 18.

"Cheer up, I got us tickets to Silverstone next weekend, my job even threw in paddock passes," your friend throws a piece of popcorn at you. She was there when you realized George wasn't coming back to you anytime soon. She made you promise not to let the lamp burn waiting up for him.

"Can't wait," your stomach churns at the thought of getting a glimpse of him and his new girlfriend. You will never admit that you stalked her socials and professional life. It always hurts more when people mention to you how well he's doing when you can't seem to move on.

As you enter the paddock with your overexcited friend, you can't help but let your thoughts be filled with George. Is he still a mind reader like he was for you? Did he still steal the scene in every room he walked in, always attracting your gaze?

"He looks good," your friend says saltily, in solidarity with you, as you look at the video of him playing on the video board.

"Life was always easier on him," you hum, shaking him from your mind. You scan the crowd, noticing the fellow Brit not far from you, but you don't realize he also notices you before his attention is brought back to his girlfriend. It's like you exist under the same moon but live in different galaxies now, a hurtful realization for both of you.

"Can we go explore another place, I don't want to hang here any longer," you don't need to provide any more explanation before your friend pulls you to another area, unknowingly causing the two of you to cross George's path. He says nothing, only staring at the both of you as you don't notice him. The last memory he has of you popping into his mind.

"It's just goodbye for now," George mutters under his breath, kicking himself mentally for unintentionally forgetting about his best friend.

"What was that, George?" Carmen asks, utterly confused.

"Nothing," he brushes the question off. I grew up, I can still find her. George toys with the thought before the guilt of thinking about you while he is with his girlfriend makes him stop. The guilt of the promise he never kept adds to the pit in his stomach.

"George, are you okay? There's something off about you today?" Lewis asks.

"I'm not sure," George says before telling Lewis all about you, the closet that you two thought led to Narnia, your first kiss, your first 'I love you', your last goodbye, and his broken promise.

"Sounds like you really messed up, so what are you going to do?" Lewis processes the story told to him by his teammate, vowing to look you up later.

"I don't know," George sighs, leaning back in his chair. He imagines you waiting at home after the racing season and your first year at Uni.

You never told your friend how you spent your first semester waiting for George, letting the lamp burn at night. You turned down countless guys asking for dates in the hope that you'd return, standing outside your dorm, ready to tell you all that he learned.

You will never say anything because you never lost the love, it just changes with your perspective. You learned from your broken heart. You stopped sitting by the window waiting for his return, realizing George was lost to the racing part of his life. His Instagram post of him not even 30 kilometers away from you partying with other drivers during your first year of Uni, captioned 'the Lost Boys' solidified that for you.

Now you both were 25, and you grew up. The shelf-life of those fantasies had expired long ago, and despite your heart wanting him, it was time for you to move on. You tried to hold onto those days when you had each other, but there is only so much oil in a lamp to burn, and it is time to turn out the light. As you turn it out, there is a knock on your door.

"Y/n?" George's voice calls out as your hand reaches the handle. You cautiously open the door.

"George?" You say, utterly confused. His heart sinks a little, expecting you to call him Georgie.

"I grew up, I'm sorry, but I'm here now, please forgive me," George pleads, and you invite him in.

"You broke your promise," is all you say as you sit in a chair across from him in your living room.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, seeing you at Silverstone reminded me how stupid I am," George says, moving closer to you. Your head snaps up.

"Silverstone? George that was months ago. I'm sorry, the woman who waited by the window turned out the light. You have a girlfriend now and after everything I don't think I can be just your friend," you say, trying to figure out why he's here.

"Had. I had a girlfriend. When I saw you all I could remember was that last conversation, and I realized I was trying to fill the hole in my heart where you were," George says and you stay silent for a moment, taking his words in.

"I don't think I could take another heartbreak like that," you whisper. George and Lewis social media stalked you and old friends. George noticed that you never moved on from him, staying single. When his mind wouldn't leave the idea of you, he very gently broke it off with Carmen. She deserved better than someone who was filling the spot of someone else. "You forgot about me," you accuse, even if it is the truth.

"I never will again, please, I finally finished growing up, I finally came to get you," his eyes fill with tears, putting the ball in your court.

"One week. You get one week to prove your case, I'll make up my mind from there," you relent slightly, keeping the ball in your court so you get the final say in what happens. No more promises that are oceans deep.

two endings

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #george russell #george russell imagines #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #the tourtured poets department

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the-offside-rule · 10 months ago

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Jude Bellingham (Real Madrid) - Moving

Requested: yes

Prompt: Moving in with Jude Bellingham (this came at a good time cuz my fyp is FULL of Jude)

Warnings: cutesy shtuff

"Jesus, whys there so much books?" Jude asked as he unpacked a third black box filled to the brim with various schoolbooks. "University. I don't think I need to explain further." Y/n replied as she stacked the books onto the newly constructed shelf. "Yeah, but why so many? I thought everything was online nowadays."

Jude couldn't hide his excitement as he helped Y/n move into their new place in Madrid. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and laughter, creating an atmosphere of warmth and joy. Jude grinned as he lifted another box, "You sure you want all these books in our room, babe?" Y/n chuckled and took a few, placing them on the Shelf above their bed. "Absolutely! They're part of the charm. Plus, they'll have a good view from the shelf." AsAs they unpacked, memories unfolded. Y/n held up an old photo, "Look at us here! Can't believe it's been that long." Y/n stumbled upon another photo of them in the Camp Nou. Their first holiday as a couple. "Remember that trip to Barcelona? Our first adventure together." It was....ironic how he ended up going to the rival team but that was a funny story to tell in the future. She grinned, handing it to her boyfriend. Jude chuckled. "Yeah, and now we're making a new chapter right here in Madrid. Who would've thought?"

They set up a cozy reading nook, and Y/n teased. "Imagine the adventures we'll have in this little corner." She winked. "Behave. I won't bother you when you're there. I'll wait until you get out." Jude said, undoing another box. "We both know you're impatient." She smiled. "You're awfully rude, you know." He muttered. "You love me really Jude."

Amidst the unpacking chaos, they found a quirky souvenir from a past vacation. Y/n held up a miniature flamenco dancer. "We got this in Barcelona too, didn't we? Jesus, I nearly forgot all of these." She turned to see Jude holding a cinema ticket and a receipt. "What's this?" He asked. "Remember our first date to the cinema? I kept the ticket." Jude nodded. "Ah yeah. How could I forget? I spilled popcorn and pretended it was intentional, just to hold your hand." Jude chuckled. "You were quite the romantic back then." Jude held her closely and smiled down to her, just centimeters from her face. "I still am, especially when it comes to you."

"You still know how to make me blush." Jude chuckled. "You'd swear we were married for like 50 years with how you're going on." Jude laughed. "Oh but I love these little tokens. It reminds me of how we got here." She said, holding the ticket in her own hand now. "Our own little museum of love." He joked. "Oh shut up." They shared a playful laugh, turning mundane tasks into moments they'd remember forever.

In between assembling furniture, Y/n looked at Jude with a mischievous grin. "Remember when we tried to build that IKEA shelf? It took us hours!" Jude shook his head. "I still blame the instructions. They're like a secret code only IKEA employees understand." Jude said trying to connect the leg to the new desk. "Or the Swedish." They both burst into laughter, turning the furniture assembly into a lighthearted competition.

While setting up Y/n's study space, Jude couldn't help but express his pride. "You're going to nail uni, Y/n. I'll be right here cheering you on." Y/n playfully tapped his nose. "We cam be eachother's cheerleaders. Go team us!" She smiled. "But I haven't exactly been the best cheerleader, have I?" Jude said. "It's understandable." Y/n replied. "I don't think it is. It would have been understandable for you to not come to my games and support me but you still did. But it's my turn now and I promise I'm going to cheer you on louder than anyone else." Y/n reached out her hand and he took it, interlocking their fingers and kissing them. "I am so happy you're finally here." He whispered.

They shared a sweet moment, realizing that every challenge they faced only brought them closer together. "Come on, last box." Y/n said, handing the heavy box to Jude. He obviously underestimated how heavy it was because he nearly dropped it. "Don't you deadlift at training?" Y/n teased. "Come here you!" She giggled as she ran from Jude around the house, further delaying them actually finishing up the moving process.

As the day unfolded and the furniture set up, the items and memorabilia all set in their place, the couple sat by the pool with the fireplace ablaze, sipping on coffee, and enjoying the peace and quiet of eachother's company. "This is home now, isn't it?" Y/n said, leaning into Jude. He nodded. "Our safe haven. Here's to new beginnings, love." They clinked their coffee mugs, sealing the promise of countless more memories Madrid, in what would now be known as their home.

The day ended with laughter echoing through the halls, love lingering in the air, and the anticipation of countless tomorrows in a city that now held not just their dreams but their shared adventures and cherished moments.

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #laliga #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham

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solaiced · 25 days ago

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CASE 15: I ACCEPT ANY FORM OF FUSHIGURO TOJI.

!content!: vampire-werewolf toji, toji reads your mind, fast paced (kinda rushed sowwy), werewolf sex, knots, mentions of breeding (can't help myself...) and is it stockholm syndrome if you're lowkey into it?

wc:3.2k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A vast forest spreads before you, dark and grimy. It smells like stale air, in contrast to what it smelled like before your friends dared you to go in it in the middle of the night, with only a camera, a flashlight, and fishsticks. Why fishsticks? Because everyone loves those, so you can trade that for your life.

"Come on! It's really not that scary!" One of your friends, Kizumi, pushed you forward, you stumble and the others chuckle, amused at the danger they're going to put you in.

"Girl," you glare at her. "What's scary is your unblended contour." The others gasp, shocked you even fought back.

"Just go!" One of them says, you associated that person with Aya. "There's no one, trust us." She assures, walking to you and placing her hand on your shoulder. It brought you a sense of comfort that someone in the group cared to reassure you.

She smiles, ushering you towards the dark path, "Don't worry about the batteries in the flashlight–I put new ones just in case!" You smile back, confident enough to walk to where the trees followed the grassless, earthly path.

Everyone bid you a good luck, all giggling at the videos you're about to film. They all camped at the start of the way; lighting a fire to make sure you knew where to go to go home.

As you ventured deeper, the memories of your friends' tips and tricks evaporated from your mind, long forgotten by the overwhelming sense of unease coursing through your blood. Flip flops were definitely not the best choice for an adventure like this one.

All of a sudden, you hear growling, feel eyes on your body and smell blood. Your mind was playing tricks on you, trying to lead you away.

But braveness (or stupidity) kept you going. The growling became just another background noise, your ears buzzing too much to

concentrate.

An out of place 'crack' behind makes you drop the camera you'd been holding this whole time. Force your spine, they said. That's what you do. You bend down, putting the flashlight down to search for the fallen object.

When you finally grab it, you barely have a hold of your light before it’s snatched away from your hand, eliciting a sharp gasp.

A click resonates in the air, the light going out and plunging you into pitch black darkness. You couldn't move or make a sound, fear response rendering it impossible.

Just then, your mind registers that the growling had ceased, making the forest even quieter than before. The insects didn't dare make a sound, fearing the predator near. Said predator obviously behind or in front of you, because there’s no wind strong enough to grab a flashlight and click it off with such ease, lest it would have blown you, too,

away. Leaves crunch under invisible feet, walking towards you.

Your flight-or-fight instinct kicked in, making you step back, turn around, and run the way you just came from. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, keeping your energy output high but steady. At the same time, a cackle scares the birds out of their trees, fast steps approaching rapidly behind you.

Tears gather in your eyes, blurring your vision and making you stumble momentarily. You'll blame your friends. You didn't want to die, what even is the thing chasing you?

"Little woman... "A deep voice drawls from behind you. Its tone is honeyed, like luring a small animal in. Something caresses your cheek, a breath, a hair, or an insect.

Fuck, you didn't know, but it was terrifying. Thank God for thinking of emptying your bladder earlier, or else you would’ve pissed yourself from how scared you were.

“Stop runnin’,” the voice orders,

you could hear a tired undertone to it, like it was sick of your running.

"I won't harm ya, physically.” It promises, almost purring. There's a breeze next to you, unlike the wind you were producing on your own.

Locking to the side, you see a figure, much bigger than you. This is it, you think, slowing down because you were tired, the adrenaline having consumed more energy than helped.

There was no way out of this. The figure reaches out, grabbing you and pulling you towards it. It lifts you up, carrying you and you scream, trying to get away. It shushes you, somewhat

softly.

Fuck. You hope it kills you

before eating you, because, as the darkness lets the moonlight shine through the tree leaves, you see rows of sharp teeth in front of your face.

It, or should you say, he, smiles,

"Hello, my girl.” It–he cackles when you whimper in fear.

"Don't be afraid, I've got you, now. And I'll always have you until we die." The monster walks deeper into the woods, carrying you with him. You're too scared to fight back, especially with this big of a man.

"What do you want from me?" You feel tears flowing down your cheeks when you blink. He coos and wipes them, licking his thumb

when he gathers enough.

"Your soul. No, I want you, all of It. Your body, mainly your love.

Because you're mine." He chuckles, pecking your cheek and you shiver in disgust, unable to move away.

"We're home." You look behind you, wondering what he meant.

Behind you is a ruined shack, covered in vines.

He waves a hand towards it, "It's better inside, I just made sure it looked haunted, since I don't want trespassers." He places you down, still holding your hand just in case.

“Come on,” Pulling you with him, he opens a door and switches on the lights. The interior is nicer, he hadn't lied. The couch was en earthlygreen, placed in frontof an unlit fireplace, surrounded by bookshelves over filled with disordered books.

You stiffle a sob, looking down at the carpetted floor. He worriedly lifts your chin, craddling your face.

"Don't cry. Y’er going to be fine"

"Let me go." You order waterily.

"No. I want you." He straightens, locking the door.

"What even… Why?" Eyes shining with tears, pleading with this monster of a man. Seeing him in full was devastating, dark hair that fell barely over his shoulders, green eyes that appeared almost grey as they glare daggers at you.

He wore sweatpants of the same color, but darker shade, probably to blend in with the bushes, and a black compression shirt that had no reason to be highlighting all of his hard musches. He smirks at your scrutiny, crossing his arms.

"Enjoy the view?" He asks, only then, do you notice a small scar in the corner of his mouth, like a knife had ripped the seam of his lips open. Scars had so many stories, and a small, stupid part of you wonders how he got it.

"No. I was just thinking of how pathetically ugly (no, he wasn't, liar) you are, and how pitiful it is to kidnap a girl because you can't get pussy on your own." Boom. Roasted. Knowing men's egos, you would probably get killed, but at least you went out with fire and style.

Oh, but all he does is chuckle, sauntering towards you. And you've never felt so terrified.

"If you thought that hurt my ego, think again," Had he read your mind? "Yeah, I can." He tilts his head as you step back, cold sweat dripping down your back. How did he ...

"How? I'm a vampire and a werewolf, lovey, that's my thing. I've got unimaginable shit and I'll kill if you ask me to. Poor you. Had no real chance from the very beginning." You swallow nervously at his mocking tone. Was this it? Dying in a monster’s hut in the middle of nowhere? You curse your "friends".

"I can't believe y’er own friends left you here. Alone." He coos, pouting and mocking you. This little...!

"Oh, I'm not little. You are, though.

I could just eat ya." That struck fear in you, freezing in place as he strokes your cheek.

You were too cute, he thought. Trying to act all brave, but staying in place the immediate moment you sense danger.

You bark out a laugh, hiding your fear, "That thing is." Finger pointed at his crotch, you mock him just as he had, sputtering when he slams you against the wall. The whole house shook, like you had.

"Wanna find out, hm?" He growls, mouth next to your ear. Once more, you swallow, feeling your whole face flush.

"Oh? You do? No need to lie, lovey." He lift a strand of hair that had fallen down from your pony tail, which was very loose, now.

You shake your head, attempting to deny the obvious.

Because, who didn't? He was handsome, albeit crazy, who wasn't curious, seriously? He pulls away.

"No, seriously, who wouldn't want to see my dick?" He puts a hand on your hip. "Wrap y’er legs around me." He orders

as his hands go under your thighs to support your weight. You comply. Hey, a hot man just told you that he was gonna fuck you, and he’s too big to even fight back, obviously you were going to obey.

"Very good girl. " He smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, smiling. Eugh...?

"Hey, wait..." You start, both hands on each of his shoulders. "What.. I don't even know your name?"

"Oh." He opens a door with his foot. "Fushiguro Toji. Formely Zenin." He mentions casually.

You don't need to answer with yours, because he read your mind and repeated it, smiling. It sounded nice on his tongue: Why were you so down-bad?!

And what did he mean, "formerly"?

"That's for another time, woman."

Toji places you on his bed.

It was so soft... You turn, nuzzling your face into the bed. Also because you didn’t want to see him. He was scary, if you were being honest.

"One day, you'll do that to me, too." The man behind you, hands on your hips, snickers.

You turn your head, "One day, I'll stab you until you die." You threaten, pushing your ass against Toji’s half-hard crotch. Was he commando down there?

"News flash, I’m stronger than you. Also, you know damn well you want me, and that's not a threat from you."

From you? What did he mean?

“It means I don't mind dying again if it means that you're the one killing me." He slaps your ass lightly.

"So romantic." You roll your eyes.

“And we just met.” He looks way too smug, right now.

"Well, you just met me. I met you a long time ago." Again, he confuses you. What more nonsense did he spew?

"You don’t notice when someone watches you." Is all he said before he rips, yes, rips off your leggings.

"You bastard! Stop doing that!" You yell, covering what was left of your shredded dignity (your panties).

"How else do I take them off, woman?" Toji groans, crossing his bulky arms (that you wanted to chew and drool on like a mutt).

"Take it off, normally.” You hold yourself up with your elbows.

He grunts again, kissing his teeth like he was the one who should be annoyed. "How was I supposed to know? I thought you wanted that." He’s too smug. But he wasn't wrong. You had thought about it.

"I'm never wrong about you." He adds, kissing down the column of your throat.

A little moan involuntarily escapes your mouth, eyes closed to lessen the embarrassment.

"Don't worry, I don't judge. In fact, moan as loud as you can. Scream my name. Fuck, I don’t even care, tell me your weirdest fantasy and I swear I’ll fulfill them." Toji promises, cupping your ass as he retreats, slipping your panties down slowly, you get goosebumps from it.

Shuddering, you turn and glare at him. A little part of you asked if he had a real form, because anything other this hunk of a man would be better. If you looked at him, you might get attached. Handsome as he is.

He looked confused at your earlier squirming, were you stressed? And then, he read your mind. Dug into your deepest, darkest fantasies.

"You think I have a real form?" The man laughed. "That's cute. But, this is my real form. If you want to fuck something unconventionally attractive, since you don’t want to see me…I'll make sure you will. Eyes closed." He covers your eyes with a large hand, angling your head to face away from him. Slowly, his hand's texture changes. His once calloused hand becomes just a tiny bit softer, but fuzzier.

When your vision returns, you immediately flip over, eyes widening at the figure. Before you stood a version of Toji. A werewolf version. You think you'd soak through your panties, had they not been removed. The sheets were probably wet from your arousal.

Sharp canines replaced Toji's straight teeth, his eyes sharper, greener, and more vivid. His arms had more... fur? Than skin. His ears were pointier, with more fur, and… was that a tail? Holy shit. When his tongue peeked out to wet his lips, you realise it was longer.

Fucking hell, you want it down your throat. Oh, wait. He probably read your mind. Well, fuck. He prowls toward you, smirking like the smuggest man ever alive. He's so annoying!

"You want my tongue down your throat? Ya gotta ask out loud, lovey." Toji bends down to be eye-to-eye with you.

"You’d have to slit my fucking throat if you want me to even beg for anything from you." You snarl while the werewolf smiles, sharp teeth glinting in the light. How he loved your attitude.

"We'll see about that." Stubborn bitch, he thought, pushing you flat on the bed.

——————

You were so dying. If you weren't, Why were you feeling like this? like God himself snatched your soul from your body. Just as your vision begins to spot with back dots, Toji's hand moves away, no longer crushing your throat.

You blink away the tears clouding your vision and look up at this monster-god. He thrusts into you, smirking at your little gasps for air.

“Are you okay?" He pouts mockingly, cooing at you suddenly choking, hand on the pillow beneath you and on your hip, grip so harsh, you felt a bruise forming in the shape of his hand. The man's own hips couldn't help but jerk, your sweet cunt's walls almost massaging the cum out of his cock.

"I'm fine." You gargle when he begins to choke you again, hand off your hip. Toji slams into you once more, and again, and again - it's too much. If he kept going, you were gonna—

"Cum?" He repeats, punishing thrusts becoming full-on torturous when his fat tip bulges through your stomach. His tail was wagging nonstop, too excited to be still.

You'd taken his knot a couple times, now. There's no Plan B to use, because it would be a waste of money. He'd completely breeded you. A small, freaky part of you found this... hot.

"Ffuck yeah, I'll fill you up with brats, and then you won't be able to leave, huh? You're not gonna leave, right?" Toji hums, baring his teeth like a warning and his ears twitched. The way his tip was hammering inside of you and hitting your deepest parts made your hands clench the sheets beneath you.

"Answer me, bitch. You gon' stay, or nah?" He tightens his grasp on your neck, as if he was trying to recreate how tightly you were wrapped around him. Claws digging into your skin…Oh, fuck, answer!

"Y-yes, yes! Toji, uhn!-" You whine, eyes rolling so far into your skull that you fear they may get stuck.

"Good fuckin' girl. You–ngh–bet your ass... if I find out yer lying, you bet yer ass I fuck you until your bones break." Toji's words strike fear in you, making you flutter wildly around him.

The monster disguised as a man releases your abused throat, pink coating the skin due to the force he had gripped you. His thrusts were wild now, hips snapping forward erratically, balls, heavy with unspilled cum, ready to breed you, smacking your ass.

You can already feel Toji's knot at the base of his cock, and that excites you to no end. You squirm, body unable to decide if it wants to get away or have more. The tantalizing plaps of wet flesh smacking eachother was so loud, paired with the thumps of his tail on the bed, you'd think they resounded in the woods outside.

Luckily, thoughts were erradicated the moment Toji pushed his bulbous tip in and out of your greedy pussy. You weren't the only one struggling to keep composure, though. Your hazy vision cleared just enough to be able to see the man’s scrunched up face.

Sweat covered his skin, which was also littered with scars like the one on his mouth, but worse. His bulging muscles that twitched at the same time as his pulsing cock, it made you insane with lust.

“What’re you waitin’ for? Rub that pretty clit for me.” Your monster orders, which kicks you into action, getting to work immediately.

Shaky, uncoordinated fingers come to rub the sensitive, red nub, abused by the unruly hair on Toji's pubic area.

He groans, balls tightening up, knot inflating in preparation to stuff your warm pussy, and paint her walls a pretty shade of white with his cum.

"Fuck... This 's... ugh, the tightest pussy ever. Hgk-! I'll make you loose, yeah? So that you wan't feel good for any other man except for me." He emphasizes the last words with mind numbing thrusts as you throw yourself over the edge with the most unexpected orgasm since Toji ate you out a few… hours? ago.

He moans deeply, breath coming out in short puffs. He looks down at you, green eyes filled with lust and something deeper, scarier. Like love. (But that’s impossible because you just met!)

"You gonna take the knot again?. Take all my fucking babies, hm?" He grunts, shutting his eyes as he pops the engorged knot inside of you, making you squeal in surprise. Your earlier orgasm had made you too sensitive to all movements he made inside of you.

The monster lets out a small, almost indiscernable whimper and cums, overfilling you until your stomach was slightly disented from the amount of semen sloshing around inside.

You felt nothing but Toji for a while, not even noticing your quivering hands in his messy black hair to pull him closer. Maybe to kiss him.

You pucker your lips, ready for a post-orgasmic romantic kiss. But he turns his head away.

"You didn't beg. " The green eyed monster grumbles, as if he was mad about his own teasing. It's obvious he wanted to.

"Please... Toji..." you whine petulantly, legs still wrapped around his waist and hands clutching his hair tightly.

"Not enough." He says gruffly, a wicked grin painting his features.

"Please kiss me, my big, bad, sweetest werewolf vamps." you beg sweetly, bursting out laughing at his wide eyes and disgusted face.

"I don't know what the fuck you just said, but that... Never say that shit again. "Toji straightens, sitting on his calves. He brings you up with him, strong arms craddling you gently.

"But, can I have your tongue down–mfph!" You were cut off by your monster's lips pressed against yours, tongue slipping discreetly into your mouth. God, he can't wait to fuck you, again, and have you take all of his pups and fuck you in his human form.

#jjk #kinktober 2024 #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #solace's works #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji #jujutsu toji

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

Text

A promise kept

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 8

Prompt: Idiots to lovers

Rated: G

Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; Mistaken identity; Fluff; Modern AU if you squint

CW: none

Notes: @house-of-the-moving-image and I came up with this while bouncing ideas for another drabble and fell instantly in love with the idea. Be sure to also check out the precious art they made!!!

The bars of the jungle gym creak but Steve doesn’t lift his face from his hunched knees.

“Hey, big boy, don't cry.”

“‘m not crying. Go away!”

This is ridiculous. He's almost eight, and eight-year-old boys don't cry. Not even if their only friend in the whole world just told them they're moving away to live with their uncle.

They don't even know each other’s names. Names don't matter when you're eight and you're both at the park and looking for someone to play with.

So Steve is big boy.

And his friend … well, Steve mostly calls him his dragon.

It's because of this game they have. Steve is a king and the other boy his dragon and the jungle gym their castle, and every day, they have a new adventure.

Except now, there won't be any more adventures.

“Oh? But how am I supposed to give you this?”

Steve lifts his head, goes a bit cross-eyed at the flower that's hovering right in front of his face.

“What would I want with that?” he snaps. “Flowers are for girls.”

His dragon chuckles as he joins him on his perch. The playground stretches out under them. Their kingdom.

“But this isn't just any flower. It's magical.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Magical?”

“Yup!” His friend's face breaks into a grin, two teeth short. “As long as you keep it, I'll always make my way back to you. It may take a while, but I'll find you eventually.”

“Promise?” Steve murmurs. There's a lump in his throat and it comes out small and quiet.

“I promise.” The other boy winks and tugs the flower behind his ear. “That I'll find you, and that I'll always be your dragon. And now, my king … how about one final adventure?”

The colors of the jungle gym are faded with age. Like the pressed flower in its frame on his bedroom wall.

“Oh hey, Steve!”

Steve looks up from the book in his lap to find a familiar someone next to their picnic blanket.

“Eddie, hi!” He smiles, even as his stomach drops. “I … what are you doing here?”

“Steve?” Will asks, ogling Eddie's tattoos and wild hair with large eyes. “Who's this?”

“Oh, erm …” Steve runs an awkward hand through his hair. “My friend Eddie. He just moved here. Eddie, this is Will and El, the kids I babysit?”

“Of course,” Eddie dips into a bow, which makes the twins giggle. “Steve has told me all about you.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” El asks. “Steve is reading the How to train your dragon books to us.”

“Fuck yeah, I love dragons!” Eddie cheers. Only he doesn’t sit on the blanket like a normal person - he perches himself on the steps of the jungle gym and hisses, pulling a silly face and mimicking claws with his hands. El whoops and claps while Will smiles shyly. Steve needs to swallow against the memories that threaten to crawl up his throat.

“Was it alright to invite Eddie?” El asks. They've finished reading for the day and she helped Steve get snow cones. “You said he's your friend, but you seem sad when you look at him.”

Steve sighs.

“It's okay,” he says, because how do you explain this to a seven-year-old?

How do you explain I only met him a few weeks ago but I really like him and it confuses me because it seems like I've known him forever because he reminds me so much of someone I used to know and I'm scared because it feels like I'm betraying that person even though I'm sure they've long forgotten about me?

Will is up on the jungle gym when they round the corner, beaming from ear to ear and talking animatedly with Eddie, who is gesturing up at him from the ground.

“El!” he calls out when he spots his sister. She smiles and clambers up to join him, handing over one of the dripping snow cones. “Eddie has the best ideas. He just told me about this game he used to play as a kid. Did you know the jungle gym could be a castle and we could be kings and dragons? What do you want to be? We could-”

“Steve?”

Someone touches his shoulder and he flinches back into his own body. Eddie’s voice is full of concern, and okay, that's probably because he just dropped their snow cones. They're forming rainbow-colored puddles in the grass.

“Stevie, c'mon, talk to me! You're freaking me out here!”

He snaps his head up.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Eddie smiles. His eyes are large with worry. Large and brown and crinkling at the corners and so familiar and Steve's an idiot. “You just zoned out there, I thought-”

“It's you,” Steve mutters. His hands are shaking and his eyes are stinging and then the next thing he knows is that his arms are around Eddie’s neck and he's sobbing into his shoulder. “Holy fuck, it's really you! You're my dragon!”

“Wait, what?” Eddie pulls back, smile wide and incredulous. His fingers wipe away Steve’s tears, trace the shape of his cheekbones and jaw. “You're- Shit, really? I knew you looked familiar, but I thought there was no way-”

“I was feeling so bad!” Steve blurts, chest heaving with what might be sobs or laughter, and who cares really, when he found his dragon again? “I was so scared to fall for you because-”

“Oh?” Eddie’s grin isn't missing any teeth, but it's still just as brilliant. “Are you now?”

“Huh?”

Eddie chuckles. “Falling for me?”

Steve feels himself flush, even as he gives a shaky nod. Eddie’s eyes are soft as he pulls him in.

“It's okay, big boy. You don't have to be afraid of anything while I'm around.”

“This is really weird,” El whispers from somewhere above them as their lips meet. “I don't think they understand how being friends works.”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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differentpostrebel · 3 months ago

Text

Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

This just fits the chapter so much LMFAOO

Chapter 6: The Shattered Crew

A/N:

Y/N is an established pirate and a formidable warrior, with the third highest bounty in the Straw Hat crew. She's not just another member; her strength and skills have earned her a respected spot among the crew.

Sanji, our favorite lovesick cook, falls head over heels for Y/N almost immediately. True to his nature, he tries every trick in the book to catch her attention, from cooking her favorite meals to showering her with compliments. On the other hand, Y/N may have a small crush on Sanji, but she’s cautious and focused on her goals as a pirate.

As the story progresses, that small crush gradually blossoms into something more profound, but their journey together won't be easy. With the chaos of the New World looming, the dangers they face will test their bond and loyalty to each other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the trials ahead, or will the perils of their pirate life tear them apart?

Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster filled with angst, action, and a dash of romance. I'm thrilled to take you on this adventure with Y/N, Sanji, and the rest of the Straw Hat crew!

Word Count: 3.5k

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (Here).

Sanji X Reader, OP X Reader, Sanji x Y/N

Y/N POV…

Flying through the air, you feel the wind whip against your face, a sensation of soaring at a breakneck speed. “Am I dead?” you think, your mind struggling to grasp the surreal experience. Slowly, you open one eye, squinting through the haze to see the clouds above and the sea far below. Pain radiates through your body, each jolt reminding you of the injuries you've sustained.

“Why am I floating?” you wonder, the realization of what’s happened crashing down on you. “Kuma, my friends disappearing… Sanji’s kiss!” The memory of Sanji’s desperate, passionate kiss floods back, and a pang of rage hits you.Your mad at him because he just kissed you and launched you to Luffy. "Did he really just do that?!"

Your thoughts are abruptly cut off as you crash-land onto an island. The impact is jarring, sending shockwaves of pain through your already battered body. The world spins and blurs as you lie there, succumbing to the exhaustion that finally overtakes you.

As you fade in and out of consciousness, you catch glimpses of people huddling over you. A hand gently touches your face, and you hear a muffled, urgent voice. “Take her to the village and quickly! Her injuries are far too much.”

Your vision darkens, and the last thing you feel is the gentle but firm touch of the strangers as they lift you. The world fades to black once more, and you succumb to the darkness, your mind haunted by the echoes of those you’ve lost.

You wake up with a groan as the bright light hits your sensitive eyes. You blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness. As your vision clears, you realize you’re in a hospital room. The sterile white walls and the soft beeping of medical equipment are unfamiliar.

You attempt to sit up, but a sharp pain shoots through your body, causing you to cry out in agony. Almost immediately, a doctor and a male nurse rush into the room. The doctor’s face shows a mix of relief and concern, while the nurse has a reassuring smile.

“Good! You’re awake!” the doctor says, his voice warm but filled with urgency. “You were on the brink of death if it weren’t for our soldiers bringing you here!”

The nurse steps closer, adjusting your IV and checking your vitals. “You gave us quite a scare. We’re glad you’re stable now.”

Groaning, you try to focus on them, your mind still foggy from the recent events. “How long was I out for?” you ask, wincing as you move.

The doctor glances at the nurse before answering, “About a day.”

Your eyes bulge in shock. “A day?! I have to go!” You try to scramble off the bed, but the pain and weakness make your movements awkward and unsteady. “I need to get back to Sabaody! If you have a boat, I need to leave before the third day! All my friends will be waiting!”

The doctor moves to steady you, his expression turning serious. “I understand your urgency, but unfortunately, you’ll need to speak with the king of the island. He’s the one who grants permission for ships to leave. And he’s known to be the toughest fighter here.”

Your desperation is evident as you look up at him. “The king? How can I talk to him? I need to go now!” I went to reach my vivre card that was laying on the table next to you.

The nurse steps forward, his expression sympathetic. “The king is a formidable warrior and a crucial figure here. It’s not easy to see him, and he’s known for being very strict about who he allows to leave. But if you want to get back to your friends, it’s the only way.”

The doctor nods in agreement. “We’ll arrange for you to meet with him as soon as possible. For now, focus on resting and recovering. Your health is the priority.”

You collapse back onto the bed, frustration and anxiety written all over your face. “Please, do everything you can to help me. I can’t afford to lose any more time.”

The nurse places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We’ll do our best. Rest for now, and we’ll make sure you’re seen by the king as soon as possible.”

As the doctor and nurse leave the room to make the necessary arrangements, you lie back, your mind racing with worry for your friends and the time slipping away.

Sanji's POV…

"My dearest Nami, my sweet Robin, my beautiful Y/N... It's been a while. How are you three doing? As for me, I’m..." A few hours before...

I’m struggling to open my eyes. The smell of the ocean lingers in the air, and I groan as I manage to lift my head slightly. Above me, a heart-shaped rainbow stretches across the sky. My body feels like it’s on fire, every muscle aching, as if I’ve been through a war.

Realization hits me after a few minutes. Kuma… My crew disappearing… And then… Y/N…

My eyes bug out of their sockets as I remember. "Y/N!" I shout, trying to leap up, but pain betrays my body, forcing me to stay on the sand. I’m exhausted, my body drifting in and out of consciousness. "Where the hell am I?" I mutter weakly.

"Oh my goodness, are you alright?" A gentle voice reaches me, but it’s muffled. "Mister, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

I can’t make out what she looks like, my vision blurring as exhaustion takes over. I finally let it win, darkness swallowing me whole.

Some time later...

I wake up again, but this time, I’m resting in the lap of the same lady. She’s gently wiping the dirt and debris from my face with a handkerchief. Her scent is sweet, soothing, and for a moment, I’m lost in it. "Am I… in the lap of a beautiful woman?" I wonder aloud, my thoughts hazy. "Is it… Nami? Maybe Robin? Or perhaps Y/N?" My heart races at the thought, but no… it can’t be.

Despite my fatigue, I reach up, grinning like a fool, and grab her arm. “No way, I want to stay here forever.”

She freezes under my touch, and then, without a word, she gets up and runs away.

“Hey, wait a minute, come back!” I call after her, but she’s gone. I blink, sitting up. “I guess it wasn’t a dream…” I mutter, noticing the handkerchief she left behind. Flipping it over, I see the name ‘Elizabeth’ embroidered on it.

With a groan, I get up slowly, my body still weak, and start walking. "I still don’t have a damn clue where I’m at." I glance around, the scenery unfamiliar. "Maybe I died and gone to heaven?" I say, half-jokingly, though part of me wonders if it’s true.

Then, a sudden thought hits me. “I sense romance in the air,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head almost immediately. "No, no, I can’t think of such things like that." I take out my vivre card and look at it, the reminder of what’s truly important. "Nami, Robin, and Y/N are waiting for me."

I sigh, a heartfelt, conflicted sigh, clutching the handkerchief to my chest. "But the least I can do is thank her for her kindness!" I declare, determination sparking in my tired body. After all, a gentleman must always be courteous to a lady.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I started running in the direction the woman—Elizabeth—had gone. My heart pangs with guilt as I imagine the looks on Nami, Robin, and Y/N’s faces. “Nami, Robin, Y/N… please forgive me for being unfaithful,” I whisper under my breath, but I keep running, hoping to find Elizabeth and express my gratitude.

Y/N POV:

You continue to stare at the vivre card Shakky handed you, watching the small piece of paper begin to slowly move. With a sigh, you gaze out the window from your bed, wondering where everyone else landed and hoping they were all safe. "I wonder what the crew is doing," you mutter, the words heavy with longing.

Finally, you manage to stand and walk slowly to the mirror. The reflection that meets you is almost unrecognizable—a shell of the person you once were. Your hair is disheveled, your body wrapped in bandages, and your right thigh, where the bandage is beginning to unravel, reveals a small scar. A constant reminder of what happened that day.

You shake your head, trying to push the dark thoughts away. "No," you whisper to yourself. "Now is not the time to mope. I have to keep going." Just as you're about to put on your clothes, the door opens, and the male nurse enters. A faint blush creeps across his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you. Realizing your predicament, you quickly grab the sheets from the bed and wrap them around yourself, securing your body.

The nurse stumbles over his words, trying to explain, "Your clothes were too damaged to wear, so I brought some traditional wear for you." You look at the clothes, puzzled, given that this is a male-only island. The shirt looks more like a dress but fits you nicely. As you start to speak, the nurse cuts you off, "They belong to my sister, actually. We weren't always an all-male island... but for some reason, all the women suddenly disappeared."

You step forward, wrapping your arms around the nurse, feeling the hesitation in his body before he slowly relaxes and returns the embrace. His warmth offers a small comfort in the midst of all the chaos you've endured.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "For everything. I can't imagine what it's like to lose so many people, especially your sister... But I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to help, starting with this challenge."

The nurse holds you a little tighter before letting go, a mixture of relief and sadness in his eyes. "You remind me of her," he says quietly. "Strong, determined... She would have liked you."

Before you can respond, the male doctor enters the room, his expression serious but not unkind. "The King has an opening tonight," he informs you, his gaze flicking briefly to the nurse before returning to you. "It’s rare for someone to get a chance to face him so soon, but you’ll need all your strength. He's known to be the toughest fighter on the island."

You nod, determination hardening your resolve. "Okay," you say, glancing between the doctor and the nurse. "Let’s go. I need to get back to my crew, and if facing the King is the way to do it, then I’m ready."

The nurse gives you a small, encouraging smile. "We’ll be with you every step of the way," he says, his voice full of quiet strength. "Just... be careful. The King isn’t someone to take lightly."

You offer him a reassuring smile, despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. "I’ll be careful," you promise, "but I won’t back down. My friends are waiting for me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get back to them."

With that, you gather your blades, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Sanji POV…

After a few minutes, I arrived at a quaint home that matched the style of Elizabeth's handkerchief. Knocking on the door, I made my presence known. "Lady Elizabeth, it's me, Sanji," I called out. "I came here to return your handkerchief."

I heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on the floor as someone approached from the other side. The door creaked open, and just as I flashed my best smile, she yanked the handkerchief out of my hand and retreated back inside.

"Hey, you never let me say thanks!" I called after her, trying to keep my cool. "Don’t rush, Sanji. She’s probably a shy and innocent girl. Be cool, have a little patience." I continued to talk to her behind the closed door, trying to engage her in conversation.

Elizabeth, from the other end, began asking me a series of questions, which I eagerly answered. She seemed particularly curious about dresses. I paused for a moment, pondering her interest, and then it hit me—she must be trying to make a love connection. The thought brought a grin to my face.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Elizabeth stood there, inviting me inside. Stepping into her home, I started to flirt, my charm in full swing. Her back was turned to me, and I imagined her blushing from my words. But then, she abruptly turned around and ran towards me.

"Oh, Elizabeth! Leap into my arms, love struck—" I began, but before I could finish, she shoved an outfit into my arms, catching me completely off guard. The force of it sent me sprawling flat on my back.

Confused, I looked up as Elizabeth leaned over me, a mischievous grin on her face. "This outfit would look amazing on you," she declared.

I blinked, my mind racing to make sense of what was happening. Then, it dawned on me—this wasn't the romantic encounter I had imagined. "Wait a minute… What’s going on here?"

Elizabeth straightened up, her grin widening. "Welcome to Kamabakka Kingdom," she said, her tone cheerful but with an edge that sent chills down my spine.

Panic gripped me as the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn't just any island—this was that island.

My eyes widened, and without another word, I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the door. "My dearest Nami, my sweet Robin, my beautiful Y/N... It's been a while. How are you three doing? As for me, I’m—well, how do I put this..."

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my heart pounding in my chest as the gravity of my situation sank in. I have to get out of here… and fast!

Y/N POV…

You begin to exit the hospital quarters, the sunlight filtering through the leaves as you stretch your arms out, feeling the pull of your muscles. It’s a small comfort after being bedridden for so long. Before heading to the King's quarters, you glance back at the nurse. "Is there an isolated area where I can practice with my blade before meeting the King?"

The nurse nods and leads you to a secluded part of the island. The clearing is quiet, with only the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of waves. Perfect. You unsheathe your blade, feeling its familiar weight in your hand.

Taking a deep breath, you step into the clearing and begin to move, launching blow after blow with precision and speed. Your blade slices through the air, cutting trees left and right with swift, effortless movements. The sound of wood splintering echoes around you as you continue to push yourself, testing your limits.

"Still got it," you mutter with a smirk, satisfied with your performance.

Both the male doctor and nurse stand still, their eyes wide in admiration. Despite your injuries, you wield your blade with deadly precision. Maybe, just maybe, this will be enough to defeat the King.

You sheath your blade with a confident flourish and turn to the medics. Grinning, you tell them, "Now, shall we?" They nod, preparing to lead the way, but before you can take a step, you hear a distant coo.

You pause, recognizing the sound. "A news coo?" you wonder aloud. Curiosity piqued, you reach out and grab the newspaper it drops. Unfolding it, your eyes scan the headlines, and suddenly, your heart stops.

"Ace… Ace has died at Marineford. And Luffy… Luffy was there trying to rescue him."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Luffy!" you yell, your voice trembling with shock.

The medics exchange worried glances. "Luffy? What happened?" the nurse asks, his voice tinged with concern.

You can barely speak, your mind racing with the implications of what you’ve just read. Shaking, you release the paper, letting it flutter to the ground. "No… This can’t be happening."

The urgency of the situation hits you like a tidal wave. There’s no time to waste. You need to get to Luffy, to find out if he’s safe. Your heart pounds in your chest as you make a decision. "I need to get a ship. Now."

The doctor steps forward, a determined look on his face. "We'll help you, but you have to stay focused. If you want to defeat the King, you can't let your emotions get the better of you."

You nod, trying to steady your breathing. "I understand… but Luffy is my captain, my friend. I have to know he's okay."

The nurse, his expression softening, places a hand on your shoulder. "We’ll get you to the King, and once you’re finished, we’ll help you find a way off this island."

You take a deep breath, pushing down the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "Thank you," you say, your voice resolute. "Let’s go."

As you follow the medics towards the King's quarters, your thoughts are consumed by the news of Ace and Luffy. Your grip tightens around your blade. Luffy… just hold on. I’ll find you. I promise.

Kings Quarters…

You arrive at the King’s quarters, taking in the sight of men being carried out, each one more battered than the last. You let out a low whistle, then turn to the nurse. "You weren’t kidding... actually, I never got your names?"

The nurse and doctor exchange glances before the nurse smiles and says, "I’m Sam," and the doctor adds, "And I’m John."

A smile crosses your face as you nod, revealing your own name. Their eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, they seem stunned. You feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks, but before you can say more, you hear the booming voice of the King.

"Who dares challenge me next?" he bellows.

You glance at Sam and whisper, "He’s so young."

Sam nods, explaining, "He took the throne at 20 after his father passed.Hes been King for about 8 years now"

The King's eyes fall on you, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "A woman? There haven’t been any women on this island for ages. You think you can challenge me?"

Without a word, you draw your blade and execute a swift, precise movement. The air around you crackles as the force of your strike splits a nearby stone pillar in two. The room falls silent, and the King’s smirk fades, replaced with a look of intrigue.

You square your shoulders, meeting his gaze. "You’ll find that I’m more than capable, Your Majesty. I’m here for a ship, and I intend to earn it.”

Amused, the King rises from his throne, descending the steps to face you directly. "Impressive," he says, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Let’s see if you can back up that skill in battle."

The fight begins with a tense silence as the King, without drawing any weapons, assumes a combat stance. You tighten your grip on your blade, determined to give everything you have.

As you launch the first strike, the King effortlessly dodges, his movements swift and precise. He counters with a punch aimed straight at your midsection. The force of the blow is overwhelming, knocking the wind out of you as you cough up a bit of blood.

From the sidelines, Sam watches in horror. "John, I’m worried," he whispers, his voice shaking. "She’s strong, but the King… he’s something else."

You grit your teeth, pushing through the pain, and manage to land a strike on the King's cheek. But before you can feel any sense of victory, he slams his fist into the ground, splitting the room into two. Shocked, you mutter, "How did he do that?"

The King doesn’t give you time to recover. He comes at you with a relentless barrage of blows, each one heavier than the last. You struggle to keep up, your body growing weaker with each impact. Finally, a powerful punch sends you crashing to the ground, and your vision starts to blur. The sound of cheering male voices fills the room as you fade in and out of consciousness.

Just as Sam moves to help you, the King notices and orders his men to seize him. "Throw him in the pit!" the King commands, his voice cold and merciless.

Sam struggles against the soldiers, fear evident in his eyes. As they drag him toward the pit, you summon the last of your strength, forcing yourself to stand. The world spins around you, but you refuse to let Sam suffer. With a surge of adrenaline, you yell, "Sam, duck!" and with one swift movement, you strike down each soldier, sending them plummeting into the pit instead.

Sam looks up at you, his expression a mix of confusion and gratitude. "Why did you help me?" he asks, his voice trembling.

You sheathe your blade and offer him a faint smile. "You helped me when I was injured. We’re friends now."

With that, you and Sam help each other up and make your way out of the chamber, John quickly joining your side. As you exit, you can feel the King’s gaze on you. He watches the entire scene with a smirk, turning to his men. "Who is she?" he asks, his tone laced with curiosity. "And what was she doing on this island?"

OMG!!! Looks like things are about to be good! For this chapter, I wanted to pace it the same way as the anime had it. Sanji heading to Kamabakka Kingdom always makes me laugh so much! Next Chapter will be funny. Sanji is going to meet with Ivankov, and their interaction will be funny. You also are getting another news coo paper which will then reveal the fate of the strawhats crew. Thank you guys for following, sharing, reblogging, and liking my Story! I can't wait for y'all to read what's next! As always the chapters are all linked. See you Tomorrow!

#black leg sanji #monkey d luffy #one piece #onepiece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji #strawhat pirates #straw hat crew #one piece sanji #sanji #sanji x you #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you

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elliespillowprincess · 10 months ago

Text

SHES MY DRUG

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pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

a/n: this is my first ever (kinda) fic so it kinda sucks and is all over the place.. also this one will be a bit longer than the others! i hope to just make this an ongoing series with no real end? idk yet!!! it’s kinda all over the place

c/w: TIME SKIP??, modern au, reader is in med school, biker!ellie!!, rich!ellie… kinda toxic!ellie? angst, addiction, substance abuse, joel’s death makes an appearance, fluff, fem reader, plus size reader, insecure reader, race of reader not specified, smut, strap-on usage (r!receiving), cum eating, spit?, tribbing, fingering (r!receiving), breeding kink, TERRIBLY WRITTEN, not proofread

WHY YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN

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ELLIE WILLIAMS

her name is everywhere now. after leaving your town, her music had blown up more than ever before. 2 years had gone by since the two of you shared your last kiss, and for the first few months the two of you texted constantly.

ellie🤭: how’s my pretty girl?

ellie🤭: hoping to come back soon

tours been getting crazy

ellie🤭:

missing you

it felt like a dream, texting one of the worlds biggest rockstars while she was on tour, her sending photos of her adventures. but all dreams end in you waking up.

you: hey wyd?

you: hoping you’re coming back soon

you: hey ellie?

we haven’t talked in a bit

i miss you.

the dream ended. just like that, you were just another girl. after waiting for replies, you decided to move on. this fantasy wasn’t real, the dream was over. ellie was now famous for hooking up with her fans, videos popping up constantly of her leading them out of her concert and onto her bike, just like she did to you.

you were just another girl.

you graduated university as the top scholar in your small town, liliana just behind you. both of you applied to a med school in new york, both getting accepted. your best friend kept telling you you’ll forget her, but how could you? she was everywhere.

eventually, there were some days you could go by without thinking of her. you decided to quit drinking and smoking, and focus on schooling. you got your pleasure elsewhere; hooking up with whatever girl swiped right on you on tinder that day. they always looked a little like her. if they didn’t have that auburn hair, they had tattoos, if they didn’t have tattoos, they were a musician, etc.

“hey, y/n?” you hear a familiar voice say. “wanna go out tonight? i feel like we haven’t gotten to hangout in ages. you don’t have to drink or anything, promise!” liliana practically begs you. it was true, the two of you hardly had any time outside of schooling to hangout, so hesitantly, you agree. she tells you all about this new club that opened, how its invite only so there won’t be too many people, and how there’s surprise private performers. she got the invite from her boyfriend, and was allowed to bring one extra person: you. you decide to use the rest of your day off prior to your later plans to take an everything shower, shaving and exfoliating your whole body. when you get out, you go to your closet to pick out something to wear, still in your towel. your new wardrobe consisted of mainly business casual clothes and scrubs for lab days, so you push them away and dig through the back of your closet. you go through the pile of clothing, until you hit something hard. you grab it, pulling it into the light. when you realize what it was, you feel lightheaded.

it’s her helmet.

tossing it to the back with a pit in your stomach, you grab three random items of clothing, shutting the door. it was exactly what you wore when you first met her: a lacy cami, short black skirt, and a leather jacket. you threw the outfit on, hoping to cover up the old memories with new ones. after you touched up your makeup, you, andrew, and liliana started pregaming. you didn’t want to overdo it, but you also wanted a small buzz for this intimidating of a club. your plan was to leave around 9, it was 8:47. “i’m actually excited, i haven’t been this excited for an event in a while!” you say to the group, feeling a buzz. the three of you are laughing and talking until you get a notification, indicating the uber was there. driving to the club, the driver put on the radio. of course, it had to be her.

the loud music and sweaty atmosphere of the club made you feel dizzy. the only thing keeping you from running away was a tall girl eyeing you across the room. she had short, dark hair, freckles, and a sour face as she looked at you like prey: your type. after a while, you notice she comes up to you, asking if you want anything to drink. agreeing, you thank her and start talking. “where y’from angel?” she asks. “nowhere near here, i used to live in a small town, goldwhit grove?” she looks at you like you’re crazy, rolling her eyes. “never heard of it. hey wanna get outta here?” you look over to your friends, liliana dancing against andrew, and remember how mad she was last time you ran off with a girl without telling her. “i don’t know i’m here with my frie-“ your sentence was interrupted but the screams of the drunken club goers around you as they all flock to the front. looking over to the stage, you see who they’re going crazy over. and of course,

it’s her.

she was everywhere, it was like you couldn’t escape and forget her no matter how hard you tried. she’s stumbling all over the stage, and slurring her words. bras were being thrown at her, and she just had this stupid look on her face. like she was loving it. she was looking around the crowd, for what you assumed to be a girl to take back to her hotel, she made eye contact with you. it felt like the whole room went quiet, even though it was far from it. you wanted to scream, call her an ass, throw drinks at her. but found another solution. turning to the girl next to you, you began rubbing against her, feeling her biceps as she wrapped her arms around you, kissing your neck. you did all of this while making eye contact with her.

“i.. i um… sorry guys.. can’t-can’t perform t’night.” she says, rushing offstage. this makes you smile, knowing you got under her skin. you continued to dance against the stranger to whatever shitty music the club put on between performers. then, it felt like the world went back into focus, your phone buzzing in your hand waking you up. “hey hold on, gotta take this.” you say, lightly pushing the girl off of you and pulling out your phone.

???: what the fuck is wrong with you

who is that???

answer me y/n i’m not fucking around

the unfamiliar messages creeped you out, so you simply blocked the number and went back to the girl, making small conversation. then, another one.

???: don’t block me

can we talk??

come to the bathrooms

rolling your eyes, you type a response.

you: idk who you are but leave me alone

it’s weird

are u stalking me??

another.

???: please

abiding by this stranger could put you in a life or death situation, but all of the adrenaline from seeing ellie and the alcohol made you lose your senses. “hey, i’ll be right back. gotta use the bathroom.” you tell the stranger, making your way through the crowds into the shitty club bathrooms. as you approach it, it seems oddly quiet for a club bathroom. you walk in, and instantly feel a hand grab your wrist, pulling you in and locking the door. “hey what the fu-“

then you see who it is.

confusion turns to shock, shock turns to anger.

“what the fuck ellie? you really think you can just ditch me for 2 fucking years and just be like ‘surprise! i’m back!’” you yell at her, pushing her away. “i’m not playing your fucking games, i feel dumb for even thinking we had something! had me waiting months for you to reply just for you to get with any groupie you come across?” she’s not saying anything, and it only makes your blood boil even more. “are you just gonna fucking sit there? i’m trying to have a good night! i caught fucking feelings for you, you made me feel like i was worth actually fucking loving, and you just threw it all away!” she just sits there, letting you yell. “fucking say something!” your voice becoming weaker, trying not to cry. looking into her eyes, you can tell she’s on something. they’re red and blown out, she reeks of alcohol and weed.

“you’re wearing the outfit.” she says flatly, looking at your outfit. you laugh, actually laugh at her. the fact you just spilt your heart out and all she can do it’s compliment your physical traits. “oh.. oh my god. you- you got problems ellie.” you say with a huff, pushing her away and heading for the door. “i’m leaving, and i’m gonna go back to a girl that maybe actually gives two fucks about me, unlike you.” reaching for the handle, you feel her grab your waist and pull you to her back. “please, don’t go.” you sigh against her, starting to tear up. “let-lemme go ellie..” you barely try to fight her grip. she doesn’t do anything, just breathes you in. “don’t… don’t go, please.” she says softy against your neck, her voice cracking. it feels like you’re melting.

turning around, you look directly at her. “i want an explanation.” you say, wiping tears from your eyes. “you told me you’d come back, you told me you missed me. where did that all go?” you look at her with doe, tear-filled eyes. she just wraps her hands around your face and admires you. “it.. didn’t go anywhere. jus’ a lot happened okay? i just need you to believe me.” your faces are mere inches away, and she’s staring at you with pleading eyes. “how can i believe you ellie? you’re not even sober.” she just wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in and hugging you.

then you start to hear crying- no, sobbing. she sobs into your shoulder, trying to speak but unable to get words out. she casts her spell on you once again, drawing you in and making you hug her back. “just… just tell me what happened okay?” she’s barely breathing, and you rub her back in an attempt to calm her down. “he- he died!! he fucking died!” she says between cries. “who? who died ellie?” you say softy into her ear. “joel! he- he took care of me i- i- was so mean to him!” she cries against you. “hey, hey it’s okay ellie, just breathe.” after a few minutes of her crying, she starts to breathe slower, eventually pulling back and wiping your face. “can.. can we go somewhere else please?”

it was like déjà vu, being back on ellie’s bike. you had her other helmet at your apartment, so she gave you hers instead. you were honestly scared, she looked intoxicated, but she assured you she was fine to drive. speeding through the streets of new york, you arrive at ellie’s penthouse, of course. the walk into the building in the ride up the elevator is quiet, the only noise coming from ellie sniffling.

unlocking the door on the top floor, she lets you in. the place was trash. liquor bottles, pill bottles, baggies with unknown substances, different girls clothes. you were a little disgusted, but ellie ushered you to her room, which was much cleaner in contrast. you hesitate to sit down, thinking about how many girls fucked her on that bed. “no girls have been in my bed, promise.” you hear her voice say, sitting down.

the two of you just sit there, waiting for the other to speak. she finally gets the nerves to, and starts off. “i just wanna say i’m sorry, y/n. you didn’t deserve any of this.” she looks over at you with hooded eyes and continues. “when he… died, i didn’t know what to do- it was when i was in london.” that was around the time she stopped texting. “i just.. turned to a lot of stuff for comfort. i didn’t know what to do- i know it’s not an excuse..” she stares at you, waiting for a response. “thought about you every fucking day. honestly.” your heart starts to melt. “i don’t expect you to forgive me, but let me make it up to you okay?” you nod silently. this doesn’t feel real. “please say something..” she begs. your eyes meet hers and you just word dump everything that’s been clouding your mind for the past two years.

“look, ellie, i understand where you’re coming from. i just.. i need you to know how much it hurt me, seeing you get with all those other girls, it made me feel ugly. inside and out.” her gaze softens and she unexpectedly pulls you in for a hug. “fuck. i’m so fucking sorry, y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever fucking seen.” she says, her head buried into your shoulder. “everytime i was with any of those girls, i thought about you. anytime i was anywhere doing anything, i thought about you.” her words contrast her actions, but her soft words and tears make you start to believe her.

you hug her back, the two of you laying down in her bed. it all feels so wrong, but so right, she was like an addiction; she was horrible for you but you just kept going back. she softly rubbed your hair, causing your eyes to feel heavier and heavier until you fall asleep in her arms.

fuck.

you wake up, and the first thing you see is ellie. she’s awake already. she smiles at you, a genuine smile. you on the other hand, look horrified. “goodmorning.” she says, pushing your hair out of your face. “how’d you sleep?” you’re lost for words at this point. you start to remember why you don’t drink anymore. “i.. um.. i gotta use the bathroom.” you mutter before getting up, grabbing your phone from her bedside table, and locking yourself in the bathroom. you open your phone.

lili🦄: wya?

you slipped off again

where’d u go?

hello?

dude don’t do this again

ur freaking me out.

is that u that i just saw leave?

i’m following u

who is that?

where are you going??

dude answer hello??

you reply with a spew of apologies, telling her you’re safe and you’ll be home soon. “y/n?” you hear ellie shout from another room. “i made breakfast!” what the fuck? it was like she was a different person, like nothing that happened in the past actually happened and the two of you were a happy couple. you unlock the bathroom door, creeping into the living room. your jaw dropped, it was spotless.

“wow! you uh.. really cleaned up the space?” she smiles at you, plating what looks like eggs, bacon, and toast. “couldn’t sleep. i know you usually wake up early so i slipped out of bed last night and made it back before you woke up.” she waves you over to the table. “come, eat.” you tiptoe to the table, still in your clothes from the club the night prior. sitting down, ellie sets your plate down, along with some water before sitting herself down across from her. it’s quiet, uncomfortable. she decides to break the silence before you start eating. “i’m done with the pills, y/n.” she says bluntly. it kind of takes you by surprise, not the fact that she’s doing it, but the fact she announced it so bluntly. “gonna better myself. better myself for you, us.” she says. her words almost feel like knives to your heart, why was she changing all of this now? “i know it’s late, but i want to be better.” you put a piece of bacon in your mouth, swallowing before speaking. “i’m glad, ellie.” you say softly. the meal remains quiet, but its shifts from an uncomfortable to a comfortable silence.

“hey, i have to go home, can you text me please? for real this time.” you say half heartedly. she puts your dishes away in the sink, nodding. “i’ll take you home, don’t want you in those ubers, they’re not safe.”

the next few months consisted of you texting ellie, again. but this time, she came back very often. as soon as a show ended, she’d be on the next flight to new york to see you.

ellie🧸: boarding the plane rn

can’t wait to see u :)

both of your schedules were tight, but you still worked in time to see each other. ellie often cancelled entire shows just to see you, losing all that money. but she didn’t care, she just wanted you to be happy.

you: i miss youuuu

when r u coming back?

ellie🧸:

rn tbh

it felt like a dream once again, but this time, you had a feeling she wasn’t gonna let go. you hoped she wouldn’t. the two of you hung out constantly, going to her shows and being in the first row, her singing directly to you. going on walks at times square, ellie wearing a mask to hide her face of course. and sleepovers at each others apartments. liliana kept telling you to be careful, to not get hurt again.

not only were you guys talking again, but she was making it very apparent to her fans. saying things like “this one’s for my girl, she’s watching at home. see you soon, sweetheart” before playing love songs. even though you guys weren’t official- you haven’t even kissed since your last one almost 3 years ago- she sure acted like it. she was almost always sober, only ever smoking weed or having small amounts of alcohol before performing to lighten her nerves: never with you.

you were going over your neuro notes in your room, when ellie calls you, and you pick up.

you: “hey! what’s up?”

ellie: “i just got off the plane, gonna pick you up in 30 kay? wear something nice pretty girl, we’re going out.”

you: “what? where?”

ellie: “just be ready, kay? mwah i gotta go!”

the call ends and you laugh at how dumb ellie was, making kissing sounds. you quickly get up to find something to wear and throw on some makeup. you didn’t know how fancy you had to be, so you stuck with a tight black dress, black heels, and the necklace made out of pure gold ellie bought for you a couple weeks ago.

ellie🧸: come outside

her text makes your heart skip a beat, and you go out to see ellie standing next to a car. from your knowledge, she didn’t own any cars; just bikes. she was wearing a fucking suit: white button up that she of course didn’t button up all the way, black pants and jacket, and her dumb converse that completely contrasted the outfit. she smiled when she saw you. “ellie? what’s this?” you laugh, going up to hug her and smell her cologne. “y’like it? had it delivered earlier today before i got home for tonight!” she says with a coy smile. you let out a breathy laugh at the fact she can just buy such an expensive car for no good reason.

“it’s gorgeous, ellie.” you smile at her and she pushes herself off the car, turning around to open the passenger side. crawling in, you admire the inside. it was all black, with silver accents and a large carplay module. the passenger side had some photos of the two of you, and your name was engraved into the dashboard. it looked engraved by the fucking manufacturers.

she shuts your door, walking to the drivers seat, plopping inside. “whatcha think? paid a pretty penny for them to customize that.” she looks at you nervously, hoping you’ll like it. “oh ellie, you didn’t have to do this! you’re so sweet.” she smiles. “i’m glad you like it, babe.” she presses the button to turn the car on, and it unleashes a loud roar. as if she couldn’t get any hotter, the car was a manual, and she knew very well how to use one. the two of you leave the parking lot of your apartment complex, speeding through the buildings. you can help but stare at her, as you never got to see her face when she was on her motorcycle. she was focused; shifting gears strategically without stalling. you just stare at her face, her slightly unbuttoned shirt, her hands: your face becomes warm. “something wrong?” her voice snaps you out of it, noticing you’re staring.

“oh um- i’m fine! sorry..” you laugh quietly. “it’s okay to stare y’know? i stare at you all the time.” she says simply. god, she says everything with no fear. “where are we going?” you ask, curiously. “uhh i think it’s called masa’s sushi bar? heard it was really nice.” your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “WHAT??” you ask her, dumbfounded. “ellie that’s like $600 a person!! i can’t afford that right now i-“ “i got it, don’t worry ‘bout it kay?” she interrupts you. “ellie i don’t need to be taken out to nice places- id love to just sit in one of our apartments and watch cartoons.” you start feeling bad.

“you deserve it, let me take you out okay?” you put your head down, feeling terribly guilty. “hey, don’t feel bad okay? this is what i want to spend my money on.”

the two of you arrive at the restaurant, and before you can open your door, ellie screams “WAIT!” before jumping out her side and running to your door, opening it for you with a smile, reaching her hand out. you can’t help but laugh. “you’re such a nerd, ellie!”

the dinner consisted of the two of you laughing at each other, almost getting kicked out a few times for your loud behavior. “ellie! be quiet! that guy has come over a million times to tell you to be quiet!” you say in a loud whisper. when the check comes, you see the total and feel like vomiting. “$2,457?? ellie you’re crazy! i feel so bad let me give you someth-“ you try to pull your empty wallet out but she stops you, “i got it, don’t worry okay?” she tips the workers a large amount and gets up to grab your purse, and walk you out. walking to the car, she opens your door, handing you your purse before getting in herself.

“i have one more surprise, we’re going back to mine tonight.” she says while starting the car. “another? seriously ellie i dont want you spendi-“ “nuh uh, don’t wanna hear it. you deserve this okay?”

the ride home was fast, and filled with tension. you were nervous for what else ellie had in store for you. arriving at her penthouse, she lets you out and leads you to the elevator. you’re shifting nervously on your feet, and she notices. “what’s wrong?” she asks you, stepping a little closer. “i’m nervoussss! what is the surprise?” “gotta wait, sweetheart.”

arriving at her door, she opens it and holy shit. it was covered in flowers, slow music playing in the background. you followed the trail of flowers to the dining room table: the place the two of you spent countless meals together just basking in eachother presence. on the table, was a small white box. you lift it up, having no clue what could be inside. “open it, princess.” she says with a goofy, excited smile. you open the box, and oh my god. it was a gorgeous golden necklace, with an “E” attached to the chain. it wasn’t obnoxious, it was beautiful.

“ellie! what is this?! it’s so pretty!” you smile at her, hugging her. “do- do you like it?” “like it?? ellie i love it!!” you say into her shoulder. the two of you hug for a moment before she pulls you back, pulling a necklace out with your initial on it from under her shirt. everything feels electric, fuzzy, and warm. “let me help you put it on.” she says, gently grabbing the necklace out of the box. you turn around, lifting your hair, allowing her to clip the necklace around your neck. you turn around to look at her, and she adjusts it so it sits centered on your neck.

“you’re so pretty.” she just stares at you for a moment, admiring your features. she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them again before asking,

“can i be your girl?”

it felt like you were floating. her cologne was filling your nose, her eyes searching for an answer in yours.

“i know it’s a lot to ask- i just- i really like you y/n and-“

she’s cut off by you pressing your lips against hers, wrapping your hands in her hair. her eyes stayed open for a moment before the closed, kissing you deeper. she wrapped her arms around your waist, wanting to feel you closer. the two of you stayed there for a moment before you pulled away with tears brimming your eyes.

“yes, yes i’ll be your girl ellie!” you say, laughing deeply and throwing your head back as she places playful kisses along your jaw. “fuck yes, yes!!” she says, laughing with you. the two of you just stand in the dining room for a bit, gently kissing one another before you pull back, leading her to the bedroom.

you grab the collar of her shirt, pulling her ontop of you, kissing her deeply. the two of you spend about 15 minutes just enamored with one another’s mouth, when she notices you squirming, pulling back. “what’s wrong baby?” she asks, innocently. “s’hot ellie..” you say, mascara running and your cherry lipstick smudged. she smiles, dipping down to suck on your neck, leaving dark marks, running her tongue over them to soothe the pain. her lips travel down, meeting the top of your dress. “can i take this off for you?” you nod immediately. “gotta tell me with your words, princess.” you whimper at her request, obliging. “yes.. yes you can take it off els.”

“good girl.” she gently removes your dress, followed with your bra and underwear, leaving you naked under her. “so pretty, my gorgeous girl.” she coos. she begins kissing down your collarbone, and to your chest. she looks up at you as she practically makes out with your boobs, giving equal attention to both of them. she lifts her head, looking at you with lust filled eyes as she steps off the bed to undress, completely naked. you’re practically drooling, looking at her toned abs, perky tits, and the freckles that litter her body. she goes back up to kiss you, before asking, “are you still sure? “fuck- yes fuck els- just… please”

“okay, baby.”

the speaker in the living room begins playing Let the Light in by Lana Del Rey. she lifts your leg, allowing it to limply lay over her shoulder as she slowly lowers her cunt over yours. the sudden contact causes both of you to let out a breathy moan before she begins grinding against you. “so pretty, my pretty baby..” you can barely respond, the feeling of her cunt directly on yours making you dizzy. it feels so intimate, but so right.

“never.. never leaving your side again you understand?” she says between grunts. “you and me- fuck- forever baby.” she’s grabbing at you: your tits, your hips, kissing your face. the air in your lungs feels like it’s being sucked out. “els… please i- more..” you beg. her pace speeds up, her eyes locked on yours. “gonna… gonna take care of my girl ‘kay?” you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “els… m’gonna cum!!” you moan, grabbing at her arms. “me too- fuck- cum with me baby cmon give it to me.”

and that’s all it takes.

your orgasm rips through you, making your vision blur as hers follows right after, riding both of yours out. the room is filled with moans, squelching, and grunts as you both come down from your high. she collapses beside you, kissing you softly and cuddling you. she pulls away for a minute to just admire you. “y/n i.. i love you.” she says, smiling nervously. you can’t help but giggle as you pull her in closer, saying,

“i love you ellie williams.”

1 year later

you were getting ready for ellie’s private concert, wearing the same outfit you wore when she asked to be yours. it was your anniversary, and she was gonna take you out to a nice dinner followed by a surprise after the show was over. “baby? you ready?” you hear your girlfriend say, walking over to her to show her your outfit. “oh my goddd” she gawks over you. “look at my princess.” she says, grabbing your ass as she pulls you in for a messy kiss.

you two were late for her concert.

your heart was so full watching your girlfriend perform onstage. you were right up front, catching each others eye constantly. the sound of squealing girls around you threatened to drown out ellie’s singing. you look around, growing insecure at all the girls throwing themselves at ellie. she was smiling, enjoying the crowd and attention. girls were flashing her, holding up provocative signs. normally it didn’t get to you, but tonight it did.

finishing the concert, ellie’s bodyguards escort you to join her backstage. ellie notices your mood, and asks what’s wrong. “nothing ellie, jus wanna go home.” you reply blankly. “okay.. okay let’s go home yeah?”

arriving at her house, you walk to her bedroom, plopping yourself on her bed. she follows close behind after setting down her bag. “what’s on your mind, you seem sad?” she asks innocently. “the fact all those girls throw themselves at you! i mean, i don’t usually get so insecure, i know you love me jus…” you choke on your tears. “they’re so pretty, els. scared you’re gonna leave me for one of them y’know? i know im not the prettiest, i don’t have the best body-“ ellie cuts you off, jointing you on her bed. “hey, hey. don’t say that okay? you know i only have eyes for you.” she says softly, kissing your forehead. “you’re the most beautiful girl in this world, love. your body is beautiful.” she kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

it was like all your insecurities flew out the window. the two of you were laying on her bed, kissing each other softly. “m’sorry i ruined your surprise.” you say sadly. “hey, you didn’t ruin anything okay?” she reassures you. “what was the surprise?” her face turns a light shade of pink, stuttering. “we don’t have to- it’s was just if-“ you become more interested in what it was. “cmonnnnn just tell meee!” you say, the curiosity killing you. “are you sure? it’s not- if you’re not in the mood-“ “tell me ellie!” she sighs, grabbing your hand gently and placing it over her crotch. your eyes widen and you instantly feel wetness pool to your cunt.

she bought a strap on.

“we don’t have to, sweet thing. we can ju-“ her sentence is interrupted by you kissing her deeply, spit mixing with one another’s. she sat up so you could sit in her lap, her palming the fat of your ass. the two of you already removed all of your clothing besides underwear, the skin to skin contact making you dizzy. the make out session turned sloppier as minutes went by, and you became needier: grinding against her thigh. she noticed, and inquired you about it. “what’s wrong baby? needy for me?” you nod, almost forgetting ellie always wants you to use your words. “want.. want your cock, ellie.” you say, whimpering in her mouth.

“lay on your back, lemme do all the work.”

she helps you pull your underwear down your legs, followed by her boxers just after: causing the strap on to bounce out and fuck was it big. probably 7 inches, extremely thick and a dark shade of purple. you practically drool at the sight of your naked girlfriend in front of you, all strapped up. “gotta make sure you’re ready first, okay baby?” she tells you, gently pushing her fingers into your wet hole. “your so fuckn’ wet, baby. i do this?” you nod aggressively, making her add a second finger. “cmon, mama, gotta tell me with your words, how else will i know?” you loved when she was demanding, it usually only happened when she becomes really possessive.

“yes ellie- fuck! yes it you that made- made me this wet!” you say between moans. after a few minutes, she pulls her fingers out. “suck.” she demands. you oblige, taking her long digits in your mouth and sucking every last drop off. “y’ready? i’m gonna go slow okay?” she says whilst gently pushing the tip in. she goes slow, waiting for you to ask for more before she goes deeper. once she’s all the way in, she’s drooling at the sight of you swallowing the silicone. “can feel you squeezing my cock, baby. fuckkk look at her.” she presses your thighs to your stomach, ensuring she can get as deep as possible. then, it’s like the world is on fire.

she starts pounding into you animalisticlly, watching the ring of white forming at the base of her fake cock. she leans down to suck on your tits, sloppily making out with them as you scratch her back up with your long nails. this time, it isn’t slow or gentle. it’s hot and fast. needy. most of the time, she coos you through your orgasm, going slow and gentle. times like this, however, it’s like she has her mind set on one thing: making you finish. her words become more vulgar.

“fuckkkk look at that pretty pussy baby, she’s just taking all of me huh?”

“all. fucking. mine.” between thrusts.

“can see it poking through your stomach, sweetheart.”

“gonna fill you up, mama. carry my kids?”

the last line makes you moan loudly, as you didn’t know it was something you liked. she smiles, continuing her pace, out of breath. “yeah baby? you like that? want me to fill you to the fuuuuckin brim? dirty girl.” she makes out with you sloppily, drool dripping down your faces. “ellie.. ellie fuck i’m gonna cum!!”

little did you know: she was too.

the base of the strap had been rubbing perfectly against her clit, her pace speeding to make the two of you finish.

“fucking cum all over me- fuck- cream my fucking cock baby. fuckkk”

the two of you scream out, as your orgasms rip through at the same time. all you can hear is ellie saying “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou!!” as you come undone, her fucking you through every last bit of your orgasm. she collapses next to you, pulling out. you whimper at the feeling of emptiness. “i love you so much.” she says, wrapping her hand around your waist basking in the skin to skin contact. “i love you, els.” she kisses you softly, rubbing your plump hips.

“i love you most sweetheart, happy anniversary.”

#ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #rockstar ellie #ellie x plus size reader #ellie x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie x reader #ellie fluff #ellie angst

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from-memphis-with-love · 7 months ago

Text

A Cowboy for Clementine - An Elvis Presley AU Cowboy Fanfic

Summary: Clementine looked to Elvis, her expression coolly determined. "If there's nothing else, I'll go unpack and change. See you at the barn."

With that, Elvis turned on his heel and strode off, spurs jingling. Clementine released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Lord, what had she gotten herself into? Wrangling cattle was one thing. Wrangling a surly cowboy with an itchy trigger finger and an apparent grudge was quite another. She had a feeling this Elvis Presley would prove as untamed as the land itself.

Word count: 26,000 (first four chapters)

Chapter 1

The stagecoach lurched and swayed as it wound its way through the rugged mountain pass. Inside, Clementine Olivetti gripped the worn leather seat, her knuckles white from the effort. She peered out the dust-caked window at the forbidding landscape rolling by—jagged peaks, skeletal trees, sun-baked earth. A far cry from the cobblestone streets and genteel townhouses of New York.

What am I doing out here? Clementine thought, not for the first time since beginning this journey west. Traveling across the country to take ownership of some rustic ranch she'd never laid eyes on, bequeathed by an uncle she barely knew. It was rash, reckless even. Very out of character for the practical, level-headed Clementine. A girl who always had a plan.

But perhaps that was precisely the point. To do something unexpected, impulsive for once. To break free from the comfortable confines of her predictable city life. There was a certain romantic notion to it all—a young woman striking out on her own to start anew in the untamed frontier. Like something out of the dime novels she and her best friend Bonnie used to giggle over late at night.

Bonnie Mae Blakely. Her vivacious partner in crime since childhood. The yin to Clementine's yang—bold where she was cautious, impetuous where she was measured. They had shared so many dreams and secrets over the years. When Clementine told her about the surprise inheritance, Bonnie had squealed and hugged her fiercely.

"Oh Clemmie, it's just like a storybook! A rugged ranch out west, waiting for a plucky heroine to make it her own. Promise you'll write and tell me every adventure! And maybe I'll even come visit once you're all settled."

Clementine smiled at the memory, picturing Bonnie's pretty face alight with excitement. In truth, having her friend's unconditional support had given Clementine the courage to undertake this journey. To believe she could reinvent herself and start fresh, even without any family left to tether her to New York.

Her parents had passed on years ago and she had no siblings. Just an uncle out west she scarcely remembered from childhood. The letter from the lawyer informing her of Uncle Ned's death and his bequeathing of Windy Creek Ranch had come as a shock. Almost as much as his written words, which she now withdrew from her handbag to read once more:

"Dearest Clementine,

If you are reading this, then I am gone and the Good Lord has finally called me home. I regret that I did not make more of an effort to be a presence in your life. But know that not a day went by that I did not think of you and wish for your happiness.

I leave to you my most prized possession: the Windy Creek Ranch. Six hundred and forty acres of prime grazing land nestled in the heart of cattle country. It isn't much to look at, but it has potential. Like a rare gem in the rough just waiting to be polished. I built this spread from nothing, with just grit and determination. I know you have that same strength within you.

There is a small town close by called Crossroads. You'll be able to purchase any supplies there and the townsfolk are generally amiable. But be warned, there have been rumors lately of cattle rustlers and claim jumpers looking to prey on the local ranches. Trust your instincts and keep your wits about you.

I wish I could be there to guide you as you begin this new chapter. But I take comfort knowing the ranch is in capable hands. Take care of it and it will take care of you. Never forget, you are my niece. We are made of tougher stuff than most.

Yours, Uncle Ned"

Clementine folded up the letter, blinking back tears. She barely remembered Uncle Ned—a grizzled, wild-eyed man who would occasionally blow into town like a tumbleweed, his clothes smelling of leather and horses and endless sky. Her father's eldest brother. A dreamer. An adventurer. Everything her straight-laced father was not... and did not approve of. The brothers had a falling out when Clementine was just a girl and Ned rode off into the sunset, never to return.

She used to envy his freedom, his daring. While her days were filled with needlework and piano lessons, she imagined Uncle Ned out there living a thrilling life. Herding cattle, exploring the wilderness, sitting around a campfire under a canopy of stars. It all seemed terribly romantic to her younger self.

But as she grew older, Clementine came to accept her lot. Became the obedient daughter, always striving to please, to fit the mold of a proper young lady, accepting decisions made for her and on her own behalf. She buried those yearnings for adventure deep down where they couldn't hurt her. Convinced herself that she was content with her sensible, uneventful existence.

Until that letter arrived and reawakened something within her. A spark. A hunger for more that she could no longer ignore. It was high time Clementine Olivetti started living life on her own terms. Even if that meant venturing into the unknown wilds of cattle country to claim her unexpected inheritance—a ranch that would be hers and hers alone. The prospect both thrilled and terrified her.

The stagecoach hit a particularly deep rut, jolting Clementine from her musings. She clutched her carpet bag closer and said a silent prayer that her worldly possessions would survive the journey intact.

As if reading her thoughts, the driver called out, "Almost there, miss! Crossroads is just up ahead."

Clementine's heart rate quickened. This was it. No turning back now. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and prepared to meet her destiny. Whatever that may be.

The stagecoach rumbled down the main thoroughfare of Crossroads, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. Clementine peered out at the rustic frontier town, all wooden storefronts and hitching posts. Rough-hewn men ambled down the street in dungarees and cowboy hats. Bonneted women swept front porches and corralled children. A distant clang rang out from the blacksmith and the mouthwatering scent of baking bread wafted on the breeze. Quaint yet industrious. A town where everyone knew everyone else's business and no secret stayed buried for long.

The coach rolled to a stop and the driver hopped down to assist Clementine. A few coins were plunked into his hand. She stepped out into the bright sunlight, stretching her travel-weary limbs. Her legs wobbled a bit, unaccustomed to solid ground after so many hours.

"Miss Olivetti?" a voice inquired. Clementine turned to see a short, wiry man hurrying toward her, his bald pate gleaming.

"Yes, I'm Clementine Olivetti," she replied.

"Hezekiah Gruber, attorney at law," he said, pumping her hand enthusiastically. "We exchanged telegrams about your inheritance. My condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, Mr. Gruber. It was a shock to us all."

"Your uncle was one of a kind, that's for sure. Now then, I imagine you're eager to get out to the ranch and take possession. I won't keep you but let's get your signature on a few documents at my office to make it all official-like."

Clementine followed him down the creaking wooden sidewalk to the lawyer's storefront, noting the curious glances directed her way. She was used to it—a fashionable girl with a funny surname drew attention even back east. She could only imagine the gossip her arrival would stir up here.

"Here we are," said Gruber, ushering her into his cluttered office. "Won't take but a minute to get you squared away."

He shuffled some papers on his desk and handed Clementine a pen. She dutifully signed her name on the dense lines of legalese, the gravity of the moment not lost on her. With a few strokes of ink, she was now the rightful owner of Windy Creek Ranch. Her future.

"It's all yours, Miss Olivetti," said Gruber, blotting the documents. "I'll file these with the deed office today. In the meantime, let's get you on your way to your new home. I'll have Jebediah bring 'round the rig."

"The rig?" asked Clementine, perplexed.

"For your baggage. Unless you were planning to carry those trunks to the ranch yourself?"

Clementine blushed. Of course. This wasn't New York where deliveries arrived directly at one's doorstep. What would Bonnie say if she could see her now, preparing to rattle off in a dusty wagon toward an uncertain future? Probably clap her hands in glee and tell her it was the start of a grand adventure, the kind they'd always dreamed of having.

"Much obliged, Mr. Gruber," Clementine managed, her smile bittersweet. "I'm afraid I have a lot to learn about life out here."

"You'll get the hang of it," he assured. "Now remember, if you run into any trouble out there at Windy Creek, you just send word. I've been looking out for the place since your uncle took ill. I'd hate to see it fall into the wrong hands."

Something in his tone gave Clementine pause. Was that a note of warning? But before she could inquire further, Gruber had ushered her out into the dazzling daylight where a rickety wagon waited.

A grizzled old man sat hunched on the bench. He squinted at Clementine and gave a gap-toothed grin. "All aboard for Windy Creek Ranch!"

Trepidation pricked at her insides but Clementine forced a smile, determined to meet each new challenge with pluck and poise. She clambered up beside Jebediah, her trunk secured in the wagon bed.

"Much obliged," she told the driver. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. The mules lurched forward and they set off at a bone-rattling pace. Clementine gripped the sideboard, already regretting her choice of footwear. Perhaps button-up kid boots weren't the most practical for a cross-country trek.

The road out of town quickly turned to a rutted dirt track winding through a patchwork of ranches and farmsteads. Jebediah kept up a steady stream of chatter, pointing out local landmarks and the neighboring spreads.

As Crossroads receded behind them, the landscape opened up into a vista of endless grassland and rolling hills. Herds of cattle grazed in the distance, mere specks on the horizon. The air smelled of sage and leather and something else... of possibility.

"That there's the Circle J, belonged to old Joe Abernathy nigh on forty years 'til he passed on last spring. His boys run it now. And over yonder's the Triple Cross—biggest outfit in the county, but too big for their britches if you ask me."

She thought again of the cryptic warning from Mr. Gruber. Claim jumpers and cattle rustlers, he'd said. The untamed frontier was full of dangers she knew nothing about. As if sensing her unease, Jebediah spoke up.

"Yep, Windy Creek is a right fine piece of property. Yer uncle was real proud of what he built out there. 'Course, ranch life ain't for the faint of heart. Takes grit and know-how to make a go of it."

"I'm a quick study," replied Clementine with more confidence than she felt. "And I'm not afraid of hard work."

"That's good 'cause there'll be plenty of it," said Jebediah with a dry chuckle. "Between the repairs and the brandin' and the drives, ranch folk earn ever' penny of their keep. And that's assumin' the weather cooperates and the rustlers keep their distance."

"I've heard tell of such threats," said Clementine carefully. "Have there been many incidents hereabouts?"

"More'n there oughta be," said Jebediah. "Buncha no-good varmints that'll stop at nothing to line their own pockets. Thievin' cattle, cuttin' fences, raidin' homesteads. Even murderin' folk that get in their way."

Clementine suppressed a shudder, trying not to let her imagination run away with grisly scenarios. If only Bonnie were here to bolster her courage with a saucy quip or two. Her friend had always been the brave one, ready to take on any challenge with a laugh and a toss of her auburn curls. But Bonnie was thousands of miles away, living her own life. This was Clementine's adventure now. Her dream to chase, for better or worse.

"Still, a body can't borrow trouble," continued Jebediah. "Windy Creek's got a solid crew of hands to help you protect what's yours."

Clementine nodded, somewhat reassured. She knew there would be cowhands and ranch staff to assist her, though Uncle Ned's letter had been scarce on specifics. No matter. She would learn everyone's roles and prove herself a capable mistress. How hard could it be?

The wagon crested a hill and suddenly the breathtaking expanse of Windy Creek Ranch stretched out before them—640 acres of pristine range, just like Uncle Ned had said, framed by distant blue mountains under an endless dome of sky. Clementine's heart swelled at the sight of the whitewashed ranch house, the red-roofed barn, the towering windmill spinning lazily in the breeze. Cattle dotted the pasture, fat and healthy. Chickens pecked in the dust and a pair of ranch hands paused in their work to regard the newcomers with frank curiosity. It was more beautiful than she'd dared imagine. Raw and wild and brimming with promise. And it was all hers.

Clementine drank it in, marveling that this was all a part of her uncle's spread. Her spread now. Doubt niggled at her again. What did a city girl know about running a cattle operation? About negotiating with cowhands and driving livestock to market? There was so much to learn, so much riding on her getting this right. She couldn't afford to fail, not when Uncle Ned had entrusted her with his legacy.

As they rolled to a stop in the front yard, Clementine gathered her skirts, preparing to descend with as much dignity as possible given her ungainly boots and the long journey. But before her foot touched the running board, a rifle shot cracked the air. Clementine yelped as a bullet gouged a tree trunk mere inches from her hand.

Heart pounding, she whirled toward the source to see a tall, black-clad figure emerge from behind the water trough, his features obscured by a low-pulled Stetson. He racked the lever of his Winchester with fluid ease and took aim again.

"That's far enough," he growled, his voice rough as saddle leather. "This here's private property. State your business or hit the road."

"Don't shoot!" cried Clementine, throwing up her hands. "I'm... T-this is my ranch now. I've c-come to take possession."

The man lowered his rifle a fraction but kept it at the ready. "That so? Got any proof?"

With shaking fingers, Clementine fumbled to produce the deed from her handbag. "It's all here. Signed and notarized."

She held out the document but he made no move to take it, his stance unwavering. Clementine bristled at his rudeness. Of all the welcomes she'd imagined, being shot at by her own ranch hand was not one of them.

Jebediah, who had wisely taken cover, peeked out from behind the wagon bench. "Now Elvis, what's the big idea? This here's Miss Clementine, Old Ned’s niece and heir."

Elvis? Clementine looked again at her antagonist. Was he one of the hardworking ranch foreman Uncle Ned had spoken so highly of? He certainly hadn't mentioned the man's alarming propensity for gunplay.

"Never heard of her," said Elvis flatly. "And I ain't about to hand over the keys on the say-so of some pretty city gal. Could be anyone—a rustler scoutin' the place or worse. Ned never said nothin' 'bout no niece."

Clementine scowled at his dismissal. "Yes, well, I suspect there's quite a lot Uncle Ned neglected to mention all around. Starting with the presence of an armed squatter on my property!"

Elvis darkened at that but before he could retort, a hulking bear of a man in a sweat-stained union suit came lumbering out of the barn.

"What's all the ruckus?" he called, scratching his fiery beard. "I heard shootin'."

"Stay back, Red," ordered Elvis. "We got us a trespasser."

The big man squinted at Clementine and broke into a slow grin. "Well I'll be hogtied. If it ain't Miss Clementine in the flesh! Spittin' image of ol' Ned, ain't she? 'Specially 'round the eyes."

"You know her?" demanded Elvis.

"'Course I do! Ned's been braggin' on his pretty niece comin' to take over the place for weeks now. Clear 'fore he passed."

Red was a huge bear of a man with a shock of fiery hair and a bushy beard to match. Clementine thought he looked like he could lift a steer with one hand. He stepped forward, his face split by a friendly grin. "Pleased to meetcha, Miss Clementine. I'm Moses Redding, but everyone calls me Red on account of, well..." He gestured to his hair self-consciously.

Clementine couldn't help but return his smile. "A pleasure, Red. I look forward to working with you."

Realization dawned on Elvis' stony features. "Hellfire," he muttered. "Reckon that's my cue to start packin'."

"What on earth are you talking about?" said Clementine.

Elvis met her gaze, resigned. "Way I figure, a fine lady owner ain't gonna want the likes of me hangin' around. Know when I'm not wanted."

Comprehension clicked into place and Clementine gasped. Good lord, Uncle Ned hadn't just failed to mention a few cowhands. He'd neglected to tell her about the man living on the ranch itself! This Elvis character had obviously made himself quite at home in her absence, acting the lord of the manor. And now with her arrival, he assumed he was out of a job and a place to lay his head.

She ought to be livid at the presumption. Ought to send him packing that instant for his insolence and trigger-happy reception. But something in his defeated posture and faraway look stirred an inconvenient pang of sympathy in her breast. Curse her soft heart. As satisfying as it might be to give him his marching orders, the fact remained that Windy Creek was woefully shorthanded. She couldn't afford to lose a single man, especially not one who knew the spread top to bottom. Elvis had been Uncle Ned's right hand. It stood to reason he would be valuable in her transition to ownership, prickly attitude notwithstanding.

Clementine drew herself up, mustering an air of unruffled authority. "That won't be necessary, Mr... Elvis, was it? I've no intention of displacing anyone, provided they pull their weight. If you've been a loyal employee to my uncle, I see no reason why that should change on my watch."

Surprise and something like relief flickered across Elvis' rugged features before he could school them into impassivity. "That so?"

"It is," said Clementine firmly. "I'll need all hands on deck to keep Windy Creek thriving. Starting with a thorough tour of the premises and a briefing on daily operations. As the new owner, I plan to take a very active role in management."

Elvis looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. He gave a curt nod. "Whatever you say, boss lady. Reckon we best start in the barn then. Red can see to your bags."

"Very well," she said crisply. "I'll change into suitable attire and meet you at the barn in half an hour."

Elvis looked mildly impressed by her ready acquiescence, but his expression quickly shuttered. "Suit yourself. But I should probably introduce you to the rest of the gang before you get too high on that horse of yours."

He turned and hollered over his shoulder. "Slim! Rusty! Get on over here!"

Two men materialized from various corners of the ranch yard, ambling over to join them on the porch. The first was a wiry old-timer with a weathered face and a wad of chaw bulging in his cheek. The second was a gangly youth who couldn't have been more than eighteen, all freckles and awkward limbs.

"Boys, this here is Miss Clementine Olivetti," Elvis announced. "Ned's niece and the new owner of Windy Creek. She aims to learn the ropes, so I expect you to show her the same respect you would've shown Ned. We clear?"

The men nodded, touching their hats respectfully. The old-timer spat a stream of tobacco juice and nodded curtly. "Slim Jackson. Been wranglin' beeves since before you was born, missy. You need any pointers, you just holler."

The young man ducked his head shyly, scuffing a boot in the dust. "Rusty Calhoun, miss. I'm real sorry about your uncle passing. He was a fine man and a heck of a boss."

"Thank you, Rusty. I hope I can live up to his example." Clementine turned back to Elvis, her expression coolly determined. "If there's nothing else, I'll go unpack and change. See you at the barn."

But Clementine was no shrinking violet. She had not traveled hundreds of miles to be cowed by one ornery ranch hand, no matter how unsettling his smoky gaze or how broad his shoulders. She would meet this challenge as she intended to meet all others—with grace, gumption, and a stubborn refusal to back down.

Elvis looked Clementine up and down appraisingly as she approached.

"Well now, don't you clean up nice," he drawled. "Those dungarees suit you. Almost take the city polish off."

Clementine wasn't sure if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. Likely both, knowing this man. She tilted her chin and replied evenly, "I believe in dressing for the occasion. So, show me around the barn?"

Lifting her chin, Clementine marched after Elvis, determined to assert her authority and begin this new chapter on her own terms. Ranch life was already proving far more complicated and unpredictable than she'd bargained for. But she had to believe that with hard work, an open mind, and perhaps a bit of that famous Olivetti pluck, she would find her way.

She thought fleetingly of Bonnie, no doubt going about her day back in New York, blissfully unaware of the upheaval in her friend's life. What would she make of all this—the sprawling ranch, the motley crew of cowhands, the arrogant and mysterious Elvis? Clementine could almost hear Bonnie's laughter, could picture her delighted grin and twinkling green eyes.

"Oh Clemmie, it's better than any dime novel!" she would say. "Handsome cowboys, wild horses, wide open skies... and you, the unlikely heroine out to prove herself and tame them all! Just think of the adventures you'll have!"

The corners of Clementine's mouth twitched with an unbidden smile. Trust Bonnie to see the romance in even the most daunting of circumstances. Perhaps there was something to that unshakable optimism. With any luck, Clementine would live to write her friend a bushel of thrilling letters detailing her exploits as the mistress of Windy Creek Ranch.

Provided she survived her first day as Elvis' employer, of course.

Clementine forced down a flutter of trepidation as she neared the looming barn door. Steeling her nerve, she stepped across the threshold into the cool shadow, the pungent scents of hay and horses and honest sweat enveloping her. Her heels sank into the earthen floor, the faint clucking of chickens and a few falling feathers drifting from the loft above.

Elvis stood at the far end of the aisle, backlit by a shaft of sunlight. He had one hip cocked against a stall door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her approach with an inscrutable expression. Clementine tried not to notice the way his chambray shirt pulled taut across his muscled torso or how his worn denims hugged his lean thighs. She had no business admiring the physical attributes of a subordinate, no matter how undeniably attractive.

He started further into the barn, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "You alright there, princess? Need me to fetch you a fainting couch?"

Clementine glowered at him behind his back.

"Welcome to the heart of Windy Creek," he said as she drew near. "This here's where the magic happens."

Clementine arched a brow. "Magic?"

Elvis' mouth twitched, his eyes glinting with something suspiciously like amusement at her primness. "Figure of speech. I mean this is where we break the horses, mend the tack, store the feed. Pretty much everything that keeps the place runnin' starts and ends right here."

He pushed off the stall and gestured for her to follow. "C'mon, I'll show you the layout. Reckon you'll be spendin' a fair bit of time in here, seein' as how you're aimin' to be a hands-on boss and all."

Clementine chose to ignore the note of condescension in his tone and fell into step beside him. For the next half hour, Elvis led her through the barn and corrals, rattling off details about everything from the hay inventory to the farrier schedule to the breeding records of the small remuda. His taciturn demeanor thawed by degrees as he spoke of Windy Creek's prize bloodlines and the foals he hoped to see come spring. It was clear this ranch was more than a job to him; it was his life's work, his pride and joy.

Despite herself, Clementine found she was hanging on his every word, absorbing the intricacies of a world so different from her own. The easy confidence with which Elvis navigated this domain, the surety of purpose in his every move, was oddly compelling. She could see why Uncle Ned had trusted him implicitly.

As they circled back to the main barn, Elvis nodded to a large fenced pasture dotted with grazing cattle. "That there's the heart of the herd. 'Bout 300 head of prime Hereford. The real moneymakers. They'll be your bread and butter once we drive 'em to market come fall."

Clementine shaded her eyes against the glare, marveling at the sea of dun backs and lowing faces. Never in her life had she been responsible for so many living creatures. The weight of it settled on her shoulders like a tangible thing.

"And you're certain we have enough hands to see them safely to market?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "I won't pretend to be an expert, but it seems an awful lot of ground to cover with just the few men I've seen so far."

"We're a lean crew but we're solid," said Elvis. "Me, Red, a couple fellas who drift through as needed. Ain't never lost a steer yet and don't aim to start now." He cut her a sidelong glance. "Course, an extra pair of hands come drive time is always welcome. You any good with a horse?"

Clementine's cheeks warmed at the challenge in his eyes. "I'm a fair rider," she said, lifting her chin. She had ridden in Central Park quite a few times when she was younger. "Though I'll admit it's been a while since I've sat anything beyond a sedate little mare on a bridle path."

"Ain't nothin' sedate about the mounts we raise here," said Elvis with a slow grin that did funny things to her insides. "But I reckon we could find you a steady cow pony, get you back in the saddle."

"I'd like that," said Clementine, pulse quickening at the thought of flying across the open range with the wind in her hair. Yearning for speed and freedom and a taste of the untamed life that had always been denied her.

Something shifted in Elvis' gaze, his eyes darkening as they dipped briefly to her mouth. "Bet you would."

The air between them thickened, charged with a sudden crackling tension that raised the hairs on Clementine's nape. For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. Clementine hardly dared breathe, caught in the snare of Elvis' penetrating stare. What was happening? Why did it feel as if the very ground had tilted beneath her feet?

Then Elvis blinked and the spell was broken. He took a measured step back, features shuttering. "Best we get you settled in the house," he said brusquely. "Red's probably fixin' to break down the door wonderin' where we got to."

Clementine swallowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. "Of course," she managed. "After you."

They walked in silence back to the ranch house, a palpable charge still shimmering in the scant space between their bodies. Clementine's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the strange, heated little moment in the barn. Surely it was just a trick of the light, an odd fluke of exhaustion and overwrought nerves. There could be no other explanation for the way her skin had flushed and her stomach fluttered under Elvis' intent gaze.

She was just tired, that was all. Tired and overwhelmed and in desperate need of a bath and a good night's sleep in a proper bed. Everything would seem much more manageable in the clear light of morning. Including a certain confounding cowboy who seemed to swing between hostility and allure at the drop of a hat.

By the time they reached the house, Clementine had convinced herself she had imagined the whole unsettling interlude. Elvis deposited her on the front porch with a perfunctory nod and a promise to have one of the hands bring up a hip bath and hot water. Then he was gone, striding off towards the corrals with that swagger that drew entirely too much of her attention.

Clementine pushed through the door, resolved to put the perplexing man out of her head for the time being. She had more pressing concerns, like acquainting herself with her new living quarters and trying to impose some order on the chaos of this abrupt upheaval.

But as she climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor, dusty carpetbag in hand, she couldn't shake the feeling that her true adventure was only just beginning. That Elvis and Windy Creek Ranch might wind up changing her life in ways she had never dared dream.

With a flutter of nervous anticipation, Clementine stepped across the threshold of her new bedroom, ready to embrace whatever challenges and surprises lay ahead. She could only hope she proved equal to them.

As Clementine explored her new bedchamber, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the rustic charm that surrounded her. The room was simply furnished with a sturdy oak bed, a weathered dresser, and a washstand bearing a chipped porcelain basin. Faded calico curtains fluttered at the open window, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of lavender and distant pine.

It was a far cry from her cozy apartment back home, with its gas lamps and indoor plumbing and nosy neighbors just a thin wall away. But there was something undeniably appealing about this rough-hewn space, with its sense of history and hard-won comfort. She could almost imagine Uncle Ned sitting on the edge of this very bed, pulling off his boots after a long day in the saddle.

A lump rose in Clementine's throat as she thought of her uncle, of the legacy he had entrusted to her. She still couldn't quite believe he was gone, that she would never again hear his booming laugh or see the twinkle in his eye as he regaled her with tales of the wild west. He had been a larger-than-life figure, a beacon of adventure in her otherwise orderly world.

And now he had given her the greatest adventure of all. A chance to build something of her own, to carve out a place for herself in this untamed land. It was a daunting prospect, but also an exhilarating one. For the first time in her life, Clementine felt truly free. Free to make her own choices, to chase her own dreams, to become the woman she had always longed to be.

Oh, there would be challenges aplenty. She was under no illusions about that. Running a ranch was backbreaking work, and she had no experience with any of it. She would have to learn everything from scratch, would have to earn the respect of the men who worked for her. Men like Elvis, who seemed determined to undermine her at every turn.

Clementine's mouth tightened as she thought of the infuriating cowboy. He had made it abundantly clear that he thought she was in over her head, that a city girl like her had no business trying to run a cattle operation. Well, she would just have to prove him wrong. She would work twice as hard as anyone else, would study and practice until she knew this ranch inside out. She would show Elvis and everyone else that Clementine Olivetti was more than just a pretty face in a fancy dress.

With renewed determination, she set about unpacking her trunk. She carefully hung up the simple frocks and sturdy boots she had brought for work, then tucked away the few more fashionable items she couldn't bear to leave behind. Her fingers lingered on a photograph of her parents on their wedding day, their faces alight with joy and promise. She placed it gently on the dresser.

A knock at the door startled Clementine from her reverie. "Come in," she called, smoothing her skirts self-consciously.

The door swung open to reveal a plump, motherly woman with greying hair and a flour-dusted apron. She bobbed a curtsy, her lined face creasing into a warm smile.

"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but I thought you might be ready for some supper. It's been a long day for you, I reckon."

Clementine's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, too nervous to do more than nibble on the journey. "That would be wonderful, thank you. Mrs...?"

"Jameson, miss. Ida Jameson. I've been cookin' and cleanin' for Windy Creek nigh on twenty years now. Ever since Mr. Ned hired me on after my dear Henry passed."

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jameson," said Clementine sincerely. "I hope you'll be patient with me as I learn my way around. This is all quite new to me."

"Oh, don't you fret none. We'll get you settled in right quick. Ain't nothin' to runnin' a house once you get the hang of it." Mrs. Jameson's eyes twinkled with kindly amusement. "And don't mind that Elvis none. His bark's worse than his bite. He's just used to havin' things his own way."

Clementine felt her cheeks heat at the mention of the exasperating foreman. Did her consternation show so plainly on her face? "I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Jameson."

"You do that, miss. Now, let's get you fed afore you faint dead away. I've got a nice beef stew on the simmer and fresh bread just out of the oven."

Clementine's mouth watered at the thought. Suddenly ravenous, she followed Mrs. Jameson down to the kitchen, the delectable scents wafting up the stairs making her stomach growl audibly.

The kitchen was a large, homey space, dominated by a massive cast iron stove and a long wooden table that could easily seat a dozen. Bunches of drying herbs hung from the rafters, jars of preserves lined the shelves, and a motley collection of skillets and kettles dangled from hooks on the walls. It was a far cry from the convenient, modern kitchens Clementine was accustomed to, but there was a cozy charm to it that put her instantly at ease.

Mrs. Jameson bustled about, ladling steaming stew into a blue willow bowl and cutting a thick slice of crusty bread. She set the meal in front of Clementine with a flourish, then poured a tall glass of cool, creamy milk from a stoneware pitcher.

"There you are. Eat up now, and don't be shy about askin' for seconds. Lord knows there's plenty to go around."

Clementine breathed in the savory aroma, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time a simple meal had looked so enticing. Murmuring her thanks, she dug in with gusto, the rich flavors exploding on her tongue.

For a few blissful minutes, there was no sound but the clink of Clementine's spoon against the bowl and the occasional appreciative hum as she savored each mouthful. Mrs. Jameson puttered about, wiping down counters and setting a pot of coffee to brew, a small, satisfied smile on her face as she watched her new mistress eat.

But the peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden bang of the screen door flying open. Elvis strode into the kitchen, his spurs jingling and his hat pulled low over his brow. He drew up short at the sight of Clementine, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

"Mrs. J, we got any of that stew left? I'm powerful hungry after wranglin' that new string of horses all afternoon."

"Sit yourself down, Mr. Elvis, and I'll fetch you a bowl," said Mrs. Jameson placidly, seemingly impervious to the sudden tension in the room.

Elvis hesitated, his gaze flicking between Clementine and the empty chair across from her. For a moment, she thought he might make some excuse and flee, but then he shrugged and sank down onto the bench, his long legs stretching out beneath the table.

Clementine kept her eyes fixed on her bowl, her appetite suddenly deserting her. She could feel Elvis watching her, could sense the coiled energy radiating off him like heat from a stove. It made her skin prickle and her heart thump erratically in her chest.

Mrs. Jameson set a heaping bowl in front of Elvis, then tactfully withdrew, muttering something about needing to tend to the laundry. Clementine silently cursed the woman for abandoning her, even as she understood the impulse. The air between her and Elvis was thick with a strange, charged energy that made it hard to breathe, let alone carry on a normal conversation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Clementine pushed a chunk of potato around her bowl, acutely aware of Elvis' every move as he tore off a hunk of bread and sopped up the rich gravy. She could hear the soft, wet sounds of his chewing, could catch the faint scent of horse and leather and sweat that clung to his skin.

It was all suddenly too much. Too intimate, too unnerving. Clementine pushed back from the table, nearly upending her milk glass in her haste. "Please excuse me," she mumbled, not meeting Elvis' eyes. "It's been a long day and I'm quite exhausted."

She fled the kitchen before he could respond, her cheeks burning and her pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't slow down until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her with a satisfying bang.

Clementine leaned back against the solid oak, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. What on earth was wrong with her? She had never been one to let a man fluster her, had prided herself on her poise and composure in even the most trying of circumstances. But something about Elvis made her feel off-balance, unsettled in a way she couldn't quite define.

It was more than just his rough manners and challenging attitude. There was a rawness to him, a sense of barely leashed power that sent a thrill down her spine even as it set her nerves on edge. When he looked at her, she felt stripped bare, as if he could see straight through her proper facade to the wild, yearning heart beneath.

It was terrifying. And if Clementine was being honest with herself, it was also strangely exhilarating. All her life, she had played by the rules, had done what was expected of her. She had been the dutiful daughter, the demure debutante, the efficient employee. But here, in this rugged land so far from everything she had ever known, she could feel those old constraints falling away. Here, she could be anyone she wanted to be, could chase dreams she had never dared voice aloud.

Even if those dreams involved a certain brooding, impossible cowboy with eyes the color of a stormy sky.

Clementine pushed off the door, shaking her head at her own foolishness. She was being ridiculous. Elvis was just a man, no different from any other. A bit rougher around the edges, mayhap, but certainly not worth losing her head over. She had more important things to worry about, like learning to run this ranch and proving herself worthy of her uncle's trust.

With a resolute nod, Clementine began to undress for bed, her fingers deftly unfastening the long row of buttons down the back of her bodice. She slipped the heavy garment off, sighing with relief as the cool air hit her sweat-dampened skin. She reached for her nightgown, a simple cotton shift that fell to her ankles in soft folds.

But as she lifted the garment over her head, a sudden gust of wind from the open window sent the curtains billowing inward, the fabric brushing against her bare skin like a lover's caress. Clementine shivered, gooseflesh rising on her arms and legs. For a moment, she imagined it was Elvis' hands on her, his callused fingers tracing the curve of her spine, the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breast...

With a gasp, Clementine wrenched the nightgown down, her face flaming with mortification. Good heavens, what was she thinking? She must be more tired than she realized, to let her mind wander down such inappropriate paths. Elvis was her employee, nothing more. To allow herself to entertain such lurid fantasies was not only foolish, but dangerous.

Flustered and out of sorts, Clementine crawled beneath the patchwork quilt, the bed creaking beneath her weight. She thumped the pillow a bit harder than necessary, then lay back with a huff, staring up at the shadowy rafters above.

Sleep. That was what she needed. A good night's rest to clear her head and settle her nerves. Tomorrow would be a new day, full of challenges and opportunities. She would rise with the sun, would throw herself into the work of the ranch with all the energy and determination she possessed. And if her thoughts should happen to stray to a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed cowboy, well... she would just have to deal with that when the time came.

With a sigh, Clementine closed her eyes, willing her racing mind to quiet. But even as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was about to change in ways she had never dared imagine. That Elvis and Windy Creek Ranch would test her in ways she had never been tested before.

And that maybe, just maybe, she was ready for the challenge.

Chapter 2

The shrill crow of a rooster jolted Clementine from a dreamless sleep. She sat up with a start, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then memory came flooding back - the long journey west, the startling confrontation with Elvis, the strange, charged moment in the kitchen the night before.

Clementine groaned, flopping back against the pillows. She had hoped that a good night's sleep would clear her head, would settle the unsettling flutter in her stomach whenever she thought of the taciturn cowboy. But if anything, the light of day only made her confusion and trepidation worse.

How was she supposed to face him this morning, after fleeing from him like a frightened rabbit? He must think her a complete fool, a silly city girl who couldn't handle the slightest hint of rough manners. And what must the other ranch hands think, seeing their new boss so easily flustered by their foreman?

Clementine set her jaw, a spark of determination igniting in her chest. No. She refused to let Elvis or anyone else rattle her. She was Clementine Olivetti, mistress of Windy Creek Ranch. She had faced far greater challenges than one surly cowboy, and she would face this one with the same grit and grace that had gotten her this far.

With a resolute nod, Clementine threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She winced as her feet hit the cold floorboards, the chill of the early morning air raising gooseflesh on her arms. Shivering, she hurried to the washstand and poured a measure of tepid water from the pitcher into the basin. She splashed her face and neck, the bracing coolness helping to chase away the last vestiges of sleep.

As she toweled off, Clementine caught sight of herself in the small, spotty mirror hanging above the washstand. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and a bit wan. The long journey and the stress of the previous day had taken their toll - there were shadows beneath her eyes and a pinched look to her mouth. But there was also a new resolve in the set of her chin, a glint of steel in her gaze.

She was not the same woman who had left New York. The old Clementine would have balked at the idea of manual labor, would have blanched at the thought of getting her hands dirty. But the new Clementine, the Clementine who had crossed a continent to claim her inheritance, was ready to roll up her sleeves and get to work.

With that thought firmly in mind, Clementine set about dressing for the day ahead. She chose a simple frock of sturdy blue calico, the skirt full enough to allow for ease of movement. Over it, she layered a crisp white apron, the bib protecting her bodice from any stray bits of dirt or debris. She pulled her hair back into a practical bun at the nape of her neck, then topped the ensemble with a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her face from the sun.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Clementine felt a surge of satisfaction. She looked like a woman who meant business, a woman ready to take on whatever challenges the day might bring. With a nod of approval, she turned away from the glass and made her way downstairs.

The kitchen was already a hive of activity when Clementine entered. Mrs. Jameson stood at the stove, stirring a pot of bubbling oatmeal with one hand while flipping pancakes with the other. The air was thick with the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee, making Clementine's stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jameson," she said, taking a seat at the long wooden table. "That smells heavenly."

"Mornin', Miss Clementine," the housekeeper replied, casting a smile over her shoulder. "I hope you slept well. I know the first night in a new place can be a bit unsettlin'."

"I slept just fine, thank you," Clementine lied, not wanting to admit to the restless thoughts that had kept her tossing and turning half the night. "Is there anything I can do to help with breakfast?"

Mrs. Jameson looked scandalized at the very idea. "Heavens no, miss! You just sit right there and let me take care of everything. It's my job to make sure you're well-fed and rested, not the other way around."

Clementine opened her mouth to protest, but the housekeeper cut her off with a stern look. "I mean it, miss. You've got enough on your plate as it is, learnin' the ropes of runnin' this ranch. Leave the cookin' and cleanin' to me."

Chastened, Clementine sat back in her chair, feeling a bit useless. She was used to being busy from sunup to sundown, to having a full day's work ahead of her. The idea of sitting idle while others bustled about made her itch with restlessness.

But before she could dwell on it too long, the kitchen door swung open and Elvis strode in, his spurs jingling with each step. Clementine's heart gave a traitorous leap at the sight of him, her skin prickling with awareness as his gaze landed on her.

"Mornin', Mrs. J," he said, tipping his hat to the housekeeper. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Miss Clementine."

"Good morning, Elvis," Clementine replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I trust you slept well?"

Elvis shrugged, hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. "Well enough. Got a full day ahead, so I reckon I'll sleep when I'm dead." His blue eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, or might have been challenge. "You ready to get your hands dirty, boss lady?"

Clementine lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "I am. Just tell me where to start."

Elvis' mouth twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. "Reckon we'll start with the chickens. Gotta collect the eggs and feed the birds 'fore we do anything else."

Clementine's nose wrinkled at the thought of mucking about in a chicken coop, but she nodded gamely. "Lead the way, then."

Elvis cocked a brow, looking almost impressed by her easy acquiescence. He jerked his chin toward the door, then strode out into the morning sunlight without a backward glance.

Clementine hurried to follow, her heart hammering with a mix of nerves and excitement. This was it - her first real test as mistress of Windy Creek. She could only hope she was up to the challenge.

The chicken coop was a ramshackle affair, all weathered wood and rusting wire. It stood at the edge of the yard, a few dozen scrawny birds pecking and scratching at the dirt around its base. They scattered as Elvis approached, clucking and flapping in agitation.

"Little bastards," Elvis muttered, kicking at a particularly bold rooster who dared to dart across his path. "More trouble than they're worth, most days."

Clementine eyed the birds warily, keeping a safe distance as Elvis unlatched the coop door and ducked inside. She could hear him moving about, the soft cluck and coo of the hens as he gathered their eggs. A moment later, he emerged, a basket hooked over one arm.

"Here," he said, thrusting the basket into Clementine's hands. "Hold this while I scatter the feed."

Clementine took the basket gingerly, peering down at the warm, speckled eggs nestled in the straw. They were still faintly damp from the hens' nests, and they gave off a rich, earthy scent that made her think of new life and green growing things.

As Elvis scattered handfuls of cracked corn across the yard, the chickens swarmed around his feet, pecking and jostling for position. Clementine watched in fascination as they darted and fluttered, their beady eyes bright with greed. She had never seen anything so vibrantly alive, so utterly unconcerned with human affairs.

"They're quite something, aren't they?" she murmured, almost to herself.

Elvis glanced up at her, surprised. "What, the chickens? I suppose so. Never gave 'em much thought, to be honest. Just another chore to be done."

Clementine shook her head, a small smile playing about her lips. "There's a lesson in that, I think. They don't worry about yesterday or tomorrow. They just live in the moment, taking what they need and letting the rest go."

Elvis straightened, dusting his hands off on his chaps. He regarded her with a new intensity, as if seeing her for the first time. "Ain't you just full of surprises, Miss Clementine."

Clementine felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, at the way his gaze seemed to linger on her face. She ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the eggs in her basket.

"We should get these inside," she said briskly, turning back toward the house. "Mrs. Jameson will be wanting them for breakfast."

She could feel Elvis' eyes on her back as she walked away, could sense the weight of his regard like a physical touch. It made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter, made her feel alive in a way she never had before.

But she couldn't let herself dwell on it. Couldn't let herself get distracted by the way he made her feel. She had a ranch to run, a legacy to uphold. And she would do it with or without Elvis' approval.

With a determined set to her shoulders, Clementine marched up the porch steps and into the kitchen, ready to face whatever the day might bring. And if her thoughts kept straying to a pair of piercing blue eyes and a crooked, knowing smile, well...that was nobody's business but her own.

As the morning wore on, Clementine found herself thrown headlong into the daily rhythms of ranch life. After breakfast, Elvis put her to work mucking out stalls in the barn, a task that left her sweaty and aching but oddly satisfied. There was something soothing about the repetitive motions, the earthy scent of hay and horse, the soft whickers and snuffles of the animals as she worked.

Next came a lesson in saddling a horse, Elvis' hands guiding her through the intricacies of cinches and stirrups. Clementine tried not to think about how close he stood, how the heat of his body seemed to seep into her skin through the layers of her dress. She focused instead on the task at hand, on the supple leather beneath her fingers and the solid weight of the saddle as she hefted it onto the horse's back.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, Clementine was sore and sweat-streaked but buzzing with a sense of accomplishment. She had never worked so hard in her life, had never pushed herself to such physical limits. But there was a deep satisfaction in it, a pride in knowing that she was capable of more than she had ever imagined.

As they made their way back to the house for dinner, Elvis fell into step beside her, his long legs easily matching her shorter strides. Clementine glanced up at him, surprised to find a glint of approval in his eyes.

"You did good today," he said gruffly, as if the words pained him. "Reckon you might just have what it takes to make a go of this place after all."

Clementine felt a warm glow of pleasure at his praise, even as she bristled at the note of surprise in his voice. "Did you doubt it?" she asked archly.

Elvis' mouth twitched, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Let's just say I had my reservations. But you're full of surprises, Miss Clementine. Reckon I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you."

There was something in the way he said it, a hint of challenge and something else, something that made Clementine's pulse skip and her skin tingle. She met his gaze squarely, refusing to back down.

"I suppose you will," she said, her voice steady even as her heart raced. "But I intend to keep an eye on you as well. We're in this together, Elvis. Whether you like it or not."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

"Reckon we are," he said, his voice low and rough. "Reckon we are."

And with that, he turned and strode off toward the barn, leaving Clementine to watch him go, her heart hammering in her chest and a new determination burning in her veins.

One morning, Elvis gathered the ranch hands for the afternoon's work—a cattle drive to the south pasture to check on the herd and survey the fence lines. Clementine insisted on going along, despite Elvis' skeptical look and Slim’s poorly concealed grin.

Elvis gestured to a small bay mare tethered nearby. "That there is Nutmeg. She's gentle as a lamb and sure-footed on any terrain. Figured she'd suit a greenhorn like you."

Clementine eyed the saddle and tack warily. She knew she was badly out of practice. But she'd be damned if she let Elvis see her falter.

"Lovely," she said brightly, untying Nutmeg's reins and leading her out into the sunlight.

Now came the tricky part. How in blazes did one mount a horse unassisted whilst wearing trousers? Clementine's mind raced as she tried to recall the particulars. There had been talk of a mounting block or some sort of assistance from a groom...

Before she could make a bigger fool of herself, a large, work-roughened hand appeared in her peripheral vision.

"Allow me," Elvis murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

Clementine stiffened but managed a jerky nod, steeling herself as he gripped her waist and practically tossed her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all. Good lord, the man was strong as an ox!

"There now," Elvis said, sounding faintly amused. "Snug as a bug. Let's hit the trail."

He swung aboard his own horse, Rising Sun, with effortless grace and set off at a brisk trot, leaving Clementine scrambling to gather her reins and urge Nutmeg to follow. The mare fell into step readily enough, but the motion of the saddle had Clementine lurching and sliding like a sack of potatoes. She clung to the horn for dear life, her teeth rattling and her hat threatening to fly off with every jolting stride.

“You alright there, city slicker?” Elvis offered with a smirk.

Clementine scowled at him, her face flushed with exertion and embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. It's just been a while since I've ridden."

"I can see that. You're bouncin' around up there like a flea on a hot griddle." Red, Slim, and Rusty chuckled.

Clementine's temper flared. "Well, forgive me for not being born in the saddle like some people. We can't all be insolent, arrogant cowboys!"

Elvis' eyes narrowed, his smile fading. "Careful now, missy. That insolent, arrogant cowboy is the only thing standing between you and a long walk back to the house. Might want to mind your manners."

“Aw hell, Elvis, leave the little lady alone,” Slim attempted to diffuse the budding argument.

Clementine knew she should back down, should swallow her pride and apologize. But something about this man just rubbed her the wrong way, stirring up a reckless, contrary streak she didn't even know she possessed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sweetly to herself, not expecting anyone to hear her. "I thought I was the boss around here. My mistake."

Elvis' jaw clenched, his hand tightening on the reins. "Boss or not, out here you're just another greenhorn. And greenshorns who don't listen to good sense often end up buzzard bait. So you can either stow that snippy attitude and let me teach you a thing or two, or you can take your chances on your own. What'll it be?"

Red, Slim, and Rusty slowed their horses down, holding their breath and waiting for her answer. Clementine glared at Elvis, her pride warring with her common sense. As much as it galled her to admit it, Elvis was right. She was out of her depth out here and antagonizing her only guide was foolish at best, deadly at worst.

"Fine," she bit out. "Teach away, oh wise one. I am your humble student."

Elvis snorted, shaking his head. "You sure don't make it easy, do you? Alright, first things first—loosen up on them reins. You're holding 'em like you expect Nutmeg to bolt any second. She ain't going nowhere, trust me."

Clementine forced her white-knuckled grip to relax, letting out a shaky breath as the mare flicked an ear back curiously.

"Good. Now, stand up in them stirrups a bit. Let your knees absorb the motion 'stead of your backside. And keep your heels down for balance."

Clementine did as instructed, wobbling precariously for a moment before finding a rhythm. To her surprise, the ride smoothed out considerably, Nutmeg's rocking gait almost pleasant now that she wasn't being jounced to pieces.

"Well, would you look at that," Elvis drawled. "She can be taught. Keep that up and we might make a passable rider out of you yet, Miss Clementine."

Clementine felt an absurd flush of pleasure at his gruff approval. Honestly, what did she care what this uncouth lout thought of her? Still, perhaps it wouldn't kill her to bend a little, to put aside her wounded pride in service of the greater goal. She needed Elvis' cooperation if she hoped to make a go of this venture. Catching more flies with honey and all that.

Red’s mare caught up to hers, and he gently squeezed Clementine’s arm. “Don’t pay old Elvis no mind. He’s always a little ornery in the morning.”

The four of them rode on in relatively companionable silence, the raw beauty of the landscape stealing Clementine's breath. Towering buttes and mesas rose up from the sun-baked earth, their banded layers glowing red and gold in the slanting light. Gnarled junipers dotted the hillsides, providing scant shade for the cacti and scrub brush that clung tenaciously to the rocky soil. In the distance, a band of wild mustangs kicked up dust as they fled across the flats, tails streaming behind them like banners.

It was a harsh, unforgiving land, but stunning in its austerity. Clementine tried to imagine her uncle Ned riding these same trails, his weather-beaten face creased in a smile as he surveyed his domain. She may not have known him well, but she sensed a kindred spirit—someone drawn to challenge and adventure, to pitting themselves against an untamed wilderness and emerging the victor.

Well, here I am, Uncle Ned, she thought. Following in your boot prints at last. I just hope I'm up to the task.

Lost in thought, Clementine scarcely noticed when Rusty reined in his horse at the crest of a rise, his keen gaze scanning the horizon.

"There," he said, pointing to a distant smudge of brown against the green and gold. "The herd's just over that next ridge. About three hundred head of prime Hereford, Ned's pride and joy. Let's ease up on 'em slow and quiet-like. Don't want to spook 'em into a stampede."

They approached the grazing cattle cautiously, Clementine's heart thudding with anticipation. Her first real look at her newfound livelihood. What would Ned have thought, seeing her astride a ranch horse, ready to take the reins of his empire? Would he be proud or appalled? Amused or aghast?

"You sure you're up for this, Miss Clementine?" Red asked, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Ridin' herd ain't no picnic, 'specially for a greenhorn."

Clementine lifted her chin, giving him a cool smile. "I'm tougher than I look, Mr. Redding. And I'm a quick study. I'll be just fine."

The cattle regarded the riders placidly, chewing their cud and swishing their tails at the flies. Up close, they were even more enormous than Clementine had imagined, their heavy bodies and wickedly curved horns dwarfing the horses. She felt a flicker of unease, remembering tales of cowpokes gored and trampled by unruly steers.

As if sensing her trepidation, Elvis murmured, "Easy now. They're more scared of you than you are of them. These are good, docile beasts, well-used to human handling. Just keep your movements slow and predictable and you'll be fine."

Clementine nodded jerkily, fighting the urge to wheel Nutmeg around and gallop in the opposite direction. She trusted Elvis' expertise, even if she didn't particularly like or respect the man himself. He'd kept this herd thriving for five years—that had to count for something.

They meandered through the milling cattle, Elvis pointing out choice specimens and explaining the finer points of branding, breeding, and husbandry. Clementine did her best to absorb the onslaught of information, her head fairly spinning with talk of bloodlines and feed supplements and market prices.

One thing was becoming crystal clear. She was hopelessly out of her depth when it came to the day-to-day realities of running a ranch. Short of a miracle or divine intervention, Windy Creek would be bankrupt and in ruins within a month under her ignorant guidance.

Clementine's throat tightened with despair at the thought of failing her uncle, of losing this land that meant so much to him. And what of the people who depended on Windy Creek for their livelihood? Red and Slim and Rusty and the other hands she had yet to meet—how could she face them if her incompetence cost them their jobs, their homes?

No, it was unthinkable. She needed help, loath as she was to admit it. She needed Elvis.

Clementine was just working up the nerve to broach the subject when the quiet afternoon exploded into chaos. One moment the cattle were grazing peacefully, the next they were bellowing in alarm, eyes rolling and hooves churning the earth. The cause of their distress soon became apparent—a pair of snarling, yipping coyotes had burst from the underbrush, harrying the herd's flanks in search of an easy meal.

"Damnation!" Elvis swore, spurring his mount towards the threat. "Slim! Red! Rusty! Get after 'em 'fore they scatter the herd!"

Clementine watched in amazement as the cowhands sprung into immediate action, whooping and hollering as they rode to head off the predators. Red in particular was a sight to behold, his enormous frame dwarfing his horse as he thundered after a fleeing coyote, his lasso whirling overhead.

In the midst of the pandemonium, Clementine lost sight of Elvis. She reined in Nutmeg, heart in her throat as she scanned the milling herd for any sign of him. Panic clawed at her insides as horrible visions flashed through her mind—Elvis thrown from the saddle, trampled beneath a hundred hooves, bleeding and broken on the unforgiving ground...

A flash of movement caught her eye and Clementine shrieked in alarm, instinctively wrenching Nutmeg to the side. Too late, she realized her mistake as a coyote darted from the brush directly underfoot, spooking the mare into a wild, twisting buck.

Clementine felt herself slipping, her tenuous grip on the saddle horn failing as Nutmeg crow-hopped and whirled beneath her. She had one instant of sickening clarity, the knowledge that this was going to hurt, before the ground rushed up to meet her with stunning force.

The impact drove the air from her lungs in a whoosh, black spots crowding the edges of her vision. Dimly, she registered the thud of approaching hoofbeats, the bawl of frightened cattle, someone shouting her name with increasing urgency.

"Clementine! Clementine, goddammit, answer me!"

Rough hands seized her shoulders, rolling her onto her back. Clementine blinked up at Elvis' ashen face, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"I'm... alright," she croaked, wincing at the stabbing pain in her ribs. "Just had the wind knocked out of me."

"You're hurt," Elvis said roughly, his fingers coming away from her temple sticky with red. "What the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that? You're lucky you didn't break your damn fool neck!"

"I was thinking that I didn't particularly want to be some coyote's dinner," Clementine snapped, struggling to sit up. "What was I supposed to do, let it take a chunk out of Nutmeg?"

"Better the horse than you!" Elvis shot back. "Christ almighty, do you have any idea what it would've done to me if you'd been killed on my watch? On your first day here?"

There was something raw and desperate in his voice, an emotion Clementine couldn't quite name. She stared at him, struck speechless by the intensity of his reaction.

Before she could formulate a response, the sound of pounding hooves announced the return of the other cowhands. Red reined up hard beside them, his ruddy face creased with concern.

"Miss Clementine! You okay? We saw you take that spill and feared the worst!"

"I'm fine, Red," Clementine assured him, accepting Elvis' hand up with as much dignity as she could muster. "Just a little tumble. No permanent damage."

Rusty looked skeptical, eyeing the bloody gash on her forehead. "That's gonna need some doctorin'. We best get you back to the house and have Juanita take a look."

"I said I'm fine," Clementine insisted, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. "There's no need to fuss."

Elvis made a wordless sound of frustration, scooping her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. "Stubborn woman! You're gettin' patched up and that's final. Rusty, ride back to the ranch and tell Juanita to put the kettle on and set up a place on the porch.”

"Yessir, boss!" Rusty wheeled his horse and took off at a gallop, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Slim, you get this heard settled and head on back when you can. Red, you lead Nutmeg back. I'm takin' Miss Accident-Prone here home before she finds more trouble to get into."

Elvis plunked Clementine onto his saddle and swung up behind her, caging her in with his long arms. She opened her mouth to protest the indignity of it all, but a stern look from those flinty blue eyes had her subsiding into sullen silence.

The ride back to the house seemed to take an eternity, every jolt and jostle sending fresh sparks of pain through Clementine's battered body. She could feel the heat of Elvis' chest at her back, the tickle of his breath ruffling her hair. It was unsettling, being in such close proximity to him. Like trying to relax with a loaded gun at your temple.

By the time they reached the ranch yard, Clementine's head was throbbing and her stomach was churning alarmingly. Black spots swarmed her vision as Elvis lifted her down from the saddle, his hands exceedingly gentle for all their strength.

"Easy there, darlin'. I got you."

Clementine leaned into him, too woozy to protest the endearment. He smelled of leather and sweat and something uniquely male, a scent that made her pulse flutter in a way that had nothing to do with her injuries.

She was only vaguely aware of being carried up the porch steps and settled onto a low cot, clucking female voices buzzing around her like concerned hens. Cool hands smoothed her brow, a damp cloth dabbing at the sticky mess at her hairline. The sting of alcohol made her hiss, flinching away.

"Hush, child," crooned Juanita, the middle-aged Mexican woman who served as the ranch’s de facto doctor-slash-veterinarian. "This will clean the cut, keep it from putrefaction. Drink this now, for the dolor de cabeza."

A cup was pressed to Clementine's lips, bitter tea laced with something sharper, medicinal. She gulped it obediently, desperate for anything to dull the relentless pounding behind her eyes.

Gradually, blessedly, the pain receded to a distant ache, her limbs growing heavy with languor. Clementine felt herself sinking into the downy embrace of the cot, the muted sounds of the ranch fading to a distant hum. Just before oblivion claimed her, she thought she felt the calloused touch of a hand smoothing her hair, the gruff timbre of a voice rumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "rest now, wildcat."

But it was probably just a dream, a product of her exhausted, concussed brain. Elvis Presley would never be so tender, so solicitous. Not to her. Not in a million years.

Clementine slept, and did not dream at all.

She awoke slowly, surfacing from the depths of unconsciousness like a diver ascending sunlit waters. Her head felt muzzy, her mouth dry as cotton, but the pain had faded to a faint, distant throb. Blinking gummy eyes, she struggled to focus on her surroundings.

She was lying on the cot on the front porch, a patchwork quilt tucked around her legs. The sun was setting in a blaze of orange and pink, the long shadows of the outbuildings stretching across the yard like grasping fingers. Somewhere nearby, a lone cicada buzzed in the cooling air, a herald of the approaching dusk.

"Well now, look who's back among the living."

Clementine turned her head, wincing at the twinge in her neck. Elvis was seated in a rocking chair a few feet away, his long legs stretched out before him and his hat tipped low over his eyes. He looked relaxed, indolent even, but Clementine could sense the coiled energy beneath the languid facade, the watchful tension of a predator at rest.

"What happened?" she croaked, struggling to sit up. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Elvis replied, leaning forward to hand her a tin cup of water. "You took a pretty good knock to the head when that mare bucked you off. Juanita cleaned you up and dosed you with one of her concoctions. Said you'd be right as rain after some rest."

Clementine sipped the water, frowning as memory returned in fits and starts. The coyote, Nutmeg's panicked thrashing, the sickening weightlessness as she flew through the air...

"The cattle!" she exclaimed, slopping water down her front in her agitation. "Did they scatter? Was anyone hurt?"

Elvis shook his head, a faint smile playing about his lips. "Nah, we got 'em rounded up and settled quick enough. And other than a few bumps and bruises, everyone came through just fine. Except for you, a'course. Damn foolish stunt you pulled out there."

Clementine bristled at the censure in his tone, even as a tiny part of her acknowledged the truth of it. "I was just reacting on instinct. I didn't want Nutmeg to get hurt."

"And I didn't want you to get dead," Elvis retorted, a sudden edge to his voice. "Do you have any idea how close you came to dying today? How it felt to see you layin' there in the dirt, bleedin' and still as a corpse? Christ, Clementine, you 'bout stopped my heart."

Clementine stared at him, caught off-guard by the admission.

She flushed, both at the scolding and the backhanded compliment. "Yes, well, I suppose I've learned my lesson about playing the hero. Ranch work is a sight more dangerous than minding a shop or keeping accounts."

To her surprise, Elvis chuckled. "Reckon that's true enough. But you showed some real grit out there today, greenhorn or no. Not many city gals would have stuck it out like you did."

His praise, grudging as it was, warmed Clementine down to her toes. She ducked her head to hide her pleased smile, suddenly very aware of his nearness, of the way his knee brushed her hip through the quilt.

"I guess I'm tougher than I look," she said, aiming for nonchalance.

"Guess you are," Elvis agreed. Something in his tone made Clementine look up, her breath catching at the intensity in his blue eyes. For a long, charged moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them fairly crackling with an unnamed tension.

Then Elvis blinked and looked away, clearing his throat gruffly. "Best you get some more rest," he said, rising from the rocker. "I'll have Ida bring you up some supper later. Holler if you need anything."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Clementine alone with her whirling thoughts. She lay back against the pillows, her heart racing and her skin tingling where his gaze had lingered. What on earth had just happened? One minute Elvis was his usual gruff, scolding self, the next he was looking at her like... like...

Like a man looks at a woman he desires, a traitorous voice whispered in her head. Clementine shook the thought away, scandalised. Surely she was imagining things, seeing more than was there. She and Elvis were like oil and water, always rubbing each other the wrong way. He tolerated her for the sake of the ranch, nothing more. The idea that he might feel something deeper, something tender and passionate and real... it was impossible.

Wasn't it?

Clementine groaned and turned her face into the pillow, suddenly exhausted. Her head ached abominably, and her heart felt like a bird beating its wings against the cage of her ribs. She needed sleep, needed time to sort through the jumble of her emotions and the strange, unsettling effect Elvis Presley seemed to have on her good sense.

But even as she drifted off into a fitful doze, Clementine couldn't shake the memory of his eyes on hers, intense and searching and full of something that looked achingly like longing. It haunted her dreams, that look—a promise, a challenge, a invitation to something thrilling and terrifying and utterly forbidden.

Something Clementine knew she shouldn't want... but lord help her, she did.

She wanted it with every fiber of her being.

Over the next few days, as Clementine recovered from her injuries, she had ample time to reflect on her growing feelings for Elvis. It was maddening, the way he seemed to invade her every waking thought. She would be in the middle of some mundane task—shelling peas with Ida in the kitchen, or mending a torn shirt in her room—and suddenly his face would swim before her mind's eye, those piercing blue eyes and that crooked, knowing smile making her stomach flutter and her cheeks heat.

It was ridiculous. It was inappropriate. It was... inevitable, if Clementine was being honest with herself. From the moment she'd first laid eyes on Elvis, standing tall and proud on the porch of Windy Creek Ranch, she had felt the pull of him. The attraction, the fascination, the infuriating urge to crack that stony facade and see the man beneath.

But it was more than just physical allure. As the days turned into weeks and Clementine settled into her new life at the ranch, she began to see glimmers of the real Elvis: the loyal friend, the tireless worker, the unexpected jokester. Oh, he could be maddening, with his gruffness and his stubborn pride. But he could also be unexpectedly kind, unbelievably patient, and downright entertaining when the mood struck him.

Like the time he'd caught her trying to sneak a peek at his guitar, the one he kept propped in a corner of the bunkhouse. She'd been sure he would scold her for snooping, or worse, laugh at her clumsy attempts to pluck out a tune. But instead, he'd just shaken his head and smiled that crooked smile of his, then sat down beside her and showed her how to hold the instrument, his callused fingers guiding hers over the strings until she could pick out a passable melody.

Or the night he'd found her crying in the hayloft, homesick and overwhelmed and halfway convinced she'd made a terrible mistake in coming to Windy Creek. He hadn't said a word, just sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, letting her sob into his shirt until she was spent. Then he'd tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes, his own gaze fierce and tender all at once.

"You're doing just fine, Clementine," he'd said, his voice low and rough. "You're right where you're meant to be."

It was moments like those that made Clementine's heart ache with a longing she couldn't quite name. A yearning for something more than friendship, more than partnership.

Something that felt suspiciously like affection.

But it was impossible. She and Elvis were too different, too stubborn and set in their ways. They would drive each other mad within a year, Clementine was sure of it. And even if by some miracle they could make a go of it, there was still the ranch to consider. Windy Creek needed her, needed Elvis. They couldn't afford any distractions or entanglements.

No, it was better to put such foolish notions out of her head. To focus on her duties and her goals, and let her heart's desire remain just that—a secret, wistful dream.

But oh, how she dreamed.

As the weeks passed and Clementine grew stronger, she threw herself into life at Windy Creek with renewed determination. She rose with the sun each morning, joining Mrs. Jameson in the kitchen for a hearty breakfast before heading out to tackle the day's chores. She rode herd with the cattle, mended fences with Red and the boys, even tried her hand at roping and branding.

She still felt hopelessly out of her depth at times, but she was learning fast. And she had Elvis to thank for that. He was a patient teacher, though a demanding one. He pushed her hard, expecting nothing less than her very best effort. But he was also quick with a word of praise when she got something right, or a steadying hand when she faltered.

Slowly but surely, Clementine could feel herself changing. Growing tougher, more resilient. The blisters on her palms turned to calluses, the ache in her muscles to a pleasant sort of soreness. And though her prim city dresses were a thing of the past, she found she didn't miss them all that much. There was a freedom in denim and calico, a practicality that suited her new life.

She knew she still had a long way to go before she could truly call herself a rancher. But for the first time since arriving at Windy Creek, Clementine felt like she might actually belong here. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And if her gaze still strayed to Elvis more often than it should, if her heart still raced at his nearness and her skin tingled at his touch... well. That was her secret to keep. Her cross to bear.

But lord, what a sweet burden it was.

One evening a few months later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and painted the sky in shades of gold and pink, Clementine found herself alone with Elvis on a bluff overlooking the ranch. She'd gone up there to get away from the noise and bustle of the house for a while, to let the peace of the prairie soak into her bones and ease the remnants of the day's tension.

She hadn't expected Elvis to follow her. But then, he seemed to have a knack for turning up wherever she was. A coincidence, she told herself each time. Just a quirk of ranch life, two people whose paths were bound to cross often. It didn't mean anything.

But as Elvis came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as they looked out over the rolling expanse of Windy Creek, Clementine felt that old familiar flutter in her chest. The hitch in her breath, the skip of her pulse.

It meant something. It had to.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the wind rustling through the grass, the distant lowing of the cattle in the pasture. Clementine breathed it in, let it fill her lungs and settle in her bones. This place, this land. It was a part of her now, as vital as her own beating heart.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself.

Elvis hummed in agreement, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "Never get tired of this view. No matter how many times I see it."

Clementine glanced at him, struck by the wondering note in his voice. "You really love this place, don't you?"

Elvis nodded slowly. "It's in my blood. Has been since I was old enough to sit a horse. Used to dream about having a spread like this, a place to call my own." He paused, his jaw working as if wrestling with some inner debate. Then, quietly, "Never thought I'd find someone to share it with, though."

Clementine's heart stumbled, then began to race. Surely he didn't mean... no. He couldn't have.

They rode home in silence.

Chapter 3

The sun beat down on Clementine's back as she rode across the pasture, her eyes scanning the herd for any signs of trouble. It had been just over a year since she'd arrived at Windy Creek Ranch, and in that time, she'd learned more about cattle and cowboying than she'd ever thought possible.

She'd also learned a thing or two about herself. Like the fact that she was stronger than she'd ever given herself credit for, and that the wide-open spaces of the West felt more like home than the bustling streets of New York ever had.

As she turned her horse back towards the ranch house, Clementine couldn't help but smile. Despite the long days and the hard work, she'd never been happier. She had a purpose here, a place where she belonged.

She had Elvis.

Of course, he was as quiet as ever. Truly, the strong and silent type. But somewhere along the way, through all the disagreements and teasing, a comfortable companionship had grown between them, and Clementine was grateful.

She dismounted in front of the house, handing the reins off to one of the ranch hands. "Take good care of him, Johnny," she said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. "He worked hard today."

Johnny grinned, his freckled face beaming with pride. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Clementine. I'll give him a good rubdown and some extra oats."

Clementine nodded, grateful for the enthusiasm and dedication of her crew. Over time, the workers at the ranch had become like her family. In addition to Red, Slim, and Rusty, there was Johnny, the eager young newcomer; Hank, the grizzled old-timer who'd been working the ranch since before Clementine was born; Juanita, the no-nonsense veterinarian who kept the animals healthy and her affable husband Gerónimo; Ida, the motherly housekeeper and cook whose fried chicken was legendary around these parts; and a handful of other steady, reliable hands.

She made her way into the house, sighing with relief as the cool shade enveloped her. She had just taken off her gloves and settled down at her desk to go over the day's receipts when a letter caught her eye. It was postmarked from New York.

Clementine smiled as she unfolded the pages, eager for news from home. But before she could read more than a few lines, the door burst open and Elvis strode in, his face grim.

"We got trouble," he said without preamble. "Rustlers hit the Falling Tree Acres last night. They're missing a dozen head."

Clementine's blood ran cold. Rustlers. The scourge of the open range, the nightmare of every rancher west of the Mississippi. She had heard the stories, had listened to the ranch hands swap tales of cattle thefts and midnight raids. But she had never thought it would happen here, in their peaceful valley.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Elvis nodded grimly. "They found tracks this morning, out by their western pasture. Looks like the bastards cut the fence and drove off a dozen head in the night. Took ‘em 'til now to make sure there weren't no stragglers."

Clementine sank back into her chair, her knees suddenly weak. A dozen head. It didn't sound like much, but she knew that every animal counted, that even a small loss could be devastating to any ranch.

“What’ll they do?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice. "What if the rustlers come here?"

Elvis sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Ain't gonna be easy. These rustlers, they're smart. They know how to cover their tracks, how to disappear into the wilderness like ghosts. We could spend weeks chasin' 'em and never see hide nor hair."

Clementine's heart sank even further. Something had to be done, but... weeks of fruitless searching, of neglecting the ranch and the rest of the herd? They couldn't afford it, not now. Not when they were just starting to find their footing. Then again, they needed to do something about it—prevent any losses before they happened.

But then, a sudden thought struck her. A memory of something her uncle had said, long ago, when she was just a girl. Something about the importance of neighbors, of community, of banding together in times of trouble.

"What about the other ranchers?" she asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Surely we're not the only ones who have been hit by these rustlers. What if we joined forces, pooled our resources and manpower?"

Elvis looked at her in surprise, as if the idea had never occurred to him. "You mean, like a meeting?"

She took a deep breath, her mind already racing. "Yes," she said, standing up from her desk. "Let's get the word out. I want every rancher in the valley here tonight. We need to figure out a plan."

Elvis nodded, his jaw tight. "I'll send Rusty and Johnny to spread the news. You want me to ride over to Big Sky, let them know?"

Clementine hesitated, remembering the last time she'd seen Nathaniel Hawthorne. The man had been cold and dismissive, making it clear that he didn't think much of a woman running a ranch. But Big Sky was one of the largest spreads in the area, and they needed all the help they could get.

"No," she said finally. "I'll go myself. It's time Nathaniel and I had a little chat."

Elvis's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. "Alright then. I'll hold down the fort here, make sure everything's ready for tonight."

Clementine nodded, grateful for his support. She knew that Elvis had his doubts about her plan, but he trusted her enough to follow her lead. It meant more to her than she could say.

She rode hard for Big Sky, her thoughts churning as she tried to come up with a way to convince Nathaniel Hawthorne to join their cause. The man was as stubborn as a mule, and twice as mean. But if they had any hope of stopping the rustlers, they needed Big Sky on their side.

When she arrived at the ranch, she was surprised to be greeted not by Nathaniel, but by his son Aaron. The young man was a few years older than Clementine, with sharp hazel eyes and a no-nonsense air about him.

"Miss Olivetti," Aaron said, his tone cool but polite. "I'm afraid my father is indisposed at the moment. What can I do for you?"

Clementine dismounted, dusting off her hands on her skirt. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure she meant it. "I've come to talk to him about the rustler problem. We're calling a meeting tonight, and I was hoping Big Sky would be represented."

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and Clementine got the sense that she was being sized up. "I see," the young man said finally. "Well, I can't speak for my father, but I'll be there. Big Sky takes the rustler threat very seriously."

She rode back to Windy Creek feeling accomplished, like they might just have a chance against the rustlers after all. But as the sun began to set and the ranchers began to arrive, Clementine felt her confidence waver.

The main room of the ranch house was crowded, the air thick with tension and the murmur of voices. Clementine looked around at the gathered men, recognizing most of the faces. There was Jake McAllister from the Circle B, his weathered face set in a scowl. Tom Hawkins from the Rocking H, his fingers drumming an agitated beat on his thigh. Hank Brewster from the Lazy J, his shoulders slumped with weariness. Of course, Jake Dawson from Falling Tree Acres was there, too, hopping mad. And a half-dozen others, all looking to her for answers.

Her own men were there as well—Red and Slim and Rusty, their expressions grim. And a few more she'd come to rely on over the past year: Jeb Thompson, a grizzled hand who could coax a calf from the orneriest of heifers; young Billy Turner, eager to prove himself; and Lyle Davis, quiet and steady, with a gift for gentling horses.

But there was one face Clementine didn't recognize—a woman, standing slightly apart from the rest. She was tall and slim, with honey-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. When Elvis saw her, he stiffened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

"Katie," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Didn't expect to see you here."

The woman—Katie—smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Desperate times, Elvis. My father and Aaron sent me in their stead." Aaron Hawthorne. Katie was Aaron’s brother, and Nathaniel’s daughter.

There was a story there, Clementine could tell. A history between Elvis and this Katie Hawthorne. But now was not the time to dwell on it. They had bigger problems to deal with.

As if on cue, Tom Hawkins spoke up, his voice tight with anger. "We all know why we're here. These rustlers are bleeding us dry, and something needs to be done about it. But I think we ought to wait and see." A murmur went around the room, heads shaking and fists clenching.

"And what good would hunkering down do?" demanded Sam Johnson, his fists clenched at his sides. "They'd just pick us off one by one, like lambs to the slaughter. No, we need to take the fight to them, hit them hard and fast before they can hit us again."

"Are you out of your mind?" Hank Brewster's voice cut through the din like a knife. "You're talking about going up against armed men, men who won't hesitate to put a bullet in your back. It's suicide, plain and simple."

"I say we let the law handle it," said Hank Brewster, his tone weary. "It's their job, ain't it?"

Jake McAllister snorted. "The law? You mean Sheriff Hodges? That old drunk couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map. We'd be better off hiring a pack of coyotes to guard the henhouse."

A ripple of uneasy laughter went through the room. Clementine frowned, her patience wearing thin. They were getting nowhere with this bickering. Soon, the men all erupted into argument, voices rising and tempers flaring. Clementine looked from one angry face to another, her heart sinking. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of—that the ranchers would be too divided, too set in their ways to find common ground.

"We have to do something," she said, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "We can't just sit back and watch everything we've worked for be taken away."

"And what do you suggest, Miss Olivetti?" Katie asked, her tone faintly mocking. "That our men go out there, guns blazing, and get themselves killed?"

Clementine opened her mouth to retort, but Elvis beat her to it, his deep voice cutting through the din like a knife.

"Seems to me," he said slowly, "that we don't have much choice in the matter. Either we take the fight to the rustlers, or we sit back and watch everything we've worked for get stolen out from under us. I don't know about y'all, but I ain't too keen on the second option."

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. Clementine could see the indecision on every face, the warring impulses of self-preservation and solidarity.

But then, slowly, heads began to nod. Shoulders straightened, jaws set with determination. "The man's right," Jake McAllister said grudgingly. "We can't just sit back and let them pick us off one by one. We have to stand together, or we'll all fall alone."

There were murmurs of agreement from around the room, a sense of purpose beginning to take hold. Clementine felt a surge of pride and gratitude, her eyes seeking out Elvis's across the sea of faces. He met her gaze steadily, something warm and reassuring in the blue depths.

"Alright then," Elvis said, his voice ringing out with confidence. "Let's get to planning. We'll need every able-bodied man who can ride and shoot. We'll track the rustlers to their hideout, and we'll make sure they never trouble us again."

The meeting broke up soon after that, the ranchers dispersing to make their preparations for the evening. As she was lighting a candle, Clementine caught a glimpse of Katie Hawthorne deep in conversation with Elvis, their heads bent close together as they spoke in low, urgent tones.

Something twisted in Clementine's gut at the sight, a flare of jealousy that she didn't quite understand. But she pushed it down, focusing instead on the task ahead. There would be time to worry about Katie Hawthorne later.

Later that evening, Clementine found herself wandering the quiet halls of the ranch house, her mind too full of worries to settle. She was just about to open the cupboard when she heard a noise from the living room, a soft clink of glass on wood.

Curious, she padded over to the doorway, peering into the dimly lit room. Elvis sat at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and a troubled expression on his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Clementine,” he said, his voice rough. “What are you doing up?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her nightgown and robe. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

Elvis nodded, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. "I know the feeling," he said, taking a swig of whiskey.

Clementine's heart clenched at the weariness in his voice, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. "You don't have to go tonight, you know," she said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "The other men can handle it. You've done enough already, Elvis. More than enough."

He looked up at her then, something fierce and determined in his eyes. "Ain’t no way," he said, his voice low and intense. "I promised your uncle I'd look after this place, Clem. I ain't about to break that promise now."

Clementine felt a rush of warmth at his words, a flutter of something deeper and more complicated than gratitude. But she tamped it down, focusing instead on the danger ahead.

"It's going to be risky," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't want you getting hurt on my account, Elvis. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

He covered her hand with his own, his skin warm and rough against hers. "Good thing I ain't planning on gettin’ hurt, then," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, it’s just a search party. We ain’t gonna do no shooting tonight. We’re just gonna track the rustlers, that’s all.”

Clementine laughed, the tension draining out of her in a rush. "Well, I suppose I can live with that," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Just promise me you'll be careful out there, alright?"

"I promise," Elvis said, his voice solemn. "And you promise me, Clementine. You’ll be waiting when I get back?"

She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. "I promise," she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

They sat like that for a long moment, hands clasped and eyes locked, the silence stretching out between them like a promise of its own. And then Elvis cleared his throat, releasing her hand and standing up from the table.

"Best get some rest," he said, his voice gruff. "Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Clementine stood as well, her heart racing as she followed him to the door. "Goodnight, Elvis," she said softly, her hand on the knob. "And thank you. For everything."

He paused, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair back from her face. "Anytime, Clem," he murmured, his eyes soft. "Anytime at all."

And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Clementine alone with her thoughts and the pounding of her own heart.

The ranch house was quiet that night, the usual bustle and chatter replaced by a tense, watchful silence. Clementine wandered the halls like a ghost, her mind spinning and her heart aching.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that some disaster was looming just beyond the horizon. And she couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right choice, staying behind while her men out to face the danger alone.

She found herself in the kitchen just as dawn was breaking, staring blankly at the coffeepot as it burbled and hissed on the stove. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, or why she'd come. All she knew was that she needed something, anything, to take her mind off the worry and the fear.

And then, like a miracle, Elvis appeared in the doorway. He looked haggard and worn, his face lined with exhaustion and his eyes shadowed with some dark emotion. But he was alive, and whole, and Clementine felt her heart leap with relief.

"You're back," she breathed, stepping forward to meet him. "What happened out there? Did you find them?"

Elvis shook his head, his jaw tight. "No. We rode hard all night, followed their trail as far as we could. But they're clever bastards, know how to cover their tracks. We lost the scent somewhere around Coyote Creek, and by then it was too dark to go on."

Clementine's heart sank, disappointment and frustration welling up in her throat. "So what now?" she asked, her voice small. "What do we do?"

Elvis sighed, running a hand over his face. "We start again the day after tomorrow, at first light. Keep searching until we find them, or until we can't search no more."

He looked at her then, his eyes dark and intense. "I need you to be strong, Clementine. I need you to keep this place running, keep the men in line. Can you do that for me?"

Clementine swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat. "Of course," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll do whatever needs to be done, Elvis. You know that."

He nodded, something like pride flickering in his gaze. And then, to her surprise, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Clementine stiffened for a moment, unused to such displays of affection from the taciturn cowboy. But then she melted into him, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt and her face pressing into the warm, solid strength of his chest.

"I'm scared, Elvis," she whispered, the words muffled against his skin.

He tightened his hold on her, his chin resting on the top of her head. "I know, darlin'. I'm scared too. But we can't let that fear control us, you hear me? We gotta be strong, for each other and for this ranch."

Clementine nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath. And then, before she could lose her nerve, she tilted her head back and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was quick and chaste, a gentle exploration that made her heart race and her blood sing. Elvis made a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat but before things could go any further, he tore himself away, his breath coming hard and fast. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’ta done that." he said, his voice rough with wanting. "We can’t. I ain’t gonna take advantage of you.Not when we both don't know what tomorrow might bring."

“I—you’re right.” Clementine knew it, even as her body screamed in protest. She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the chill of his absence. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know what came over me. It's just... the thought of losing you..."

"Shh." Elvis placed a finger over her lips, silencing her.

"Don't talk like that. We're gonna make it through this, you and me. And when we do, we'll have all the time in the world to figure out what this is between us."

Clementine nodded.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. "But for now, we gotta focus on the task at hand. We gotta be strong for the ranch. Can you do that for me, Clem?"

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "I can. I will."

He smiled then, a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made her heart skip a beat. "That's my girl. Now, let's get some rest. We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The first rays of the sun were just beginning to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold when Clementine stepped out onto the porch, a rifle slung over her shoulder, two pistols at her hip, and a steely glint in her eye.

The ranchers were already gathered in the yard, checking their tack and loading their saddlebags with grim determination. Elvis stood at the center of the group, his black hat pulled low over his brow as he issued last-minute orders and instructions, saddling his mount quickly and efficiently.

He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise and something like consternation. "What do you think you're doing? I thought I told you to stay put," he demanded, striding over to block her path. "You ain't comin' with us, Clementine. It's too dangerous."

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "The hell I'm not," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "This is my ranch, Elvis. My land, my cattle, my responsibility. My men. And I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and let someone else fight my battles for me."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I know what you're going to say," she said. "That I'm just a woman, that I don't know how to handle a gun or ride with a posse. But you're wrong, Elvis. I've been learning this past year. I can shoot as straight as any man here, and ride twice as quick."

Red’s face split into a big, knowing smile. Elvis elbowed him, and his ruddy companion stood ramrod straight. She saw the flicker of surprise in Elvis’ eyes, too, the grudging respect that warred with his instinctive need to protect her. But she wasn't about to back down, not now, not when so much was at stake.

"I'm coming with you," she said, her voice low and intense. "And that's final. You can either accept it, or you can try to stop me. But either way, I'll be riding out of here at your side, come hell or high water."

For a long, tense moment, Elvis just stared at her, his jaw working as if he were chewing on a particularly tough piece of rawhide. Then, slowly, he nodded, his eyes glinting with something that might have been pride, or exasperation, or a little bit of both.

"Alright, then," he said gruffly. "But you stay close to me, you hear? And if I give you an order, you follow it, no questions asked."

They rode out in a thunder of hoofbeats, the sun high overhead and the wind whipping at their faces. Clementine could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the thrill of the hunt mingling with a cold, creeping fear. She knew that they were riding into danger, that there was no telling what they might face out there on the open range.

But she also knew that she was not alone, that she had Elvis and the others by her side, ready to fight for what was theirs, and that knowledge gave her the courage to keep riding.

They rode for hours, following the rustlers' trail across the rugged terrain. The sun beat down on them, the heat shimmering off the rocks and the scrubby brush. Clementine could feel the sweat trickling down her back, the dust caking her face and hair. But she hardly noticed, her mind focused on the task at hand, on the need to find the stolen cattle and bring the thieves to justice.

It was nearly sundown when they finally caught sight of the rustlers' camp, a thin plume of smoke rising from a hidden canyon up ahead. Elvis called a halt, his hand raised in warning.

"We'll have to go in on foot from here," he said, his voice low and tense. "Can't risk them hearing us coming."

Clementine nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it, the moment of truth. She slid from her saddle, her legs stiff and sore from hours of riding. She checked her rifle, making sure it was loaded and ready, then fell in behind Elvis as he led the way toward the canyon.

They crept through the underbrush, the only sound the crunch of their boots against the dry leaves and twigs. Clementine could feel the tension in the air, the sense of impending danger. She knew that the rustlers would be armed, that they would fight to keep their stolen herd. But she also knew that they were outnumbered, that the posse had the element of surprise on their side.

As they neared the edge of the canyon, Elvis held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. He peered over the edge, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene below.

"They're down there, alright," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Looks like they've got the cattle penned up in that box canyon. I count six men, maybe seven."

Clementine swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Six men. Six armed, desperate men who would stop at nothing to keep what they had stolen. She knew that the odds were in their favor, that they had the rustlers outnumbered and outgunned. But she also knew that anything could happen in the heat of battle, that there was no guarantee that they would all make it out alive.

She looked at Elvis, saw the grim determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw. And she knew that he was thinking the same thing, that he was weighing the risks and the rewards, the need to protect their own against the danger of the unknown.

"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart.

Elvis took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on the canyon below. "We'll split up, come at 'em from both sides. Jake, you take half the men and circle around to the north. Tom, you take the other half and come in from the south. Clementine, you're with Jake. I’ll go straight down the middle, try to draw their fire and give the others a chance to get in close."

Clementine felt a sudden, sharp fear at his words, a sense of dread that she couldn't quite shake. She knew that Elvis was putting himself in the greatest danger, that he was using himself as a distraction to give the others a chance. And she knew that she couldn't let him do it alone.

"I'm coming with you," she said, her voice brooking no argument.

Elvis looked at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "Clementine, I don't think—"

"I'm not asking, Elvis," she said, cutting him off. "I’m coming."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, a flicker of something like pride in his eyes.

"Alright then," he said, his voice gruff. "Let's do this."

They made their way down the steep slope of the canyon, the loose shale and gravel sliding beneath their feet. Clementine could hear the low murmur of voices from the camp below, the soft lowing of the penned-up cattle. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her palms slick with sweat on the grip of her rifle.

As they neared the bottom of the canyon, Elvis held up a hand, signaling for her to stop. He peered around the edge of a boulder, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"Alright," he said, his voice low and tense. "On my signal, we move in. You stay close to me, you hear? And if things start to go south, you get the hell out of there and don't look back."

Clementine nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She knew that he was trying to protect her, that he was willing to lay down his life to keep her safe. And she knew that she couldn't let that happen, that she would fight to her last breath to keep him alive.

Elvis took a deep breath, his hand tightening on the grip of his pistol. Then, with a nod to Clementine, he stepped out from behind the boulder, his voice ringing out across the canyon.

"Drop your weapons and let the cattle go!" he shouted, his pistol leveled at the nearest rustler. "You're surrounded and outnumbered. There's no way out!"

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound the low moan of the wind through the canyon. Then, with a shout of defiance, the rustlers opened fire, their bullets whizzing past Clementine's head and shattering the rock at her feet.

She dropped to the ground, her heart pounding in her chest. Beside her, Elvis was returning fire, his pistol barking in the still air. She could hear the shouts and curses of the rustlers, the panicked bellowing of the cattle as they milled about in their makeshift pen.

Clementine leveled her rifle, her hands steady and her aim true. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times, watching with grim satisfaction as the rustlers fell, clutching at their wounds.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Elvis, locked in hand-to-hand combat with one of the rustlers, his gun lying forgotten on the ground.

The man was huge, easily a head taller than Elvis and twice as broad. He had a knife in his hand, the blade glinting wickedly in the sun, and a feral grin on his face as he bore down on the smaller man.

Clementine didn't hesitate. She got up from her position, charging towards the two men with a shout of fury. She leaped, tackling the rustler around the waist and sending them both tumbling to the ground.

They grappled in the dirt, the man's knife slashing at the air as Clementine tried to wrestle it from his grip. She could hear Elvis shouting her name, could feel the impact of bodies hitting the ground all around her as the battle raged on.

And then, with a final, desperate twist, she wrenched the knife free. The man lunged for her, his eyes wild with rage and desperation, but Clementine was faster. She plunged the blade into his chest, feeling the sickening give of flesh and bone.

The rustler's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream. And then he was falling, his body hitting the ground with a dull, final thud.

Clementine staggered to her feet, her breath coming in great, heaving gasps. She looked around wildly, taking in the scene of carnage and chaos.

All around her, the canyon exploded into chaos. The posse had burst from cover, guns blazing as they bore down on the rustlers. She could hear shouts and screams, could smell the acrid tang of gunpowder on the air. Bullets whizzed past her head, kicking up puffs of dust at her feet.

It seemed to go on forever, that nightmarish battle in the heart of the canyon. But in reality, it was over in a matter of minutes. The rustlers, outnumbered and outgunned, threw down their weapons and surrendered, their hands raised in supplication.

Clementine sagged with relief, her knees suddenly weak. She looked around, taking in the scene of carnage—the bodies sprawled on the ground, the wounded men groaning in pain, the cattle milling about in confusion.

And then her gaze fell on Elvis, and her heart stopped.

He was lying on the ground, his face pale and his eyes closed. There was a spreading stain of red on his shirt, a wound in his chest that pulsed with each labored breath.

"No," Clementine whispered, stumbling forward on numb, leaden feet. "No, no, no."

She fell to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she pressed them to the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood. Elvis's eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

"Don't you dare," she said fiercely, her tears falling hot and fast on his face. "Don't you dare leave me, Elvis Presley. Not now, not like this."

"Somebody help me!" Clementine shouted, her voice raw with desperation. "Please, he's hurt, we need to get him back to the ranch!"

The others crowded around, their faces grim as they took in the sight of their fallen comrade. Tom Hawkins knelt down on Elvis' other side, his fingers searching for a pulse.

"He's alive," he said, his voice tight. "But he's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him back to Windy Creek, and fast."

Clementine nodded, her vision blurring with tears.

“Put him on White Lightning!” Rusty cried, “Clem’s horse is the fastest.” She watched as the men lifted Elvis onto the back of her horse, his head lolling limply against his chest. She wanted to go to him, to gather him into her arms and will the life back into his broken body. But she knew that she couldn't, that she had to be strong now, for him and for herself.

"I'll go with you," said Jake, swinging up into his own saddle. "Red and Tom, you, round up the herd and head on back. The rest of you, tie the rustler up. We'll meet you there."

The ride back to the ranch was a blur, a nightmare of dust and sweat and clenching fear and Elvis’ limp form cradled against her chest as she urged White Lightning onward. She could feel his blood soaking through her shirt, could hear the rattling wheeze of his breath in her ear.

But she refused to give up hope, refused to let the fear and the despair take hold. Elvis was a fighter, a survivor. He would make it through this. He had to.

They reached the ranch just as the sun was setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold. Clementine leapt from the saddle, shouting for Juanita and the ranch hands as she half-carried, half-dragged Elvis inside.

"Help him!" she demanded, her voice tight with fear.

Mrs. Jameson hurried over, her face creased with worry. "They took him straight up to his room, miss. Juanita's with him now, doing what she can to stop the bleeding. But he's in a bad way, I won't lie to you."

The next few hours passed in a haze of activity and dread, the ticking of the clock on the mantel the only sound in the silent house. Juanita worked tirelessly, cleaning and stitching and bandaging, her face set in grim determination.

It had been hours, and Clementine had no news. "I need to go to him, Ida" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to be with him."

The housekeeper nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "Of course, miss. You go on up. I'll see to the hands and the stock."

Clementine managed a grateful nod, then turned and fled into the house, her heart pounding and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She took the stairs two at a time.

She burst into Elvis' room without knocking, her eyes wide and wild as she scanned the dimly lit space. He was lying on the bed, his shirt torn open to reveal the ugly, seeping wound in his chest. Juanita was bent over him, her hands bloody as she worked to staunch the flow.

"How is he?" Clementine asked, her voice thin and reedy to her own ears. "Will he... will he live?"

Juanita looked up, her dark eyes unreadable. "I don't know, Clem. He's lost a lot of blood, and the bullet's still in there. I've done what I can to clean and bind the wound, but he needs a real doctor, and soon."

Clementine nodded, her throat too tight for words. She sank down onto the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to brush the sweat-soaked hair back from Elvis' brow. He was burning with fever, his skin hot and dry beneath her palm.

"Oh, Elvis," she whispered, the endearment slipping out before she could stop it. "What have they done to you?"

She sent Red to fetch Doc Jamison from town, his saddlebags laden with all the medical supplies they could spare. And then there was nothing to do but wait, and pray, and hope against hope that Elvis would pull through.

The sun rose and set, the hours bleeding into days.

Clementine sat by Elvis's bedside, holding his hand and whispering words of encouragement. She barely slept, barely ate, her whole world narrowed down to the rise and fall of his chest, the fluttering of his eyelids, the faint pulse at his wrist.

And then, on the eighth day, a miracle. Elvis's fever broke, his breathing easing and his color returning. He opened his eyes, blinking up at Clementine with a weak, crooked smile.

"Hey there, darlin'," he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Fancy meeting you here."

Clementine let out a sob, tears of relief and joy streaming down her face. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck and breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she whispered fiercely. "You hear me, Elvis Presley? Never again."

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured. "I promise."

The next morning, Clementine awoke to Elvis screaming in agony. Before long, Doc Jamison was at his bedside, procuring a large needle from his medicine bag and injecting it into the patient’s arm. Clementine watched with bated breath as Elvis slowly settled back into a comfortable sleep, floating in the twilight of morphine.

She sat at his bedside, keeping vigil, praying for him. At one point, he whispered something.

"Marry me," she thought she heard. "Be my wife, Clementine."

Chapter 4

Clementine sat at her desk, sorting through the mail that had arrived the previous week. Among the various bills and correspondence, one letter caught her eye. The familiar handwriting on the envelope made her heart skip a beat. It was from Bonnie.

With trembling fingers, Clementine opened the letter and began to read:

"My Dearest Clemmie,

I hope this letter finds you well and thriving in your new life at Windy Creek Ranch. I miss you terribly, and the city feels empty without your laughter and companionship.

I have exciting news! I've decided to take a break from the hustle and bustle of New York and come visit you at the ranch. I long to see the beautiful landscapes you've described and meet the intriguing characters you've mentioned in your letters.

Expect me to arrive within the fortnight. I cannot wait to embrace you and hear all about your adventures.

Your loving friend, Bonnie"

Clementine clutched the letter to her chest, a wide grin spreading across her face. The prospect of having Bonnie at the ranch filled her with joy and excitement. She couldn't wait to show her best friend around and introduce her to everyone, especially Elvis.

Elvis. The thought of him made Clementine’s smile falter.

Since his injury, their relationship had been somewhat strained. She had been tending to him diligently, changing his bandages and ensuring he was comfortable. However, every time she tried to bring up his morphine-induced mumblings, Elvis would change the subject or feign exhaustion. It was starting to worry her.

A knock at the door startled Clementine from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, setting the letter aside.

To her surprise, Katie Hawthorne stepped into the room, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed and her blue eyes sparkling. She looked stunning in a sage green day dress that complemented her fair complexion.

"Good morning, Clementine," she greeted, her voice polite but cool. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Clementine forced a smile, trying to ignore the twinge of unease that Katie's presence always seemed to evoke. "Not at all, Katie. What brings you here?"

Katie walked over to the desk, her posture poised and confident. "I was hoping to visit Elvis. I heard he's recovering well, and I thought he might appreciate a familiar face."

Clementine's stomach churned at the thought of Katie spending time alone with Elvis. She knew there was a history between them, but the details remained a mystery. "I'm sure he would appreciate that," she managed to say, her voice even. "He's in his room, resting."

With a nod and a polite smile, Katie left the room, leaving Clementine alone with her thoughts. Unable to concentrate on her work, Clementine decided to take a walk around the ranch to clear her head.

As she stepped outside, the warm sun and gentle breeze greeted her. The sound of laughter caught her attention, and she spotted Red and Slim engaged in a lively conversation near the stables.

"Miss Clementine!" Red called out, waving her over.

Clementine made her way over to them, eager for a distraction. "You're just in time. Slim here was about to share a story about the time he singlehandedly fought off a pack of coyotes."

Slim grinned, puffing out his chest. "It's true! I was out on the range, minding my own business, when suddenly..."

But as Slim launched into his tale, Clementine found herself only half-listening. Her mind wandered to the conversation she had overheard earlier between Katie and Elvis. She had been passing by Elvis' room when she heard their voices, low and intense.

"Elvis, I know things ended badly between us," Katie had said, her tone sincere. "But I want you to know that I still care about you. I always have."

"Look, I appreciate you coming to see me, but things are different now," Elvis had replied, his voice firm but not unkind.

Katie had scoffed. “I know you don't mean that—”

“Katie, I’m not the same man I was back then.”

"I know that, Elvis. And I respect it. I just... I don't want us to be strangers. We have too much history for that."

There was a pause, and Clementine could picture Elvis considering her words. "You're right. We can be friends, Katie. But that's all we can be."

Clementine hurried away before she could hear Katie's response, her heart racing and her mind reeling. What exactly had happened between them? And why did the thought of them together make her feel so unsettled?

Feigning a stomachache, Clementine gently extracted herself from Slim and Red and started back for the house.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Ida approach until the older woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Miss Clementine, you look troubled," Ida said, her kind eyes filled with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Clementine sighed, offering Ida a weak smile. "I'm fine, Ida. Just a lot on my mind, I suppose."

Ida nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "It's about Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie, isn't it?"

Clementine's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Ida chuckled softly. "I've been around long enough to notice things, Miss Clementine. And I can see the way you look at Mr. Elvis, and the way Miss Katie looks at him too. Frankly, I’d look at him that way too if I were younger,” she chuckled.

Clementine felt her cheeks heat up. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ida."

The housekeeper smiled knowingly. "It's alright, Miss Clementine. You don't have to pretend with me. I know it's not my place to gossip, but I feel like you should know the truth about Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie."

Curiosity got the better of Clementine, and she found herself leaning in closer. "What truth, Ida?"

Ida glanced around to make sure they were alone before lowering her voice. "Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie were engaged to be married once, years ago. They were young and in love, or so they thought. But then Miss Katie got it into her head that she wanted to see the world, experience life beyond the ranch. She left Mr. Elvis behind without so much as a goodbye, broke his heart into a million pieces." She sighed, shaking her head. "It was a terrible thing to see."

Clementine's heart sank. "I had no idea," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Ida patted her hand reassuringly. "Mr. Elvis was never the same after that. He threw himself into his work, closed himself off from the world. But then you came along, Miss Clementine. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he smiles when you're around. You've brought light back into his life."

Clementine felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "But what about Katie? She's beautiful, and wealthy, and she knows this life. How can I compete with that?"

"Miss Clementine, you listen to me. You are a smart, strong, and kind-hearted young woman. You have brought so much good to this ranch, and to the people who live and work here. Don't you ever doubt your worth."

Clementine nodded, blinking back her tears.

The housekeeper smiled warmly. "Now, why don't you go and check on Mr. Elvis? I'm sure he could use some company."

Taking a deep breath, Clementine squared her shoulders and made her way back upstairs. She waled down the hall to Elvis' room, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but hesitated when she heard voices coming from inside.

"... and do you remember that night by the creek? The stars were so bright, and you held me so close. I felt like I could stay in your arms forever." Katie's voice was soft, tinged with nostalgia.

“Sure do.” Elvis’ deep chuckle reverberated through Clementine’s bones.

"Hold still," Katie's voice was soft, almost tender. "This poultice will help with the pain."

There was a moment of silence, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Elvis. "Ouch! Careful, Katie."

"Don't be such a baby," Katie chided, her tone playful. "You've had worse."

Then, a sigh.

"Katie, we can't keep doing this. I told you things are different now." Elvis sounded tired, his voice strained.

"Are they? When I'm with you, it feels just like old times. We sure had something special, didn’t we, Elvis? Don't you miss it?"

Clementine's stomach churned as she imagined Katie sitting close to him, her hands gentle on his skin. She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but she couldn't seem to make herself move.

There was a long pause, and then Elvis spoke, his words hesitant. "I... I don't know, Katie. It's been so long. I’m not the same man I was before."

Katie's voice turned pleading. "But you could be. We could be happy again, Elvis. Just like we used to. If you just give me a chance—"

Another pause, heavy with unspoken words. "I can't make any promises, Katie. But... I won't deny that being with you brings back a lot of memories. Good ones."

Clementine's heart raced, her palms sweating as she listened to their exchange. Did Elvis still have feelings for Katie? Was she just a temporary distraction, a way to forget his past heartbreak?

“Why, Elvis? Why can’t you make any promises? Is it... because of her?” Katie asked, Katie asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. "The city girl who's come to play at being a rancher?"

"Don't do that, Katie."

Katie scoffed, the sound sharp and brittle. "Oh, Elvis. Can't you see? She doesn't belong here. She's not one of us. Sooner or later, she'll realize that and go running back to her fancy city life. And where will that leave you?" She got up, dusting herself off. "Sometimes, you're a damned fool, Elvis Presley."

Clementine backed away from the door, her mind reeling. She couldn't bear to hear any more, couldn't face the possibility that Elvis might choose Katie over her. With a choked sob, she turned and fled down the stairs, out into the yard where she could breathe, where she could think.

Shaking her head, Clementine decided to focus on the one thing she could control—her work. She made her way downstairs and out to the barn, determined to throw herself into the daily chores and put all thoughts of Elvis and Katie out of her mind.

As she mucked out the stalls and fed the horses, Clementine found herself falling into a comfortable rhythm. The physical labor was soothing, allowing her to clear her head and focus on the task at hand. Before she knew it, she was hours deep into her tasks, the sun was setting, and it was time to head home.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't hear the sound of hoofbeats approaching the front yard until a familiar voice called out, "Clemmie!"

Clementine turned her head, her eyes widening in disbelief. There, sitting in a stagecoach, was Bonnie, her fiery red curls blowing in the breeze and her green eyes sparkling with mischief in the golden hour.

"Bonnie!" Clementine exclaimed, dropping her pitchfork and rushing forward to embrace her friend. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't arriving for another week!"

Bonnie laughed, hugging Clementine tightly. "I couldn't wait that long to see you, darling. I hopped on the first train out of New York and made my way here as fast as I could."

Clementine stepped back, taking in the sight of her best friend. Bonnie looked radiant, her cheeks flushed from the ride and her smile as wide as the sky. "I can't believe you're really here," Clementine said, shaking her head in amazement.

Bonnie grinned, linking her arm through Clementine's. "Well, believe it, darling. I'm here, and I'm ready for an adventure. Now, show me around this ranch of yours. I want to see everything!"

Clementine laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. With Bonnie by her side, everything seemed brighter, more manageable. She led her friend around the ranch, introducing her to the horses and the cattle, showing her the sprawling fields and the cozy bunkhouse.

As they walked, Clementine found herself pouring out her heart to Bonnie, telling her all about Elvis and Katie and the confusion she felt. Bonnie listened intently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"It sounds to me like you're in love with this Elvis fellow," Bonnie said finally, her tone matter-of-fact.

Clementine sputtered, her cheeks turning crimson. "What? No! I mean, I care about him, of course, but love? That's ridiculous."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Is it? Clemmie, I've known you since we were in pigtails. I've never seen you this worked up over a man before. And from what you've told me, it sounds like he feels the same way about you."

Clementine wilted. "But this Katie… She's beautiful, and accomplished, and she understands this life in a way I never will."

Bonnie took Clementine's hands in hers, her green eyes fierce and determined. "Now you listen to me. You're smart, and strong, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. If this Elvis character can't see that, then he's a fool."

“Thanks, Bon. You always know just what to say. What would I ever do without you?”

“Shrivel up and die of sadness and boredom, most likely,” her best friend laughed. “Now, let's go find some trouble to get into. I've been cooped up on that train for far too long."

Clementine laughed, feeling a rush of affection for her friend. "I think I know just the thing. How do you feel about a little horseback riding?"

Bonnie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Lead the way, darling. I'm ready for anything."

As they made their way to the stables, Clementine spotted Red and Slim leaning against the fence, deep in conversation.

Red's eyes widened as he took in Bonnie's fiery red curls and sparkling green eyes.

Bonnie smiled, holding out her hand. "I’m Bonnie, Clementine's friend from New York."

Red took her hand, holding it a beat longer than necessary. "New York, huh? What brings a city girl like you out to our humble ranch?"

Bonnie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, you know. Adventure, excitement, the chance to see my best friend in the world."

Red grinned, leaning in closer. "Well, I can certainly promise you adventure and excitement, Miss Bonnie."

Slim rolled his eyes, elbowing Red in the ribs. "Ignore him, Miss Bonnie. He's all talk and no action."

Red chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I don't know about that, Miss Bonnie. I do my best to make all our guests feel welcome."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Is that so? Well, I guess I'll just have to see for myself."

As Bonnie and Red continued their flirtatious banter, Clementine felt her spirits lift. It was good to see her friend getting along so well with the ranch hands.

Suddenly, a shout rang out across the yard. "The fence is down! The cattle are escaping!"

Clementine's heart raced as she saw the herd of cattle stampeding through the broken fence. "We have to round them up!" she cried, running towards the stables.

Red and Slim were already saddling up their horses. "Miss Clementine, you take the north pasture," Red called out. "Slim and I will head south. Rusty, Billy, head east. We'll meet up at the old oak tree." He looked back at Bonnie. “You alright to stay here a spell?”

Bonnie nodded as Clementine swung herself up into the saddle, her face set with determination.

They rode hard, the wind whipping through their hair as they chased down the errant cattle. It was a minor crisis, but it forced everyone to work together to resolve the issue.

Finally, after several hours of hard work, they managed to herd the last of the cattle back into the pasture.

Exhausted but triumphant, Clementine, Red, and the rest of the ranch hands made their way back to the house for a very late dinner, where Bonnie was helping prepare a bountiful spread.

As they entered the dining room, Clementine was surprised to see Katie sitting at the dining table.

"Katie!" Ida exclaimed, setting down a steaming pot of stew. "I'm so glad you could join us for dinner."

Katie smiled, her flaxen hair gleaming in the candlelight. "Thank you for asking me to stay, Miss Ida. It's always a pleasure to share a meal with friends."

Clementine's stomach churned at the sight of Katie, memories of the woman’s earlier conversation with Elvis still fresh in her mind. She took a seat at the table, trying to ignore the way Katie's eyes seemed to be searching around the room. For him.

Bonnie leaned over to Clementine, her voice low. "So that's the famous Katie Hawthorne? I can see why she's got Elvis all twisted up."

Clementine sighed, nodding. "Yeah, they were going to get married until she up and left one day. They’ve got... history."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "I see."

As they sat down to eat, Clementine found herself seated across from Katie. The blonde gave her a polite smile, but there was a guardedness in her eyes that made Clementine uneasy.

"Clementine, I hear you had quite the adventure today," Katie said, her voice cool but not unkind. "I'm glad to see you're settling into ranch life so well."

Clementine forced a smile, determined to be civil. "Thank you, Katie. This year’s been a learning curve, but I'm enjoying the challenge."

Katie nodded, taking a sip of her water. "It's not an easy life, but it can be a rewarding one. If you're cut out for it."

Clementine bristled at the implication, but before she could respond, the door opened and Elvis stepped into the room. He was moving slowly, his face still pale, but there was a determined set to his jaw.

"Elvis!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up. "It's so good to see you up and about!"

"Elvis, darling, you're here," Katie purred, patting the seat beside her. "Come, sit with me. We have so much to catch up on."

Elvis hesitated, his gaze flickering to Clementine before he nodded and took the offered seat. Clementine felt a stab of jealousy, her appetite suddenly deserting her.

"Evening, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

He made his way to the table, his steps measured and careful. As he neared Katie, she reached out and touched his arm, a look of concern on her face. "Elvis, are you sure you should be out of bed? You're still recovering."

Elvis patted her hand. "I'm fine, Katie. Just a little sore, is all. Nothing a good meal and some good company can't fix."

He settled into the chair between Katie and Clementine, his leg brushing against Clem’s under the table. She felt a flush creep up her neck at the contact, her skin tingling where they touched. She forced herself to focus on her plate, not wanting to give away the effect he had on her.

As the meal progressed, Bonnie regaled them all with tales of her adventures in New York, her quick wit and easy charm winning over even the most taciturn of the ranch hands. Red, in particular, seemed taken with her, his eyes rarely straying from her face.

Even so, Clementine couldn’t focus on anything but the strange situation she found herself in. Even as she laughed and chatted with the others, Clementine could feel the weight of Katie's presence, assessing and calculating. It made her feel off-balance, unsure of her place in this world that Katie knew so well. Her stomach roiled.

She couldn't help but notice the easy familiarity between Elvis and Katie, the way they laughed and reminisced about old times. It was clear they shared a deep bond, a history that Clementine could never hope to match.

"Do you remember old Samson's face when he caught us sneaking out of the barn that night?" Katie giggled, her hand resting on Elvis's arm.

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. "I thought he was gonna skin us alive. But you sweet-talked him out of it, as usual."

"What can I say? I've always been good at getting what I want." Katie's eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curving into a seductive smile.

Clementine's heart sank as she watched their interaction, doubt gnawing at her insides. Did Elvis still harbor feelings for Katie? Was he considering rekindling their romance?

Bonnie, ever observant, leaned across the table to whisper in Clementine's ear. "Don't let her get to you, Clemmie. She's just trying to stake her claim."

Then, never one to let an awkward moment pass, Bonnie eased back into her chair with a mischievous grin. "So, Elvis, I hear you’re quite the foreman," she said, her voice carrying across the table. "Tell me, what's a handsome cowboy like you doing running a ranch all by your lonesome?"

Elvis choked on his stew, his eyes widening in surprise. The other ranch hands snickered, their faces red with barely suppressed laughter. “Nice to meet you too, Bonnie.”

“No, really! Do pray tell,”Bonnie grinned.

"Well, I... uh..." Elvis cleared his throat, clearly taken aback by Bonnie's forwardness. "I'm not running it alone, y’know. I have a whole team of hardworking folks helping me out."

Bonnie nodded, her expression serious. "Of course, of course. But still, it must get lonely out here sometimes. Don't you ever wish for a little companionship?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Clementine kicked Bonnie under the table, her face flushing with embarrassment. But Bonnie just laughed, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on the usually unflappable Elvis.

As the dinner wore on, Bonnie kept up a steady stream of witty repartee, peppering Elvis with questions about life on the ranch and his plans for the future. The other ranch hands could barely contain their laughter, choking on their food as Bonnie's New York City directness clashed with Elvis's stoic cowboy demeanor.

At some point during the night, while everyone was in their sixth fit of laughter in a row, Bonnie cleared her throat and made an announcement. "I've been thinking," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'd like to stay at the ranch for a while longer, if that's alright with you, Clementine."

Red, who had been hanging on Bonnie's every word throughout the meal, sat up straighter in his chair. "That's great news, Miss Bonnie," he said, his voice eager. "I'd be more’n happy to show you around the ranch, if you'd like."

Bonnie smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "I'd like that very much, Red. Thank you."

Clementine nodded, forcing a smile. Her best friend in the world was always welcome. But even as everyone laughed around her, she felt melancholy. Doubts lingered, gnawing at her heart. Somewhere between the second and third course, she felt lightheaded. She stepped out onto the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. The evening's events swirled through her mind—Bonnie's arrival, the weird tension at dinner, sitting next to Elvis and nearly jumping out of her skin when his knee touched hers...

"Clem?" a familiar voice called out softly from behind her.

She turned to see him standing in the doorway, his handsome face illuminated by the warm glow of the lanterns.

He came to me, she thought, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Y’know, I wasn't sure if you'd be joining us tonight, Elvis, what with you still on the mend and all."

He stepped out onto the porch, his spurs jingling with each movement. "Aw shucks, you know me. I never could resist a party. 'Specially not with that firecracker friend of yours lightin' things up."

Clementine laughed. "Bonnie sure is something, isn't she? Hope she didn't put you too much on the spot in there."

Elvis leaned against the railing beside her, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Nothin' I can't handle. Your girl's got a tongue quicker'n a rattler's strike, but she means well. Kinda reminds me of someone else I know." He shot her a wink.

"Wonder who that could be," Clementine teased, bumping his shoulder playfully with her own. She took a moment to really look at him, warmth blooming in her chest. The past weeks had been hard on him, but he was finally starting to look like his old self again—color in his cheeks, that familiar glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

"I'm real glad you're feeling better, Elvis. We were all so worried about you, you know."

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful. "Shucks, ain't no need for worryin'. Can't keep a stubborn ol' mule like me down for long."

"I have never met a mule half as stubborn as you, Elvis Presley," Clementine ribbed.

"You got me there," he conceded with a chuckle. Then his expression softened. "I never did thank ya proper, Clem. For takin' such good care of me when I was laid up. Ida told me how you were always there, changin' my bandages and makin' sure I took my medicine... I 'preciate it. More'n you know."

Clementine felt a sudden lump in her throat. "Of course, Elvis. There wasn't anywhere else I would've been. I couldn't have bared it if... if we'd lost you. Windy Creek just wouldn't be the same without you."

Elvis looked at her intently, something flickering in his gaze that made her heart skip. "That so?"

"It is," Clementine whispered, feeling pulled in by some invisible force between them.

Elvis reached out, tenderly brushing a stray curl behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her cheek and Clementine's breath hitched. "Clem, I..."

Just then, the sound of raucous laughter erupted from inside the house, breaking the spell. Elvis dropped his hand and they both took an unconscious step back, the air suddenly thick with words unsaid.

Clementine cleared her throat, trying to calm the riot of butterflies in her stomach. "We should probably head back in soon. Wouldn't want Bonnie to commandeer the whole evening."

"Heaven forbid," Elvis agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

But neither of them actually moved. Clementine and Elvis lingered on the porch for a moment longer, not quite ready to rejoin the clamor inside. The night air was cool and sweet, the distant sounds of crickets and lowing cattle a soothing backdrop to their companionable silence.

Elvis fished in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a battered harmonica. At Clementine's curious look, he just grinned and brought it to his full lips, blowing a few soft, experimental notes.

"Huh, I didn't know you played," Clementine said, pleasantly surprised.

Elvis shrugged, his eyes twinkling in the low light. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'. I'm a man of many talents."

"Is that so?" Clementine arched a brow, fighting back a smile. "And here I thought I had you all figured out. The strong, silent type with a heart of gold."

"Aw shucks, you'll make me blush," Elvis teased. He leaned back against the porch rail, cradling the harmonica loosely in his hands. "Nah, I ain't nothin' special. Just a cowpoke who likes a good tune now and then."

"I don't believe that for a second," Clementine said softly. "I think you're a lot more than you let on, Elvis Presley."

He looked at her then, something raw and unguarded in his gaze. "Maybe so. But I could say the same about you. When you first blew into town with your fancy city clothes and your high-falutin' ideas, I reckoned you wouldn't last a month out here."

Clementine huffed out a laugh. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Lemme finish," Elvis chided gently. "What I'm tryin' to say is you surprised me, Clem. You're tougher than you look. Stronger. You've taken to this life like you were born to it, and you ain't afraid to get your hands dirty or speak your mind. It's a rare thing, and I admire it. Admire... you."

Clementine felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, her heart suddenly racing. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you, Elvis. That means a lot, coming from you."

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful. "Ain't nothin' but the truth. Windy Creek's lucky to have you."

"I think I'm the lucky one," Clementine said softly. "I never knew how much I needed this place, these people, until I found myself here. It's like... like I finally found where I belong." She laughed self-consciously. "Listen to me, getting all sentimental. Bonnie would never let me hear the end of it."

"Secret's safe with me," Elvis promised with a wink. "But I know what you mean. This ranch... it has a way of gettin' under your skin, makin' you feel like a part of somethin' bigger. It ain't always easy, but it's a good life. An honest one." He raised the harmonica to his lips again, blowing a few mournful notes that seemed to hang in the night air.

Clementine closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. When it faded away, she opened them again to find Elvis watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. "That was beautiful," she said honestly. "Will you teach me to play like that?"

Elvis's face split into a delighted grin. "You want to learn? Well alright then, c'mere." He beckoned her closer until they were standing side by side, shoulders almost brushing. He handed her the harmonica, arranging her fingers on the holes. "Now, purse your lips like you're gonna whistle, and blow real gentle-like."

Clementine did as instructed, letting out a breathy, off-key squeak. She dissolved into laughter. "I sound like a dying cow!"

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, that was good for a first try. You just gotta adjust your embouchure a little, like this—"

“Embou-what?”

“Embouchure. What, you don’t speak Eye-talian?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s French.”

“Oh.” The two erupted into laughter, a deep belly ache that had them soon doubled over the porch railing and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Your mouth position, silly girl. Look at me, teachin’ a fancy New York City girl something!”

Clem playfully slapped him on the arm. “I am not fancy!” She bent her leg to show him her well-worn, mud-covered boot. “See?”

Elvis laughed and brought his own hands up to cup hers, guiding the harmonica back to her mouth. This close, she could feel the heat of him, could catch the faint scent of leather and soap and something uniquely Elvis. It made her head swim pleasantly.

Under his careful tutelage, Clementine managed to produce a passable chord. She beamed up at him, giddy with the small success. "I did it!"

"Sure did," Elvis praised, his eyes warm and proud. "Stick with me, kid, and you'll be a regular vir-tu-o-so in no time. Or... is that another word I gotta teach ya?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

They stayed like that for a while, huddled together in the pool of lantern light, trading the harmonica back and forth as Elvis taught her a simple melody. It was a rare moment of peace, a stolen pocket of time where the rest of the world and all its troubles fell away.

As the moon climbed higher in the star-strewn sky, Clementine finally straightened up with a sigh. "I suppose we really should head back in. Bonnie's liable to send out a search party if we stay out here much longer."

Elvis huffed out a laugh. "Lord have mercy. I don't think I'm ready for another interrogation quite yet." He hesitated for a beat, then reached out to take Clementine's hand in his. "Clem, I... I just wanted to say..."

But before he could finish the thought, the porch door banged open and Bonnie's vibrant red head poked out. "There you are! I was starting to think you two had run off together." Her green eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in their linked hands and close proximity.

Clementine felt a blush stain her cheeks and she stepped back self-consciously, dropping Elvis's hand. "Bonnie! We were just... Elvis was showing me how to play the harmonica."

"Uh huh," Bonnie teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Well, hell, don't let me interrupt. I just came to tell you that apparently Ida's famous peach pie is being served, and if you don't get in there soon, Slim's liable to eat the whole thing himself."

"We'll be right there," Clementine promised. Bonnie flashed them a knowing grin and a jaunty salute before disappearing back inside, leaving them alone once more.

Clementine turned back to Elvis, an apology on her lips, but he just shook his head with a rueful smile. "Never a dull moment with that one around, is there?"

"Welcome to my world," Clementine said dryly. "I love that girl to pieces, but subtlety's never been her strong suit."

"Seems to me she's just lookin' out for her best friend," Elvis mused. "Can't fault her for that. You're lucky to have someone who cares about you so much. Hell, we all care about you."

For a suspended moment, they just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken longing. Elvis's gaze dropped to her mouth, his thumbs sweeping over the delicate arch of her cheekbones. Clementine's lips parted on a shallow inhale, her body thrumming with anticipation.

But before either of them could close that final distance, a sudden crash sounded from inside the house, followed by a peal of laughter and Red's booming voice calling out an apology.

The spell was broken. Elvis released her and stepped back, clearing his throat roughly. "We should, uh... we should probably get in there. Before they tear the place down around Miss Ida's ears."

"Right," Clementine agreed, trying to calm the riot of her pulse. "We wouldn't want that."

Elvis held out his arm to her, a small, crooked smile on his lips. "Shall we, boss lady?"

As the evening wound down, Katie stood up, smoothing her skirts. "Well, I should be getting back to Big Sky. Early morning tomorrow." She turned to Elvis, a soft smile on her face. "Walk me out?"

Elvis hesitated, glancing at Clementine. But then he nodded, pushing back his chair. "Of course."

Clementine watched them go, her heart sinking. She knew it was foolish to read too much into a simple gesture of courtesy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that Katie's return had stirred up old feelings best left buried.

Bonnie, sensing her friend's distress, reached over to squeeze her hand. "Don't worry, Clemmie. He'll come around. He just needs time to sort through his feelings."

Clementine nodded, trying to take comfort in her friend's words. But the doubt lingered, a small, insistent voice in the back of her mind.

“Yeah, well, maybe by then I’ll already have moved on.”

Clementine sat at the card table, trying to focus on the game of poker in front of her. But her attention kept drifting to the table across the room, where Elvis and Katie sat huddled together, laughing and whispering like old friends.

She couldn't help but compare their easy intimacy to the tender moment she and Elvis had shared on the porch just a few nights ago. The way he had looked at her, the gentle brush of his fingers against her cheek... it had felt so real, so meaningful.

But now, watching him with Katie, Clementine couldn't help but wonder if she had been reading too much into it. If the connection she thought they shared was nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

"Clemmie? It's your turn, darling." Bonnie's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and Clementine blinked, realizing she had been staring off into space.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She studied her cards, trying to remember what game they were even playing. Across from her, Red and Lyle exchanged knowing glances, their eyes flickering between her and the other table.

Clementine felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and frustration. Was she really so transparent? Did everyone on the ranch know about her foolish, unrequited feelings for Elvis?

She was just about to make a halfhearted bet when the door to the bunkhouse swung open and Ida bustled in, a letter clutched in her hand.

"Miss Clementine, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I completely forgot to give you this earlier. It arrived with the afternoon post." She held out the envelope, her face creased with a smile.

Clementine took the letter, recognizing Joseph's familiar handwriting. She had been corresponding with her old friend for weeks, sharing stories about life on the ranch and seeking his advice when things with Elvis got complicated. It had become a comforting routine, a way to stay connected to her old life while embracing her new one.

She opened the envelope, expecting to find another friendly, chatty letter full of news from home and words of encouragement. But as her eyes scanned the first few lines, Clementine felt her stomach drop.

"Oh no," she muttered under her breath. "Oh no, no, no. I’ve really made a mess now."

"Clemmie? What is it? What's wrong?" Bonnie leaned in close, her voice low and concerned.

Clementine looked up, her face pale. "It's Joseph. He's... he's coming to Windy Creek. Says he's booked a ticket and everything."

Bonnie's eyes widened. "Joseph? As in, your Joseph?"

Clementine nodded miserably. "I've been writing to him, just as a friend. I never thought he'd actually come out here. Oh, Bonnie, what am I going to do?"

Bonnie reached out, squeezing Clementine's hand. "Don't panic, Clemmie. We'll figure this out. It's not like you invited him, right?"

Clementine shook her head. "No, of course not. But... what if Elvis finds out? What if he thinks..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting back to the other table where Elvis and Katie sat, still deep in conversation.

Bonnie followed her gaze, her expression thoughtful. Even she had to admit it: "Clementine, honey, I don't think you have anything to worry about on that front. Elvis is clearly still hung up on Little Miss Perfect over there."

Clementine sighed, her heart sinking. Bonnie was right. Elvis had made his feelings for Katie abundantly clear. What right did she have to be upset about Joseph's visit when Elvis was practically fawning over his ex-fiancée right in front of her?

Still, the thought of her former beau showing up unannounced, stirring up old memories and complications... it was enough to make Clementine's head spin.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "Okay," she said, more to herself than to Bonnie. "Okay. I can handle this. It's just a friendly visit from an old friend, right? No big deal."

Bonnie nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Exactly. And who knows? Maybe a little competition is just what Mr. Stubborn over there needs to pull his head out of his rear and realize what he's got right in front of him."

Clementine couldn't help but laugh at that, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Trust Bonnie to find the silver lining in even the most awkward of situations.

Across the room, Elvis glanced over at the sound of Clementine's laughter, his brow furrowing slightly. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, that the letter Ida had delivered had upset Clementine in some way.

But before he could dwell on it further, Katie was leaning in close again, her hair brushing against his cheek as she whispered something in his ear. Elvis forced a smile, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, but Katie’s perfume smelled so good.

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