#outer range au

[nurse-floyd]

How to Smile Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x driver!reader

Warnings: mentions of injury/ some sad feelings.

You arrive at the ranch and are introduced to Rhett who shows around your new home for the next few weeks.

Rhett Abbott taglist: @vivwritesfics

Rhett didn’t know the first thing about F1 when your trainer called him to enquire about you going for some rehab there, sure he’d seen Nascar on TV as he flipped through the sports channel but his life was pretty much horses. He knew you were a driver, knew you had to be pretty good to be 1 of 20 driving on the current grid as your trainer explained to him. He also knew that you’d worked hard to get where you were. He also knew you’d had a pretty severe crash that had landed you there. 

He didn’t do much digging after that, he mostly wanted to respect your privacy and go off of what your physio and trainer told him about the incident and your surgery. Together they worked out what would be best for you, but mainly you were there for a break. Being on the grid wasn’t good for you at the moment, and everyone could see that. 

You weren’t exactly happy about coming here. No, you were used to being the one in control, but after the bad crash at the Las Vegas Grand Prix had left you with a nasty leg injury requiring surgery and weeks of physio, you were out for the remainder of the season and maybe the next if you didn’t get your strength back. That’s how you found yourself here, at a freaking ranch of all places. Your trainer and physio thought time away from the circuit and a different form of therapy would be good for you mentally and physically. 

A man dressed in worn jeans, a plaid button-up, and a Stetson was standing at the gate for your arrival. ‘Of course he would be wearing a fucking Stetson,’ you thought to yourself as the car pulled up. 

Rhett watched as you climbed out of the car, your posture stiff as you looked around. He watched as you climbed out of the car, the limp in your step wasn’t hard to miss, and neither was the slight scowl you wore on your face. He could tell there was some reluctance about being here, but he’d already gotten the heads-up from your trainer that you probably wouldn’t be in the best of moods. Still, Rhett was used to it; you weren’t the first to not want to be here and you certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

He gave you a smile and held out his hand for you to take, “Hey, my name’s Rhett, you must be Y/N? Your physio and trainer have told me a bit about you.” 

You narrowed your eyes slightly at him and gave him a nod and took his hand, “Yeah. I’m not exactly thrilled to be here.” 

Rhett laughed, unfazed by your bluntness, “Yeah, they also said that you might say that. How about I show you around and then show you to the cabin you’ll be staying in?” 

You took a minute to look around before you gave him a nod, just wanting to get the day over with and call your physio to tell him you were right and this was a dumb idea. There was no denying the place was beautiful. Sprawling fields filled with horses grazing. There were a couple of young children being led around the stables outside with workers, big smiles on their faces. You pulled your baseball cap lower over your eyes as you made a move to follow him, “let’s get this over with.” 

Rhett took the bag from your shoulder and led you through the main path as he pointed out the different areas of the ranch. “We’ve got the stables over there, indoor and outdoor arenas, the tack room is over there but we mainly sort that out for you.” 

You finally made it towards the cabin and it was exactly what you expected. It looked run down but cozy enough for your stay, so you had no complaints. There was a swing seat on the porch, a few plant pots around the porch to make it seem a bit more homey. 

Inside was much the same as the outside. There was a small simple kitchenette, a couch with a coffee table, and a bed. It was cozy enough and it’d do, but it was definitely run down and in need of a makeover. “Sorry it’s not much. Planned to redecorate and update it but the horses keep me pretty busy. Still, bathroom’s over there and the wifi is decent,” Rhett took the Stetson from his head and ran his hand through his hair as he looked around. 

“No…it’s fine. Thanks, Rhett,” you reassured him. ‘Not that I’ll be here long enough for it to matter,’ you thought to yourself. 

“Listen, I know this is the last place you want to be and you’re probably not interested in being here, but we can take things at your pace. No rush. When you’re ready, you can head over to the stables and I can introduce you to some of the horses.” 

You gave him a small smile and then you were alone. You took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled out your phone to text your trainer. 

‘Seriously…’ 

Your phone flashed up with the three dots showing he was replying. 

‘Give it a chance, it’ll be good for you.’ He finished it off with a cowboy emoji, which made you roll your eyes. 

After about half an hour of lying on the bed, texting Max, Logan, and Danny how pissed you were, asking them how your reserve was getting on, and how much you were missing them, you thought you might as well not keep Rhett waiting any longer. 

As soon as he saw you heading towards the paddock where a few of the horses were grazing, Rhett made his way over to you. He joined you as you leaned against the fence and as soon as she saw him, a gorgeous piebald horse trotted over and nuzzled against his face. 

“This is Hope. She’s one of our best therapy horses and loves everyone.” You watched how Rhett's face lit up with a smile as he interacted with her. 

Another larger horse joined in as it noticed Rhett giving its pasture mate attention and gave a snort. 

“Alright, jealous!” he tutted as he gave the black horse who’d trotted over a scratch. “This is Toro. Don’t let the name fool you though, he’s a gentle giant.” 

You let out a small laugh at the name, causing Rhett to raise an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you replied, “good name.” 

He pointed out the last few horses in the field, “Over there’s Penny, Belle, and Teddy. There are a few more horses in the stables that aren’t being ridden right now if you want to come and meet them too.” 

He was patient and walked at your pace as you both headed toward the stables. There were a few empty stalls as you walked down the middle aisle, “Sam and Billy are out in the ring at the moment, but they’re my smaller boys for the younger clients we get. There’s Heidi; she’s on rest at the moment so isn’t being used.” 

You paused in front of one of the occupied stalls where a beautiful bay horse had its head leaning over the stable door at the sound of Rhett’s voice. “This is my girl, Jojo. My niece chose the name, Jolene.” 

You held out your hand to stroke her nose, and Rhett finally thought he might be getting somewhere with you opening up a little. As you scratched at Jojo’s nose, another horse let out a loud whinny, stealing both of your attention as she kicked the door once as if you hadn’t heard her the first time. 

“Who’s that?” 

“That is Peanut, Pea to her friends,” Rhett said as he led you towards the stable housing the huge chestnut mare. “She’s not usually a part of the program, a bit too stubborn and hot-headed to pair with most of our clients.” 

She was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Sure, you’d ridden horses a few times when you were younger, but not for a long time, not since your entire focus turned to karting and then Formula One. In all your time, you’d never seen a horse as gorgeous as this. Her big brown eyes stared into yours and you forgot all about your injury for a moment until you felt a painful twinge shoot through your whole body. Then you were reminded of why you were here. You were here because you couldn’t be there, at the track where you belonged, where you knew Max, and Danny and Logan were this weekend. Then the anger came back. 

“Listen, I appreciate you doing this, but you don’t have to. I told my physio I’d try this out, but I really don’t think this is for me,” you sighed. “I can’t even run without my leg hurting, so how the fuck is getting on a horse going to help me?” You didn’t mean to snap, but you’d had a long day and you were tired and in pain. 

“Hippotherapy and equine-assisted therapy have been shown to help a lot of people recover physically from injuries like yours as well as from mental health problems, PTSD.” 

“I don’t have PTSD. There are no mental health issues,” you snapped a little more than you’d meant to. Not because you were being an asshole—well, maybe a little—but after all you’d been through, you couldn’t be blamed. “I was in a crash and I hurt my leg, that’s all.” You weren’t about to tell a complete stranger about the nightmares that still plagued you, the depression at seeing your friends compete, at seeing your reserve in your seat, not traveling the world and being in near constant pain. 

“I didn’t say you—” Rhett didn’t get a chance to explain himself before you were snapping again. 

“I’m only here because I’ve been sent here. If it were my choice, I’d be in the gym or at home doing anything but this.” 

Rhett sighed and held up his hands in surrender, “Fine by me. Let me know if you change your mind,” he walked off and left you alone to cool off. 

He left you standing there next to the huge beast who nudged you playfully with her nose. “Stop that,” you chided.  

Peanut, however, didn’t listen and nudged you again. Then she decided to up her game as she began nibbling on the hood of your jacket, “I said stop it,” you gently pushed her away but she insisted. She leaned in again, a playful snort leaving her lips as she grabbed the baseball cap from your head and lifted it high in the air, nodding her head as if she was tormenting you. 

“Jerk…” you muttered under your breath. You rolled your eyes, grabbed the hat back, and gave her a pat. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all.” You sniffed as tears threatened to spill over, and buried your face in her mane. “How did I end up here, girl?” 

She nuzzled into your side, as if knowing you needed comfort in the moment. You clung onto her neck, scratching at her neck as your tears soaked into her mane. 

Rhett watched on from the corner of the stables as he went about his work. He felt weird encroaching on such an intimate moment. He’d had Belle or Penny lined up for you, but maybe he’d just found the right match, or rather Pea had. It’d be a gamble choosing her for you; usually she wasn’t a part of the program, but his instinct told him she’d be good for you. From what he’d seen so far, he might just be right. 

He left you with Peanut as he went about the rest of his business for the day and let you get settled. He knew he had his work cut out for him but he was determined to help you get back to where you wanted to be most. Back on the grid racing.

[dontpulloutman]

7 minutes of lewis & yn talking about each other

singer!yn x lewis pullman (more) a/n: i have maybe 2 more singer!yn wips + 1 owen taylor wip. i'm super busy this week so i'm not sure when i can post those uhhh pls be patient w me ty ily i hope u like this

The video begins with the oldest; it’s Lew seated in an interview with Jay and Monica to promote Top Gun: Maverick. “So, it’s safe to assume that all the flight training and exercise needed to stay in shape must take many hours. Who are your favorite artists to jam out and work out to?”

Lewis can’t hide the way his lips quirk, “Recently, I’ve been listening to a lot of Y/N.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see the way Monica and Jay look at him. Knowing glints in their gazes.

“Really?” the interview asks, “I didn’t expect that.”

“No, yeah. She’s great.” Lewis smiles.

“She’s really great,” Jay adds. Monica tries to subtly hide her smile behind her hand.

“I jam out to Bad Blood on the treadmill.” Lewis comments, cheeky smile plastered on his face before Monica changes the topic.

“Muses & Anecdotes, congratulations on the new album!” The radio talkshow host exclaims. Seated across from him, you smile. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s doing really well. All thirteen tracks on Billboard’s Top 20. How does it feel?”

“It feels amazing. I had some doubts about releasing an album entirely on my own again, but I was encouraged by some very close friends and I decided, ‘Hey, why not?’. Luckily, it’s working out so far.”

“It’s more than just ‘working out.” The host teases, and you let out a little laugh. “So, speaking of ‘muses & anecdotes’, can we perhaps have an explanation to what ‘muses’ and what ‘anecdotes’ mean? Not the Merriam-Webster definition, but the YN LN definition.”

You let out another laugh. Letting out a hum, you think of how to phrase your answer.

“When I first started to conceptualize the album, I knew that it would encompass thoughts and feelings of certain events over the course of six years. Anecdotes quite literally means an account of an event that is… amusing or interesting.”

“And what does ‘muses’ mean to YN LN?”

The host eyes you, you catch the humor on their face.

“You know what it means, Rich.”

“I don’t! Promise!” the host is laughing.

“All of the songs in this album are inspired by and dedicated to a special person in my life.”

“That person being…?”

“Oh, stop it," you joke with a roll of your eyes.

The next clip is of a red-carpet interview for the premiere of Thunderbolts. Front and center of the video, Lewis is talking into a mic, he’s grinning at the question the interviewer asked him.

“My muse is here,” he’s grinning, head turning quickly to the side, down the aisle where you’re engaged in another interview of your own.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” the interviewer starts, “But is this your first red carpet together?”

“Yes, it is,” Lewis confirms, “This is… Coming to an event like this has been something we’ve always wanted to do together, but it never really worked out in the past. I’m just happy we’ve finally done it.”

“How do you think YN will react to The Sentry?”

“Oh, I think she’ll hate him. I sent her pics during filming. She absolutely hated the hair. She’s in love with the Void, though.” Lew lets out a small laugh, mind recalling the texts you sent him when the trailer released.

“That was unexpected!”

Lewis gives a wink to the camera, “She loves his hair more.”

“I’m so excited. I’m such a huge fan of everybody, and Flo is one of my closest friends in Hollywood. I just — I can’t wait to see the whole film!” The next clip is YN on the same red carpet, with the same interviewer.

“And of course, you’re here for Lewis too?”

“Yes, of course,” you cut yourself off, turning your head to look for him, “Where is he? — Oh, there.” You see him ahead of you in the press line, talking to another interviewer. “I told him the reason I came today is to see the Void. I love his hair.”

“Lewis told us awhile ago. Not a fan of the blonde?”

“I am! Just… I love the Void more.”

The next clip is a little blurry, taken under the dim lights of your most recent concert. The camera is focused on the stage, where you’re dancing to ‘Dress’.

I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this ah, ha, ha, ha

Say my name and everything just stops

The camera turns to where Lewis is watching you from the VIP tent, it zooms in on his face, his smile, and how he whispers your name, before the beat starts up again.

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off

“I feel so lucky to know her.”

The final clip is from a Zoom interview, Lewis is leaned toward the camera of his laptop, a lazy smile on his lips, “She’s my best friend, my biggest supporter.” This whole press junket, ever since the two of you went public with your relationship, questions about your relationship never fails to be brought up at least once. He never gets tired of talking about you.

Comments (274)

ally_browne PARENTS

falsedg0dz yn cant stop yapping abt lewis she released bonus tracks of muses n anecdotes OUT OF FUCKIN NOWHERE???

lewpulledman this is the first celeb couple where i feel like they really like each other

bobonboard girlie cant stop singing abt how in love and horny they r for one another

l0vedstory hard launching at 6 years …. we couldve had 6 yrs of them doing this

ynlewtruther I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT YN’S ROLLING STONE INTERVIEW

millsjules wait why? ynlewtruther she wrote some songs at lewis’s montana place and she said in the interview that she realized he liked her back when she walked in on him playing “snap out of it” by arctic monkeys on the drums dfhgjkdfhg milesjules WHAT???? thats hilarious

voidedyn yn … lewis …. me …. sabrina carpenter paris juno position

[bobfloydsbabe]

arranged marriage au | rhett abbott x oc | sneak peek

Author's Note: This story it set at the turn of the 20th century, somewhere around 1899-1901. I haven't quite decided yet, but it's important context for this story. Women did not have a lot of autonomy at this time, which is reflected in Rhett and Lou's conversation in this sneak peek. Is the timeline right in a historical context? Probably not, but it's fiction, so I can do what I want. Enjoy!

Release Date: Unclear

“Louisa.”

“What?” Her face is all hard lines and thundering eyes. Something twists inside him at the sight of her ire.

“I don’t want to own you,” he says and steps closer, dirt crunching under his worn boots. “Your life is your own, even after we marry.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her dark eyes, making his chest feel tight. He yearns to move even closer, wrap his arms around her, and assure her that he doesn’t mean her any harm. Despite not having a choice, he wants to marry her. He wants to build a life and have a family with her.

He’s halfway in love with her already. He hopes one day she’ll love him too.

“You say that now,” she says, tears in her voice as she speaks. “But then I’ll argue or refuse to listen, and you’ll remind me you’re the man and you get the final say. You may not want to, but you will own me.”

Now he shakes his head, disbelief coursing through his veins. It’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard, and he hates that she thinks that way about him.

“Louisa,” he breathes, her name like a prayer on his lips as he closes the distance between them. “You belong to you. Not your father or to me or to anyone, and I’ll do what I can to prove it to you.”

She meets his gaze, bottom lip wobbling as she tries to hold back sobs. “You swear?”

He nods, lifts his hands and tentatively cups her cheeks. “I swear.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air between them, and without thinking, Rhett bends his head down towards hers. His heart thunders in his chest as their breaths mix, and heat blooms under his palms as Louisa’s cheeks grow red.

Their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching when a horse neighs, making her pull back and Rhett’s hands fall back at his side.

“I should get you home.”

He offers the crook of his arm, and she weaves her hand into it, letting him lead her to their horses. Their boots drag across the dirt, and Rhett helps her up on Sally, the reddish brown mare that belongs to his almost wife.

He settles on Blazer, and they begin the ride back to the Kinney Ranch.

“Rhett?”

If her scent didn’t linger, he might’ve forgotten she was even there. He looks to his right and finds her watching him, maybe even with a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“The house is lovely,” she tells him, tone shy and withdrawn for the first time since he’s known her.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @cherrycola27, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @keyrani

[hederasgarden]

Practical Magic AU | Rhett Abbott x Witch!Reader

“Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen."

Thank you @ryebecca for all your help and expertise. It was invaluable for creating my fist moodboard!

[attalew]

rhett abbott smokey and the bandit au is stuck in my brain

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

moonstruck • rhett abbott x fem!reader, perry abbott x fem!reader

I wrote this for @sorchathered’s birthday rom com celebration! Happy Belated Birthday! Thank you for letting me combine two of my favorite things: Lew and ‘Moonstruck’. I know it was your celebration but that was a gift to me 😉

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied smut, impure thoughts about rhett abbott, being engaged to perry abbott (if you’ve seen the movie, you’ll get it)

Note: I adore this movie with all my heart so I tried to fill this with lots of nods to the iconic moments. But it also means that characters might be a bit less true to their Outer Range selves in order to make the story work.

Maybe it should have been a red flag that you hadn’t met Perry’s brother until after you were engaged.

But then again, the whole thing had been a bit of a whirlwind — and you had met Amy. Sweet, smart, beautiful Amy who had been the main reason you said “yes” when Perry had surprised you with a ring at dinner just a few months into your relationship.

“I can’t imagine anyone who’d be a better stepmother to Amy,” he’d said at the time and how was anyone supposed to say no to that?

And if you were a bit hesitant about the whole thing, your mother had done her best to reassure you over steaming mugs of tea at her weathered kitchen table. “You love his daughter, and that’s the important part,” she had said, rubbing her thumb gently over the back of your hand. “It’s better to be devoted to your family, rather than any man. Especially a cowboy.”

You sighed. “He’s not that kind of cowboy, Mama. He works with his dad on the family ranch.”

“Good,” she responded decisively, standing up to make some more tea. “Cowboys are nothing but heartbreak. They’ll always love the rodeo, the animals, the adventure, the life more than they’ll love you.”

And so that was that. You focused your energy on building a relationship with Amy, got to know Royal and Cecelia and went through the motions of starting to plan a simple, courthouse wedding.

Perry didn’t have strong feelings about the big day, having done the whole song and dance once before, but two weeks into planning, he surprised you with the announcement that he had to go away for a while on business — and he had one big favor to ask. 

“It’s been tearing me up inside,” he said, arm a little too tight around your waist as you sat on the couch, TV on mute in the background. “I just can’t get married without my brother standing up with me.”

“So why not just invite him?”

Perry scoffed. “Rhett is … real fucking stubborn. And he decided a long time ago that he didn’t care about anything I had to say.” He paused, tightening his rip just a fraction before letting you go and dramatically sighing, leaning back into the couch cushions. “But maybe if you were to ask him to come … explain that you want this to mark a fresh new start for all of us, as a family. As Amy’s family. Maybe he’d be willing to listen.”

It was the promise of being Amy’s family, of giving her the happy ending that had seemingly been ripped away from her when her mother disappeared that brought you to the Abbott ranch, eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight as you approached Rhett Abbott to ask for forgiveness on behalf of his brother.

Now this is a cowboy, you thought to yourself as you watched his broad shoulders flex under his tee shirt as he worked on repairing a broken section of fencing. The back of his neck was turning pink and the ends of his hair curled with sweat under his cap, but he seemed unbothered as he continued working, big hands moving quickly and competently.

“Rhett? Rhett Abbott?” you asked, and when he wheeled around and those blue eyes landed on yours, it felt like your heart stopped for a second.

“Can I help ya?” he drawled, pulling his baseball cap off his head and wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his muscled forearm. He was all golden skin and sharp cheekbones, cheeks flushed pike from the heat and exertion and a smirk that was designed to give women the naughtiest of thoughts.

Stop it. You’re engaged. To his brother. Behave yourself.

You must have taken longer than you realized to reply, because that smirk turned into a grin as Rhett leaned forward and offered out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Now, what can I do for a beautiful woman such as yourself?”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you shook his hand, warm and calloused and completely dwarfing yours. When he didn’t seem to recognize your name after you introduced yourself, you continued, “I’m uh … Perry’s … fiancée, I guess.”

“You’re engaged to Perry?” he asked, arms crossing in front of his chest and you weren’t sure if he was insulting you with his tone of shock.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty recent. The whole thing’s been kind of … fast. But we’re planning the wedding and he wants you to stand there with him, be his best man —“

“And why isn’t he out here askin’ me this?” Rhett interrupted sharply, eyes stormy under the brim of his cap.

“He, um, he’s out of town right now … and anyway he said …” you paused, somehow sensing that the truth — he said you’d be more likely to say ‘yes’ if I asked — wouldn’t go over well. “And well, I wanted to meet you and everything. Get to know the whole family before I become a part of it.”

“Well, we’ve met now. Congratulations on the wedding.”

With that, he turned his back on you, returning to the fence and summarily dismissing you. Once again, you weren’t sure if you should be offended by his actions, but clearly you had accidentally stumbled into some kind of family tension that Perry had not warned you about. 

“So that’s it?” You asked, taking a step closer to him. Rhett grunted as he continued working on the fence. “What, you’re just going to brush off your brother’s request? Shouldn’t a wedding bring family together and not tear them apart?” 

“You don’t know anythin’ about me and Perry,” the cowboy said, his voice cold and his eyes not even looking up for a second.

“So tell me,” you pleaded, making your way closer to him and oh, that might have been a mistake. You could smell him at this distance, the faintest hint of his woodsy body wash, the scent of sun on skin, the tang of sweat.

It almost made you salivate with want — your body had never reacted this way to a man before, and you quickly stepped back and put some space between you two. A safe, platonic distance. “Is … is there something I should know before I marry him? Don’t you think it’s only right that I know the man I’m marrying?”

Finally, Rhett huffed out a sigh and turned around and you were struck again by how blue his eyes were underneath that hint of annoyance.

“Look, you really should be askin’ Perry all this, not me,” he bit out. “I’m not staying here much longer anyway, so you don’t even need to get to know me. You’ll only ever see me at holidays and shit like that.”

“Where are you going?”

“Rodeo circuit,” Rhett responded, a hint of pride in his voice. “Got a spot on a semi-pro tour, so I’ll be on the road soon enough.” 

You congratulated him faintly, images of this gruff, gorgeous man on the back of a bull filling your brain and making you a bit weak in the knees.

“Yeah, so it’s all good. I’ll be outta your way soon enough and you and Perry can have your wedding with no issues,” Rhett concluded.

He started to turn back to his work and you felt a surge of panic run through you, like if you didn’t manage to convince him to stick around right this second, you’d never have the chance again. (And you could unpack why, exactly, it was so vital for you to have your fiancé’s brother around as much as possible later, in the shaming quiet of your bedroom.)

“Well, how about this then,” you start, enjoying the way Rhett’s brows lifted under the brim of his cap, his eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Spend some time with me and Amy before you go — just to help me get to know her better. I want to build a strong relationship with her, she’s my number one priority in all this. And I know she adores her Uncle Rhett. So maybe you can just … help us bond?”

The cowboy hesitated a moment, his eyes roaming all over your face in a way that made your cheeks heat up. He must have found what he was searching for because he ultimately pulled off his work glove once more and held out a big, calloused hand.

“For Amy,” he said and you felt your face split open with a bright grin.

“For Amy,” you agreed, grasping his hand. And yet, despite the warmth of his hand engulfing yours, despite the fact that you managed to convince him to give you a chance, despite the fact that you should have been pleased with yourself, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

That sinking feeling only got worse the more time you spent with Rhett, the more you got to feel the full weight of his attention on you, the more you saw the way he lit up around Amy, always willing to go out of his way to make her happy.

Unfortunately for you, what would make her happy right now was to go for a ride with Uncle Rhett and you — a Wyoming native who had, shockingly, never been on the back of a horse before.

“How did you grow up here without ever ridin’ a horse?” Rhett asked you incredulously when you confessed your lack of experience after Amy dragged you to meet him in the stables, all wide, pleading eyes. “It makes no sense.”

You shrug uncomfortably, staring at the horses relaxing in the stables with a critical eye. “My dad was a cowboy but he died when I was little. My mama grew up Cheyenne, so we moved back there for a long time and only came to Wabang when my granddaddy left her the bakery. So I just … never learned.”

You wrapped your arms around your torso as you spoke, curling in on yourself in embarrassment, eyes self-consciously locked on the far wall so you could avoid seeing the judgement on Rhett’s face. It was why you startled slightly when you felt Amy’s little arms hug you out of nowhere, the feeling of her tight squeeze making you let out a deep breath of relief.

“Don’t worry! Uncle Rhett can teach you, he and dad taught me and he’s really good!” she assured you and you laughed softly.

“Thanks, Ames,” you said, softly brushing some of the hair that escaped her braid back from her face. You cast a tentative look up at Rhett, who was smiling softly at you. “Whaddya say, Uncle Rhett? Willing to take on a new student?”

The cowboy said nothing, though his eyes were bright with amusement as he made his way over to one of the stalls to start getting one of the horses ready for you, Amy bounding behind him.

You couldn’t stop smiling as the 9-year-old narrated everything her uncle was doing, beaming brightly when he praised her for remembering certain tidbits that he had shared with her over the years. Her enthusiasm went a long way towards making you more comfortable, as did the teasing words and glances that Rhett shot your way the whole time.

But that smile was wiped right off your face, when he held out his hand and beckoned you over. “C’mere, I’ll help you get into the saddle,” he said softly and you felt all of your blood rush into your face.

“Aren’t there like, stairs or something I could use?” You asked, knowing that the second you put your hand in his, all of the tempting thoughts about him that you’d successfully shoved down would come rushing back into your head. His blue eyes shone as he shook his head, explaining that they put it away somewhere and it would take too long to find right now.

“I won’t let ya fall,” he said, those beautiful eyes locked on yours. “Promise.”

As Amy urged you along from the back of her own horse, you tentatively reached forward and took Rhett’s big hand in yours. It was like you could hear your heart beating in your ears as he tugged you over and instructed you to put one foot in the stirrups and your free hand on the saddle horn.

“I can give you a boost if ya need,” he added, his voice low and grumbly and far, far too close. You must have nodded absently, because the next thing you knew, Rhett placed your second hand on the saddle horn and moved around to lightly grasp your waist.

Your skin burned where you felt those hands on you and even though he kept them in a perfectly respectable place — perfectly polite for someone who was engaged to his brother — you couldn’t help but imagine the heat of them in other, less savory places on your body. The way those calloused palms would feel brushing over your lower back, how his hands would span the entire distance of your neck, how those long fingers would feel filling up your —

“Ready?” he asked, hot breath against the back of your neck.

“I think so,” you responded weakly, and you felt him chuckle. He murmured a low countdown and at the number “three” you hoisted yourself up and swung one leg over to the other side of the saddle, feeling a little lightheaded at his little grunt of effort as he helped lift you up off the ground.

Once you were in and settled, you expected him to back away, but instead, Rhett leaned over your lap to gather up the reins and hand them to you.

“There ya go. You’re a natural,” he said, voice still gritty enough to feel like a gut-punch when it was paired with the heat of his gaze on your face. He was so close and so beautiful and you could catch the faintest whiff of that intoxicating, woodsy scent if you just leaned a little closer —

“Let’s goooooo,” Amy called, wiggling a little impatiently in her saddle and effectively startling your out of our fantasies.

You’ve gotta stop this. You’re engaged, for chrissakes.

“We’re comin’, we’re comin’,” Rhett grumbled, heading over to his own horse and swinging into the saddle with grace. “You gonna be late for some cartoons or somethin’?”

The pair set out, with you slightly behind them, head still swimming with shameful thoughts of your fiancé’s brother and face still burning. It took a while for you to let the pair’s teasing distract you from the feeling of guilt that had made a home in your stomach since the day you met Rhett, but eventually you were able to let go and enjoy your time on the trail.

And if you stared at the ceiling later that night, mind replaying the way Rhett’s eyes darkened and his lips turned up into a little smirk when he helped you down off the horse at the end of your outing, well, nobody needed to know about that.

The air at the rodeo was electric, the excitement infectious and the smell of fried food making everyone salivate as they made their way to the stands. You hadn’t been to the rodeo since high school, more interested in chatting with your friends or trying to spot your crush than in the actual events, but this night was making you regret all of those years you ignored its presence.

It helped that Amy was practically vibrating with excitement, tugging you around by the hand as she babbled on and on about her favorite food stalls and rattling off stats about the various bull riders. Of course, none of them compared to Uncle Rhett in her mind, but her knowledge of the sport was truly impressive.

“— but the bull they gave Uncle Rhett that time was a bad one, everyone knew it, and anyway he got another shot and that time he came in first place because he’s the best —“

“Amy, Amy, slow down,” you chuckled, head spinning as you tried to both keep up with the conversation and keep her from crashing into anyone at the same time.

“Come on, we have to get popcorn before the bull riding starts, I’m always in the stand for Uncle Rhett,” she powered on, not even pausing for a second as she continued on her mission, a crisp five dollar bill in her hand, courtesy of Cecilia. “There! Come on, come on!”

You could feel the heels of your shoes practically skid in the dirt as she took off towards the line and you had to stop short when she finally, abruptly stopped walking to join in. You took a deep breath, relieved to be able to pause for a second and take in the atmosphere, when you hear her shriek beside you.

Your heart stopped for a second as you wheeled around to spot her, only for it to skip a beat for a completely different reason when you realized that Rhett had snuck up behind her.

His grin was blinding as he picked her up and swung her around in a tight circle, her delighted squeals flying through the air. It only got wider and more brilliant when she began playfully hitting his chest after her put her down, and he pretended that her blows were about to knock him down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he got out between laughs, and you couldn’t stop your own smile from breaking out across your face.

“I almost had a heart attack when she screamed like that,” you admitted and his cobalt eyes moved from Amy to meet yours.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, playfully tipping his cowboy hat at you in mock apology. You had to fight the urge to duck your head as you felt your face heat up at his actions.

What was this effect that he had on you? You had never been the type to giggle and blush at any guy before Rhett, but there was something about him that just made you feel like a teenager with her first crush all over again.

“Apology accepted, cowboy,” you managed to get out and his eyes danced with mischief. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your big ride?”

“I was, I just had to come say hi to my favorite lady,” Rhett said, giving a gentle tug to the end of Amy’s ponytail. She looked up at him with a giant smile, clearly pleased to hear that she was her uncle’s “favorite,” and your heart melted at the sight. He gently pushed her along when it was her turn to order popcorn, and you stepped out of the line as she made her way up.

“So, you’re sticking around for my ride?” he asked.

“Of course,” you responded, a little surprised that he thought you weren’t here to watch him alongside his family. “Wouldn’t miss it. I haven’t even been to the rodeo in years, it’s really exciting to know one of the competitors.”

“Well, hopefully I manage to make your return to the rodeo an exciting one,” he said, hands settling on his waist, right next to his big, silver belt buckle.

You were grateful that Amy bounded back over to the two of you then, effectively preventing you from all of the dirty thoughts that you were about to have about what might rest behind that gaudy buckle. Rhett gave his niece another hug — and sent a wink your way that you were definitely not going to spend the night thinking about — before you went your separate ways.

By the time you made it back to the Abbotts in the stands, you were just as excited for Rhett’s ride as Amy was.

Your heart was in your throat for the entirety of the bull riding competition, because of course, Wabang’s hometown hero had to go last. When it was finally his turn, Amy gripped your arm tightly as you both watched, unblinking, for them to open the gate and begin his ride. You weren’t sure you took a single breath for the entirety of his time, those 8 seconds feeling like an eternity as you watched Rhett hold onto that bull for dear life.

When the buzzer finally sounded and he was back on his feet, it was like all of the blood in your body came rushing back into your veins, heartbeat thumping in your ears.

And then, there it was, right at the top of the leaderboard: R. Abbott.

Amy’s excited cheer was more like a shriek as the four of you jumped up and down in the stands, popcorn trampled below your feet as you celebrated with his family. With your new family.

And if you wanted to believe that Rhett was looking at you, in particular, as he pounded his chest with pride, well, you allowed yourself that one, tiny indulgence.

You were still breathless as you made your way out of the stands a little while later, following Royal, Cecelia and Amy as they made their way to find and congratulate Rhett in person. The four of you were almost at the riders’ entrance when you heard someone call your name from the crowd.

“Evening,” Royal said, tipping his hat at Joy Hawk after she managed to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi there Royal, Cecelia,” she said, nodding at them both in turn before turning to Amy. “Hi Amy. How’re you doing, sweetie?”

The 9-year-old excitedly told her all about Rhett’s ride as she smiled and agreed that it had been “one heck of a ride.” After a minute, she turned to you and said you name again. “Could I speak to you for just a moment? One-on-one?”

“O-okay,” you agreed, confused as to what she could possibly want.

After giving you a look that you translated to “we’re here if you need us,” Cecelia explained that they would go and wait for Rhett while you chatted with the deputy sheriff. “I’m sure you’ll just be a moment,” she added, before taking Amy by the hand and leading her away with one last look.

“Is … is everything okay?” you asked tentatively as Joy sighed deeply.

“I would have preferred not to be the one to tell you this, but, well, I can’t seem to get ahold of Perry —“

“He’s out of town,” you said quickly. “Is he okay?”

“Far as I know he is,” she reassured you before taking another deep breath. “I saw you two had filed for a marriage license and well, the thing is, he’s still married. To Rebecca.”

“But she … left. She’s not part of their lives anymore. Not part of Amy’s life,” you said, not quite following what she was telling you.

“Right, right. She’s a missing person. But see, the thing is, as long as she’s a missing person — and we don’t know that she died, god forbid — Perry is still legally married to her. Their marriage is still valid until either they manage to file for divorce or she’s declared … dead.”

“Oh.”

The news hit you like a ton of bricks. What did this mean for you? For your relationship? You had been planning a wedding and this whole time, Perry was still married? So what was the point of all of it?

“Now, you two can still have a wedding, I’m not gonna stop you from that,” Joy continued, her tone soft and comforting. “Y’all just won’t be legally married until this all gets sorted out.”

“And … how long would that take?”

Joy sighed heavily, her hands coming to rest on her hips. “I don’t know. Depends on whether or not Rebecca … comes back.”

You nodded absently, feeling your whole world tilt on its axis. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Rebecca would be found or return of her own volition. If that happened would you just be pushed out of the family again? Would you still be able to see Amy?

Did that mean that the best case scenario for you was that this precious little girl’s mother was dead? How could you hope for something like that?

“I’m real sorry to break the news to you like this. Like I said, I’ve been trying to get ahold of Perry, but he and I can go over everything when he gets back,” the deputy sheriff said, patting you kindly on the arm.

You murmured your thanks before spinning around and making your way over to the Abbotts, head still swimming with questions.

By the time you made it there, they were chatting with a grinning Rhett, who was carrying Amy on his back. His smile faltered when he saw you and the dazed look on your face and you did your best to paste on a smile of your own. It must not have been totally convincing, though, because he let his niece slide down off his back as Royal and Cecelia exchanged looks.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Rhett said, his blunt words making you huff out a laugh. “I’m going to celebrate at the Handsome Gambler — come with me.”

The last thing you needed to do was be alone with Rhett Abbott, especially if alcohol was involved. But the world had just thrown a huge wrench in your plans, so you weren’t even thinking about it being a bad idea when you agreed.

“You ready to tell me what’s got you so spooked?” Rhett asked, leaning across the table so you could hear him over the music. You were both a few beers in — though Rhett had also enjoyed a handful of celebratory tequila shots that some of the locals had bought for him — and his cheeks were flushed pink from laughter and booze.

You contemplated telling him for a second, letting all of your frustrations and anxieties spill out (it turns out that Perry is still legally married so this whole engagement is more of a farce than it seems and if she comes back she’s probably not going to let me see Amy which is the main reason I said yes in the first place) before you remembered that he and Perry still had a complicated relationship.

As torn up as you were, you didn’t want to do anything to damage that bond even more.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head and taking a swig of your beer as if you swallow your words back down. “Anyway, we’re not done talking about that amazing ride of yours, cowboy.”

You attempt at distraction clearly didn’t work; Rhett just leaned further across the table, those damn blue eyes roaming all over your face.

“Somethin’s clearly up. Is it Perry’s fault?”

“Why do you assume it’s something Perry did?” you fire back, less out of a need to protect your fiancé’s feelings than to try and get Rhett off the track.

“Perry’s always doing something,” he replied, shaking his head. He stared hard at you for a moment longer, setting off a wave of butterflies in your gut, before grinning and sitting back down in the booth. “Okay, clearly we need another beer and then you’ll talk.”

“Rhett —“ you began, but you cut yourself off with a laugh as you watched him make a goofy, exaggerated motion to the bar’s sole waitress. “You think you can just get me drunk and I’ll spill all my secrets?”

“Oh, so you have secrets, do you?” He asked, raising one eyebrow in mocking curiosity. “Tell me a secret.”

“No,” you responded, but you were laughing still. “You don’t get to demand a secret.”

“What if I’m just so charming you can’t help but tell me?” You snorted and took a sip of your beer to cover up the fact that you did, in fact, find him charming. “Here, I’ll make you a deal: I’ll tell you a secret if you tell me one. Something you’ve never told anyone else,” he said, smiling slyly at you.

I like you so much. I can’t stop thinking about you. It makes me feel so guilty.

The words came to your brain before you could stop them. You definitely weren’t going to say them out loud — you weren’t sure you had even admitted them to yourself before this moment. But you knew, deep in your gut, that they were true.

That realization was almost more shocking than learning that your fiancé was still legally married.

“I gotta —“ you began, jumping up from the table and almost bumping into the waitress as she dropped off two new beers. “Bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

You rushed off before Rhett could stop you, weaving your way through the crowd at the bar and a few dancing couples before you found the blissfully empty bathroom. After locking the door behind you, you landed against the sink, taking a few deep, steadying breaths as the bass from the music echoed through the wall. You stared at yourself in the mirror, a long, hard look.

I like him.

I like Rhett.

I have feelings for him.

He’s my fiancé’s brother.

I’m crazy about him.

You shook your head, as if you cast those thoughts out of your brain. “Snap out of it,” you muttered to yourself. “You gotta snap out of it.”

Frantically, you turned on the water, yanking the faucet all the way to cold and ran your wrists under the stream of freezing water in an attempt to shock your system. You let out a long, slow exhale, allowing the cold to bring you back to yourself.

You’d just go back to the table, tell Rhett that you were tired and go home. Perry would be home in a couple of days and you could put the whole thing out of your mind and just focus on him and Amy. And then Rhett would be on the road soon.

Ignoring the small pang of of sadness that passed through you at the thought, you turned off the faucet and dried off your hands. Taking a moment to swipe away any mascara that had smudged under your eyes, you braced yourself and exited the bathroom determined to stay as far away from Rhett as possible.

So naturally, you barreled right into him as you turned the corner to make your way back to the table.

“Hey, hey, sorry about that,” he said, big, rough hands holding you steady. “I didn’t mean to walk right into ya, I was just coming to see if you were okay. You took off kinda quick.”

Did he know his thumbs were gently rubbing against the bare skin of your forearms? Because you did. It was all you could think about.

“I- I’m fine. Thank you,” you said, and even though you knew you should pull away from him, you made no move to do so. “Just needed some quiet for a second.”

“Alright, as long as you’re okay,” he said, giving your arms a brief squeeze before letting go. You immediately missed the warmth of his hands on your skin. “You thinkin’ ya wanna head out?”

You nodded absently and he smiled before turning around to lead you out the door. Just as you started to take a few steps, though, the song changed, an old Linda Ronstadt song that your mother used to sing along to as you both cleaned the house on a Sunday morning.

“Oh, I love this song,” you said, not realizing it was loud enough for Rhett to hear until he turned around with a smile.

“Yeah? I think my mama used to play this one in the truck sometimes,” he said, before taking a step back and holding a hand out toward you. “Dance with me? Just for this one song and then we can go. Seems a shame not to since you love it so much.”

You couldn’t resist. His eyes were shining too brightly, his smile revealing small little dimples that you had never noticed before, Linda’s voice calling for you to spin away on the dance floor. You took Rhett’s outstretched hand and his smile widened, brilliant and completely intoxicating.

The pair of you kept a respectful distance even as he spun you around, though he kept your hand in his the whole time. He laughed as you sang along to the song and then the next one and the next.

You lost track of how long the two of you had been dancing until he tugged you a little closer when a ballad came on, Hank Williams crooning low and slow as you breathlessly wrapped one arm around his shoulders.

Your actions seemed to embolden Rhett, who dropped a hand to your waist and pulled you in even more.

You could see every freckle on his face, every shade of blue in his eyes, how the pupils dilated as the two of you swayed together, lost in the moment. You licked you lips unconsciously and you watched his gaze dart down to your mouth before he purposefully looked back up, into your eyes.

“I like having you ‘round, you know?” he murmured and your heart began pounding erratically. “You make things brighter. And I like seein’ Amy so happy.”

“I like being around you, too. All of you,” you said, feeling a little dizzy as his words echoed around your brain. “Feels like I … fit. I’m not used to that feeling.”

Rhett smiled at that, so you continued. “And I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time. With Amy, with you …”

“Happy to be of service,” he chucked. “You have a great smile. Real pretty."

Your face felt so warm, it had to be obvious to everyone in this bar just how much this cowboy was making you melt. “You’re not too bad yourself, Rhett Abbott.”

He dropped your hand for a second to tilt his cowboy hat up so you could see his face more clearly, before sliding it back around you, warm and possessive against your lower back.

“It’s a real shame Perry met you before I did,” he murmured. “Kinda wish it was the other way ‘round.”

Oh.

Oh, no. That was the wrong thing for him to say to you. This was only going to make your little crush on him worse. Because sometimes you felt the exact same way.

Because sometimes as you drifted off to sleep, you imagined what would have happened if you did meet Rhett first, if you were engaged to him instead of his brother.

Your shock — and maybe guilt — must have shown on your face because Rhett quickly let go of you and stepped back.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have said that,” he said quickly. “I’ve been drinking — let’s just blame it on the tequila, okay? I say dumb shit when I’m drunk.”

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “We’ve both been drinking. It’s fine.”

“Lemme — we can just head home, okay? We’ll just get out of here and forget about it,” he continued, already making his way back to the entrance.

But you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forget it, even if you wanted to. The low, soft way he spoke, the way his eyes were locked on your face, the shape his lips made as he said it. I wish it was the other way ‘round.

It was everything you wanted to hear. It was the absolute worst thing he could have said.

You kept your distance from the Abbott ranch in the days after the rodeo, buried in work, in cleaning your little apartment, in helping your mother around her house, at the bakery, anything to keep yourself from thinking about Rhett’s words.

By the time Perry was home from his trip, the guilt was eating you up inside.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be excited as you drove over to meet him and Amy for dinner, stomach churning with doubt and confusion and guilt. How could you sit down with this man — this man that you were engaged to for chrissakes — when you couldn’t stop thinking about his brother? How could you pretend that you were a happy family when you wanted to play house with Rhett instead?

Your thoughts were swirling like the dust under your tires as you pulled up to the Abbott ranch to see Perry sitting on the porch. He smiled an waved as you parked the car and pulled you into a hug as you stepped up to meet him.

“How was your trip?” You asked, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“It was … good. Yeah, it was good. I needed it,” he said.

“Your … business trip?”

He shrugged a little sheepishly, before gesturing to the rocking chairs on the porch. “Yeah. Yeah, lemme — let’s talk for a second.”

He knows. Rhett told him.

Fighting the urge to puke over the porch railing, you gingerly sat down next to Perry, who pulled your hand in his and absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along the back of it as it spoke. You didn’t want to admit it, but it felt wrong when he did it, as opposed to the thrill that ran through you when Rhett touched you.

“Is everything okay, Perry?” you asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, I should — I wasn’t totally honest with you before I left. I didn’t go on a business trip. I went to … well, I went to try and find Rebecca one last time.” He grimaced slightly as you gasped softly. This was not what you expected when he asked you to talk. “I couldn’t stop thinking of this one place we used to go before Amy was born, this little hiking trail out east. We’d stay in these cabins for the weekend, just the two of us.”

“Oh…kay?” you said, confusion evident in your voice and on your face. Perry took a deep breath, and when he let it out he looked … tired. A little defeated, a little sad.

“She wasn’t there, obviously. But when I was there I realized … I realized I’m never going to stop waiting for her to come home,” he said, the last bit coming out in a rush. “I’m not over her. I thought I was ready to move on, move forward, for Amy’s sake but I just … I’m not there.”

Though he hadn’t made eye contact with you the whole time he was speaking, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and turned to look you in the eye. You could see the discomfort, the heartbreak swirling in his eyes. “It’s not fair to you. To be married to someone who’s always going to be waiting for someone else. And then when Deputy Sheriff Hawk called me —“

“To tell you about the license?” You asked and he nodded, looking uncomfortable.

“I promise, I didn’t know about it before then. It didn’t even occur to me that Rebecca would have to be … well, you know, before our marriage would be dissolved. I wouldn’t have proposed if I knew. Hell, I wouldn’t have even asked you out that first time.”

Perry sighed again, before continuing, “It just made me realize that I’m still married to her in my heart as well. And I just can’t do that to you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You nodded absently, letting his words wash over you. “What about Amy, though? She and I have gotten so close —“

“You can still see Amy! Of course you can, she adores you. And I know how much you care about her,” he reassured you.

You felt a rush of relief. Amy was the reason you said yes to his proposal in the first place; it was almost as if the knowledge that you could still spend time with this brilliant, special little girl that you had come to consider family had outweighed any potential heartbreak from Perry ending the engagement.

But then again, maybe ending the engagement was exactly what you had been hoping for since the moment you laid eyes on Rhett.

You have to tell him. It’s only fair.

“I understand, Perry,” you said and you could see the relief visibly wash over him. “I do, I completely understand. Thank you for being honest with me.”

Before he could speak, you continued, wanting to rush the words out as quickly as possible, “I guess … I guess if I’m going to be honest with you too, I’ve been having second thoughts myself. I … I started to have feelings. For someone else. And I felt terrible about it, the guilt has been eating me up.”

Perry swallowed hard. “Did you — while I was away did anything —“

“No!” you rushed to explain. “No, nothing happened. I didn’t do anything with anyone else I just … just having feelings for someone else made me feel guilty enough. I couldn’t do that to you. But I think it’s clear we’re just … not ‘the one’ for each other.”

He surprised you by standing up abruptly and pulling you to your feet as well, before giving you a tight hug. It felt good, like a fitting end to your amicable relationship to part ways amicably.

Of course things got a little less amicable later that evening when, after you handed back the ring and enjoyed a pleasant dinner, you both sat down with Amy to break the news. She seemed a little confused at first, but brightened when she learned that you would still be around for her.

“Okay,” she said after a minute, when you had explained the situation as best as you could to the 9-year-old. “That’s okay. You can date Uncle Rhett instead! I think he likes you.”

Perry’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What?!”

Despite Amy’s permission, you didn’t start dating Rhett after that.

In fact, you were continuing to avoid him, maybe out of lingering guilt or maybe out of a fear that he didn’t actually mean those words he said that night at the Handsome Gambler.

It had been nearly two weeks since you had laid eyes on that handsome cowboy when you suddenly had a knock on your door on a late, sunny Sunday morning. You turned down the music you had been playing while you cleaned — Linda Ronstadt, of course — and opened the door, only to come face to face with the man you had been trying you best not to think about.

“Hi,” Rhett said, a little shy as he ran his fingers nervously through his hair. You could see his ball cap tucked into one of his back pockets and a small bouquet of wildflowers in his other hands and butterflies erupted in your stomach at the sweet, gentlemanly gestures.

“Hi,” you responded, a smile growing across your face before you could contain it. “It’s good to see you, Rhett. Do you … do you wanna come in?” He grinned at your words; clearly he was a little nervous that you wouldn’t be as excited to see him on your doorstep as you hoped.

He pressed the flowers into your hands as he made his way into your apartment, his big hands wrapping around yours and his shoulders taking up almost the entire doorway. After you closed the door and turned to face him, you both stood there, smiling a little giddily at one another, though neither of you moved. The tension was broken when you both tried to speak at the same time, tripping over your words as you both tried to break the awkward silence.

Laughing, you gently placed the flowers down on your coffee table and took a step closer to Rhett. His big blue eyes were fixed on your face, bright and shining and hopeful. You gestured towards your couch, silently inviting him to make himself at home, but he just ran his hands through his hair again and continued standing.

“I know it hasn’t been very long since you and Perry … ended things,” he began and your stomach swooped like you were on a roller coaster. “But well, I talked to him a bit, and he’s not the biggest fan of the idea, but I think he’ll come around and … listen. What I’m trying to say. Can I take you to dinner?”

“What?” You asked, a little incredulous that Rhett Abbott, the guys of your dreams, was standing in your living room and asking you on a date.

“Let me take you to dinner. I can’t — I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m crazy about ya,” he said, grinning as he watched a small smile break out across your face. “We can take it slow if you want but I just — I meant what I said. I wish I had met you before Perry. That I had a chance to ask you out first. But asking you out now is the next best thing.”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you, Rhett,” you said softly, smile growing bigger and brighter as you watched his eyes light up with excitement.

“Yeah?” he asked, hopeful and puppy-like.

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking a step closer to him and breathing in the scent of his body wash, taking in the freckles across his nose and the dimples hiding next to his smile. “I’m crazy about you too. You remember when you asked me to tell you a secret?”

He nodded, one gorgeous, beefy forearm wrapping around your waist and tugging you even closer.

“That was my secret. That I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you ran your hands up Rhett’s broad chest, feeling the muscles that lay under his soft tee shirt. “I still can’t stop thinking about you. I … I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone. Just you.”

Rhett didn’t respond. Instead, he held you close, slid his free hand up to cup your face and kissed you. And you there your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

It was like every moment, every bump in the road, every teasing glance, every little joke, every whispered confession was leading to this kiss. Rhett held you like you were precious and kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to do so.

But it wasn’t the last time. It was far, far from the last time if you had anything to say about it.

You felt his tongue brush against your lips and you opened your mouth to let him in, head swimming as he gripped you tighter, breathed a little heavier, kissed you a little dirtier. A little more passionate, a little more intense — a little more like you had dreamed about all those late nights when you were still pretending that your feelings for him didn’t exist.

After he pulled away, chuckling softly as your lips chased his for a moment, Rhett rubbed his thumb against your cheek, sparking a wave of goosebumps down your arms. He grinned, panting a little, those blue eyes bright and staring right back at you in adoration.

“Wait a second,” you said, a little breathlessly as one more thought occurred to you. “Aren’t you leaving soon? You have a spot on a tour.”

Rhett shrugged like it was no big deal, but a feeling almost like panic was starting to grip you. “I have a couple of weeks. We can see where this goes and maybe if you want … you could come with me?” he asked tentatively.

You didn’t respond; you just pulled him back in for another heart stopping, mind melting kiss.

Much later — after the hours of kissing in your living room, after a first date where you spent so long talking and laughing at the diner that you were practically chased out by the staff, after a night of stargazing in the back of his truck, after those blissful first weeks of a relationship, a month of painful long distance and three more of you joining him on the road, after you both settled back in Wabang with another tour on the horizon, after Perry finally came around to the idea of you two being together — you sat in your mother’s kitchen with Rhett by your side and his grandmother’s engagement ring on your finger.

She had just broken out the old bottle of whiskey she kept on top of the fridge for special occasions, when she asked you the same question she had asked a little over a year prior, when you were talking about your engagement to Perry.

“Baby, do you love him?”

You looked at Rhett, took in his beautiful face, his beaming smile, his hair, a little mussed up because he couldn’t stop running his hands through it on your way over here, and the way those blue eyes always made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.

“Yes, mama. I love him awful.”

.

.

[delopsia]

Dancing Beneath The Moon | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 10,000  Cross Posted on AO3 Brief Summary: How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you? Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Ghost!Rhett AU (with a twist! I won't tell you what kind but it's a twist!), friends to lovers, Trevor does not take rejection very well (please be advised that he does yell at the reader and scare them), unprotected sex, mentions of violence, and Rhett's 'murder.' Please refer to the user manual and wash your cowboy before sex.  

"I-I'm sorry, I need to leave."

"Trevor, wait!" Your feet patter across the floor, struggling to keep up as he lets himself out the door, "I can explain."

Only on the front porch does he stop, ostrich-skin boots clicking against the old wood with every step, "You don't need to," holding up one hand, as if to ward you off, "I just...forgot my Dad asked me to interview our new ranch hand today."

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again, gaping like a damn goldfish.

"I'll call you later," and that's all Trevor leaves you with, skittering off the porch and clambering up into that lifted F-150, with its perfect, custom black paint that glimmers a deep blue as he tears down your driveway.

Ugh.

"Rhett!" Your voice echoes throughout the house, punctuated by the slamming of the door behind you. So loud, and yet you can still hear the vicious banging of your beloved cast iron skillet banging on your kitchen tile. A shrill clatter of noise that has you fighting the urge to cover your ears as you storm into the kitchen.

And there he is. The translucent motherfucker, sitting cross-legged beneath your table, peeking out from beneath it. "What?" A big, shit-eating grin lacing his barely there features, so innocent and childlike that you almost don't believe he was the cause of this mayhem.

Almost.

The skillet in his hand provides a pretty damning counterargument.

"I'd kill you if you weren't already dead," fuming, yanking that dented skillet out of his hand; Rhett's grip is strong, but not enough to stop you from taking your cookware back.

"I was playin' with that," he huffs, a cold wind that tickles your ankles.

The skillet lands in the sink with a clatter. "And I was trying to have a date," you hiss, throwing your hands up, "but I'm unfortunate enough to share a house with a ghost who doesn't have any fucking manners!"

"I have manners!" Rhett's up in the air now, a buzzing collection of mist that floats up to the ceiling, no longer human, "I just ain't got 'em for big shots that wanna play cowboy for a day!"

"He is a cowboy," he's not. You know he's not. But god, you are not giving Rhett fucking Abbott the satisfaction of you agreeing with him. "You wouldn't know, being ancient and all that."

The temperature drops. Mist scattering. You can't tell where he is anymore. "I would know 'cause I am a fuckin' cowboy!" His disembodied, roaring voice comes from all directions. "No good-minded cowboy wears a goddamn rolex on a work day, 'cause they know that shits fixin' t'get scuffed!"

"Cowboy or not, you're going to have to get over it," as you reach for the tap, you think you can feel his presence behind you. Some invisible thing that sends your skin prickling, even with the knowledge of how harmless he truly is. "Trevor's coming back, and if you keep scaring him off, I'm phoning a priest."

"Fine!" Booming behind you.

"Fine!"

He's gone for the rest of the night.

The pizza guy scares the hell out of you when he knocks on the door. Not because you had forgotten about your order but because you were waiting on the curtains to peel themselves open. Expecting to hear a deep, half-hearted grumble about how "your date is here" as the fella clambers out of his beat-up sedan.

But it never comes.

Rhett doesn't even bug you about giving him a slice that he knows he can't eat, but you catch yourself putting a plate out for him. You wonder if he's in the room to see you rushing to put it back in the cupboard. Maybe he's out in the field because the television doesn't miraculously change to the Animal Channel like it usually does. You don't catch a glimpse of him lingering in the mirror whilst you brush your teeth.

You're glad.

You didn't want to see his ugly mug anyway.

Strange how such a big presence can vanish so easily, without a trace or hint of where he went, leaving this big farmhouse feeling like a husk of what it usually does. The temperature drops a degree or two when he's around, but without him, it feels like you've set up camp in the Arctic. How can a dead man bring so much life to a place?

But the covers are tucked around you in the morning.

You can't see him, but when you step into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and yawning, you can feel him wisping around you. That invisible presence seeking for anything to get back on your good side.

The toast lifts itself onto a plate before it can be burnt by that old, barely functioning toaster of yours. On the table, the weekly grocery ad flips open to a discount on new toasters, a lazily written note scrawled beneath it. 'They even have the color you were wanting! :)'

He pulls the chair out for you to sit, and when you defiantly head out onto the porch to eat, he pulls the patio chair out for you too. You hate giving him the satisfaction of helping, but it's hard to avoid him when he's free to roam this entire property.

But the one thing you've forgotten is just how hot Wabang can get, even this early in the morning. Birds tiredly chirp from their nests, unwilling to take flight beneath the sweltering sun; the old wind chime is silent, not even the slightest breeze appearing to help it sing its tune. You've been outside for a mere five minutes, and yet sweat already beads on your forehead.

A cold nothingness wisps past you. Round and round your little patio table, stirring up a breeze that doesn't reach the trees.

"You can come out, Rhett," fighting your laugh is futile because it slips out as you speak, dancing through the air in tune with the wind chime.

The opposite chair scoots out on its own, a pale blue mist collecting in the seat; it'll take him a moment to get settled back into form. "Did ya happen to find my headstone yesterday?"

Your head is shaking before he can get his sentence out. "Are you sure you were buried in Wabang?"

"I don't know where else I'd be," Rhett's face isn't fully there yet, but his scowl is, settled deep into his nonexistent features. "Wabang was the only place my folks ever knew."

Your heavy tongue can't be brought to tell him about the graves you did find. Royal and Cecelia buried together, their son Perry right next to them, and their granddaughter Amy buried in the row in front of them, next to a headstone simply titled 'Autumn.'

Rhett should know. He deserves to know where his family rests, but you can't bring yourself to tell Rhett that his killer was given the privilege of being buried next to his parents. Don't know how to tell him that the Amelia County Sherrif dug up an old newspaper declaring Perry Abbott as not guilty of Rhett's murder.

"C'n I bug you to put a cup of coffee out?" Rhett chirps, and that permanently scruffy face almost looks real. His eyes must have been as blue as the ocean deep when he was alive, for even now, they glow with their color. The only thing off about him is his slight transparency and the rays of sunlight that spear through his body.

"You didn't smell it enough this morning?" You ask, but you're getting up anyway; you'd rather not deny his request and risk him making a mess by trying to do it himself.

His boots click across the old wood, in perfect tune with your step, "wasn't here."

"Where did you go?" You're already grabbing his mug out of the cupboard, other hand reaching for the coffee pot.

He's quiet for a moment, and then, "barn." When you turn around, he's no longer there, a plume of mist once more, but you don't need to see him to know that his eyes are transfixed on the ground. "Didn't think y'wanted me in the house after last night."

Most people would love it if their ghosts would leave the residence; let them live in peace without being heckled by the souls who can't move on. You'd know; you were one of them, once upon a time.

"You don't have to leave every time we bicker, Rhett," it feels strange to say, but those words are spoken directly from the heart, "this is your house too."

He manifests again. Back to his favorite spot beneath the edge of the kitchen table, cross-legged, where he can peek out to see what you're doing. A little too big to fit, but he makes it work.

Like clockwork, his right-hand toys with the cracked edge of a linoleum tile, the one he's pulled up numerous times in the past.

"Please don't tear up my tile," you try to say it as gently as you can; you know why he's so drawn to it, but you really don't want to spend an afternoon fixing your beloved floor again. Wordless, he leaves his spot, content to settle down in a kitchen chair and smell his coffee. The closest he can get to enjoying its flavor.

You wind up back in bed early in the afternoon. Downed by a migraine that refuses to pass, settling deep into your skull, brought on by an unknown cause. You think it may be from the obnoxiously strong air freshener you plugged in; Rhett blames it on your cellphone.

"Care for some company?"

You're fortunate that Rhett Abbott is easy on the eyes because it's difficult to open them. There he is, standing near the edge of the bed, in the same spot you met him three years ago.

At least this time, the two of you aren't screaming, startled by each other's sudden presence.

"As long as you don't hog the sheets," comes your conclusion, and the bed is dipping as soon as the last word has left your mouth. A weight that isn't there settles across from you, a human-shaped indent that by all means shouldn't exist.

Rhett's hair falls into his face as his pretty head lands on the pillow, snuggling against it, and you know he's trying his best to remain as solid as he can. He says he's not touch-starved, but you're starting to think that he's lying.

Your hand wanders out on its own, carefully settling against that misty cheek, trying not to go through him. "You look a little more solid than usual."

"Only took a couple years of practice," the corner of his lip rises with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Oh, why does he have to look so sad when your hand inevitably passes through him?

You don't know if ghosts can cry, but his eyes seem to water as he feels your touch falter. They always do, but it never gets any easier to look at. It never gets easier, watching his smile wobble back into a frown, and his form grow a little more opaque.

Opening your arms to him probably isn't the best move to make. You've both discussed this; roommates is as far as this relationship can ever go because anything more asks for nothing but heartache. Heartache, such as the crushing feeling of feeling him squirm closer and not being able to feel him when you wrap your arms around his waist.

The only sign that he's real is the coldness you feel against your chest as his head settles against there. And, maybe, just maybe, you think you can feel wisps of his hair tickling your skin.

"What the hell is that?"

You haven't even taken it out of the box, and Rhett is already puffing up like a feral cat about it. "What does it look like, Rhett?"

The living room light flickers, his blue mist settling into the corner of the couch, as far as he can get from the box sitting on the floor. Refuses to take any more form than he already has, doesn't know how to react to this new thing that now sits in the same room as him.

"I don't have a clue," he says after a moment.

"It's a video game console," you want to take it out of the box and prove that it's not going to hurt him, but you don't want him getting any more surprised than he already is.

Against all odds, it seems you've got his attention because you can see his face now, head cocked to the side like a puppy. "A huh?"

"It connects to the television," nodding your head toward the flat screen next to you, "you can use it to play games on it."

He perks at that. "You can play checkers on the TV?"

Checkers wasn't what you had in mind, but you're sure it's on there.

There's a lot of fumbling involved. All the various cords and manuals only serve to confuse him more than he already is, and though he tries his best to help, he's not much assistance. There are less than five cords for the system, and he thinks they're all HDMI cables. But he's helpful when it comes to squeezing behind the television, at least.

"So that box...puts the game on the screen?" He asks as soon as you've settled onto the couch together, scooted as close as he can possibly get. "And you use that thing to play?"

For a cowboy who grew up in the days of black-and-white television, he catches on quickly. "For the most part, yes."

You'd won this thing in a raffle held down at the Bison Valley Bank of Wyoming, entered just for the hell out of it while you were down there a couple of months ago. How you won a new gaming console and why it came with a second controller, hot pink in color, you'll never know.

Rhett's simply poking at the joystick, unwilling to pick it up just yet, but you know he'll take to it like he did your television. Later, you'll wish you hadn't, but for now, you'll download one of his favorite board games.

"Monopoly?" He's fighting it, but there's still a twinge of excitement in his tone.

Now he's picking it up.

And within the hour, you regret even bringing the damn console into the house because you lose. Horribly. As soon as Rhett figured out the controls and the slight change in rules, you knew you didn't stand a chance. You can't even be upset about your crippling loss because he's kicking his legs back and forth and giggling.

"One more round?" He pleads, those opaque eyes sparkling with their childlike wonder, and you know he's never going to let this controller go.

"Let me get a drink, and then we'll play another," are you only agreeing because you enjoy the melody of laughter coming from your household ghost?

Absolutely not.

...okay, maybeyou are, but still.

At least he can't see your smile as you head for the kitchen, socked feet pattering across the cold hardwood without much of a sound. Already formulating a plan in your head, the next surprise move that might help you beat Rhett at one of his favorite games. If you can buy all four railroads before Rhett does...

The floor bends beneath your foot. Something crackles.

"Rhett, can you come here for a second?" Frozen in place, afraid to make another move. The lights are off; you can't see what's going on, but something feels wrong.

His presence is there before you can think any further, a chill ghosting over your body as he breezes around you. Circling like he's making an attempt at thwarting your fears before he flicks the light switch on.

And now you see it.

The kitchen floor is beginning to cave in, bowing inwards, right where your kitchen table sits. Beneath your foot, the tile has begun to crack, breaking into smaller pieces that cannot withstand any amount of weight on top of it.

"That floor's fixin' to collapse, doll," comes his voice, seemingly from all directions.

You're moving to step off of it and venture back out into the presumably safe hallway. But the floor crackles even louder. Tiles buckling beneath both of your feet. Sinking lower.

"I don't think I can," your body sways, fighting to remain upright.

Rhett's silently wrapping around you, formless blue mist shaping around you like a hug, tugging you away with a surprising amount of force. Practically takes your feet out from under you as he hauls you out of the kitchen.

"You're stronger than you look," you mutter in the hallway. Where the floor is solid and doesn't threaten to come out from under you.

"Only when I'm wantin' to be," he mutters directly into your ear, and you're suddenly glad that you've never asked how strong he is, as a ghost and all, "Now what kind of drink were you after?"

Rhett's your kitchen boy for the next three days until you can get someone to come and take a look at your floor. Balancing drinks and plastic cups that occasionally end in a tragic spill because he's not as good at balancing small objects. The first person never shows up; the second arrives bright and early in the morning, interrupting your morning conversation with Rhett on the porch.

"Now, like I said before, I don't have my equipment on me, so I can't guarantee you that this is the case," the guy begins, and you really, really hope he doesn't look up and see Rhett's dumbass sitting on the counter, "but my biggest guess is that your foundation has been exposed to too much moisture for too long."

"What's the worst-case scenario for this?" Your attention flickers between him and Rhett; what if it's something that you can't afford to fix?

He pauses to press his foot against the floor one more time, carefully surveying the way it shakes beneath the weight, tile crackling once more, "now it's highly unlikely, but worst case scenario, in my opinion, would be a sinkhole."

Your face drops.

"But that's highly unlikely," and he doesn't seem too concerned as he turns to face you, "I wouldn't worry until we get back out here and tear up the floor this coming Monday."

So Monday it is. That will be the day you find out if it's a simple fix or if you'll have no choice but to move out and leave your beloved house ghost all by his lonesome. Rhett seems to catch onto that thought, too. Remarkably quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

You can't blame him. For about forty-five years, this house was occupied by a family of religious folk who used some sort of herb to quite literally render Rhett into a state of unconsciousness. One too many surprise appearances in the mirror doomed him to sleep for all those years, only -reawakening after you moved in and scrubbed this old farmhouse from top to bottom.

He's never known what it's like to be alone. The closest he's come to it is the sporadic vacations you've taken over the past couple of years. None of which have lasted longer than a week, but all of which have ended in him waiting on the porch, tackling you the moment you stepped out of your car.

Unless he can attach himself to you, he'll never be able to wander further than the fields that surround your home.

Rhett doesn't take form again until Sunday night.

You don't know why you've drug these two lawn chairs out into the lawn, past the gravel that eats up the area around the house, but you have. Lounging, gazing up at the moon and stars hanging high above your heads, pointing out all the shapes you find amongst them.

The portable radio drones lowly in between you, stuck on the same old country station, ever since Rhett and his ghostly ways accidentally jammed it last summer.

"Do you wanna dance with me?"

And you don't know if...did you make that up in your head? Or was that just the radio?

"You know I'm not drunk this time, right?" Your head tilts, aiming to get a glimpse of him. He's already looking at you, smiles weakly as you meet his eye. Laying here, cloaked in the silvery light of the moon, he looks...real. If you reached out, you're sure you'd feel the scruff of his cheek scratch at your palm.

He hums, "I know." Pausing, just for a moment, to look up at the stars one more time. Your eyes follow, scanning the speckled sky, delighted to catch the tail end of a shooting star. You should make a wish...but you can't think of anything to wish for. "I just...wanted t' know what kinda dancer you are when you're sober."

"Alright," comes your answer; dry, nothing more to add to it.

And you don't know where it comes from, but Rhett reaches off to the side of his chair and plucks a translucent cowboy hat off the ground. Takes care to dust it off with his scarred palm, even though nothing can possibly dirty it, before carefully placing it atop his head.

He holds his hand out for you to take as if it's something that's become possible all of a sudden, and against better judgment, you do just that. Slipping your palm into the chilly illusion of his, deceiving yourself into believing that you feel his fingers curling around your hand. It's not, but as he leads you out further into the grass, it becomes easy to deceive yourself.

"Whoever taught you to dance, anyway?" You giggle as he spins you around; catches you by the waist when you come to face him once more.

He grins, big and wide, and you think you see his teeth glint in the moonlight. "You give amazin' lessons when you're drunk."

Oh, how easy it is.

Dancing beneath the moon, in nothing but your pajamas, held close by the ghost of a cowboy whose soul fits against your own like a puzzle piece. He doesn't know what he's doing, and if he were human, you're sure he'd be stepping on your feet, but he moves in such wonderous tune with your body that it feels like a daydream. His cold forehead rests against yours, ocean eyes peering deep into the deepest crevices of who you are.

You're drifting away from the grass and into the driveway, feet kicking up loose gravel with each and every step. Sweeping past your car, your shoulder narrowly avoids the passenger side mirror. You should be looking where you're going, you're going to drift too close to the porch and fall, but Rhett's gaze is so captivating that you can't bring yourself to look away.

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy?

And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

"You're thinkin' awful hard," the hand that curls around your cheek feels so real, the vague callous of a thumb stroking beneath the corner of your eye.

"Just figuring out how I'm going to pack you up and take you with me," your words are a poorly collected lie; you both know it, but he doesn't call you out on it.

Oh, and he's pushing your noses together with all the boldness of a man who knows what he wants. Your fingers are trying to tangle in his hair, and it's of no use, but you do it anyway, uncaring of how your hands sink through that collection of mist.

"Take me with you, hm?" He's slowing to a stop, the arm around your waist drawing you closer to him. "What happens when y' find someone to settle down with? Y'gonna turn me into the ring bearer at the weddin'?"

"Fortunately," your gaze flickers down his face, and you're so, so sure he's real, "I've already found that someone."

Rhett has no need for oxygen, and yet he sucks in a breath of air anyway, a little reflex remaining even after all this time.

One of you should shut this down right here before it goes too far. But your arms are wrapping around those broad shoulders, precariously balanced upon the thick collection of mist that makes up Rhett Abbott's ghost. The hand on your cheek is dropping to cup your jaw, and the world spins even faster as both of you lean in. His cold breath fans out against your lips, your eyes meet one more time, and...

Kissing him is the only thing you have ever needed.

A heart-stopping boom tears through the silence. Glass shattering in hot pursuit. As your eyes flutter open, the kitchen light goes out.

"What was that?" Your feet are already moving, Rhett's form dissolving into a thin mist, following at your side.

"I don't know," his distant voice rings, "please be careful."

You can hardly heed his warning. Sweeping past the front door, not bothering to take your shoes off, as you head for the kitchen. It's too dark to see, forcing you to fumble for the dining room light that you never use. Your hands graze over the switch, flipping it on, and, and—

The kitchen floor is nearly gone.

Replaced by a deep, cavernous hole that seems to reach deep into the earth. Consumes over half of the floor where your table once sat, reaching from your cabinets to your teetering refrigerator, on the verge of falling in.

"I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to get your spirit to attach to a living person, do you?" You hope Rhett can't pick up on the shake in your tone; there's no way insurance will cover a damn sinkhole.

But your question is met with silence.

"Rhett?" You're turning, and...he's not there. The air is unusually warm, not a speck of mist to be found. "Rhett?" Trying again, louder this time, as you head for the door, because maybe he's outside, maybe he's...

He's not there either. Maybe he's upstairs. Yeah, when he panics, he usually hides out in his old bedroom. He's just upstairs.

The door slams shut.

A second crash follows suit; you don't want to know if that was your refrigerator or if the sinkhole expanded even further.

"Rhett, this isn't funny," shaking the door knob. Locked from the inside. "Rhett, open the door!"

He doesn't.

The windows are all locked down tight. Even the one you intentionally leave unlocked. You find your car keys sitting atop the roof of your car, the paint scratched from where they've been thrown from a distance.

Rhett's chilly presence doesn't visit you when you sleep in the car that night.

He's not there to spook the contractor when he and his crew arrive early in the morning. You don't find him sitting on the couch when they kick the door down, and he's not on your bed when you sneak up the stairs, even after you're warned against going to the second floor. He isn't even there when countless faces enter your home to check out just what is going on in your kitchen.

"I've never seen this before," one of them tells you, her brows furrowed as she looks at her clipboard once more, "but it's not a sinkhole at all."

You don't know if you heard her correctly. "It's not?"

"It's a fifteen-foot hole that must have been dug by a past owner," she pauses to flip through her phone, presenting you with a photo of...just a dirt hole. Nothing special about it in the slightest. "They never refilled it, either; it was only a matter of time before the foundation collapsed into it."

Your mind flickers to your seemingly non-existent ghost. Rhett's never told a lot about his murder, but you know for sure that it happened in the kitchen. "Did you find anything down there?"

That seems to give her pause, ink pen tapping idly against her lips as she rechecks her pages and pages of notes. "Aside from your refrigerator and debris from the collapse...," flicking through another page, "it was completely empty! Nothing to worry about."

Well, at least now you know Rhett's not buried beneath the kitchen floor.

Even worse, his spirit no longer lurks within the paper-thin walls of this century-old farmhouse. You call for him in the fields, disturbing the cattle your neighbor keeps, and you beg for him to be there when you crawl out of bed in the morning. But the house remains warm; the only mist you find is in the fog that settles over your home after it rains, and he doesn't come out to mess with the teen boys employed to carry in bags of dirt, to fill the hole with.

Doesn't even appear when Trevor's F-150, with its irritating color-shifting paint, pulls into the driveway one evening.

"And so there was just a hole under your floor this whole time?" He's sitting in Rhett's favorite spot, cheap beer balanced carelessly between his legs. Has already spilled it once, leaving a stain on your cushion, and you'd tell him off if you weren't hoping it would infuriate Rhett into showing his face.

"The going theory is that one of the past owners dug it," glancing toward the mirror as you speak; still no ghost.

"I bet you more than anything that it's related to that Abbott murder," Trevor says, picking his drink up once more.

Your heart lurches in your chest. "Murder?"

"Did the realtor not tell ya?" Why is he scratching his cheek with the edge of his beer can? "That uh...what's his name? Perry, that's right, got into it with his brother and beat 'em to death in the kitchen."

"They told me someone died, but they never really elaborated," you mutter as he scoots a little closer. "Do you know what the argument was about?"

Trevor's heavy arm slings over your shoulder, drawing you near, musky cologne rudely meeting your nose. This is the same man you've been pursuing for months, so why is it that all of a sudden, your stomach churns at his touch? "Think it was...mmm, I think it was over some broad that went missing a couple of months before. Perry's wife, fiance, or something like that."

The alcohol on his breath has your senses reeling, overwhelmed with a sudden onset of nausea. Rhett didn't have much of a scent, but the little he carried was nothing but leather and honeyed sweetness. Your memory of his touch is brief, can count on one hand the amount of times he wrapped an arm around you, but he never dragged you into his chest like Trevor does.

"I'm sorry," speaking gently, you slide out from under his arm, rising to your feet, "I can't do this."

Trevor's face falls; you already regret speaking up, "what do you mean?"

"I'm sorry, I thought I could, but I just..." shaking your head, eyes landing on the hot pink controller that Rhett once played with, "I can't."

"The fuck do you mean you can't?" He's shooting up from his seat, beer can hitting the floor, the golden liquid splashing across the hardwood.

Your mouth is opening, but you don't get a chance to speak.

"You sure could when you were begging me to stay in this freaky ass house of yours last week!" Roaring, face twinging with red as he tries to close the space between you. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Loud bangings that rattle you so hard the house seems to shake with it. "You put me through all this just to tell me no?"

"I didn't put you through a damn thing!" Your voice echoes through the house, tone fierce, yet your feet timidly take one step back for each one Trevor takes forward. The floor seems to tremble beneath you. An earthquake that only you can feel.

Trevor's quiet at that.

You'd rather if he just yelled.

Because now he's got you creeping backward, and there's only so much space you can back up into. Your voice is caught in your throat. Stifled by something invisible. Mouth opening, but nothing comes out. The light in the kitchen goes out. Glitters of gold flitter past your head like tiny sugar plum fairies.

All of a sudden, Trevor lurches toward you.

Your head smacks against the wall. Jumping away from him.

"You think that little of me," he laughs, incredulous, "you think that fucking little of me?"

"Trevor." Your voice bursts past your lips. Shaky. But there. "Stop."

"Or what, huh?" Spit hits your face. His hand slams next to your head. Breaking through the drywall. "You owe me! I didn't spend all this goddamn time just for you to up and change your little fucking mind!"

"They asked you to stop." That's not your voice.

And it's not Trevor's, either.

Heavy boots thump across the floor. Spurs jingling with every step. Next to your head, a dirt-covered hand takes hold of Trevor's wrist. Muscles flex as it tears Trevor's fist out of the wall. Shoves it into his chest.

Trevor's reddened face has gone stark white. Trips over his own boots as a hulking, dirt-coated figure steps in front of you. Broad shoulders, covered by a vaguely patterned flannel; plaid, it looks like. Dark brown curls rest at his nape, unruly hair flowing freely. Suspiciously similar to...

"Who the fuck is this?" Trevor's still backing up, and this vaguely familiar man eats up every inch of space that's put between them.

"The house ghost." And that's...that's...

Trevor runs for the door before you can finish your thought. Slams it shut behind himself, like it'll keep him from being followed. Truck already rumbling to life. Downright roaring as the vehicle tears out of the driveway, sending gravel clanking against your windows.

But that's not what you're paying attention to.

Truly, you should be concerned about your windows being broken. But all you can do is look towards your kitchen because the light flickers back on. Gives you a momentary glance at a bottomless hole that's returned once more. Leaving behind no trace of the dirt that once filled it. Thin wisps of gold dance through it like an aurora, seemingly alive as they move.

You blink, and it's halfway gone. The edges shrinking inward until the hole is no more. Leaving behind that same freshly packed dirt.

Leaving behind...

"Rhett?"

He jolts at the sound of his name. As if he's surprised you're even speaking to him. Has yet to speak; confirm it's really him, but you already know the answer to that. He turns. Slow. And you can't help but wonder if that really is dirt because it seems to be fading away.

Slow, your hand drifts out from your side, and when your fingers curl around his jaw, you don't know if it's you who sucks in a breath of air or him.

Scruffy. Unshaven face scratching at your soft palm, dirt sticking to your skin as your thumb soothes over a remaining patch stuck to his cheek. Warm. He's warm. And he's hesitantly pushing his head into your hand, and, and—

"Rhett." You say it once more. The only thing you know how to say.

Tears well in those eyes. They're as blue as you ever could have hoped they would be. So, so real, not a shred of translucence to their color. One spills over onto his cheek, rolling until it's caught and wiped away by your thumb.

His arms are moving, hesitant to wrap around you, and you know he's worried about getting dirt on you, but the only thing you care about is stepping into him. Wrapping your trembling arms around that big, warm body of his and feeling him squeeze you into his chest. Where his heart beats heavy, thunking against you with the strength of an ox.

"I don't know how..." he whispers, hot breath tickling your neck, where he's buried his face.

"You're still an ass for locking me out of my own house," you're trying to sound irritated, but it's difficult to feign annoyance when he squeezes you a little tighter.

"Didn't want you bein' sucked in like I was," it's so strange to hear his voice like this, no longer a disembodied sound, "I...it just...kept suckin' me in every time I got out."

You're leaning away, and God, you don't want to leave those strong, trembling arms, but you want to see that face of his even more. The wrinkles beneath his eyes, the wobble of thin, chapped lips as they rise into a meager smile.

The callouses of his fingers drag against the soft skin of your cheek as his big hand settles there. Not the misty, barely there touch you're used to, but just as gentle as it's always been. His nose bumps against yours. Don't know who's leaning in. You shouldn't. You shouldn't do this.

This time, you know for sure that it's you who closes the gap between your bodies. It's you who catches this cowboy's lips in your own, reveling in that surprised gasp of his.

If you thought that kissing his ghost was heaven, then this is something else entirely.

Molding together like you were made just for this, his hand on your cheek and yours delving into his messy hair. Feeling the strength of the arm that curls around your waist and breathing in those faint notes of leather and honey and something warm that you can't quite place.

He pauses for a moment, breaks into a big, dumb smile as you meet his eye once more. And then he leans in to kiss you once more, hands cradling your cheeks, like you're a delicate flower whose petals will fall if he doesn't hold you together. His body shudders with something torn between a giggle and a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks, but he's smiling so much that your teeth clack together.

Your name tumbles off of his lips. Then again and again, like he's trying to memorize the feel of it in his mouth. The way it rolls off his tongue and twists through the air, the sound seeming to kiss your ears when it meets them.

"Rhett," mirroring him, and oh, how he perks at that. Has he always reacted so beautifully to you calling his name?

"Say it again," his nose bumps against yours as he speaks, "Please. Wanna hear you say it again." So eager to hear you that he looks two steps away from a puppy, the tears in his eyes shimmering with wonder as you open your mouth once more.

"Rhett," you whisper, like it's a secret shared on the playground, and then, again, "Rhett."

This time, when your back hits the wall, it's because a bright-eyed cowboy is carefully backing you into it, one hand protecting the back of your head as he dresses his body against yours. Smiling too much to kiss you, can't seem to get over the feeling of your skin against his, the overwhelming reality of whatever this is.

"We probably shouldn't be..." Higher thinking rushes back to your head in a whirlwind, thoughts running wild in the darkest crevices of your mind. What if's and why's and wonderings of how this happened, if it's permanent or temporary. "What if we cross that line, and you go back to being a ghost?"

You don't think you'll ever adjust to the sound of Rhett breathing or the way his eyelashes flutter as he thinks for a moment. He's licking his lips, mouth opening, and, "What if we don't cross that line and spend our whole lives regrettin' it?" 

One too many kisses may leave you longing for him for the rest of your life, but one too few may leave you carrying eternal heartache. And that's only if he goes back to being a ghost. But he feels real. When you press your palm to his chest, his warm hand covers it, guiding it to rest over his beating heart. Little thumpings that shouldn't be there, full of life and love and all just for you. 

He could have come back to life for anyone. But he came back for you. 

To hell with it. 

Your bodies collide like galaxies. Blinded by a frantic kiss that promises bruises to your lips. Flecks of gold fall from his body as your hands roam, tugging at a flannel, at his hair, at his hands. Legs tangling because you're moving too quickly, and he's still adjusting to walking rather than floating. 

Only break apart long enough to tumble up the stairs; Rhett almost trips over every one of them. Struggling to keep his confidence but boosted along by the kisses you pepper to his reddened cheeks and the gentle tuggings of your hand in his. 

Your back hits the bed with all the grace of a newborn fawn, Rhett tumbling right along with you, chuckling into the crook of your neck. Under the dim lighting of your bedroom lamp, it's easy to catch onto the deep bruising that scatters beneath his right eye. 

"These are from Perry, aren't they," it's more of an observation than a question, your fingers soothing over the marks as if they can somehow heal them.

Rhett's pressing a kiss to your wrist as it roams past, "Don' wanna think 'bout that son 'f a bitch right now."

You can work with that. 

Especially when your bodies squirm further up the bed, his hips settling between your legs, forearms bracing themselves on either side of your head, heaving chests against one another. His lips solid against your own, hungry, urged on by the nails that dig into his shoulders for leverage. 

"You'll tell me if I'm goin' too far?" He's speaking into your kiss, unwilling to remove himself any further. 

Maybe there's a second ghost in this house because something possesses you to roll your hips up into his. Such a faint pressure, the rough bulge in his jeans rubbing against your soft pajama shorts, but it's so much compared to what used to be. "I will," you're interrupted by his mouth once more, "but I'm sure you'll be the one asking me to stop before the end of the night." 

Your hand has a mind of its own, wandering down his chest, flattening out to feel the muscles that ripple along his stomach, hidden from view by his shirt. They flex under your touch, a simple thing that makes your head spin. By some method of madness, that shirt is still tightly tucked into his jeans, the material hard to get ahold of. 

Rhett shifts above you, unintentionally moving when you feel for some slack in his shirt, something to get ahold of, and your hand wildly overshoots. Palm splaying out against the front of his jeans instead. 

"'m not so sure 'bout that, sweetheart," he groans, a deep, guttural noise escaping him as he reaches down, catches your fleeting hand, and guides you to press against him once more.  "I ain't had a dick for the better half of a fuckin' century." 

These old jeans are thick, but even so, you can still feel him twitch against your touch. This wasn't what you were aiming for in the slightest, but watching him shiver as you massage over the outline of his bulge is a hell of a sight. 

"Sensitive," you're only lightly teasing; any more words and you'll be fumbling with his belt buckle.

"You're one to talk," he mutters, head dropping to press his lips to the meet of your jaw, teeth tugging the skin there. 

You think your eyes may pop out of your head. "I thought you promised to stay out of my bedroom when I didn't invite you in." 

"Wasn't in the bedroom, baby," he's chuckling, breath tickling your ear as he works his way towards it, "When you're a ghost, you hear everythin'." 

Then he's leaning back, leaves you feeling cold as he fumbles with his jeans, boots hitting the floor with two solid thunks. An involuntary whine works its way out of you, reaching aimlessly for him. 

"Don't wanna get y'all dirty, sweetheart," he soothes, catching your hand and pressing kisses to your knuckles. Pops open his belt buckle with a pinch of his fingers, and soon those dirty jeans are sliding off, revealing milky white thighs, mottled with bright spots of red and deep purples,  a badly bruised knee to match.

...as well as a pair of boxers patterned with bright red hearts. 

"Y'ain't gonna believe me," Rhett's staring down at them too, teeth worrying his bottom lip, "but I have no fuckin' memory of wearin' these." The tips of his ears have gone bright red. Another quirk hidden until now. 

"We'll get them off soon enough, I'm sure," you say, leaning up to let him peel your shirt over your head. 

As soon as it's out of sight, Rhett's lips return to your neck, one wandering hand soothing up your side, not stopping until it reaches your breast. Does nothing more than feel you in his hand, sucking at a soft spot beneath your ear that has you fighting the urge to close your eyes. 

Your hands wander, one wrapping around a surprisingly muscled bicep while the other delves between your bodies once more. Feeling down his sturdy chest, past his stomach, and not stopping until you can take hold of him through his boxers. 

"Fuck," his body jolts, "'re you sure 'm not dreamin'?"

"I thought ghosts didn't sleep?" You're parroting something you so clearly recall him mentioning in the past, can't place the memory yet. Don't really care to, either. The only thing on your mind is the way your fingers wander past his waistband, wrapping around his cock that jumps at your touch. 

He's thicker than you imagined he'd be. 

Moans prettier, too, for that matter. A little bit breathy and so Rhett. 

"Hands of yours are so fuckin' small," he's muttering in between kisses as he works his way back to your lips. Can't kiss you because a jolted grunt interrupts him, a symphony of sounds as you slowly stroke him. Oversensitive, the first touch he's felt in decades.

His hair drops into his face, acts as a curtain when you look down to where your hand is working him. Can hardly see what you're doing, but you do catch a glimpse of precum beading at his flushed tip, hearing his gasp when your thumb swipes over it. 

"Y'need to stop that," he huffs, voice nothing but air, "gonna...fuck, 'm gonna cum if you keep..." And despite asking you to stop, he grumbles when you let go of him. 

Hands now free, you reach for your shorts, not sure why you feel so shy when he helps you tug them down your legs; it's not like he hasn't seen you naked before. From you forgetting he's there to him accidentally floating into the shower while you were using it. 

But these eyes are not the translucent ones you're used to, with their expression hidden by deviations in his mist. No, these eyes darken as they drink up the sight of you, every little thought in his head spoken through his gaze. But even as he kicks his boxers off, shirt going right along with it, you can't help but feel like hiding under the sheets. 

"'ve I ever told you that you're beautiful?" His voice breaks the silence, stroking the inside of your knee as he speaks. 

You don't have words for that. 

He doesn't need them. 

You really don't have words for when he takes hold of your wrist, guiding it up and taking two of your fingers into his mouth. Tongue carefully swirling around each of them, soaking them with a content hum. Your eyebrows furrow, to which he raises his other hand. Dirt beneath his nails and caught in the wrinkles of his hand. 

Ah.

Reluctantly, you pull your fingers from his warm mouth, and you're pleasantly surprised to find that there's hardly any resistance when you press them inside. Open and already wet, helped along by a moment of fun you'd had in the morning, hoping a familiar ghost may come to help you along. 

"How did you know I kept my lube in the bottom drawer?" You can't help but ask, watching as he fishes around for it. 

The tips of his ears are red again. "I learned the hard way not to float through bedside tables."

He's the one who uncaps the container, but it's you who reaches out for him to pour it into your palm. Not because you're concerned with dirt but because you want to feel him in your hand again. Twitching when you take hold of him, a thick vein running along the side of his length. He has to stifle a noise with each stroke, squeezing your knee all the while. 

"You're sure you're ready for me?" He asks when you urge him closer. 

"I'm sure I'll be fine, cowboy," fighting back a noise as you guide him down, letting him push between your folds, some lazy, teasing thing that has his plush head dragging past your clit. Sensitive, almost has you considering making him fuck you like this instead. 

But he's catching against your entrance, and you've daydreamed about this man too many times to pass up the opportunity. 

That tentative, forward tilt of his hips is enough to make your head spin. Pressure blooming as he pushes into you, careful, like you'll shatter into a million pieces if he's too quick. 

"Rhett," you whisper, don't quite know why. 

"'m here," he's coming back down, nose pressing against yours in his own little way of reassurance, "I've got you."

Your earlier rendezvous didn't end well for you, but you're so thankful for it in hindsight because his cock stretches you wide. Blunt head dragging against your walls, massaging past the bundle of nerves you couldn't seem to find with a toy, your thighs squeezing his pale hips. 

"So tight for me," he pauses about midway, or what you think is midway, at least, "you're sure 'm not hurtin' you?"

Your head spins, loose on your shoulders, "I'm okay." 

With a noise of his own, Rhett starts to move again, draws back a little before pushing further, and you can't help but wonder if he's holding his breath. Your nails bite into his shoulders, hanging on as he finally bottoms out, now flush against you. His mouth moves, but he can't speak. Only capable of releasing a shaky breath, lazily catching your lips in his.

He doesn't need to be asked to move, catching on the moment you grind yourself against him. Withdrawing slow, shallow, before pushing back in, and you're so, so full. Clinging to his shoulders to stay in place, feeling like you'll float away when he brushes against those nerves again.

Fuck, he's just begun to move, and you're already biting your lip. Don't know how you're going to keep yourself quiet because he massages past that little spot every time he moves, never lets it alone. 

His thumb pulls your lip out from between your teeth, "Let me hear you, darlin'."

His words alone have your cunt fluttering around him, and you're leaning into the palm that cups your cheek, mouth falling open. "Rhett, fuck."

You don't think you need to reach down between your bodies, but you do anyway, fingers pressing to your long-neglected clit. Working in tandem with Rhett's quickening hips, jolting as his angle shifts.

"There?" He says as if he hasn't already found that damned spot. All you can manage is a nod, a whimpered 'uhuh' escaping you. 

And he's doubling down, cock head kissing that oversensitive spot again and again. Grins wickedly when you shudder beneath him, nails dragging down his pale shoulders, panting into his mouth.

"Fuck, this sweet lil' pussy of yours feels so good 'round me," he groans, thrusts becoming harder now that he's remembered the ropes. Heavy balls smacking against you, and you really hope there aren't any more house ghosts who can hear the sinful sounds whistling through the air. "'s this what you've been needin', hm? 

"Rhett," you don't know how to speak, his name tumbling off your tongue.

"Bringin' home all those dates that could never make you cum," his voice dropping an octave deeper, damn near growling, but the softness in his eyes suggest he wouldn't hurt a fly. "Wouldn't have terrorized 'em if they woulda treated you better." 

That's why he chased them all off? God, how many times did you bring someone home, thinking he was gone? And how many times has he daydreamed about having you beneath him, whimpering his name as he fucks you nice and proper. 

You should be mad, but you can't. Not when you're falling apart at the seams, hand sliding from his shoulders, barely clinging to his bicep. Bounced by every heavy thrust, can't keep your fingers on your pulsing clit, tightening around him as something warm blossoms between your legs.

And he must be able to feel it because his eyes flicker into the back of his head, if only for a moment. "You gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart?" 

This is new. Fuck, this is so, so new and so much. No longer able to keep your eyes open, tongue lazy in your mouth, words long forgotten as you try to nod your head. Mind clouded with thoughts of Rhett, Rhett, Rhett. 

"Shit, y'got me so damn close, baby," he rasps, hair tickling your cheek as he presses kisses there, "You want me to cum on those cute thighs of yours? Or your sweet little tummy?" 

You don't have the answer to that question. Distracted by the crumbling of his rhythm, thrusts growing shaky, in perfect tune with the tightening coil in your lower belly. Almost there. Almost there. 

He's still talking. "Or would you rather I cum nice 'n deep in this pretty pussy of yours," you regret opening your eyes. All you see is the sweat beading at his forehead and strong hips working you over. Fat cock disappearing into your wet pussy, elicits a dizzying squelch every time. "Pump you nice 'n full of me, just so you'll need me to fuck it out of ya in the mornin'." 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where's your voice? Where's your voice? "I-inside."

Rhett's breathy "yeah?" is all you fucking need. Your back rises up off the mattress, head tilting back with a silent cry as you cum around his cock.

"There you go," Each pump of his length into you only sends your head higher up into the stratosphere. Whimpering, clamping down around him as a shudder washes over you. "Feel so good when you're clampin' 'round me like that." 

And he's still fucking going. Fucking you through it, beating against that bundle of nerves even when you begin to tremble, after-shocks still tearing through you. 

"Hang on for me, baby," his eyes are bolted shut, chasing his high, biceps shaking, so, so close. 

"Please, Rhett," you whisper, your hand soothing over his hardened face. Those deep blues flutter open, softening at the sight of you, like he's just seen an angel "Cum for me." 

A whimper tumbles past his lips,  a second one follows suit, and then those eyes are closing once more, hips stuttering to a halt as his orgasm hits him. Tiny noises escaping his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck, the familiar tune of your name tumbling off his sweet tongue. Filling you with his cum, making good on his promise, jolting as you involuntarily pulse around him.

For a while, the air is silent. 

Until Rhett lifts his head and kisses up your sensitive neck, sending you into a fit of giggles. "C'n we take a bath t'gether?" He murmurs, seemingly shy, unable to meet your eye.

"So long as you agree to bubbles, baby." Baby. You don't think you've ever called him that. 

You can't wait to do it again.

For decades, the folks of Wabang, Wyoming, have whispered the tale of two brothers. Gossiping about a murder they presumed to have taken place, for they knew that Perry Abbott was a violent man, and it was only a matter of time before his little brother became the next punching bag. 

Never have they whispered about the hole that opened beneath the kitchen floor, swallowing Rhett's near-lifeless body up, escorting him to an unknown safety while leaving his lonely spirit behind. They don't know of the decades he spent forced into an unnatural slumber, only to be awoken by another lonely soul with a heart made of the same glass as his own. 

Nobody giggles about how a human scared a ghost or chatters about the adventures they've shared in that century-old farmhouse. They do not know of the arguments, and the boyfriends lost because a ghost wanted the best for his friend, appearing in mirrors and whispering their deepest insecurities into their ears. Worse, they don't roll their eyes over the many tales of him banging a cast iron skillet on the tile just to see them run.

But you do. 

Only you know of how Rhett smiles, big and dopey, as you take him into town for the first time in decades. You are the only person who gets to explain what self-driving cars are and roll your eyes as some new thing scares him into jumping behind you. Nobody else gets to take him on a road trip, watch him fight with a GPS for the first time, and introduce him to the ocean and the concept of crabs.

"Why are they shaped like that?" Rhett's stumbling after you; not sure if he likes or hates this little creature, only knows that he wants to follow you. "Why is he following me?" 

You wish you could see the little bugger, but it's so dark that you can hardly tell where you're going. The only light you have is a dull light in the parking lot and the silver moon hanging high above your head.

"Probably because you've pissed him off," you laugh, holding your hand out when he reaches for it, "are you going to survive two more nights this close to the beach, or do I need to take you back to the pasture?"

He hums, loud and dramatic as he can manage, scratches his freshly shaved chin for added effect, "I suppose I'll survive, but if that crab kills me, I'm comin' back as a ghost and suin'."

From the moment your feet are on the cool concrete of the parking lot, Rhett's spinning you around. It's still the only thing he knows how to do, and his feet tangle with yours a little more than they should, but oh, is it as magical as that night in your driveway.

"'ve I ever told you that I love you?" He smiles as he speaks; knows he says this every time you wind up dancing beneath the moon.

"Never," feigning surprise, as he pulls you in close, noses bumping together, "but I love you more."

And then you're running. Squealing as Rhett sets hot on your trail. He'll catch you before you so much as reach the hotel doors, trap you in his arms, and insist that no, he loves you more, punctuating every word with a wet, sloppy kiss. And you're so excited for it that you think you may let him catch you early. 

Perry took away a lifetime from Rhett. 

You're more than happy to give him a life worth waiting centuries for. 

Even if he does still refer to himself as the house ghost.

[nurse-floyd]

After a horrific crash and weeks in the hospital, you’re almost back on your feet. You’re out for the rest of the season but your physio and trainer suggest equine assisted therapy for you to get your strength back and your head back on straight for the next season. You didn’t expect to fall for the handsome ranch and programme owner.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the same sweet shock | alpha!rhett x omega!oc

Summary: Somehow, Rhett and Tessa always knew he was meant to be her Alpha. That she was meant to be his Omega. And after nearly ten years of waiting, they are finally one. (wc: 3127)

Warnings: omegaverse stuff/lore (of which i am not well verse do not hang me), language, SMUT 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (pretty much just straight filth, heat stuff, rut stuff, fingering, pinv, use a condom kids unlike these dweebs, gland biting, and of course knotting), rhett being the best alpha

✎……👍👍 enjoy

✎……MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT

Rhett’s place was actually a loft in one of the barns up close by the Abbott family ranch house. They still stored hay up there, but there was a bed and a mini-fridge and one of those small Coleman camping gas ranges set up on a table if he wanted to cook up something. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something for when he got locked out of the house or just wanted some space to breathe. And right now, he needed a lot of space to breathe as he laid a whimpering, panting, writhing Tessa Abernathy onto his bed.

When he put her in his passenger seat at the bonfire, she was still wearing jeans and a few layers. The entire five minute drive she had squirmed and whined softly, sweating into his cloth seats. Rhett had told her, as she threw her head back and rubbed her thighs together, that she could take something off if she needed to.

He just didn’t expect her to peel off everything but her t-shirt. 

The only thing Rhett knew about heats was from sex-ed class in high school. Nearly a decade ago and too vague now that he was dealing with it. Now that he had had an Omega in his front seat touching herself just to make the ache stop and panting his name. 

But something like instinct was taking over his brain as he made quick work of his clothes, shucking them off and leaving them scattered on the floor. She was touching herself again. Two fingers shoved deep in her center, her free hand underneath her thin shirt — tweeking her sore breast. She whimpered his name again and it felt like a burn.

“M’comin’, Tess, m’comin’.”

Something like a second mind was telling him what she needed from him now as the Alpha who had marked her. A distinct smell of her covered in him that drove him mad. He needed to touch her. Fill her. Breed her. His cock twitched at the thought, that something clouding his brain as he growled low in his throat. As he watched her juices leak out around her fingers, his hand roughly palming himself through his boxers. He meant it when he said he wanted to take things slow with her. Even if those thoughts in the back of his head had been telling him for months that she was his. He wanted it to be her choice, he wanted this to feel right and good and natural between them.

But even rushed and unexpected — it still felt good and right. As he propped his knee up on the foot of the bed, continuing to watch her in nearly a daze.

Her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, caught him standing at the edge of the bed and she reached for him. Fingers outstretched as she whined softly.

“Alpha,” Tessa breathed, a few more tears running down her reddened cheeks. “Please. Hurts.”

At her word, the cloud abated, and he climbed fully onto the bed with her. 

He could smell something — could nearly see the scent hanging in the air. A trail along the hallway lined with lockers. Honeysuckle and the air of early morning. Crisp and sweet. 

On some instinct he didn’t understand, Rhett followed it. Let it lead him all the way to the nurses station up by the main office. Standing outside the door, a thought from somewhere else slammed into the forefront of his mind. Fill. He didn’t want to admit to himself that some part of him knew. Knew where this trail would lead. Knew what or who needed to be filled…Filled by him. He could already feel himself swelling in his jeans as he wrapped his hand around the door handle. 

Tessa Abernathy was sitting on the nurse’s exam table. Red faced, sweating, face pinched up in a grimace with fingernails digging into her thighs. She was on the rodeo team with him. Barrel raced and got pretty blue ribbons for her efforts. Friends with Laney — Walker’s girl. Quiet and kind and radiating with that smell of honeysuckle and early morning air. 

She was hurting. And somehow he knew he could make it better.

He stepped further into the room as he mumbled, “M’sorry, I don’...”

Tessa gripped her stomach — a whimper falling out of her as those tears finally fell. The sound went through him like a knife. Sharp and painful. He wanted to make it better. He could make it better. He could ease her pain and fill her and make everything good for her.

Omega. Fill.

The words screamed in his mind as he lifted his hand towards the strap to his backpack. Ready to drop it on the floor and cross the room to her right then and there. But then the nurse walked back into the room. Yelled at him to leave. 

And he did. 

He regretted that moment for the past ten years. Leaving her in pain. Leaving her empty. A memory he didn’t like to think back on. But then she stumbled back into his life. Beautiful and warm as the sun. Offering up a kindness he didn’t think he deserved but she gave so freely. But then she went into heat at that party and he couldn’t let anyone else have her. She was his. His. His. His Omega. His to fill. 

Rhett groaned as he knelt over her, cupping her face in his hands to kiss her properly this time. Their first kiss. Not what he wanted their first kiss to be either. But it was so much more than he felt it would normally be. More intense, more wonderful, more desperate. Tessa whined, high pitched and desperate into his mouth, both hands reaching and pawing at him with whatever strength she had left. One hand trailed down her jaw, felt the residual sweat and tears, before it slipped down her neck. 

Her mating gland was swollen — moreso than he had ever felt before. His fingers massaged gently as he licked into her mouth. But it made her moan, wanton and open, as her hips bucked up to meet him. 

Rhett smiled, small and adoring, as he shushed her; fingers pushing her hair back from her face. “Easy. Easy. I know’mega, s’alright. ‘M’gonna take care’a ya now.” 

When he was a kid, he used to find the honeysuckle bushes with Perry. Find the flowers in that early summer air, pluck one from the rest and suck the nectar from them. It felt like that to kiss her sweat slicked skin. Honeysuckle nectar sweet as he mouthed and licked and sucked down the side of her neck. As he peppered that swollen gland with light pecks of his lips.

Tessa thrashed and whined softly beneath him as he trailed one hand down her stomach, past that t-shirt he pulled effortlessly over her head, to find her swollen and dripping. An awe and a growl filled him at the way she gripped the two fingers he sunk into her, at the way she pulsated and moaned. When his fingers were fully seated inside her, he looked up to see more tears streaming down her face, her hands weakly pushing and pulling at him. He didn’t know if it was for him to stop or for him to keep going. 

He knew what she needed from him now. What she needed and craved on some base instinct. But still, he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted this to be good for her in every way. 

“Rhett,” she cried as he pushed those two fingers in and out, making her whole body shudder.

“I know wha’ya need, sunshine, I jus’...Jus’ soak my fingers like a good’mega n’ll give it t’ya.” She keened high in her throat and it made him grin. “Tha’s it. Takin’ my fingers s’well.”

His fingers stuffing her full seemed to have abated her for the moment, but after just a few pumps she seemed to know it wasn’t what what she really craved. Not what she really needed. Her hips are squirming and jerking, her head thrown back as she took what he gave. But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough. 

“Please, Rhett, please — oh — need t’please…Alpha, please, please, can I — want it so bad. Need — Need t’be full,” she panted, eyes barely peeled open as she clawed at his back.

And he knew it too.

Biting into her jaw gently, he whispered, husky and deep, “Wan’ya t’cum f’r me first.”

It was like she was waiting for permission. Going stiff beneath him, she gasped, fingernails digging into his flesh as her walls convulsed around his fingers. Refusing to let go. She whined as he pulled them free, his hand soaked to the knuckle. But still she squirmed, her hips searching for something. Anything. Him. His cock, his knot, ready and aching to fill her.

Tessa opened her eyes, a few more tears leaking down her face, some clarity in her countenance for the first time since he marked her. He kissed her then. Gentle and consuming.

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to tug him closer even though they were chest to chest, skin to skin.

Rhett shook his head, cupped her cheek. “Don’.”

“Why?”

“You didn’...Didn’get t’choose.”

She smiled, soft and sunshine bright. “Yeah I did. I chose you, my Alpha. Back when I’s seventeen…So good t’me.”

That made Rhett growl, low and showing some teeth. That second brain fuzzing all his thought as he flipped her onto her stomach. Practically ripping his boxers off as he urged one of her legs to bend, spreading her open for him. His cock was red, nearly purple at the tip, as it leaked and slapped against his stomach. He had never knotted someone before either, a biological process that only occured when an Alpha bred an Omega.

But he could already feel it beginning to form, causing a near pain as he lined himself up with her leaking entrance.

“Such a good Omega, sunshine, fuck — so good. My Omega. Mine.”

He was rambling now as he pushed in nice and slow. Some noise like a moan was falling consistently from her mouth, high pitched and breathy as she took him easily to the hilt. Every one of his nerves felt like it was on fire as he waited for her to adjust, or at least tried to. Even the feeling of him filling her was enough to make her flutter around him. He struggled to breathe even as he lost all composure and began to thrust deep and heavy into her awaiting cunt.

Each thrust forward forced a noise out of her, forced her higher up the bed. Her hands scrambled to reach for something, reach for him, and she didn’t stop until he grabbed hold of the back of her hand and laced their fingers together. Holding her down and grounding her. Grounding him.

“Fuck, you feel s’good,” he grumbled in her ear as he pressed himself into her back, blanketing her in him.

Changing the angle of his hips, he knew he hit that spongey spot inside her when she choked for breath. Rhett watched her mouth drop open further, her eyelids flutter, her breathing pick up as he gave short but powerful thrusts into that spot directly. Her fingers held a death grip on his own. 

“Good, ‘mega,” he grumbled, shifting closer. “That’s a good fuckin’mega.”

Tessa made some choked noise, shoulders hunching in on herself as he just kept going. Kept pushing right into that spot. He felt her clench around him, keeping him as deep as he could go — it made him shudder and twitch inside her. But he didn’t want this to end just yet. Didn’t want it to stop feeling this good. So he curled his free arm around her and pressed his fingers into her little bundle of nerves. 

“A-Ah!” she cried softly, legs trying to claw into the mattress and gain some traction. 

“God, y’re makin’ such pretty lil’noises, ‘mega. Think y’can make s’more f’r me?”

“S-Someone c-could hear,” she stuttered out, glancing towards the hay door that hung cracked open.

Being stuffed full of him and at least partially satiated, some of Tessa had come back into her it seemed. This was having the opposite effect on Rhett. The further they went the more lost he became. Lost in her scent, lost in her pussy, lost in filling her like his biology screamed to do. But she was also his Omega — and he longed to please her.

“What? Y’scared someone’s gonna hear ya take m’knot?” he questioned.

The thought made her flutter around him, but she still nodded. “C’Come check it out.”

She had a fair point, but if someone from the house hadn’t come to investigate her moaning at that point, Rhett was unsure if anyone ever would. But he could see the worry in her eyes, keeping her from letting go completely and caving into the pleasure he so desperately wanted to give her. So, he let go of her hand and brought two fingers up to her lips. He bumped the rough pads against the swollen flesh and she parted for him with heavy lidded eyes.

“That’s it — that’s my ‘mega,” he said with a grin as he pushed his fingers into her mouth and pressed down on her tongue, she practically went limp beneath him. “My fingers’ll keep ya nice’n quiet.” 

But that didn’t stop him from trying to draw every little noice he could from her. He wanted people to hear. Wanted everyone to know that he fucked his Omega that good. That it was him filling her and not anyone else. So he gathered the last of his composure and slowed everything down. Took his dear sweet time as he pressed against that spot inside her and held it there, as he circled her swollen clit with firm, lethargic circles. And he watched, revelled, in the way her jaw went slack around his fingers. At the heavy look in her blue eyes. At the way her chest heaved and her body went practically limp caged beneath him.

With every press and pull of him, with every breath she took, she made some noise around his fingers. He felt the vibrations of it al teh way down his arm, and it made a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. And he kept up that same slow, beautifully agonizing pace as she was brought closer and closer to release.

And he was brought closer and closer to insanity.

Her walls spasmed around his fingers as he massaged her in perfect time with his thumb against her clit. A sob echoed around his other hand as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“F-Feels good, ‘mega?” he stuttered, vision blurred and mind hazy but still grasping the last of his control.

Tessa nodded with another sob.

Until this point, she had been boneless on the mattress. But now her hands scrambled to curl around any part of him she could reach, liek seh was scared he would leave now that she was so close. Her breathing was heavy, hard, fast as she moaned and sobbed and drooled around his fingers. Tears running down her cheeks as she stared bleary eyed at the wall. He could feel her thighs quaking beneath him, her walls spasming and trying to pull him deeper.

“I-I got ya, ‘mega, I got ya,” he whispered as he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her swollen mating gland. “Let go.”

Let go she did. Rhett watched, the last of his sanity dwindling, as her eyes rolled back. Her walls gripped him so tight he didn’t think he could move even if he tried to. Something high-pitched and loud got caught around his fingers still pressing down on her tongue. He could feel her juices coating his thighs.

After that, Rhett wasn’t entirely sure what happened.

All he remembered was flashes of Tessa screaming in pleasure, skin slapping against skin, his own roaring yell…

His teeth coming down hard on her mating gland.

He came to as he felt his knot swelling at the base of his cock. As Tessa whimpered trying to take it. 

She threw her head back, brandishing the red bite mark and already purpling bruise on her neck, and whined: “Rhett…Can’t…”

He smoothed his hand up her sweat slicked side. Feeling like he just woke up from some nap he only meant to be thirty minutes but instead it was four hours. Not knowing what time or even year it was. 

All he really understood was that Tessa Abernathy was wholly and completely his. And that was good.

“Yeah, y’can, sunshine,” Rhett finally spoke, whispering into her neck and peppering that bruise with kisses. “Y’were made f’me, ‘member? Made f’y’re Alpha. Ju’ lemme help ya.”

As his knot pressed in bit by bit, he moved his hand, which had somehow slipped out from beneath her, back between her legs. She whimpered at the touch to her swollen bundle of nerves, sensitive and abused, but it seemed to help. Her whimpers of pain turned to soft moans of pleasure. And when it finally settled inside her with a quiet pop — he felt her spasm around him once more. Forehead pressing into the mattress as she keened.

His hand slipped up and there was a bulge in her lower stomach. It made him shudder to think that was him.

A silence settled over them after that. Caught in the afterglow — at the moment too perfect to be broken. Rhett felt an overwhelming need to make sure she was comfortable. An itch he was desperate to scratch. Still locked inside her, he rolled them both onto their sides and grabbed the quilt from the end of the bed to cover their naked forms. Tessa nuzzles back into him easily, and she fit against his chest like she was made to be there.

And maybe she was.

“M’sorry,” he whispered, unable to hold his tongue forever.

“Huh?” Tessa replied, voice laced with sleep, like she just on the edge.

“I —” he lightly touched the bright red bite mark. “I didn’mean to…”

She sighed, something content and knowing. He could practically feel her smile. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

She fell asleep shortly after that. Rhett out of words and feeling exhausted himself. There would be more to discuss when they both woke up in the morning, that was sure. And there would be questions that needed answered from his family, who he was certain heard some of what went on tonight.

But right then, it didn’t matter. Right then he wrapped his Omega up in his arms and fell into the blissful arms of sleep.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[dontpulloutman]

can you fight? (twitter shenanigans)

singer!yn x lewis pullman (more) a/n: in a bit of a writing slump rn (and super busy w school yall im gonna kms) but i quickly made this lil guy up! hope u enjoy it :))

[bobfloydsbabe]

Everyone say thank you @withahappyrefrain for telling me to write an arranged marriage AU with our beloved cowboy. It's set around the turn of the 20th century, and Rhett is immediately smitten, but trying to play it cool. It's adorable.

[sunlightmurdock]

Something Wicked This Way Comes.

One of those endless, late autumn, bitingly cold nights with those burning orange hues skies, Rhett spots her for the first time. The woman who bought the land on the side of the mountain. It’s harsh country up there, colder, wetter. There’s no protection like in the valleys where the Abbott and Tillerson ranches stand. It’s no place for a woman to be. Especially not up there all by herself.

He barely catches sight of her. The sun is disappearing behind the peaks and this fire-fuelled sky is teetering on the verge of empty blackness already. The wind bites at his nose and makes his eyes sting with hot tears, forcing him to blink through the feeling.

The black pick-up truck rattles past the road that borders the north property of the Abbott ranch. It’s moving at a steady fifty, but Rhett could easily count to twenty in the time it takes her to pass by. One hand resting against the soft curve of her chin, she’s looking out of the driver’s side window.

Black eyes locked on him, seeming frozen in those miles of long grass, her red lips twitch at the corners. There’s a Kate Bush song playing through those worn out speakers, she’s nodding her head to it. The road is straight and empty in front of her, Rhett is her entire focus.

Maybe it’s the distance, or the time of year. Maybe it’s just because of the sky, but Rhett can’t see where her iris ends and her pupil begins, it’s all just black.

The wire falls slack between the roughness of Rhett’s gloves and Royal looks up sharply. He always had a temper. Poised, mouth drawn open to curse out his youngest son for making this take longer than it damn well needs to, Royal Abbott finds the look on Rhett’s face all too familiar. Sitting on his knees, wrapping barbed wire around a fence post, Royal turns his head.

His glimpse of her is much shorter than Rhett’s head been. But he would recognise anywhere the face of the woman who has haunted his dreams since he was a boy. Since 1890.

The barbed wire fumbles to the ground unceremoniously, settling between the wilting, wet grass. It presses into the sole of Royal Abbott’s torn up Ariat boot as the old men launches himself onto his feet and grabs two fistfuls of Rhett’s six year old Carhartt coat.

“You stay away from that woman. You hear me? — You leave her alone.”

[sorchathered]

What if I wrote a country star!Rhett AU? What then huh?

[sarahsmi13s]

Based off of previous conversations… I have a request, a Royal Christmas with Rhett Abbott. No pressure on the royal part but I think we need Royal Rhett AUs.

hehehe, i love this so much, we need more Prince!Rhett 🥰

|| a royal winter waltz ||

it's a dance, cowboy, spin me like a princess

Prince Rhett was well known for his cowboy cassanova personality. He would show up to parties alone and leave with a girl on his arm. Until now. You had been Amy's nanny for almost a year now, ever since Rebecca's disappearance you had watched the youngest Abbott. Rhett knew you, you had gone to school together, but you had changed multitudes since you graduated. And he couldn't resist. So, that how you ended up walking into the event hall attatched to Rhett's hip. You had gone to these things before, but it was mainly to keep an eye on Amy. This time, you were there as a date and you weren't going to pass up on having fun. Rhett wasn't much of a dancer, but you weren't going to let that slide. "You're dancing, because this is a dance." "I don't dance darlin'." "You said I was different than you're hook ups. You don't dance with your hook ups. So get up and spin me around to show these girls that you're serious about me."

okay so i know this was really a request for my 500 holiday/winter celly, but it's the last one i have with an ask attached. so it's getting roped in (i do have 3 bonuses to do though so be looking out for those)

but thank you peas for coming in for this! and i may or may not have a series cooking up in my brain now! and thank you @lewmagoo for helping to inspire our conversation with this post!

you can find all of the moodboard for this celebration here! -> unwrap us!!

[delopsia]

A small epilogue snippet of Dancing Beneath The Moon. Contains what life is like after Rhett returns to his human body 💕

It isn't a sharp, echoing thud that wakes you. Not the shrill ringing of a cast iron skillet against your precious tile or the jostling of the silverware in the drawer. No, it's a dull, hollow sound, so heavy that you can feel how it carries through the room, rumbling like thunder.

Your eyes snap open, darting toward the kitchen, "Rhett?"

But your question is met with a silence that would be deafening if not for the distant groan that carries across the house.

On their own, your feet hit the ground, hardly awake enough to tread the few steps it takes to step into the hallway. And already you can see him. Sitting on the floor, pawing at his nose with the back of his hand, glaring at the dent in the drywall like it's done something personal to him.

"Rhett?" Your voice still groggy with the edges of sleep, "You alright?"

Judging by the unruly hair that jostles as he turns his head to look your way, you can guess that Rhett's just woken up from a nap of his own. His outstretched arms still bear the imprint of his chosen pillow, the decorative one on the couch, meant more for show than use. That decorative swirl trails down to his hand, splayed out on the floor next to a picture frame that once hung on the wall.

Curious, your gaze travels back to the dent, then to Rhett's reddened nose. "Did you try to walk through the wall?"

Blue eyes dart to your face, "no."

Too quick to be innocent.

"The evidence suggests otherwise, cowboy," you can't fight the way your lips rise into a smile as you speak. Stepping past the frame, you hold your hands out. Both of them, because if there's anything you've learned, it's that Rhett's balance has yet to fully return from the grave.

But the rest of him has. From the dusting of freckles on his shoulders to the callouses in his palms, rough from manual labor around a ranch his family no longer owns. Now only useful for dragging deliciously against your skin, as his hands circle around yours, fully allowing you to pull him up to his feet.

He stumbles. Drifting a smidgen too far to the left before he finally regathers the reins over his own body.

"You got it?" Your arms remain outstretched as if you have any hope of catching him if he falls. Like he hasn't fallen on top of you more times than either of you can begin to count.

Rhett hums, the vaguest 'yes' you'll ever receive, hesitantly letting go of your hands. "Floatin's more fun than this whole walkin' thing."

"Having second thoughts on being resurrected?" You really should be focusing on putting that frame back on the wall; otherwise, someone's bound to forget it's there and step on it later, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it. Too focused on guiding your former house ghost back to the living room, away from the crime scene.

"Only when I hit my toe on that goddamn corner in the kitchen," he chuckles, socked feet scooting across the floor.

So, maybe this hadn't been what you anticipated for your future when he had miraculously sprung to life in the nick of time, scaring Trevor out and whisking you off your feet in the same five-minute span. It certainly wasn't an issue that presented itself in the beginning, disguised in the uneasy thumps of his feet against the stairs, unused to the concept of having to use legs to get around.

A doctor would probably explain it away as the magic of adrenaline and muscle memory, embers burning just bright enough to get him around. But you've grown to wonder if it's simply the overthinking that's drawn him to this point. Stumbling around your house like Bambi on ice, clinging to you, the walls, and whatever sturdy object he can hold onto. So suddenly aware of this new form of his that he's forgotten how to function entirely.

"Them movies of yours always talk 'bout savin' the ghost," Rhett mutters, his eyes flickering between you and his wary feet as he follows you to the couch, "they ain't never talk 'bout what happens to the ghost when he's gotta relearn to fuckin' walk."

"I'll send their writing team a strongly worded letter," you've got about a half second to situate yourself on the couch before he's coming down too. All broad shoulders and too-big muscle that strains against his new shirt, the red plaid one that he'd excitedly pointed at while you were doing some online shopping.

It doesn't quite fit him like it should. Evidently, the concept of a large has grown a lot smaller since his transition from human to ghost.

"Do you wanna try going into town again tomorrow?" You ask as your back hits the couch cushions once more, Rhett's heavy head settling on your chest the moment he can get away with it. Too eager to feel the thump of your heart against his scruffy, unshaven cheek.

And again, he hums. Some noise that he's been making more and more lately; you're starting to wonder if he just likes the way it feels in his throat. "C'n we try that funny lil coffee shop again?"

Likewise, you're beginning to question if you'll ever grow used to the way his breath tickles your skin. "Are you gonna hide behind me when the receipt prints?"

"That things unnatural," his head tilts just enough for him to peek at you from beneath his lashes.

"You're unnatural," it shoots out of your mouth before you can think twice, and you're already leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead to soothe your swiftly-spoken words, "house ghost."

All he does is grin so wide that his eyes curve with it.

[nurse-floyd]

How to Smile Again

After a horrific crash and weeks in the hospital, you’re almost back on your feet. You’re out for the rest of the season but your physio and trainer suggest equine assisted therapy for you to get your strength back and your head back on straight for the next season. You didn’t expect to fall for the handsome ranch and programme owner.

Coming Soon!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3