My boots crunched over the dried leaves as I made my way closer to the woods, the sound somehow too loud against the backdrop of distant laughter and the crackling bonfire. The night air had a bite to it, sharp and cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to fend off the chill creeping into my bones.

But as soon as I stepped away from the crowd, the casual mask fell. I glanced over my shoulder, making sure no one was watching, before I quickened my pace toward the woods. The air grew cooler the closer I got, the scent of pine and earth stronger than the smoke from the fire. The path Caleb had pointed out was barely visible, just a narrow strip of dirt that disappeared into the trees, swallowed by the shadows.

"Colt?" I called out softly, more to myself than anything, my voice barely carrying in the thickening darkness. The trees loomed around me, their branches whispering secrets I couldn't quite catch. I hesitated at the edge of the woods, my feet wanting to move forward but my mind urging me to turn back. What if he didn't want to be found? What if he was with someone else?

I told myself that I was being ridiculous, that there was nothing to worry about. Colt was just out here somewhere, probably having a moment to himself. And it wasn't like we were anything more than friends, anyway. Just two people who had spent a lot of time together lately.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before taking a step into the woods. The ground was uneven, roots and rocks jutting out, making it difficult to walk without tripping. The deeper I went, the more isolated I felt, the sounds of the bonfire fading into a distant murmur, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

I had almost convinced myself that Colt had just wandered off to clear his head when I heard it—a soft laugh, feminine, followed by a low murmur of voices. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, straining to hear more. The voices were coming from just up ahead, around the bend in the path, and I knew without a doubt that one of them was Colt's.

I bit my lip, feeling a sharp sting of something I didn't want to name. He wasn't mine. I repeated the thought in my head like a mantra, trying to convince myself that I had no reason to be upset. But the more I told myself that, the more it felt like a lie.

I took a step forward, the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. The voices became clearer as I approached, and I recognized the low, easy drawl of Colt's voice mingling with the soft, lilting tones of a woman. They weren't talking loudly, but the intimacy in their exchange was unmistakable.

My chest tightened, and I felt a lump forming in my throat. This was exactly what I had feared, the reason I had hesitated to follow him out here. I could turn back now, save myself the heartache, but something deep inside pushed me forward. I had to see for myself, even if it hurt.

Rounding the bend, I spotted them—Colt leaning casually against a tree, his cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes, and a woman standing close, too close, her hand resting on his arm as she laughed at something he said. Her giggle was soft, almost a whisper, and she leaned in, her face near his neck, her lips brushing against his skin.

A sharp pang shot through me, but I swallowed it down, trying to keep my emotions in check. They weren't doing anything wrong, not really. Colt wasn't mine, and I had no right to be jealous. But that knowledge did nothing to ease the ache in my chest, the gnawing feeling of betrayal even though no promises had been broken.

I took a step back, ready to retreat before they noticed me, but my foot caught on a root, snapping a twig beneath me. Colt's head snapped up, his cobalt blue eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. The easy smile he had been wearing slipped away, replaced by something I couldn't quite read—guilt, surprise, maybe even regret. The girl turned, too, her expression shifting from flirtatious to defensive as she realized they weren't alone.

"Lemon," he breathed, as if my name were a question.

The air felt thick, almost suffocating, as my heart pounded in my chest. I could feel the sting of tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I swallowed hard, trying to force down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. Colt's expression was unreadable, and that hurt more than anything else.

"Sorry," I choked out, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

The girl standing beside him crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as if I were the intruder in a place I had no right to be. Colt opened his mouth to say something, but I couldn't stay to hear it. My heart was breaking, and the last thing I wanted was to fall apart in front of him, in front of anyone.

I turned on my heel and ran, the tears spilling down my cheeks as I pushed through the underbrush. The branches scratched at my arms, but I barely noticed. My mascara was probably smudged, streaking down my face, but I didn't care. I just needed to get away.

By the time I reached the edge of the woods, my breath was coming in ragged gasps, and I forced myself to slow down, to take a deep breath. But it didn't help. The ache in my chest felt like a physical weight, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

I wiped at my eyes, trying to clear the tears away, but they kept coming. My hand trembled as I reached up to brush away the streaks of mascara that had run down my cheeks. I must have looked a mess, but I couldn't seem to stop the flow of emotions that were crashing over me.

I sniffled, shaking my head as if that could somehow clear away the pain. But it was useless.

Everything hurt. My chest, my heart, my pride. It all felt like it was crumbling beneath me.

Suddenly, I collided with something solid—no, someone. My breath caught in my throat as I stumbled back, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady myself. Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus, to see who I had just run into. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell slightly into his eyes. He looked down at me, his brows furrowed in concern as he took in my tear-streaked face.

"Whoa there," he said, his voice soft, almost soothing. It was a tone I hadn't expected from someone so imposing, and it made me pause, the panic inside me easing just a little. "You okay?"

I shook my head, trying to compose myself, but the tears wouldn't stop. "I'm sorry," I stammered, my voice trembling. "I didn't mean to—"

He cut me off, his hand resting gently on my arm. "No need to apologize," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

I looked up at him, blinking rapidly to try to keep the tears at bay, really seeing him for the first time. He was handsome, with sharp, angular features softened by the firelight. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he'd just run his fingers through it, and his eyes—a striking shade of hazel that seemed to shift with the light—were filled with genuine concern. There was something about the way he looked at me, not with pity but with a quiet understanding, that made the pain in my chest feel just a little less unbearable.

"I just—" I started, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say? That I'd just seen Colt with another woman? That I felt like a fool for even caring? It all sounded so childish, so ridiculous, and yet the pain was real, raw, and sharp.

The man didn't press me, didn't demand an explanation. He simply waited, his gaze never leaving mine, his expression open and patient. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Colt, huh?" He guessed, his tone dipping with just the slightest edge of bitterness. The way he said Colt's name, with that almost imperceptible sneer, sent a chill down my spine. I didn't respond, my mind still spinning from everything I'd just seen. His hand slid down to mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that sent another shiver through me, but this one was different. "Let me guess, he did something to upset you?"

I opened my mouth, wanting to defend Colt, to tell this stranger that it wasn't like that, but the words stuck in my throat. I couldn't shake the image of Colt with that girl, her hands on him, her lips so close to his neck. The sting of it was still too fresh, too raw.

"Excuse me," I muttered, starting to pull away, but his grip tightened, his hand warm and firm around mine.

"No need to be in such a hurry," he said smoothly, his voice laced with a casual charm that was hard to resist. He glanced back in the direction I'd come from, something dark flickering in his eyes before he turned his attention back to me. "Looks like you could use a drink. How about we head back to the fire?"

I should have said no. I knew that. But my voice failed me, the knot in my throat tightening as I allowed him to lead me back toward the glow of the bonfire. His arm slipped around my waist, his touch too familiar, too intimate, but I didn't stop him. Maybe I didn't want to.

"By the way," he said, his voice low and smooth, "I don't think I introduced myself properly back there. I'm Rhett. Rhett Weston."

The name didn't immediately ring a bell, but then, as I stared up at him, something clicked. He wasn't just some stranger—I'd seen him before, months ago at a rodeo. He was a bull rider, one of the best, if I remembered correctly.

"You're a bull rider," I said, the realization dawning on me as I remembered the name. "I've seen you ride before."

A slow smile spread across Rhett's face, and there was something almost dangerous in the way his eyes glinted with amusement. "That's right. And I've seen you, too, Lemon. A few months back, at the rodeo. You were damn impressive out there."

"Thanks," I muttered, not quite sure how to respond.

"You know," Rhett continued, his voice still smooth, still laced with that casual charm, "I was hoping I'd run into you again. Didn't expect it to be like this, though."

I hummed a response as we neared the fire. The flickering light cast long shadows across the ground, and I could feel the eyes of the partygoers on us. The atmosphere had shifted, the laughter and chatter dimming as something heavier settled over the gathering. As we approached, I could feel the eyes of the others on us, their curious glances.

Rhett guided me to a spot where the whiskey was being passed around like water. He handed me a cup, and without thinking, I downed the drink in one go, the burn of the whiskey searing my throat and making my eyes water.

"Easy, tiger," Rhett murmured, his voice low and smooth, as he took the empty cup from my trembling hands. His breath was warm against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold night air.

"Let's dance," Rhett suggested, his voice low and coaxing. He didn't wait for me to agree—he just led me toward the makeshift dance floor, pulling me close the moment we were surrounded by the other couples swaying to the music.