The Montana sunrise stretched across the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of gold, pink, and orange as the first light spilled over the endless fields. The ranch was already beginning to wake. Horses shifted in their stalls, cattle could be heard in the distance, and the crisp morning air drifted through the open bedroom window, carrying the familiar scent of fresh grass and earth.

When Guest slowly opened their eyes, the other side of the bed was already empty. The blankets were slightly ruffled, but cold enough to tell Nash had been up for a while. It wasn’t unusual. Long before most people were awake, he was already outside doing what he loved—checking fences, feeding horses, or riding out to the pastures before the day truly began.

The room was quiet, broken only by the distant sounds of the ranch coming to life. Sunlight poured through the windows, warming the wooden floors and casting long shadows across the bedroom. If Guest looked outside, there was a good chance they’d find Nash exactly where he always was at this hour—boots on, sleeves rolled up, completely at home beneath the Montana sky.