The first days on the farm challenged everything he thought he knew about himself.
On his second morning, Elena caught him standing outside in his immaculate suit, staring helplessly at a corral full of horses.
She laughed. "You look like you're about to negotiate with them."
He couldn't help smiling. "They look… unpredictable."
"They are. That's why they're fun."
Her hand brushed his arm—light, reassuring, electric.
She helped him into proper boots and a flannel shirt she insisted he borrow until she could take him shopping for real farm clothes.
"You're a city boy," she teased, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt as she stood close enough that he felt her breath on his neck. "But we'll fix that."
When she led him toward her favorite mare, her fingers tightened around his wrist—not fearful, but guiding, firm, confident. There was a quiet command in her touch. A sweetness woven into strength.
It stirred something inside him he didn't fully understand—something he had only ever explored in darker, colder ways back in the city. But with Elena, the sensation was different.
Soft.
Safe.
Beautiful.
"Put your hands here," she murmured, guiding him to the horse's reins. Her hands closed over his, her cheek brushing his shoulder. "Horses respond to calm energy. Gentle control. Not force."
He swallowed hard. "I'm more used to… a different kind of control."
She looked up at him—steady, knowing, unafraid.
"You don't need that here," she whispered. "Not with me."
The words were simple.
But they unraveled him completely.