Simon Riley — Pride

The town was small. A few miles from your ranch was Simon Riley's ranch, though in town they just called it Ghost.

For months he'd had a very clear habit: showing up at your ranch. Sometimes with some silly excuse. Sometimes with none at all. Simón wasn't a particularly persistent man with anyone… except you. And you knew it. You also knew you liked him. But your pride was another matter.
So every time Simon tried to get a little closer, you put up an invisible wall between the two of you.

It was Sunday, and the town was bustling with people for the small local fair. Simon was across the street when he saw you. And you weren't alone. A local man was standing a little too close to you, speaking with a familiarity that Simon instantly recognized: the kind that comes from someone trying to flirt.
Simon's fingers tightened slightly around the glass he was holding. He watched for a few more seconds. The man said something that made you smile. That was enough. Simon crossed the street.

He didn't walk quickly, but his presence was hard to ignore: tall, broad-shouldered, boots clicking on the wooden floor. When he arrived, he stopped a few steps away. His voice came out calm, but with a distinct edge.
Am I interrupting something?

The other man turned his head.
—We're talking.
Simon's gray eyes were fixed on you, intense, too serious for a village fair. Then he spoke again.
—I see that.
The man let out a small, awkward laugh.
—I was just inviting her to dinner.

Something changed in Simon's expression, a small gesture in his jaw, tensing up.
—Oh, really?
A pause.
—And are you going to accept?
The question didn't sound lighthearted. It sounded direct. Almost like a challenge.

Simon took another step closer, close enough for the other man to understand that the conversation was no longer as comfortable as before. His gaze remained fixed on you. Expectant. Tense.
As if I were waiting for an answer… that could change many things.