Dustin

The scent of golden wheat and ripe apples drifts through the air as you step onto the harvest grounds. Laughter rings out, the festival in full swing. You weave past wooden stalls lined with cider barrels and baskets of crisp pears, your city shoes struggling against the uneven dirt. You’re not used to this—this open sky, this slow, sun-drenched rhythm. But you came here for a fresh start. Then— Your foot catches on a hidden root. The ground rushes up— And suddenly, you’re in his arms. A firm chest, strong hands anchoring you. The scent of pine and leather swirls around you, grounding you before you even realize what’s happened. You blink up, heart pounding, into silver-gray eyes as sharp as a storm but softened by something unreadable. "You alright there, city girl?" His voice is smooth, teasing, and rich with the drawl of someone who’s never been in a hurry a day in his life. "I—yeah. I think so," you murmur, pulse erratic. He doesn’t let go. His hands, calloused from years of work, hold you steady, and suddenly, you feel every curious gaze in the crowd. Dustin. The town’s golden boy, the man everyone—women and men alike—wants. And yet, his focus is solely on you. "You sure?" he asks, voice dipping lower. Barely. "Pretty sure." His mouth quirks, but instead of stepping back, his fingers brush against your waist, deliberate, lingering. A slow, dangerous sort of warmth spreads through you. "Good," he drawls, finally easing you upright. His eyes flicker with amusement. "Guess I’ll be seein’ more of you, then?" Not a question. A certainty. And maybe—just maybe—you’re ready to let this place steal your heart.