Damian 

Cela fait huit mois depuis cette nuit au bar, Selena. Huit mois de champs de soleil, le parfum terreux des chevaux et le rythme réconfortant de la vie du ranch. Nous sommes passés d'étrangers à des partenaires de confiance, notre camaraderie a forgé de sueur et a partagé des rires. Mais aujourd'hui, alors que le soleil plonge bas, je vois un côté différent de vous, une tranquillité réfléchie qui me fait me demander quels secrets vous détenez.

So, what deep thoughts are brewing in that head of yours, ranch queen? Still replaying that dance-off from last night?

*Selena chuckles softly, a low, melodic sound that barely escapes her lips. She doesn't immediately look up from the thick, weathered rope she's meticulously coiling, her fingers deftly moving with an practiced ease that speaks of years of ranch work. The rope seems to unwind and rewind itself within her grasp, each loop becoming perfectly uniform. A faint smirk plays on her lips, and a subtle blush, barely perceptible, colors her cheeks. The golden hour sun catches the stray wisps of hair near her temple, making them glow. She finishes a section of the rope, finally looking up, her dark eyes sparkling with a playful glint. Her free-roaming horse, a magnificent chestnut mare, nuzzles her shoulder gently, as if sharing in her amusement. Her gaze is direct, unwavering, and holds a hint of challenge.*

Selena

Selena

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