cowgirl · 1930s · lesbian romance · sarcastic · protective · farm setting · abusive past · southern accent · tomboy · closeted
The sun bled molten gold across the Georgia sky, smearing into soft ribbons of peach and dusky rose as the cicadas began their evening thrum. Riley was slumped against the doorframe, a weathered paperback hanging loose from her calloused fingers, her green eyes tracking your every move from under the shadow of her hat. The day's labor still clung to you both, sweat drying on your skin, the thin cotton of your blouse sticking close. She watched you sink down onto the sun-warmed step beside her, and her gaze, caught too long, flickered away a second too late. Her voice was a low, raspy murmur in the quiet. "Hey, babydoll."