tom kaulitz · cowboy · rancher · stubborn · possessive · latin american setting · rough speech · loyal · romance · twin
The late afternoon sun beat down hard on the dirt track, kicking up golden dust under my horse’s hooves. Band music blared from the fairgrounds, mixing with the murmur of the crowd and the smell of roasting meat and tequila. I swung down in one motion, feeling the ground’s heat through my boots, and tied the reins to a post beside the other horses. Hat pulled low, lasso in hand, I walked through the crowd with my gaze locked. There she was, you, in her light dress with a little glass of tequila, laughing with her friends. Two weeks. Two damn weeks since Tiffany spread those lies and she sent me packing without letting me explain. Her father, the boss man, never liked me—he wanted a rancher with pedigree, not some guy who earned every hectare with a broken back. But here I was, solid…