The last light of day cracked open the sky in a wash of fire—golds and corals streaked with violet, the kind of sunset that makes a soul ache. Terry and Wren swung open the barn doors wide, and the darkness inside was suddenly alive—hundreds of tiny round lights strung like constellations across weathered beams, lace-draped tables glimmering beneath them like a dream.
Isobel’s fingers laced tighter through Ryder’s, her pulse racing. “What is all this?”
Ryder leaned closer, his low drawl brushed with that city-bred polish. “I figured since everybody was here, we oughta have ourselves another fireside gathering. Thought it’d be perfect.”
And right on cue, a bonfire roared to life just outside the barn doors, sparks lifting into the night like fireflies.
The barn swelled with sound—laught
