Ryder and Isobel strolled down the aisle toward the barn, the scent of fresh hay and leather heavy in the air, sunlight cutting through the cracks in the wooden siding like golden ribbons. Their smiles were wide, their eyes fastened to each other as if the whole world had blurred into background noise.
The instant they stepped inside, Ryder tugged her toward the small tack room he’d used earlier to dress. He shut the door behind them with a decisive click, his hand sliding the lock into place.
“Ryder, what is this?” Isobel whispered, half laughing, half breathless, the flush of the day still on her cheeks.
“I want a moment alone with my wife.” His voice dropped low, thick with that drawl that hadn’t quite lost its New York edge. Before she could answer, he pressed her gently against the
