After rinsing the last fork and sliding it into the dishwasher, Isobel felt the weight of Ryder’s arms circle her waist, pulling her back into the easy strength of him. The kitchen lights were dim, the faint hum of the machine filling the silence as he led her into the living room. They collapsed together onto the leather couch, Ryder’s arm stretched along the backrest, anchoring her close.

The glow of the television flickered across the room as she scrolled through the channels, finally ...