The knock came just as Ryder was sliding the baking pan into the oven, the scent of lemon and sage curling through the kitchen like a promise. He wiped his hands on a linen towel, crossed the hardwood, and opened the door.

Isobel stood there in a long, soft dress that caught the light with every breath she took. Spaghetti straps bared her shoulders, and her hair framed her face in loose waves.

His voice dropped, warm and easy. “Well, darlin’, you look like you just stepped out of one of ...