Back at the barn, Ryder eased the Massey Ferguson back into its stall with the same confidence he used to guide a bull rope—smooth, controlled, no wasted motion. He cut the engine, swung the heavy door open, and reached his hand down for Isobel. She slid into his grip, light as breath, and he followed after, boots thudding against the packed dirt.

“Oh my goodness, that was a blast!” Isobel laughed, her cheeks flushed, leaping into Ryder’s arms before he could steady himself. She wound ...