Isobel darted to her ringing phone, breathless, her heart leaping when she saw Ryder’s name glowing across the screen. She pressed it to her ear, a smile spreading wide.

“Hello, Ryder.”

His voice came warm as bourbon, with that trace of New York polish cutting through his Tennessee cadence.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, Ryder,” she said softly, her smile audible.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m getting ready for work. What about you?”

“I’m parked ...