“Don’t have to, do I?”
No. Not with those rolled-up sleeves and slow-burn charm. Not with the way he made me feel like I was the only one in his world.
Noah glanced up at the sky. “Isn’t it getting dark out here?”
Sunset had already dipped past the horizon.
I smirked. “That’s usually what happens around this time.”
“Smartass,” he huffed. “I meant, I forgot to bring the portable light.”
“Well, I’m not afraid of the dark.”
“Yeah, but eating in the dark?” he insisted. “Kinda hard to tell if I’m cutting into my pie or my thumb.”
“Sounds like a you problem. At least we won’t have to see each other’s messy faces.”
“True,” he mused, leaning back on his elbows. His hand shifted against the ground. “Huh. What’s this?”
“What?”
“Feels like…a cable or something.” He brushed his fingers through the grass. “Weird.”
That was enough to pull me in. I leaned closer just as he gave it a tug.
And the world around us transformed.
Gauzy, milky lights flickered to life, stretching in a perfect, glowing arc around us, casting everything in a dreamy haze.
I sucked in a breath. “Noah…”
He shot me a smug grin. “Borrowed these from the wedding inventory. But hey, no one’s gonna notice before I return them. Eventually.”
I shook my head, but a tiny smile crept onto my lips. I couldn’t stop it if I tried.
Noah offered me a slice of pie. I took a bite, the flaky crustgiving way to rich, savory filling. My eyes fluttered shut for a second. “Damn, that’s good. And how the hell did you keep it warm?”
Noah smirked. “I’ll take full credit, thanks.”
“Hey, you didn’t bake it!”
“Okay, maybe not full credit. Mrs. Sutton gave me strict instructions.” He leaned in like he was letting me in on a secret. “Three-fifty, ten minutes. No more, no less. And that bag—” he glanced at the insulated food bag, “—did the rest.”
“So, basically, you followed directions. Amazing.”
“Hey, don’t undermine my effort. That oven and I went to war.”
I took another bite, unable to hide my grin. “Well, you won.”
The night settled around us, the river a slow-moving mirror for the stars stretching above. We lay back on the blanket, side by side, close enough that his arm brushed mine.
Noah exhaled, watching the sky. “You ever think about how small we are?”
“Existential crisis in the middle of pie?” I mused.
“Just saying, all that up there? It makes me wonder.” He pointed at the stars. “I spent so much time chasing big things like career, success, and proving I could make something of myself outside the ranch. And now? I’m here. And it doesn’t feel small at all.”
I traced a finger over the fabric of the blanket. “Yeah, I get that.”
