And Beck was chasing a hyperactive rescue goat named Louie around the dining room, while Louie bleated triumphantly through a mouthful of pastel napkin shreds. My other brother, Liam, took that moment to lead the goat outside and back to the pen where all the other rescues behaved, except for Barcode.
The lodge guests had been fed hours earlier, but this was our family time.
It was the usual holiday chaos, but today it felt… loaded.
Because everyone, every single one of them, was watching me a fraction too closely.
“Sienna,” Violet sang in a suspiciously innocent tone, “you look… glowy.”
“I’m not glowy.”
“You’re glowing,” Fifi confirmed. “And twitchy.”
“I’mnottwitchy.”
My foot tapped.
Okay. Maybe I was twitchy.
“Just breathe,” Violet whispered in my ear. “And try not to swoon when he walks in.”
“I don’t swoon.”
“Mm-hmm,” she said knowingly. “Sure.”
I flicked a carrot slice at her.
Beck leaned over the railing from upstairs. “Is he here yet?”
“Beck!” I snapped. “Stop using your lookout voice!”
“What? I want to see how fancy his Easter outfit is. The man owns three shirts. This is a big deal.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to shut his face, but the door opened…and shut.
Every Harper family member froze like a herd of deer that had never been hunted but somehow knew danger when it walked in.
I swallowed.
Stood straighter.
Tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
And told myself,don’t think about the tent.
I turned to see him.
And every coherent thought evaporated.
Carson stood holding a small bouquet of tulips like he was about to be crowned Most Polite Man in America. He wore a navy button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, soft brown chinos, and a beard trim so precise it should have been illegal.
His biceps were doing… whatever biceps do when men work out more than once a year.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Hi,” he said softly.
His voice hit me low in my stomach.
