"Hey," Liam said, his attention caught by something over my shoulder. "There's someone I want you to meet."
He guided me through the crowd toward a man standing near the horseshoe pits with Owen. He looked to be in his sixties, weathered and lean in the way of men who'd spent their lives working outdoors. His silver hair was tucked under a worn Stetson, and his eyes crinkled when he saw Liam approaching.
"There's the man of the hour," he said, his voice gruff but warm. "Owen tells me you've been keeping busy out at the ranch."
"Trying to, sir." Liam shook his hand, then turned to me. "Steph, this is Tom Morrison. He's been our neighbor since before I was born. Tom, this is Stephanie."
Tom's eyes softened as he looked at me, and something shifted in his expression—recognition, maybe, but not the kind I was used to. Something deeper.
"So you're the famous Stephanie," he said, taking my hand in both of his. "I've heard a lot about you over the years. It's real good to finally meet you in person."
"Over the years?" I glanced at Liam, confused.
"Tom is the one who lent me his jet," Liam said quietly. "And his helicopter. When I came to get you in LA."
The air rushed out of my lungs.
"I—" My voice cracked. I tried again. "I don't know how to thank you. What you did—lending Liam your plane, your helicopter—I don't even know you, and you just..."
"Didn't need to know you," Tom said simply. "I know Liam. Known him since he was knee-high, running around my barn trying to fix things." His grip on my hand tightened briefly. "When Owen called and said Liam needed to get to someone important, that was all I needed to hear. Any friend of this family is a friend of mine."
Tears pricked at my eyes. "Still. Thank you. I don't think I'd be standing here if you hadn't helped."
Tom released my hand and nodded once, gruff and embarrassed by the emotion. "You're standing here because Liam moved heaven and earth to get to you. I just provided the transportation." He clapped Liam on the shoulder. "You take care of this one, you hear? She's got good manners. That's rare these days."
I bit back a giggle, and Liam’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. "Yes, sir. I intend to."
Tom wandered off toward the horseshoe tournament, and I turned to Liam, still shaky from the encounter. "You never told me his name. All this time, I didn't know who to thank."
"You didn't need to thank anyone. Getting you home safe was all that mattered."
"It matters to me." I rose on my toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for introducing us."
"Come on." He tugged my hand. "There's a band setting up in the square. We should go dance."
"Dance?" I laughed nervously. "In public?"
"That's generally where dancing happens."
"But people will see?—"
"People will see a couple dancing at a festival. That's all." He squeezed my hand. "Trust me?"
I looked at him—this man who'd flown across the country to save me, who'd given me space to heal, who'd loved me patiently and completely since we were kids.
"Always."
The band was a local group—guitar, fiddle, and a drummer—setting up on a makeshift stage in the center of the square. They launched into a country song I didn't recognize, something twangy and sweet about summertime and falling in love.
The Blackwoods had claimed a corner of the dance area. Wyatt and Ivy swayed together, her head on his shoulder, his hands gentle on her back. Owen spun Louisa around, both of them moving with the easy grace of decades of partnership. Even Clay had found a partner—a pretty brunette who seemed amused by his awkward two-step.
Liam pulled me into his arms, and everything else faded away.
"I should warn you," I said as he guided me into a slow sway, "I'm used to having a choreographer telling me exactly where to step. This whole 'improvising in someone's arms' thing is new territory."
"You're doing fine." His hand was warm on my lower back, steady and sure.
"That's because you're leading. I'm just trying not to step on your boots."
