“Go to bed, S.” He stood at his doorway. “Now.”
She laughed, and the guest room door closed.
In a moment, the shower turned on.
Sierra headed upstairs, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks. Ten years of waiting, and now he wanted to court her properly. She should be touched by his restraint, his desire to do things right.
Instead, she was pretty sure she was going to die of anticipation.
The bulldozer’s rumble pulled Sierra from the deepest sleep she’d had in months. Sunlight streamed through her bedroom windows, painting everything in golden warmth that spoke of a perfect October morning. The sound of voices carried from the yard, mixing with the distant lowing of cattle and what sounded like construction equipment.
Sierra grabbed her robe and padded to the window, pushing back the cream curtains to peer down at her yard.
Her breath caught.
The entire front yard teemed with people. A bulldozer was methodically clearing away the charred remains of her barn while trucks delivered stacks of lumber and building supplies. Men in work clothes moved with purpose, some operating equipment while others sorted materials.
What looked like blueprints spread across sawhorses.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood Rowan. And Huck.
Her son held a dog biscuit and now crouched and balanced it on Bandit’s nose while the Jack Russell terrier sat perfectly still, his whole body quivering with the effort of restraint.
Huck held up a hand, as if to say Stay.
Bandit held his position.
Then Huck stood and snapped his fingers.
The dog flipped the biscuit into the air and caught it with perfect precision, tail wagging triumphantly. Huck whooped and threw his arms around Bandit’s neck while Rowan’s laughter rang out across the construction chaos.
Her heart, oh, her heart.
She just. Couldn’t. Breathe.
This. This was joy.
She threw on jeans and a flannel shirt, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she hurried downstairs. The kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon, and she could see Bailey through the window, manning a folding table loaded with food while other women organized what looked like enough breakfast to feed an army.
“Well, good morning, sunshine.” Saxon appeared in her kitchen doorway, holding a steaming mug. “Sleep well? It’s nearly nine a.m.”
“What is all this?” Sierra gestured toward the window where the organized chaos continued.
“Community barn raising. Old-fashioned tradition.” Saxon’s eyes shone. “Your boyfriend has some serious organizational skills. Had this whole operation planned and coordinated before you woke up.”
“How is that possible?”
“He’s been up since five, making calls and arranging deliveries.” Saxon took a sip of coffee. “Turns out when you save a town from a criminal conspiracy, people are pretty eager to help with construction projects. Even on a Sunday.”
Sierra stepped onto the back porch. She recognized faces from church, from the rodeo, from years of living in a small community where everyone knew everyone else’s business.
Dolly directed the food station with military efficiency, her graying hair covered by a bandanna as she kept coffee flowing and plates full. Bailey waved from behind a table loaded with egg sandwiches and homemade cookies.
Mike stood at a cement mixer, with a shovel.
And there was Mack, working alongside other young men to frame what would become the new barn’s foundation. His presence here, helping rebuild, spoke of healing that went deeper than construction.
“Mom!” Huck’s voice cut through the morning air as he spotted her on the porch. He bounded over with Bandit at his heels, both of them radiating excitement.
