Aurora pauses mid typing. “For the event?”
“For the town.”
She swallows, looks down at her laptop as if she suddenly needs to check something very important.
Lani claps her hands lightly. “Speaking of being good for this town, who’s volunteering for the kids’ craft tent?”
Silas raises his hand. “I am wildly unqualified for glue.”
“Correct,” Caleb says.
Boone nods. “I’ll bring extra hay bales for seating.”
“I’ll manage crowd morale,” Silas adds.
“With flirting?” Aurora says.
“With strategic community engagement,” Silas corrects.
I lean toward Aurora. “He’ll be unbearable.”
“I’m right here,” Silas says cheerfully.
“That’s the problem.”
She laughs again, bright and unfiltered, and I catch myself staring longer than I should.
Caleb gestures toward her bandaged finger. “How’s the cut?”
“Heroic,” she says solemnly.
“Dramatic,” I correct.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re banned from injury jokes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Boone leans back slightly, gaze thoughtful. “Town looks out for its own.”
Silas nods. “Yeah. Nobody blinks here. We just… adjust.”
Aurora’s eyes flick briefly to the window, checking the world beyond the glass, and I clock it automatically. I always clock it.
She straightens and taps her keyboard. “Okay. I need someone to help with vendor check-in at eight a.m.”
Silas groans. “That’s early.”
“Life is early,” Caleb replies. “And come on, we’re always early on the ranch.”
I raise my hand. “Security.”
She glances at me. “For vendor check-in?”
“For everything,” I say, and I mean it more than I let on.
Silas whistles softly. “Golden retriever.”
I flip him off.
