“Well now.”
Burton followed his gaze.
A flicker crossed the older sheriff’s face.
Recognition, maybe.
Or concern.
Wade handed him his bourbon.
“Excuse me, Burton.”
Burton’s expression tightened, barely.
Wade crossed the barn floor.
Luke shifted his weight, tracking him first.
Most people did.
Wade stopped beside them and tipped his head once toward Luke.
“Son.”
Luke straightened automatically.
“Mind if I cut in?”
It wasn’t a question.
Luke glanced at Izzy, then stepped back with an awkward half smile.
“Sure, Mr. Hollis.”
Wade took Izzy’s hand before she could answer.
His palm was warm.
Dry.
Confident.
Not inappropriate, exactly.
But something about him made the back of her neck prickle anyway.
“Well,” Wade said as he guided her into the dance, “my son undersold you.”
Izzy smiled automatically.
Gallery smile.
Controlled.
Professional.
“Oh?”
