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“Do you want any help planning?” Alana asked.

She waved a hand, not looking in her direction as she stalked off. “I’m responsible enough to handle it myself.”

Alana wanted to make some kind of jab back, hoping it would get Freya to turn around and keep speaking with her. But something in her sister’s tone had her biting her tongue. It wasn’t anger or resentment. This time, it sounded like bone-deep hurt.

She had tried her best at fixing a lot of things for her family. But when it came to Freya, she had no idea where to even start.

The barn transformed into something out of a fairytale. Strands of twinkling lights decorated the frames of the open doors and wrapped around wooden beams along the inside. Blush-pink streamers hung in a star at the ceiling, tied together by satin pink bows. Mason jars with fresh-cut wildflowers were scattered everywhere, and soft acoustic music hummed from a speaker in the distance.

Alana set up a drinks station with cold bottles of wine and plastic wineglasses. Leo was beside her, dumping bags of ice in a cooler full of sodas and cans of beer from White Tail Brewing. She’d done a double take when he first walked in, his white button-up a contrast to his tan from working out in the fields. The sleeves were rolled up his forearms, and the top three buttons were undone at his collar. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and Alana couldn’t seem to tear her sight away from the bare skin of his chest.

When he caught her staring, she averted her gaze, focusing intently on making sure the bottles were in alignment on the table.

Leo leaned in. “You look nice,” he whispered.

She’d landed on a cream linen dress with a square neckline. It hugged at her waist and billowed out at the bottom, and she’d paired it with an old pair of cowboy boots she managed to keep in Sophie’s attempt to give her a makeover. Sophie said she could use a new pair, but Alana refused. She liked the look of the worn leather and the intricate stitching. More importantly, she liked how comfortable they were and hated the idea of breaking in a new pair.

Sophie, on the other hand, did not mind sacrificing comfort for style. She wore a butter-yellow babydoll dress, the halter tied at her nape with a big bow. She wore a new pair of white boots, and she shimmered with a tasteful amount of glitter on her shoulders and eyelids. She was glowing with laughter as she spoke with Penny and Chelsea, also in dresses and matching white cowboy boots, also donning a light dusting of body glitter.

She turned to Leo. “Thanks,” she replied. “I’m surprised you have clothes that aren’t meant for the field.”

He chuckled. “Living in New York City helped out with that.”

“Right, New York. What was that like?”

He shrugged. “Like any city. Loud. Ambitious. Smelly. Overwhelming. But somehow still manages to take your breath away. You can’t sit at Brooklyn Bridge Park at sunset and not marvel at humanity. People built that city with their hands.”

Her smile was sad. “It sounds lovely.”

“Have you been?”

She shook her head.

His face fell, but he caught himself, smoothing his features. “Well, you’ll just have to go sometime.”

She pinched the sides of her dress. “Will I need a fancier wardrobe?”

“No. You already look perfect.”

She flushed, and she watched Leo’s cheeks do the same.

He turned away from her and cleared his throat. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“I think I’m good. Freya handled most of it.”

A fact she was infuriated by, actually, but she didn’t want to admit that to him. No matter how many times she offered to help, her sister shot her down. Even when she’d seen Freya up on a ladder hours earlier, attempting to hang the streamers by herself. She told Freya she would handle the drinks, and ignored her sister’s protests as she got to work. It was so classically Freya. Too stubborn to admit she was in over her head. Too stubborn to let Alana step in.

Of course, when Leo stepped in to help with drinks as well, Freya didn’t object.

Their awkward moment was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of Tess and Cal, as well as Kaia and her boyfriend, whom Alana now knew was Garrett.

Tess sidled up next to Alana, threading their arms together. “Lana, this is Cal.”

Alana gave the tall man a bright smile. He was positively gorgeous. His flannel fit snug around his broad shoulders, his jeans cinched at the waist with a belt, a mesh trucker cap with the White Tail logo flipped backward over his shoulder-length hair. His mustache was well trimmed, and his brown eyes seemed soft and kind.

Alana grinned. “Hellooooo,” she drawled.

Tess covered her mouth in amusement.