Page 22 of The Fire Line

She returned to the pie without requiring him to defend the lie, which was somehow worse than teasing him would have been.

By the time Della appeared in the doorway, the kitchen smelled like butter, fruit, and sugar. Jay had flour on his shirt and dough stuck to one hand.

Elise looked up. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“It’s my kitchen.”

“It’s your birthday.”

Della paused long enough to check the oven timer and answer a question from one of the kitchen staff before coming to the counter. Even on her birthday, she seemed incapable of entering the kitchen without registering what needed doing. Jay had initially taken the constant motion for fussing. After several days, he understood it differently. Della liked this—the menus and timing, the deliveries and staff, the quiet satisfaction of making sure everybody at Shaw Ranch got fed.

“I’m aware,” she said. “People have been behaving strangely toward me since breakfast.”

Her attention moved over the pies before settling on Jay. “Which one did he touch?”

Elise pointed to the peach pie.

“I washed my hands,” Jay said defensively.

“That wasn’t my concern.”

He put a hand over his heart. “I brought artistry.”

“You brought fingerprints.” Della brushed flour from his sleeve. “You also missed a spot.”

“I’m just contributing texture.”

Della smiled despite herself. “You’ll fit in fine.”

The sentence landed with enough quiet force that Jay almost forgot to answer.

5

This Had Progressed Beyond Irritating

By the time Harris finally appeared, Jay had been at Della’s birthday party long enough to surrender his phone, drink half a beer, and be informed that the surrender was nonnegotiable.

The event barn looked nothing like it had the night before. The wedding linens were gone, replaced by long wooden tables crowded with mismatched plates, serving dishes, beer bottles, and flowers from Elise’s garden. Neighbors kept arriving through the open doors carrying food and folding chairs, and ranch hands Jay had spent all week filming in dust-covered work clothes had become briefly difficult to recognize in clean shirts.

Priya had changed into a red dress. Eli had changed into a clean shirt over the same jeans and declared that sufficient observance of a special occasion. Jay had gone with a linen button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, then reminded himself this was a ranch birthday and not the premiere of a film nobody had financed yet.

Della intercepted the three of them near the entrance with a glass of wine in one hand.

“No cameras.”

“Locked away,” Jay said.

“Phones too.”

Eli looked offended. “That feels unconstitutional.”

“Not in my barn.”

They surrendered those too. Della kissed each of them on the cheek.

“Good boys.”

Jay looked at Priya. “Did we just get adopted?”