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"Yes!" Ace pumps his hand in the air.

"You help too," my older sister Evelyn orders her three kids.

They all take armfuls of baked goods into the house.

"So." Sebastian falls into step beside me as we haul another box of lights toward the barn. "Tell me about her. The real version, not the church prayer group version."

I groan. "This town needs to get a life."

"Exactly why I live in Dallas. Now tell me about her."

The grin forms on my face again. "Her name's Lainey. We met at the Red Dirt last New Year's."

"Right. I got that part. She's the one you've been pining over, right?" he smirks.

I ignore him and say, "Charlie's six weeks old. I found out two days ago." I set the box down, glancing toward the porch. Lainey's currently getting cross-examined by Georgia. I add, "It's a long story."

"I've got a long weekend." He grins, nudging my shoulder.

I chuckle.

He pats me on the back again. He says with excitement, "Welcome to fatherhood. Get ready for dirty diapers and sleepless nights."

"You make it sound so fun," I tease.

Pride lights up his face. "It is. Most of the time. But it's nice to see you looking happy again, bro."

I nod. "I am."

"Good. You've earned it."

We don't say anything else and string lights on the barn.

Lunch happens in shifts, plates balanced on knees and porch railings, nobody bothering to sit at an actual table. There's too much work left to justify the time.

After we eat, Dad holds court from his lawn chair, directing the inflatable placement operation with the seriousness of a general running a campaign. Mom and Lorraine play a few rounds of hide-and-seek with the kids until they're too out of breath.

Wilder and Ace rope Sebastian into an impromptu football game that Isabella supervises from the sidelines. She brings out a clipboard she found in the barn and keeps score very seriously. Emma's turned her stick into a magic wand, and she points and says, "Bam!" every so often.

"Your family's chaos," Georgia tells me at one point, catching me refilling my cider near the porch table.

"You're telling me this after how many years of marriage?" I point out.

She laughs. "He warned me. Words didn't do it justice." She glances toward the barn. "It's good, though. Chaotic, but good."

"And you're telling me this why?"

She glances at the barn again and shrugs. "Might want to check in with Lainey and make sure she's deciphering it all. She seems wonderful, for what it's worth.

"She is," I assure her. "But thanks for the heads-up. I'm going to go check on her." I stroll across the yard and step into the barn. The door swings shut behind me.

Thick, warm, heavy air hits me. It's all hay and horses and old wood. Dust hangs in the thin strips of light leaking through the gaps in the boards. I stand still for a second, letting my eyes adjust, listening.

Soft sounds drift from the back with the scrape of boots on dirt and the quiet rustle of fabric. My pulse kicks harder. That restless ache I've been carrying all day tightens. I move past the stalls and stacked bales, my boots quiet on the packed earth.

Lainey's near the far wall, half hidden by a tall stack of fresh hay. She's putting a laser back in its case, her braid sliding over one shoulder. The denim of her jeans hugs the curve of her ass. The soft cotton of her work shirt clings to the line of her back.

I slide my hand over her ass and lightly squeeze. "Hey."