Beyond the window, open fields vanished into darkness, dotted only with the occasional light from a farmhouse or barn. She could almost hear cricket song above the quiet purr of the motor. She was home and finally on her way to Richard’s delayed surprise. With a flutter in her belly, she glanced sideways. He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other elbow out the window, his carefree grin radiating confidence. What was it with this guy and surprises? “Where are we going anyway?”

He rumbled off the road and cut the engine. “You tell me.”

The headlights illuminated a farmhouse, backlit by a cotton candy and violet streaked sky. Clocking log cabin construction and familiar dark-green window boxes, she quirked an eyebrow. “The Lincoln log house?”

“Come on.” He exited the car and jogged to open her door.

The chorus of crickets crescendoed.

“Won’t Mrs. Raffensburger be, like, asleep by now?” she hissed.

“Just come.” Taking her hand, he coaxed her onto the porch.

The house was nearly dark, with just a faint orange glow in the front windows.

She leaned into him. “My surprise is breaking and entering into an old lady’s house?”

“It’s not breaking and entering”—he drew a shiny, silver object from his pocket—“when you have a key.” The latch snicked, and the front door swung wide. “After you.”

She stood gaping on the porch.

He prodded with one shoulder. “Go on.”

She stepped over the threshold into a dim foyer, and wide, planked flooring creaked beneath her feet.

Clasping her hand again, he guided her toward a narrow door to her right.

Amber light beckoned, and she entered it. “Oh, Richard.” White candles of every size and shape illuminated the room. They flickered from the windowsills, filled the stone fireplace, and clustered on the mantle above an unmistakably heart-shaped rock. The room was otherwise empty, but for a burgundy, chenille blanket in the middle of the floor. Beside the blanket, a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and two goblets stood at the ready. “What a beautiful room. But, I’m confused. Where’s Mrs. Raffensburger?”

He kicked off his shoes and lowered onto the blanket. “Not here.” Hazel eyes sparkling, he extended a hand.

His palm was warm and the slightest bit damp. She knelt beside him. “I don’t understand…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “God, I missed you.”

Sitting back on her heels, she lowered her chin, and her hair tumbled across one eye. “I…missed you, too.” The cork popped, and crimson liquid swirled into crystal glasses. Her brain eddied with it. Why didn’t the room have any furniture? And where was Mrs. Raffensburger?

He handed her a goblet. “To coming home.”