“Which one is he?” Avinia asked. Her head was cocked to the side as she studied Kit, her face puckered up in contemplation.

“I told you. He has red hair. He’s tall, a bit lanky. Kind eyes. Green—but not the striking kind.” Kit had already given them every last detail of her encounter in the barn, and neither of her ladies had reacted the way she’d been hoping for.

“Hmmm,” Isla picked up a section of Kit’s long hair and began to comb it out. “I would think if he were worth remembering, I would know which one he is.”

“Yes, I was thinking exactly the same thing. There are...