On top of being a looker, she picks up on his conversation with so much grace and ease. It widens his smirk with a laugh. Something bright and joyful.

“They’re onto something, those old-timers.”

He turns back to her and holds out his hand, palm up to take hers.

“I’m Ransom.” His sharp gaze watches to see if there are any sparks of recognition. Perhaps she’s from out of town and doesn’t know about the drama? “Who might you be?”