The fire crackled between them, sending golden sparks curling up into the dusky sky. Wren leaned back on his elbows, boots scraping the gravel, while Bella Rose traced the rim of her cup with a finger, eyes bright with scheming energy. Ryder sat close enough to Isobel for her warmth to brush his thigh, Harley tethered nearby, nostrils twitching in the smoke-scented air.

They went over the weekend rodeo plans, voices low but animated, the kind of conversation seasoned cowhands and city-bred ...