Isobel had been drinking in the scene so deeply—every thrum of boot heels on packed dirt, every brassy cry from the announcer, every glint of sunlight off silver conchos—that she didn’t register the subtle shift beside her until a warm whisper brushed her ear.
“So,” Bella Rose drawled, her voice the low hum of mischief, “you enjoying it?”
Isobel startled, breath catching in a little gasp before she turned. “Lord, Rose—you nearly stopped my heart.”
Bella Rose tipped her hat back just enough for her smile to show. “Mmhmm. Seems to me you’re spellbound by all this.”
Isobel’s gaze swept the arena—the churn of dust under hooves, the cowboy hats tipped just so, the scent of leather and sweet feed hanging in the warm air—and she felt her face light without meaning it to. “Bella Rose… I didn’t
