Bella Rose and Isobel slipped through the crowd and joined the men by the chutes as the rodeo wound itself down, the dust hanging thick as cigarette smoke in the glow of the floodlights. Ryder and Wren were ringed by cowboys slapping backs, hollering congratulations, the heat of victory still rolling off them. A couple of little boys darted up, faces smudged with funnel cake sugar, and both men crouched low, trading high fives like champions with nothing to prove.
Isobel and Bella Rose smiled, the sweetness of it catching them off guard. For all their swagger, Ryder and Wren still belonged to this dirt, to these people.
Then the men came toward them — Ryder scooping Isobel up in strong arms, spinning her like she weighed nothing, kissing her deep enough that the world tilted. Wren caught
