Cowboy Casanova
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Juno Sparks
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115K
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141
Isobel Wright didn’t come to Wears Valley looking for trouble. She came to help her best friend with a spooked mare and maybe breathe a little Tennessee air. She didn’t expect the horse whisperer — the one with rope burns on his hands, a slow-burn smile, and hazel eyes that made her knees forget their job.
Ryder Callahan looks like he was born in the saddle. And he was. What no one around here knows is that he also owns half of Manhattan.
He keeps those two worlds airtight. Always has.
But Isobel makes him want to stop.
One small town. Two people hiding more than they say. And a pull between them that’s harder to outrun than a two-thousand-pound bull.
Some secrets are worth keeping. Some are worth blowing wide open.
Prologue
ISOBEL
Isobel leaned in, coaxing the last brushstroke across the canvas, slow and sure as a whispered secret. The colors sang against the quiet of the classroom—crimson, gold, and the deep green of summer leaves after rain—each one laid down with a kind of reverence that made the walls seem less like cinder block and more like a window to someplace wilder.
She reached for the final tube of paint just as the sound of scuffed boots drifted down the hall, that low, steady rhythm she’d know anywhere.
Rose McAlister breezed in like she owned the place, hips loose, chin tipped up, her boots striking the linoleum in a cadence that carried its own kind of authority. She didn’t just enter a room—she claimed it. Perching on one of the tables, she crossed her ankles like it was her front porch swing.
“You ready to roll, girl?” Rose’s voice curled around the words, sweet as syrup with a bite at the end.
Isobel gathered her brushes, bristles whispering soft against her palm before she dropped them into the jar. “What’s the plan again?” Her eyes caught the light, that flicker of anticipation she never tried too hard to hide.
Rose’s grin sharpened. “Delilah’s pitchin’ fits like she’s possessed. Larry swears there’s a horse whisperer over in Wears Valley who can work miracles, or exorcisms, whichever gets the job done.” She gave a little shrug, but her eyes sparked with mischief, like she already knew exactly how the day was going to go.
Isobel arched one brow, her hand finding her hip in that quiet, unhurried way that said she wasn’t buying a word of it, not yet. “And why exactly do I need to join you on this adventure?” Her voice carried a soft drawl, but there was a spark in it, the kind that always lit when Rose came around with trouble in her pocket.
Rose’s smile went slow and sweet, honey poured over mischief. “Because you love me,” she said, all innocence she didn’t mean, “and I need my best girl riding shotgun for moral support.” The wink she tossed in after was pure Rose, part charm, part dare.
Isobel’s laugh slipped out before she could stop it, warm and shaking her head. “All right, all right. Let’s get this show on the road.” She snagged her purse, the strap sliding into place with the ease of habit, and followed Rose out into the sunlit sprawl of the parking lot.
Waiting there was Rose’s Ford F-250 Super Duty, gleaming white under a skin of dust, the kind of truck that could haul the world if you asked it to. Hitched behind it, the three-horse trailer stood steady and solid, the metal sides catching the light.
The whole rig sat quiet as a patient beast, ready to eat up miles of Tennessee blacktop without a single complaint.
Delilah, the buckskin mare, was wound tight as barbed wire, her breath coming in sharp, restless huffs that fogged the slats of the trailer. She pawed at the metal floor, the hollow clang rattling up through the hitch into the cab, setting the whole rig in a slow, uneasy sway.
Rose eased the F-250 out of the driveway, the trailer rocking behind them like a cradle in a windstorm.
Isobel felt it through the seat, through the steering column, all the way into her bones—the mare’s nervous energy traveling like a live current. Her gaze kept sliding back to the side mirror, watching the flicker of buckskin hide shifting in the dim interior.
“Looks like Delilah’s not too happy about this trip,” Isobel said, her voice light but her fingers tightening around the edge of the dash.
Rose’s mouth was set, her eyes steady on the road ahead. “She’s actin’ like a wild mustang in there. Surprised she ain’t busted out yet.” A wry, low chuckle followed, tinged with something that wasn’t quite humor. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”
Isobel nodded, shoulders tightening as another clang vibrated through the truck. “Yeah. It’s like she’s shoving every bit of her panic straight into me.”
Rose’s expression softened, though her voice dropped low, roughened at the edges. “That’s why I had to buy her, Iz. Couldn’t let her end up in a kill buyer’s pen. Those folks’ll strip the soul out of a horse soon as they look at her, sell her for dog food, glue, whatever they can squeeze a dollar from.” She shook her head. “Breaks my heart every damn time.”
Isobel’s eyes widened, the horror plain on her face. “Oh my gosh…I had no idea.”
Rose’s jaw was worked tight, her eyes fixed on the ribbon of asphalt unfurling ahead. “It’s the dirtiest secret in the horse world,” she said, voice low but edged. “But I’m hoping this trainer we’re headed to can help me figure out what’s got Delilah sparking like this. The girl’s got spirit, I’ll give her that, more than most men I know.”
Isobel reached across the cab, her fingers warm against the worn denim on Rose’s arm. “You’ll get to the bottom of it, Rose. You’re the horse whisperer, not him.”
That earned a ghost of a smile from Rose, a quick lift at one corner of her mouth. “Thanks, Iz. That means more than I’ll say out loud.” She flicked the turn signal, the click steady as a metronome. “You ought to ride with me more often. You’ve got a natural seat, whether you believe it or not.”
Isobel’s gaze dropped to her lap, her voice hitching just a hair. “I don’t know, Rose. Horses…they kind of scare me.”
Rose’s grip on the wheel eased, her expression shifting, softening. “I get it. They’re big, they’re strong, and they’ll test you. But you’ll get there. You just have to trust yourself, the rest will follow.”
