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Josie lowered her face, but I saw the smile.

“You eat?” Priya asked me.

“Boone sent me.”

“Boone shouldn’t have to send you.”

“I got busy.”

Her eyebrow went up.

I sat beside her.

“Don’t use my own sins against me, Ms. Nair. That’s entrapment.”

Josie handed me a foil-wrapped sandwich from the basket beside her. “Boone made extra.”

Of course he had. Boone made extra of everything and acted surprised when people needed it.

I opened the foil. Beef, onions, mustard, thick bread. Still warm.

Priya watched until I took a bite.

“You done supervising?” I asked.

“I’m not supervising.”

“You’re watching me eat.”

“I’m appreciating the natural consequences of persistent instruction.”

Josie got up when Boone appeared at the arena rail. He didn’t call her. He didn’t have to. She collected her plate and walked toward him, and something quiet passed between them when his hand settled at the back of her neck.

I watched them for a second.

Then I looked at Priya. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t the old yes. Not the producer’s yes. Not the one that meant she’d assessed the question, rejected the premise, and filed the answer under none of my business.

This one had room in it. “Only okay?”

“I’m hot. There’s dust in my bra. Petey has explained livestock mineral pricing to me three times. I’ve eaten enough beef to require a second stomach.” She looked across the arena, at the banner. “And I’m okay.”

I bumped my knee against hers.

She bumped back.

The announcer called my name wrong, which was impressive, considering Cash was one syllable and my name was printed on half the signs.

I stood.

Priya caught my wrist. “Hey.”

I looked down.

Her eyes were dark and steady. The sun had put color across her nose again, the same warm strip it had painted there in July. “You did this,” she said.