“Does he now?” I ask lightly.
The boys—my boys, even if no one’s said it out loud yet—exchange a look.
Wyatt appears a moment later with four lemonades and the expression of a man who has resigned himself to crowds for love.
“You’re a hit,” he tells me, handing one over. “Again.”
Marshall holds back just behind him, scanning the arena as he always does, but his hand rests easy at my back when he steps closer.
Jesse comes last, dust on his boots, hat tipped low, smile already waiting for me.
“How’s the famous entrepreneur?” he asks.
I tilt my head teasingly. “Is that all I am to you?”
He pretends to think. “You’re my favorite beekeeper slash honey witch.”
Eliza beams. “That’s what we call her too.”
My throat tightens, but I laugh it off because joy still surprises me sometimes.
The rodeo announcer’s voice booms overhead, calling for attention as the pageant competition begins. Applause ripples through the crowd.
I look out over it all, over the jars, the dust, the people, the men who somehow chose me and let me choose them back.
A few months ago, I was standing in the honey house shaking over a crate I was afraid to open.
Now?
I lift a jar, twist the lid just enough to let the scent bloom, and smile at the next customer stepping up to my stall.
“Hi,” I say, smiling. “Welcome to Sweet Haven Honey.”
I keep on going until I’m interrupted by feedback squealing through the loudspeakers, grabbing everyone’s attention.
“…and folks, before we move on to the next round of the Rodeo Queen Pageant…”
I barely register it at first. I’m mid-sentence, explaining infusion ratios to a woman holding a jar like it might contain answers to her life.
“…we’d like to take a quick moment to recognize one of our own…”
I straighten another jar out of habit.
“…local beekeeper, small business owner, and recent pride of Colter Creek. Abilene Kentwood!”
My brain… stops.
Around me, heads turn. A few people clap automatically, because that’s what you do when someone’s name comes out of a speaker.
I freeze behind my stall.
“Oh no,” I whisper.
Eliza appears instantly at my side, eyes huge. “Miss Abilene. That’s you.”
Caleb nods solemnly. “You’re being announced.”
“I do not want to be announced,” I mutter.
