Wild Sage Botanicals was thriving. My February fragrance launch sold out in a month, with the signature scent Wild Sage leading the way. The women’s version combined soft, warm notes of jasmine, sweet vanilla, and sage, while the men’s featured a richer, earthier blend of sage, cedar, juniper, and leather.
I fitted the little spray nozzle back onto the amber bottle, wiping a smudge of oil off the label with my thumb.
"Auntie Sienna!"
I turned just as Maisie came hurtling around the corner from the hallway, her white cane tapping a rapid, erratic rhythm against the hardwood floor.
She’d started calling me “Auntie” two months ago, and it still made my chest tight every single time. Wren and Colt loved to tease us about it, constantly taking bets on when Brock was finally going to “make it official.”
I just let them talk. Brock and I made decisions the same way we did everything else now: together. And right now, our priority was the plot of land out by the apple trees, where the wooden frame of our new cabin had just gone up.
"I'm right here, bug," I said, catching her as she barreled into my legs.
"Daddy said I can have a perfume lesson after dinner," she announced proudly, pulling back. "I want to make a new one. The last one was too flowery. I want it to smell like Moose."
"You want tosmelllike Moose?" I asked, suppressing a grin.
"No, I want it to smell like where he sleeps," she clarified, her small brow furrowing. "Like under the porch. It smells warm."
"Earthy base notes," I nodded, matching her professional tone. "I respect the vision. We’ll look at some vetiver and patchouli tonight."
Maisie beamed, her gap-toothed smile lighting up her face. She tapped her way back out into the hallway, shouting for her dad.
I stood up, shaking my head with a soft laugh. I slipped the amber bottle into the front pocket of my denim apron and headed downstairs toward the kitchen.
The door to the back porch was propped open, letting in the sounds of the season’s first barbecue—Silas’s low laugh, the sizzle of meat on the grill, and Colt talking loudly.
When I got to the kitchen, I found Brock leaning against the center island with a cold Coors Light in his hand. He waswearing a faded gray T-shirt and denim jeans, his dark hair messy from wearing a hat all day. He looked relaxed.
Thanks to the success of Wild Sage on social media and the funds it brought in, he wasn’t chasing world standings or punishing his body anymore. This year, he was finally riding for the love of the sport.
He had said he wanted Cody, Cheyenne, and the Thermopolis Rendezvous. The last one, mostly because the last time they went, Colt got drunk and accidentally bid on a miniature donkey at the livestock auction. Brock wanted to see if he’d do it again.
The corner of Brock’s mouth curved up when he saw me. He set his beer down on the granite counter, reached out, and pulled me flush against his chest.
“You smell like a walking meadow,” he murmured, burying his face in my neck.
The rough, delicious scratch of his stubble grazed my skin as he pressed a warm kiss just below my ear.
I smiled and leaned into him. “Occupational hazard.”
I slipped my hand into my apron pocket, pulled out the small amber bottle, and pressed it against his chest.
“I finished the new batch of your custom blend. The last one needed a little more juniper to balance the cedar.”
He took the bottle, his mouth curving into a slow smile. He popped the black cap off and spritzed a sharp burst onto the side of his neck, then rubbed his wrist against it.
Colt walked in with a slice of red bell pepper in his hand. He took a bite, then stopped chewing and sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling.
“Are you wearing that spray again?” he groaned. “The guys in the chutes are gonna laugh your ass out of the arena if you show up smelling like that.”
Brock didn’t even glance at him. He just tightened his arm around my waist.
“Let them,” he said with a shrug. “My girl loves it. That’s good enough for me.”
I laughed and looked over at Colt. “Manly men can smell good too, you know. You should try it sometime. Might help with the whole girlfriend situation.”
Colt let out a gasp and pointed the half-eaten bell pepper at me. “That was one time. I said it once after three beers at the Wagon Wheel. And I didn’t say I wanted a girlfriend. I just said it’d be nice to have someone look at me the way you look at this grouch.”
