Heat dropped straight to my gut, and it was the worst possible moment for that.
I dragged my attention back to the kids and pointed a thumb at my brother.
“Alright, who’s next? Line up. If you hit him in the face, you get bonus points.”
“Wait, why?” Colt protested.
I spent the next forty-five minutes fixing grips and untangling knots while half the kids took my advice and aimed straight for Colt’s head. To his credit, he took a rope to the ear twice and kept cheering them on.
Sweat stung my eyes and my left shoulder throbbed, a sharp reminder that pinning Sienna to the mattress last night probably wasn’t what the doctor meant by “light duty.” Not that I regretted a single second of it.
When the last kid finally roped the steer, I handed my rope to Colt. He was sweating too, rubbing a red welt on his neck.
“You did great today,” I told him, clapping his shoulder. I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and shoved it at him. “Go buy yourself another funnel cake.”
Colt perked up immediately. “Thanks, man.”
I turned back toward the rail, ready to go collect on that wink, but the spot where Sienna had been standing was empty. I ducked through the rails and scanned the crowd. Dad and Wyatt were in the snow cone line with Maisie. Wren was over by the bandstand.
I finally spotted Sienna down at the end of the vendor row, standing under a white pop-up tent that said Elm Creek Botanicals. I stopped a few feet away by the lemonade stand and watched her.
She was picking up a wrapped bar of soap, bringing it to her nose and closing her eyes.
The vendor, an older woman with a silver braid, smiled. “Cedarwood and sweet orange. That one’s my best seller.”
“Did you cold-process this? Usually cedarwood drowns out the orange.”
The woman lit up. “I did. I use a little vetiver to ground it so the citrus holds. You know your stuff.”
“I dabble.”
She picked up a heavy glass candle next, running her thumb over the label. She stopped, her eyes catching the price tag on the bottom. She carefully set it back on the display.
“I’ll take the soap, please.”
I walked up behind her, reached past her shoulder, and set the candle next to the soap.
“We’ll take the candle too,” I said. “And whatever else you recommend.”
Sienna jumped and spun around. Her eyes darted past my shoulder, scanning the thick crowd.
“Brock,” she hissed. “What are you doing? You can’t stand here with me.”
“I’m shopping.”
The vendor grabbed a small amber bottle. “My steam-distilled lavender oil. It pairs perfect with the cedarwood.”
“Throw it in,” I said, dropping a couple twenties on the table.
Sienna’s fingers dug into my forearm. She stepped in close, using my body to block her from the walkway. "Seriously," she hissed softly.
I took the bag and change. Looking down at her, I dropped my voice. “Just wanted to get you something.”
She bit her lip, her grip loosening. “Thank you. But we’re supposed to be ignoring each other today. Wyatt knows, but we don’t need Colt finding out. Or even worse, your dad.”
“I know.” I handed her the bag, letting my fingers drag against hers. “I lasted as long as I could.”
She studied me for a second, sighed, and turned. I fell in beside her as we pushed back into the crowd.
