2. Dazzled
TWO
Dazzled
SAGE WYLDE
“Stay right here. I want to introduce you to a new cowboy in town. He’ll be working at the Off-Duty Ranch.” Ivy threw that at me and then ran off, I guess to find this new person.
I scoffed. If Ivy thought she could set me up tonight, she was wildly mistaken.
I stood beside Daisy with a warm cup of apple cider cradled between my hands, letting the heat seep into my fingers while I scanned the crowd of familiar faces.
The barn buzzed with practically the whole town showing up.
The scent of hay and pumpkin pies hung in the air.
Signs stating in big letters, “Reelect Sheriff Patrick: The Sheriff we need and trust,” hung everywhere.
It should have been a night of celebration, cheering on Gavin Patrick in his challenging race with Trevor Brewster for the office of county sheriff.
But tonight, all I could think about was the fact that at every Cowboy Night Ivy hosted this fall at the Sapphire Saloon, I’d shown up and I’d smiled, and made nice conversation with all the rugged, farmer’s tanned, flannel-wearing men within a thirty-mile radius.
Ivy did her best, I’d give my sister that, as she’d introduced me to several cowboys. Not one of them had made me feel anything, not even a flicker of interest, no… wow factor. I wasn’t asking for fireworks or lightning to strike me, but a simple flutter in my belly would be nice.
I sighed heavily into my cup and took another sip.
“What’s wrong?” Of course Daisy noticed, taking on that tone of voice that reminded me of our mother, a role she’d played since our parents’ tragic accident.
“Ivy always has someone she wants me to meet. And I’ve already met them.
” I gestured toward the crowd. “All of them. At least twice. The hazard of living in a small town. I hate being set up. You know that. Besides, I’ve sworn off cowboys as of this minute.
Unless he’s charming to look at and stands out from most around here, why bother? ”
Daisy laughed under her breath, but her eyes glazed in that way that meant she understood more than she said. “It takes time to find the right one. Just enjoy the process and don’t force it. I’ll bet when you stop trying, you’ll meet Mr. Right.”
“All of the guys around here are the same. Is it too much to ask for someone different?” I shifted my weight in my new turquoise boots—courtesy of Ivy, who believed her sisters wearing her products to an event like this was the best form of advertisement for the Wylde West Outfitters.
Daisy pushed some of my hair back over my shoulder. “Sage, you’re gorgeous, smart, and have a good head on your shoulders. You have so much to offer a special guy. Give it time. Tonight is a good night to be young and have fun and kick your heels up on the dance floor once the music starts.”
“Maybe. But I’m giving up on love for a while.
” I’d never even been in love to know what it might feel like.
Unless you count Gary Granger, the carrot-top kid who was my first kiss at the sixth-grade dance.
I thought that was what love must be: a kiss, a smile, and the simplicity of holding hands.
Considering every man I’d dated since then had bored me to tears, I was mistaken.
Before Daisy could utter more words of encouragement, Ivy reappeared, practically vibrating with excitement as she tugged a man by the sleeve and pulled him toward us.
“Carter James, meet my sisters, Daisy and Sage.” She motioned between us.
I’d braced for another flannel-clad cowboy with calloused hands and the same tired small-town look. Instead, my gaze lifted and landed on Carter.
I licked my lips before I could stop myself. He towered over me, all broad shoulders and easy smile full of confidence and wrapped in clothes that looked too polished for the average ranch hand. When his gaze met mine, warmth unfurled unexpectedly inside of me.
“Well, hello, Carter,” Daisy said, since obviously I’d lost any ability to speak.
He smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners. “Very nice to meet you both.”
His voice rolled over me, deep and smooth, with a refined edge that didn’t quite belong in Montana. My pulse kicked up like a startled horse.
“Uh, do you ride horses?” Daisy asked, elbowing me in the ribs like spurring a horse into action.
“Of course. I spent some time at camps—uh, camping,” he stammered. “Yes. Very familiar with them.”
I managed a nod as he leaned in closer.
“Do I detect the scent of lavender and thyme?” he asked, the breath of his words brushing warm against my forehead.
My cheeks heated and were probably bright red from his attention. Up close like this, the clean line of his jaw held no trace of the usual five-o’clock shadow most men around here wore and grew into full-blown beards as if there were a secret competition to see who could grow the fullest.
“Maybe,” I croaked, finally finding my voice. “I make lavender oil for the bath for my sisters and me, straight from what I grow in our garden.”
“Sage’s work with plants is only one of her many talents,” Daisy interjected.
“Ah. Botany… plants lately?” he asked me, wiggling his brows like he knew exactly how ridiculous that sounded.
Giggles bubbled out of me, absolutely disturbing every butterfly in my stomach. “Of course. Don’t kale my vibe.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s a solid pun. My mom would’ve loved it. She had this greenhouse when I was a kid. I swear she talked to every leaf as if they were old friends. I picked up more than I meant to just trying to keep up with her.”
Most guys around here discussed tractor parts and truck engines, or cattle prices and horse hooves. Not… this. “What plants did she grow?” I asked, definitely intrigued now. I’d have to eat my words and thank Ivy for this introduction after all.
“Everything she could get her hands on. Herbs, even finicky orchids that drove her crazy every winter.”
I caught the subtle scent of his cologne, vibrant and unlike anything I’d ever noticed before. Something expensive maybe? Definitely not the cheap stuff Knox doused himself in anytime he knew he’d be around Daisy.
“She taught me how to read the soil—pH levels, drainage, that sort of thing. I used to help her mix compost like a secret sauce. Still remember the smell of it after the rain.”
My stomach did another flip. He wasn’t faking the spark in his eyes. This wasn’t small-town talk, but real sharing about his life with me.
“I-I do the same thing in our garden,” I admitted, stepping a little closer without thinking. “I make all our bath oils and salves—things to soothe us after working, even chamomile tea leaves. But I only have a few small raised beds, and they’re constantly fighting off aphids.”
“My mom swore by yarrow to help keep the aphids away.” His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second before lifting again.
“You actually know that?” I blinked, genuinely surprised. Most men around here talked engines and cattle prices. This one spoke my language—soil and growing things. The competence in his tone left my skin tingling in a way I hadn’t felt in… ever.
Careful, Sage. One charming stranger does not mean you should abandon your sworn-off-cowboys rule.
Or maybe it does?
“Like I said—Mom was intense. I became a good listener.” His voice dropped a touch, teasing now. “Though I have to admit, standing here speaking about yarrow and lavender with a beautiful woman like you is doing something to my concentration.”
Heat bloomed harder across my cheeks. I nudged his arm, letting my fingers linger too long against the firm muscle there. “Keep flirting about herbs and I might drag you out to my garden to see if you’re all talk.”
“I’d go willingly.” A chuckle rumbled in his chest. He leaned in slightly, the clean scent of him cutting through the hay and cider. “As long as you promise not to judge me when I admit I still can’t keep basil alive to save my life.”
I laughed again, lighter this time. This tall, polished-looking, plant-knowing stranger was nothing like the cowboys Ivy pushed at me before. He was—definitely different in the best possible way.
I glanced toward the dance floor, then back at him, suddenly bold. “You know your way around herbs and gardens. Tell me you know how to two-step, and you’ll make my night.”
His grin turned sheepish and devastating all at once. “Sadly, I only know the foxtrot.”
A cowboy who doesn’t know the basic two-step? I bit my lip, fighting another smile. “That’s a shame.”
For a heartbeat, we stared at each other, the noisy pavilion fading around us. Caught in a magnetic pull unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
I was so focused on him, I’d hardly noticed Daisy and Ivy had left us. Couldn’t think of anything other than the man standing in front of me who had captured my full attention.
“Lucky for you, I’m an excellent teacher. Give me five minutes and I’ll have you two-stepping like a pro,” I offered.
He suddenly straightened, clearing his throat like he’d remembered something. “Your cup is empty, Sage. Let me grab us a couple of fresh ciders. I’ll be right back.”
He touched the brim of his hat in a polite cowboy way—a hat I’d like to claim. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy, my friends always chimed. Hell yes, I’d take that ride. Ticket for one on the Carter train, please?
But he slipped into the crowd, leaving me standing there with warm cheeks, racing butterflies, and the distinct impression that my “sworn-off cowboys” rule had met its match.
I found Daisy nearby and slipped back to her side right as Chris Magnus took the stage, welcoming everyone to his Off-Duty Rescue Ranch and thanking all for coming out to support Sheriff Patrick’s reelection campaign.
Then he introduced the sheriff. The crowd went crazy with applause and whistles when he took the stage.
One woman near us hollered, “My vote is for Sheriff Patrick. Lord knows we don’t need another Brewster running things around here.”