Page 135 of Saddle and Scent
They all look put-together and mature and absolutely nothing like the men who spent this morning covered in sawdust and horse hair. The effect is so striking that I feel a flutter of nervous excitement in my stomach, like I'm seeing them for the first time all over again.
But what really catches my attention is the way Wes keeps turning his head, nostrils flaring slightly as he scans the crowd with obvious confusion. I recognize the behavior from watching him work with animals—he's caught a scent he recognizes but can't locate the source.
The realization makes me grin, and I decide to enjoy the moment a little longer before revealing myself.
I move closer to their group, staying just outside their direct line of sight while watching Wes's growing agitation with barely suppressed amusement. He's definitely caught my scent, but the visual transformation is apparently complete enough that his brain can't make the connection between what his nose is telling him and what his eyes are seeing.
"Do you smell that?" he asks Callum, voice pitched low but still audible to someone standing close enough.
"Smell what?" Callum responds, though I can see him subtly scenting the air.
"Juniper," Wes says, frustration evident in his tone. "I can smell her, but I don't see her anywhere."
Beckett joins the conversation, his own confusion evident.
"Maybe she's running late? She said she'd meet us here after seeing Piper."
I can't contain my snicker at their obvious bewilderment, and the sound immediately draws Wes's attention. His head snaps in my direction with predatory focus, blue eyes scanning until they land on me.
For a moment, he just stares, his expression cycling through confusion, recognition, and something that looks like stunned appreciation.
"Holy shit," he breathes, apparently forgetting to modulate his voice. "Juniper?"
The other two follow his gaze, and I have the satisfaction of watching all three of them experience the same moment of cognitive dissonance. They know it's me—my scent confirms it—but the visual evidence seems to argue against the possibility.
"Hi," I say, moving closer with what I hope is casual confidence rather than the nervous energy that's making my hands shake slightly. "Sorry I'm late. Piper and I got a little carried away with the makeover."
Callum is the first to recover his composure, though I can see the way his eyes track over my appearance with obvious appreciation.
"You look..." he starts, then seems to run out of words.
"Different," Beckett finishes, but there's warmth in his voice that makes it clear he means it as a compliment.
"Good different?" I ask, suddenly needing their approval more than I want to admit.
"Devastating different," Wes says, his voice rough with something that might be desire. "Jesus, Junebug, you're going to cause heart attacks looking like that."
The compliment sends warmth flooding through my chest, and I find myself smiling with genuine pleasure rather than nervous energy.
"Piper deserves all the credit," I say. "I had no idea what I was doing. She basically used my face as a canvas to show off her skills."
"Remind me to send her a thank-you note," Callum says, his eyes still tracking over my appearance like he's memorizing every detail.
"Or a fruit basket," Beckett adds. "A really expensive fruit basket."
The band transitions into a slower song, something sweet and romantic that seems designed to encourage couples to move closer together on the makeshift dance floor that's been set up in front of the stage.
"Dance with me?" Callum asks, offering his hand with the kind of old-fashioned courtesy that makes my heart flutter.
I take his hand without hesitation, letting him lead me onto the dance floor where other couples are already swaying to the gentle rhythm. His arms come around me with careful reverence, like he's holding something precious that might break if he's not sufficiently gentle.
"You really do look incredible," he murmurs as we move together, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. "I mean, you always look beautiful, but tonight... tonight you look like something out of a dream."
"Thank you," I say, meaning it more than he probably realizes. "I wasn't sure about the dress, but Piper convinced me to take the risk."
"Good risk," he says, spinning me gently before pulling me back against his chest. "Though I have to say, I'm going to have to keep an eye on every other Alpha here tonight. You're going to attract attention."
The possessive note in his voice sends a thrill through me that I don't even try to analyze. Because there's something deeply appealing about the idea of belonging to someone whoconsiders you worth protecting, worth claiming, worth keeping close.
