Page 146 of Wild As Her

Every morning starts with a line of dusty trucks and SUVs weaving up the road. Every evening ends with s’mores, sunburns, and stories around the fire pit. Parents come early just to sit in the grass and listen to their kids talk about feeding goats or learning about soil health or riding a horse for the first time. It’s pure magic. We’ve even talked about somehow including the parents more because they seem to want to be a part of this, too.

And it’s saving us.

The camp tuition goes straight into finishing the B&B, our dream project turned real-life construction site just beyond the main barn. The bones are done, the porches are being painted and stained. Inside, the rooms and bathrooms are all getting acomplete remodel, and if we keep up this pace, we’ll be ready by fall. Just in time for flannel season, leaf-peeping tourists, and my dream of serving cinnamon rolls at sunrise in our great room.

Honestly? It’s working.

The garden is bursting this year. Heirloom tomatoes bigger than the size of fists. Rows of basil and lavender and carrots so sweet they taste like candy.

And then there’s Steamy Sips. It’s busier than ever and I have a few employees running it full time.

Our roadside produce stand and nowbreadstand, is officially busier than ever. Jack joked that I’ve become some kind of frontier food influencer after someone from Denver drove three hours just to get one of my jalapeño cheddar sourdough loaves and take a photo with it.

The meat and dairy store at the old Jessop Ranch, now new Wilder Ranch, is thriving as well, and they can barely keep up. Weston added online orders, and we’ve hired a few dozen more workers.

But the best part?

We’ve partnered with local dairies and ranchers, and now people drive in from three counties over to get produce, meat, cheese, and bread, all grown and baked right here.

Sometimes I walk through the aisles, and watch people point at my sourdough like it’s something worth making a trip for. It knocks the air out of me.

There’s a chalkboard sign by the door that saysWelcome to Wilder Ranchin swoopy, hand-lettered paint. Underneath, Jack added, in tiny letters:Home of the best damn bread in Wyoming.

Tucker’s thinking about going back on the circuit, at least for a few months. Says he’s got the itch and needs to chase some adrenaline before settling back down. But he’s still aroundenough to teach rope tricks to the campers and tell tall tales during story hour like he’s got his own live podcast.

Weston finally moved down from Montana for good. He pretends like it was a practical choice—closer to family, the ranch expansion, all that. But I know better. He’s running from something, and he’s been broody and moody. I’ll get to the bottom of that sooner or later.

And me?

I’ve never felt more like myself. Not since I was a kid running barefoot through the fields behind Wilder Ranch, pretending I was queen of my own tiny country.

Now I get to build it.

Kids run past me, heading toward the riding arena, all chatter and freckles and summer joy. I wave them on, then tuck my basket of fresh cookies under my arm and walk toward the hill to restock the microbakery.

Jack is leaning against a post, arms crossed, a smudge of dirt on his jaw and a grin that’s pure trouble.

“Wilder,” he says. “You come bearing treats?”

“Always,” I say, handing him a still-warm basket of cookies. “Your reward for being Wyoming’s most patient camp counselor.”

“I knew marrying you would come with perks.”

He pulls me close, right there in the middle of camp chaos, and kisses my temple like we’re in our own quiet universe.

We stand there for a moment, watching the mustangs grazing beyond the fence line.

“I still can’t believe this is ours,” I whisper.

“It was always going to be,” he says. “You just had to be patient.”

I glance at him. “What are you guys cooking up next?”

He grins. “Fall guests, cinnamon rolls, trail rides through theleaves. Maybe even a glamping tent or two if Weston gets his way.”

“And the wedding?”

Jack kisses the corner of my mouth. “Whenever you want. I’d marry you right now in the middle of the goat pen.”

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