Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
brIELLE
B y Friday, I’m not feeling quite like a drowning woman—at least in navigating the barn and going through the morning chores I’ve taken over from Melissa and Emily so they can focus on Misty Mountain. The jury is still out regarding everything else, though. Yesterday only three people stared at me when I grabbed some basics at the grocery store. It was down from the ten that stared at the coffee house Monday morning. And, by some miracle, I’ve managed to avoid Ethan since the awkward run-in Tuesday.
Combined with the chat with Faedra yesterday, it’s just enough that the sense of belonging is starting to lay roots. Sunrises on the porch each morning, hanging out with Melissa and Emily most evenings. Even chatting with some of the stable hands and other employees from both ranches. It’s enough to push the overwhelming loneliness down a few notches until it doesn’t feel like it’s a crater inside my chest.
Nyx pushes into my back, and I smile before I straighten and run a hand down his nose.
A man steps into the barn, his strides long and sure.
Who had wandered into the private barn?
I set the feed bucket into its holder and step out of the stall, closing the gate behind me before Nyx can decide to try for an escape. I move to Phoebe’s stall as I take in the man while his attention is on one of the horses on the far side of the barn. Maple probably. Or maybe Daphne.
He’s dressed in jeans so dark they’re nearly black and a maroon shirt that clings to his chest and arms. The sleeve covers about half of a tattoo that looks like a bird of some kind, and I can see the flash of another colorful piece on his forearm as he tucks his hands into his pockets. His cowboy hat is sun faded, whatever color it had originally been now surrendered to a splotchy warm brown. There’s an air of comfortability about him, like he’s here often.
I rack my mind, trying to decide which person he might be. There’s something in the shape of his shoulder and the lines of his face that seem oddly familiar. When he glances toward me, my breath catches in my throat, realizing at once who he must be. The high cheekbones and deep-set eyes that are the light blue color of a clear winter sky in Denver are practically identical to Beau’s.
“You ride?” he asks before I figure out how to get myself out of the barn without looking like I’m bolting—which I am. I swallow, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat.
“Getting back into it,” I offer. “It’s been a long time for me.”
He raises an eyebrow. I breathe through my nose, slowly, to keep from blushing. Why did that suddenly sound like I was talking about something very different from riding horses? He steps up to one of the stalls and runs his hand down the horse’s nose. The horse presses into him, and he smiles.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he all but croons. “How are you today? I haven’t been here often enough the last couple months, have I?”
I glance around the barn. Is he asking me?
He turns toward me after a minute. His lips curl into a smirk as the silence stretches between us.
“Emily mentioned she was going out with a friend today,” he says.
This time, his voice is all smoky honey. It rushes over me, sending a flash of heat sizzling across my skin. My thighs clench, but I ignore the sensation. Thank God I’m riding with Emily today and not Melissa. I probably wouldn’t have worn the scent blockers if it were just me and Melissa. There’s hardly any danger in two Omegas riding without blocking our perfume.
And that would have left me in an incredibly awkward situation right now. None of my lavender scent breaks through the blockers, though, my reaction to him hidden.
Phoebe sticks her nose out above the gate, pushing into my shoulder when I don’t focus on her fast enough. I run a single hand down her nose before petting her neck.
“She likes you,” he says, tipping his chin toward Phoebe. “She’s pretty picky. I haven’t seen her like someone in a while.”
“Melissa and Emily mentioned that,” I say. “Her last owner died unexpectedly a few years ago.”
I hold back my flinch. Of course he would know that. He may not have introduced himself yet, but it’s clear he’s Beau’s older brother Caleb—and the third person that made up Brandon’s pack.
“He did. It was a rough time.” The man’s lips flick up into a half-smile that has my body responding way too enthusiastically. “She has a habit of kicking Ethan when he’s least expecting it. Refuses to shod her unless someone actively stands with her even if she’s tethered properly.”
I don’t ask why he assumes I know Ethan. I hadn’t met him at the funeral, no more than I’d ‘met’ Ethan. I’d stayed in the corner with Brett, helping out Melissa when she needed something.
His voice rips me out of the thought.
“So?” he asks, looking up from Maple.
It takes all my control to keep breathing.
I’d never quite appreciated what all the hubbub was regarding an Alpha’s charisma. I’d seen it a couple times with Carter, of course. It’s hard to avoid when your boss is a powerful Alpha. But he’s bonded, so it doesn’t quite… hit is the wrong word. Impact is better, I suppose. Bonded Alphas don’t have the same impact. Their physical chemistry alters with the bonding bite, adjusting until all those powerful pheromones and instincts really only come out when their Omega is near them.
And that summer with Ethan? It hadn’t hit me like this . Never once had I wanted to drop to my knees in front of him or press myself against him until his scent overpowered my own. Not that I’d needed to beg for that. He’d hardly ever stopped touching me those months we were together.
Had I thought that loneliness was getting better? Maybe I’d just grown accustomed to it instead. Standing here, facing this man, there’s no denying that I’m touch-starved.
Being touch-starved is dangerous.
I breathe through my body’s reaction, willing it to settle before he finds out my secret.
“So what?” I ask, trying for casual. It comes out a shade too breathless, and his eyebrow ticks up. Hopefully my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel right now.
“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
I tense, ready for him to freak out on me the way Beau did last week, but instead of harping on me for being on private property, he hums.
“You must be one of the summer hires Melissa and Emily brought in. I’m Caleb Taylor,” he says. “What’s your name?”
I frown. What rock has he been living under the last couple weeks?
Everyone in town knows who I am, whether I like it or not. Not a single person has confused me for one of the young kids Melissa’s hired to run the ranch during the busy tourist season. And certainly not on the Monroe Ranch, thirty minutes removed from the recreational ranch on the other side of town.
Mostly, I don’t mind that everyone seems to know my story—at least that Brett died while we were still technically married. But sometimes it’s accompanied with sympathetic glances that I could do without. Like person number three at the grocery store yesterday.
“Brielle,” I offer. “I’m not a staff member, though.”
Caleb tilts his head. He starts to say something, but a set of footsteps cuts him off.
“Hey, Bri, you beat me here,” Emily’s voice carries into the barn ahead of her. She’s dressed similarly to me, dark jeans and a long sleeve tee that’s thin enough to not be overly warm once the sun settles into the sky. She smiles at the man. “Hey, Caleb. Didn’t realize you were home.”
Caleb nods. “Got home yesterday morning.”
“That one was pretty short.” Emily gives him a quick hug.
Caleb shrugs and runs his hand down the horse’s nose again. She presses into his touch, and he smiles. “Winds cooperated. Managed to get it nearly contained, so the firefighters on the ground had it in hand.”
He fought wildfires? Was he a firefighter, then? Curiosity burns through me, but I shove it down.
“That explains why Ethan didn’t ask me about watching Cam today,” Emily says. She moves to the stall next to Phoebe, guiding Redwood out from where he’s picking through the last of his morning oats, tying him out in the main walkway without fuss. “I just figured Joan had him.”
“Papa, look!”
Camden comes running into the barn, a group of white wildflowers in his hands. He’s managed to get grass stains on his jeans, though his shirt is clean. His cheeks flush as he glances at me.
“Hi, Bri,” he says, offering me a quick wave. He turns back to the others and holds the blooms out to Caleb. “Think Grammy will like them?”
Caleb smiles. “Definitely, kiddo.”
Camden nods and crosses the barn. He pulls a single flower from his back pocket and holds it out to me. It’s mangled to high heaven, but none of the purple petals manage to fall to the ground.
“Here, Bri,” he says. “Nana let me pick it this morning.”
I take the flower and tuck it into one of my braids before offering him a smile.
“Does it look good?” I ask him.
He nods, all serious scrutiny.
“Grandma called it a…” He trails off, his eyebrows scrunching. “Ra… Ranunculus,” he says, separating each syllable. “Yeah, ranunculus. It was the only purple one she said I could have.”
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
He nods and then runs back toward Caleb. Caleb, who’s staring at me hard enough I want to double check that I don’t have a stain on my shirt or something. I twist the end of my braid around my fingers, trying to keep from broadcasting just how unnerving his attention is.
Unnerving… and exhilarating.
“Oh, right.” Emily clears her throat. I tear my gaze away from him. “Brielle, this is Caleb, Camden’s other dad.” She motions between us even as she crosses the barn. “Caleb, this is Brielle. She’s staying in my guest house for the summer while she gets settled.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says, though he doesn’t close the distance between us. Camden grabs his leg, and he turns his focus to his son, guiding him to stand in front of the next stall.
“Stay here until I have him tied out, kid,” he says.
I take the moment to pull Phoebe from the stall, interrupting her snack. She shakes her head and heaves a sigh but cooperates well enough. Emily comes out of the tack room with both bridles and Phoebe’s saddle and blankets. She helps me get them settled on Phoebe and then disappears to grab Redwood’s equipment.
“Papa, are Emily and Bri coming with us?” Camden asks.
“It looks like they have their own plans. You’d need to ask Emily,” Caleb says. “She might not want to ride to the Arch.”
Emily glances up from where she’s tacking up Redwood, focusing on me rather than Caleb or his son. We’d planned on an easy ride to one of the larger ponds at the edge of the ranch and then maybe some swimming. The Arch is in the opposite direction, the name derived from a tree that had grown across the main trail leading to the summit of one of the lower nearby peaks.
Last time I’d been to the Arch, it had been with Ethan. Nerves twist in my belly.
“What do you want to do?” she asks me, quiet enough it doesn’t echo through the barn.
I glance at Camden’s wide eyes and then the enigmatic man carrying a large saddle. The need to submit to him, to let him mark every single pulse point of my body with his scent, is still an overwhelming urge.
“I haven’t been to the Arch in a long time,” I say. Camden’s smile is wide, and his whole face lights up as he realizes what I’m about to say. I can’t help it. The kid’s a natural charmer. “Think I’ll like it as much as hiking?”
He nods as he squeals. As Caleb finishes prepping the horse and helps Camden into the front of the saddle, the wind changes outside, sending a breeze through the main alley of the barn.
And then all I can smell is cinnamon, and the desire to drop to my knees in front of this man, this Alpha is all I can think of.
The need to feel this man’s skin is so strong my hands tremble. Slick soaks my scent blockers, and I breathe through the sudden, feral urge to strip in the middle of this barn so he can put his mouth on whichever part he wants the most.
Holy hell. There’s no way.
I swallow, trying to find a different explanation for my body’s response. Because there’s no way I’m having the reaction the Council lists as evidence an Omega has met their scent match. It’s a statistical improbability. The odds of finding your scent match are so small, it’s nearly akin to hitting the lottery.
The breeze grows stronger, and so does the cinnamon. I swallow a groan as my body grows hotter. Even my nipples respond, tightening to the point of near pain, something that hasn’t happened in a very long time. It feels almost like the hours before the one and only heat I’ve actually ridden out. The last bits of me that were fighting the reality, were trying to convince myself my response to him is something other than an Omega recognizing a scent match, fade away.
I suck in a breath and tighten my grip on Phoebe’s bridle, forcing myself to not move. I don’t trust myself. If I so much as flinch right now, I’m going to be in front of that man making a complete fool of myself. After another few minutes, the wind changes, the breeze dies down, and I swing up into the saddle, keeping my eyes to myself.
Of course my scent match is Ethan’s pack mate.