Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Tucker
Hollie Bright is right. She’s not some teeny, tiny Omega princess. There’s substance to the girl – curves and flesh and muscle.
And, fuck, even through all the layers of clothes I’m wearing and she’s wearing, I can feel that substance as clear as day, because my body is pushed right up against hers, my arms wrapped around her waist as we ride on Storm through the dense snow.
It’s not her build that makes her tough though – she’s still an omega after all – teeny tiny compared to me and my baulking great pack mates.
What makes Hollie tough is her big heart and her bravery – a bravery I’m not sure I recognized until today.
She’s a tough little cookie. And yeah, she is little, no matter what she says – she’s still a whole foot shorter than I am.
Luckily, Storm is the biggest and strongest horse that we have here at the ranch.
The added weight, despite the brutal conditions, doesn’t seem to be bothering him.
It’s just as well she is tough because the storm kicks up again as we near the pasture with the cattle.
The wind whips around our faces and the snow hits us like the sharpest of blades.
The little Omega huddles in my arms, taking the full brunt of the elements.
She doesn’t complain, though. Like she said, she’s tough.
Her words rattle around my brain. She’s not scared of us.
She’s not scared of where things might lead between us – that’s what she meant, right?
She doesn’t want us treating her like she might break any moment.
The girl’s withstood a lot. And she is still standing.
I guess, in comparison to what she has been through, what are three asshole alphas?
“Okay there, sweetheart?” I ask as we cross the first pasture and reach the shelter of the trees.
The weather’s been unpredictable for the last few weeks, and we made the decision to move the cattle closer to home – easier to keep an eye on – and I’m thankful for that decision now. It means the ride is shorter.
“I’m okay,” she says. “Although fuck, it’s cold.” She shudders in front of me, and I hug her more tightly.
“We’re nearly there,” I say. “Next field. That’s where the cattle are.”
We pass under the trees, the horses huffing with the exertion, clouds of cold air hanging around their faces and ours, and then we emerge into the next pasture. It’s thick with snow, and it blows across like a curtain.
“They’re in this field,” I tell her. But the snow is so dense now it’s impossible to see farther than a few feet in front of our noses, and so we can’t spot them straight away.
“Should we spread out and look for them?” Nash asks.
“No,” Clay calls back over the sound of the howling wind. “Better stick together.”
I nod my agreement, and we take a right, deciding to circle the field in an anti-clockwise direction. Hopefully, we’ll find the cattle soon.
We hear them before we see them – a low, bellowing rumble, barely audible above the fierce storm.
“Do you hear that?” Hollie says, twisting in my arms and looking at my face.
“I think they’re in that direction,” I call to the others, and we push on with the horses.
We find the cattle huddled together under the loafing shed, their backs to the wind.
“Are they okay?” Hollie asks.
“I doubt they’re having the best Christmas Eve of their lives,” I tell her, “but these girls, they’re hardy.”
I jump down from my horse and offer her a hand. She gives me a look and slides off easily herself, landing in the snow with a bounce. We stroll toward the herd. The old girls are usually a dark brown in color, but today their fur is matted with crusted snow, as if someone has iced them like cakes.
“They’re pregnant?” Hollie says.
“Yep. Calves will come in spring,” I tell her.
The cattle hear us coming and turn and start walking our way.
“They think we’ve got food, right?” she asks me.
“Yep,” I say. “Sorry, girls, but we left plenty in the field yesterday.” In fact, Clay and Nash are already looking for the hay bales, sprinkling it on top of the snow. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s check the water.”
At the back of the shed, there are two troughs fed by the pumps.
“It’s heated and insulated to stop them from freezing over in the winter but it’s always worth checking.
Besides, the water trough itself may have iced over,” I explain.
And I’m right – they have. There’s a thick layer of ice sitting on top of the water, preventing the cattle from drinking.
I walk back over to Storm, pull a small pickaxe from the saddlebag, and stroll back over. The ice is thicker than it looks, and it takes me several swings to crack it. Then I use the other end of the axe to swirl it into the water, encouraging it to melt. Then I walk to the next one.
“Hey, tough girl,” I say with a smirk. “Want to give it a try?”
She lifts her chin with determination. “Yep,” she says.
I hand her the axe. She swings it right up above her head and then down again with a hard thwack. The blade of the axe lodges straight in the ice and refuses to move, and the propulsion has her losing her balance and skidding on the snowy ground. I’m there in a flash, righting her back on her feet.
“Sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Takes a bit of skill. Watch.”
I unhook the axe from the ice and thwack it again. Then I hand it back to her. She copies my action and this time keeps her balance. The ice cracks, fissures running along its surface, and she sinks it into the liquid below with a satisfied smile.
“I did it,” she says.
“I think you could do anything you set your mind to. Hollie Bright. You’re right, you are tough, and I’m sorry if we haven’t treated you that way.”
She glances up at me. “I’m not always tough.”
“Can I let you into a little secret?” I say, bending low so my mouth is by her ear.
“What’s that?”
“I’m not always tough. And you may find this incredibly hard to believe, but neither is Clay Jackson.”
“Oh my goodness,” she says, giggling. “I think I might drop dead with shock.”
“Please don’t,” I tell her. “Dead bodies are extremely hard to move and even harder to dispose of.”
“Do you have experience?”
I wink at her, and she giggles again.
I tuck the axe into my belt and then I offer her my hand, noticing for the first time that she’s shivering. “Come on,” I say. “Let’s go and find the others, give them a hand.”
She stares at my outstretched palm. “Are we holding hands now?” she asks.
“Don’t want to be separated in a snowstorm, sweetheart,” I say with a grin. “Wouldn’t want to lose you. Besides, you have a rather frequent habit of falling over.”
She sighs. “I do. I’ve got two left feet.”
“Wow,” I say. “Is that true? I was beginning to suspect you were doing it on purpose.”
“Why would I fall on my ass on purpose?” she asks, taking my hand in hers. We’re both wearing gloves, so I can’t feel the warmth of her hand, but it’s still satisfying.
“On account of the fact I’d catch you, and I think you rather like that. Rather like being in the arms of a big, strong alpha.”
“Hmm,” she says. “I’ll have to think about that one.”
She smiles up at me, and I see her teeth are chattering and her whole body shaking.
“You’re cold,” I say.
“A little.”
I frown. It’s clear that’s a blatant lie. She’s a lot cold.
I stride over to the others who are still busy checking over the cattle.
“I’m taking Hollie back to the cabin before she catches hyperthermia.”
“What? NO!” she screeches in horror.
But the other two take one look at the shivering little omega – shivering so hard she can barely stand – and nod their agreement.
“I’m not going,” she says, snatching her hand from mine and crossing her hands over her chest in defiance.
“You either come willingly, little Omega, or I throw you over my shoulder and force you back to the cabin.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” I say with a jerk of my chin. She considers me and then with a sulky huff, concedes and starts walking toward Storm.
“I’ll see you back at the cabin,” I tell the others and then hurry after her, half concerned she’ll steal my horse.
We’re half way back across the field, when Hollie points something out in the distance. “What’s that?” she asks.
I squint against the battering snow storm. “Looks like one of our girls has got separated from the herd.” I yank on the reins and go investigate.
One lone cow, her stomach rounded with a young calf, stands lowing on her own, completely lost and disorientated.
“It’s lucky you spotted her, sweetheart,” I tell Hollie, “She won’t last long out here on her own like this.”
“How are we going to get her back to the others?” she asks. Wrapped in my arms, she’s not shivering as violently as she was, but it’s clear she remains frozen. I need to do this quickly.
“Like this.” I reach down to my saddle, unhook the coil of rope and then I swing it over my head.
It’s not easy in the battling wind, but I’m well-practised and lasso around the cow’s neck on the first fling of the rope.
Then I yank it tight and have the cow trotting along behind her as I lead her back to the herd. Clay unhooks the rope from her neck.
“Will she be okay?” Hollie asks.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get her warmed up,” Clay says, already rubbing his hands over the cow’s back, “you go get yourself warmed up, Hollie.”
Nash tips his head back and looks up to the sky. “You know,” he says, “I think it’s clearing.”
Turns out Nash is right. As we ride back to the big house, the wind drops and the snow settles until it’s light, drifting through the air like the perfect Christmas scene.
I’m guessing the Omega sitting between my thighs agrees, because she coos and says, “This place is so darn pretty.”
“Yeah,” I say, “but it’s a whole lot prettier with you in it.”
I know what the others said. I know what they think.
Hollie Bright is vulnerable. Hollie Bright is grieving. Hollie Bright should be left well alone.
I also know what Hollie herself said back at the house.
Besides, I can’t help myself. Her ass pressed up against me has made me harder than I’ve been in years, and now that the storm has settled, her scent is thick in the air again. I can smell it – I can taste it in my mouth – that sweet, sweet honey.
She turns her head to look up at me. “You’re a real sweet talker, Tucker Parker,” she says. “Your tongue must be made from caramel.”
“I have been described as charming once or twice in my time,” I say with a smirk. Then, with an even bigger one, “Also, I’ve had plenty of compliments about my tongue.”
“I suspect your tongue gets you into an awful lot of trouble.”
I chuckle. “You have no idea, sweetheart. No idea at all. But if it could get me into trouble with you, it would be worth it.”
“Maybe you should stop talking,” she says, “and put that tongue to good use.”
“Oh yeah? And how would that be?”
“By kissing me, for a start,” she says.
And I do not need to be asked twice. I hold her in my arms, bend down, and kiss her lips.
Luckily, Storm knows the way home. He’s not about to bolt or throw me off, even if I am making out with a girl on his back.
And so, with one hand lightly on the reins and the other wrapped around her waist, I kiss Hollie Bright – and I show her just how good my tongue can be.
When we break apart, Hollie smiles up at me.
“So,” she says.
“So,” I say.
“Annie and her parents are stuck in town on account of the snowstorm.”
“Yep, they certainly are.”
“Do you think they’ll be coming home anytime soon?”
I shake my head. “There’s at least four feet of snow out there on the roads. They won’t be coming home tonight, that’s for sure.”
“So,” she says again.
“So,” I repeat.
“We have the house to ourselves.”
“We do, but I think I’d better get you to our cabin and warm you up, little Omega. It’s closer.”
And she smiles even more brightly and replies, “Yes, I think you better.”