Chapter 4
JUNE
The sun is deceptively cheerful this morning, bright and golden.
The breeze cuts cold across the ranch, sharp enough to make my nose run, but I’m not complaining.
After last night’s adventure in bail-and-babysit, I’ll take any excuse to be outside instead of lying in bed staring at the ceiling and replaying every embarrassing moment on a loop.
“You smell like my scent match.”
Nope. Not thinking about that. Or blue eyes, rough voices, the way my traitorous body responded to a stranger’s scent like it had been waiting for him my whole life.
I’m here to help out Belle. She’s currently crouched near the horse pen, checking the equipment.
My gear is with her too. Her purple hair flutters in the breeze, buzzed short on one side, the rest sweeping on the other side and down her shoulder in a dramatic wave that somehow looks effortlessly cool instead of ridiculous.
She’s wearing a green floral dress with thick black tights and black boots, a leather jacket thrown over top.
Meanwhile, I’m in my favorite rust-red Western shirt, jeans that I’m pretty sure have a coffee stain on the thigh from this morning, and boots that have seen better days. My hair is piled on top of my head to get it out of my way.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Belle begins. “I’m handling action shots, horses, movement, all the dramatic stuff. Once I’m done with all the guys, they’re yours for headshots. Shoulders and up. You can watch me work the action shots if you want some insight.”
“Sounds good.” I set down my bag and start checking my own equipment. Everything is there and ready. I love that I can do part-time photography gigs, as I don’t see myself working forever in real estate. “Any particular look we’re going for with the headshots?”
“Rugged but approachable. Sexy but wholesome. The kind of face that makes women swoon and sponsors write checks.” She winks. “Basically, just make them look like the fantasy cowboys everyone wants them to be.”
“So, lie with a camera. Got it.”
She laughs and heads toward the corral where the crew is setting up lighting equipment.
I follow, leaving Belle’s assistant to care for the cameras, while I take in the scene of a gorgeous chestnut mare being led into position, handlers fussing with her mane, a cluster of cowboys gathered near the water station looking like they stepped out of a Western romance novel.
And somewhere among them, probably, is Seth.
Not that I’m looking. Not that I care.
I’m scanning the crowd anyway when I turn and walk straight into something solid.
“Whoa there, careful!” I stumble backward and find myself in front of a wall of muscle carrying a horse saddle in one arm.
“I saw you there,” the wall says, and there’s laughter in his voice.
I look up.
And up.
And—oh.
He’s tall, six-one, six-two, with a broad chest and powerful arms and legs that look like they could run through walls.
His dark brown hair sits just above his shoulders, pulled up into a messy knot with loose strands falling around his face.
He’s clean-shaven, which makes his features stand out more than I’d expect—thick eyebrows, long lashes, and eyes that are a pale gray.
There are piercings. Multiple in his ears. One through his eyebrow. And when he shifts the saddle to his other arm, I catch a glimpse of his right arm, covered entirely in a full sleeve of tattoos. Bold, tribal patterns, dense and intricate.
He grins down at me, and it’s pure sin.
“Name’s Kai,” he says. “You shooting us today?”
“That’s the plan.” I find my voice somewhere in the vicinity of my dropped jaw. “I’m the assistant, so don’t expect miracles.”
“Miracles aren’t really my thing anyway.” He tilts his head, studying me with open curiosity. “What do they call you, angel?”
“They call me someone who doesn’t fall for cheesy pickup lines.”
His grin widens. “That wasn’t a pickup line but an observation. You’ve got a face like heaven.”
“And that mouth of yours is a straight-up hazard.”
“Guilty.” He shifts the saddle again, biceps flexing in a way that’s absolutely intentional. “But it’s the fun kind of hazard. I promise.”
The breeze shifts, and the world tilts sideways.
His scent smothers me without warning—sea salt, toasted coconut, and underneath, it’s tropical, like fresh, sweet pineapple.
For a moment, I’m not standing in a cold Montana field. I’m floating in warm water, sun on my face, waves lapping gently against my skin. I’m somewhere far away, somewhere beautiful, somewhere I never want to leave—
My foot catches on a rock.
I pitch forward with a yelp, arms flailing, the ground rushing up to meet my face. This is how I die. Face-first in the dirt in front of a hottie, with horse manure probably inches from my—
Kai moves.
It happens so fast I barely register it.
One second he’s holding the saddle, and the next he’s setting it down in a controlled drop while simultaneously lunging toward me.
His hand catches my stomach, the other wrapping around my back, and in one fluid motion, he’s hauling me upright, pivoting to catch his own balance, turning so that somehow, impossibly, I end up pressed against his chest with my face buried just below his collarbone.
I gasp.
Which is a mistake.
Because inhaling means getting a lungful of that scent again, so strong and overwhelming that my entire nervous system glitches out.
My face is pressed against warm cotton and solid muscle.
My hands are splayed across his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric.
His arms are wrapped around me, one across my back, one still at my waist, and he’s so much bigger than me, surrounding me completely, and I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything except drown in the smell of him.
My heart slams against my ribs. There’s a buzzing between my thighs, insistent and alarming, and my whole body is trembling like I’m standing in a hurricane instead of pressed against a stranger’s chest.
What is happening to me?
This isn’t normal. This isn’t how I react to people. This is—
Kai pulls back slightly, his hands still warm on me, and looks down at me with an expression that’s shifted from playful to something more focused. More intent.
“You all right there, doll?”
I open my mouth to respond. What comes out is something between a wheeze and a moan.
His eyebrows shoot up. And then that grin returns, slower this time, knowing, like a cat who’s just spotted something interesting.
“Did you just sniff me a second ago?”
“I—what—no—”
“Because I’m pretty sure you just buried your face in my chest and took a big ol’ breath.” He leans closer. “Naughty girl. But if you ask nicely, I’ll let you do it again.”
Oh my God. My face and whole body is on fire. My brain has completely abandoned ship and left me here to die of embarrassment. Who in the world is this man? My heart is thundering so fast, so loud.
“I think,” I manage, my voice coming out strangled, “I’m having a heart attack.”
His expression flickers—genuine concern breaking through the flirtation. “Wait, seriously?”
“I don’t know.” I press a hand to my chest, feeling my heart hammering against my palm. “My heart is doing weird things. Is this what dying feels like?”
He studies me for a long moment, those pale gray eyes searching my face. Then he steps close enough that I catch another wave of that scent, and my knees actually buckle. He catches me again, keeping me upright.
“Is that the impact I have on you?” His voice is softer now, but there’s still that teasing edge. “Because I’ve been known to have that effect on women, but usually not this fast.”
I let out a breathless laugh that sounds slightly hysterical even to my own ears. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? While I’m having a medical emergency?”
“Is it a medical emergency, or is it just me being devastatingly attractive?”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” He grins, and it’s infuriatingly charming. “You’re blushing too hard to hate me.”
He’s right. My cheeks are burning. I’m probably visible from space right now, a beacon of mortification glowing red across the Montana landscape.
“So tell me,” Kai continues, tilting his head, “how come I can barely scent you? You’re an Omega, right, to have such a reaction?”
The question lands like a bucket of ice water thrown over me.
“I’m a Beta,” I blurt out, too fast, too defensive. “Definitely a Beta. One hundred percent. Totally normal, boring Beta.”
He stares at me for a beat too long. Those eyes narrow slightly, and there’s something knowing in his expression that says he’s not quite buying what I’m selling.
“You sure about that?”
“Positive. This is just…” I wave a hand vaguely. “Low blood sugar. Or altitude sickness. Or a delayed reaction to the trauma of almost face-planting in front of you.”
“Altitude sickness.” His lips twitch. “In Montana.”
“It’s a very high altitude.”
“We’re at around three thousand feet.”
“That’s high for some people!”
He laughs, and the sound rolls through me like I’m too close to a campfire I didn’t mean to step into. “All right,” he says. “Beta it is.”
He lets go of my waist, but he doesn’t give me the space back. He stays right there, close enough that his scent floods me and feels unfair coming from a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
“But just so we’re clear, doll,” he adds, voice dipping like we’re sharing a secret. “I don’t do favorites. I appreciate the whole damn menu.”
“How inclusive of you.”
“I’m a man of the people.” He closes one eye in a slow, shameless little gesture that should not work as well as it does. “You sure you’re steady? You went real quiet on me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.” His grin turns sharp at the edges. “Like your brain hit a fence post.”
“My brain is fine.”