23. Date Night In The Midst Of The Rodeo
Date Night In The Midst Of The Rodeo
~WILLA~
T he kitchen light spills golden and warm through the doorway as I push inside, my body still humming from the ride—muscles loose, thighs tender where they gripped Willow's sides, and that deeper ache between my legs that has nothing to do with saddle soreness and everything to do with River's mouth.
The October night clings to my hair and clothes, but inside, the ranch house wraps around me like a blanket I didn't know I needed.
Austin sits in the old rocking chair near the window, Luna cradled against his chest in that effortless way he has with her, like she's an extension of his own body rather than a separate being requiring careful handling.
The sight of them together—his hand spanning her tiny back, her face peaceful against his heartbeat—makes something twist behind my ribs. He hums something low and wordless, a lullaby without lyrics, and his hazel eyes find mine over her dark wisps of hair.
"Good ride?" he asks softly, not wanting to disturb Luna's milk-drunk doze. There's something knowing in his expression, like he can read the afternoon's activities in the windblown state of my hair or the way I'm moving just a little too carefully.
"The best," I admit, unable to suppress the smile that blooms at the memory. River enters behind me, bringing the scent of horses and evening air, and Austin's knowing look deepens into something that might be approval.
At the dining table, Mavi hunches over what looks like a cross between a spider and a small aircraft.
The drone—because that's clearly what it is—sits partially disassembled, its guts spread across yesterday's newspaper while he adjusts something with a precision screwdriver.
His green eyes flick up to track my movement across the kitchen, cataloging, assessing, before returning to his work.
"New toy?" I ask, moving to the sink to wash the trail dust from my hands.
"Security upgrade," he corrects without looking up. "Thermal imaging, motion detection, and a fourteen-hour battery life. Can patrol the entire ranch perimeter twice before needing a charge."
"Because we definitely need military-grade surveillance for the chickens," River teases, pulling an apple from the bowl on the counter. The knife appears in his hand with practiced ease, and he starts cutting precise slices.
"Chickens aren't the concern," Mavi mutters, making another minute adjustment. "Not with the recent territorial disputes in neighboring counties. Better prepared than caught off guard."
The protective undercurrent in his voice makes me think of this morning, the way he'd appeared from nowhere when I'd tried to slip out unnoticed. Always watching, always ready. It should feel suffocating, but instead, it makes me feel... safe. Valued. Like something worth protecting.
I lean against the counter, close enough to River that I can feel his warmth without touching—we're getting good at this careful dance of proximity without contact.
"So," I venture, remembering something Austin mentioned days ago, "I heard something about a rodeo dance?"
Austin's rocking slows.
"The Harvest Moon Rodeo Dance. Yeah, it's tomorrow night."
"Were you planning to go?" I try to keep my tone casual, but something in the room shifts. Mavi's hands still on his drone. River's knife pauses mid-slice.
"I always go," Austin says carefully, adjusting Luna against his chest. "It's tradition. My family's been involved with the rodeo since this town was founded. But this year..."
"This year the town council passed new attendance rules," Mavi supplies when Austin trails off. His voice carries an edge sharp enough to cut. "Alphas attending social events must bring their bonded Omega partners. No exceptions."
"Partner?" The word sits strange on my tongue. "As in... their Omega?"
"As in their property," Cole's voice comes from behind me, and I spin to find him in the doorway, looking like thunderclouds decided to take human form.
He must have come in through the back while I was focused on Austin.
"Mayor's way of reminding unmated Alphas of their place in his vision of proper society. "
The bitterness in his tone makes my chest tight. Cole moves into the kitchen with that controlled power he always carries, but there's tension in the set of his shoulders, the way his jaw works like he's chewing on words too harsh to voice.
"The Mayor's an old prick who needs to be dethroned," he continues, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. The position puts him directly in my line of sight, and I'm struck again by how much space he takes up—not just physically but energetically, like his mood can shift the entire atmosphere of a room.
"But overthrowing established power requires more than just wanting it.
Need the connections, the backing, the financial weight to make other packs listen. "
River's laugh surprises me—low and genuinely amused.
"Financial weight?" He points his knife at Cole before returning to his apple.
"Between the ranch holdings, the side businesses, and the investments, we could buy half this town tomorrow.
Hell, we have more liquid assets than the Mayor's entire extended family combined, and he knows it. "
"Which is why he tries to make our lives hell through regulation," Mavi adds, finally looking up from his drone. "Can't attack us directly, so he chips away with bureaucracy."
I frown, remembering my unwelcome reception at the hotel, the way the desk clerk's expression had shifted from polite to cold the moment she'd scented me.
"What do you mean? What kind of regulations?"
"Building permits that take three times longer than anyone else's," Cole starts counting on his fingers. "Surprise inspections that always seem to find violations no one else gets cited for. Zoning challenges to any expansion we propose."
"Remember the water rights dispute?" Austin shifts Luna to his other arm, her small sounds of contentment filling the brief pause. "Tried to claim our irrigation system was impacting downstream flow, even though we've used the same setup for forty years."
My frown deepens.
"But that's... is that even legal? Targeting specific pack members?"
"Legal and right aren't the same thing, Dandelion," River says quietly, and the nickname makes warmth bloom in my chest despite the serious topic.
"Small town politics run on different rules.
The Mayor's been in power for twelve years.
His family's been prominent here for generations.
That builds a certain type of influence. "
"The kind that makes people look the other way," I murmur, understanding dawning. It's not so different from the territorial politics I witnessed at Iron Ridge, just dressed up in small-town charm instead of corporate suits. The same power plays, the same way of keeping outsiders in line.
"What other things has he done?" I ask, needing to understand the full scope of what my men—and that possessive thought should probably concern me more than it does—face in this town. "Besides the permits and regulations?"
River and Mavi exchange a look that speaks volumes, years of shared frustration communicated in a glance. The kitchen suddenly feels smaller, like the walls are pressing in with the weight of unspoken grievances.
"He's creative," River finally says, voice carefully neutral. "I'll give him that."
The apple slices forgotten on the cutting board tell me this conversation has touched a nerve. I wait, watching the play of kitchen light across River's face, the way his hands have stilled completely.
Even Luna seems to sense the shift in mood, stirring slightly against Austin's chest before settling again.
River's fingers drum against the counter— once, twice —before he speaks, and I realize I've never seen him agitated quite like this. His usual calm has cracks in it, hairline fractures that show something rawer underneath.
"Last spring, I applied to expand my veterinary practice," he begins, voice measured despite the tension in his shoulders.
"Nothing fancy—just adding large animal emergency services so ranchers wouldn't have to wait for someone to drive from Billings when a cow's in distress.
Standard application, all paperwork perfect.
Should have been approved in two weeks."
"Let me guess," I say. "It wasn't."
"Three months." His laugh holds no humor.
"Three months of 'lost' documents, sudden requirement changes, and mysterious delays.
Every time I met one set of demands, new ones appeared.
Additional insurance requirements that no other vet in the state needs.
Zoning studies for a building that's been used for animal care since the fifties.
Health department inspections for equipment that was already certified. "
The injustice of it makes my hands curl into fists. "How is that not discrimination?"
"Because technically, everything was within regulatory bounds," Mavi interjects, his attention seemingly back on his drone but his voice carrying sharp awareness.
"Each requirement, taken alone, is legally justifiable.
It's the pattern that reveals the intent, and patterns are harder to prove in court than single instances. "
He sets down his screwdriver with deliberate precision. "Which brings us to my situation. Eight months ago, I identified critical security vulnerabilities in our ranch systems. The kind of gaps that keep me up at night, knowing what's out there, who might take advantage."
"Dramatic much?" Austin murmurs, but there's affection in it.