8. Emma #2
As he walks away, I take a deep breath, steeling myself before heading toward the barn. It’s not that I’m intimidated by Liam, exactly, but something about him makes me intensely aware of myself in a way that feels dangerous.
The barn interior is cool and dim after the bright sunshine, the air thick with the smell of hay and animals. I pause, letting my eyes adjust, and hear Liam’s low voice before seeing him.
“Easy now. That’s it.”
He’s at the far end, his back to me, running a brush over one of the ponies. The animal stands perfectly still under his ministrations, clearly trusting him completely. There’s something captivating about watching his large hands move with such gentleness.
There should be a warning label on this man. “Caution: May cause spontaneous heart palpitations, and the sudden urge to learn about livestock management.”
I must make some slight sound, because he turns suddenly, his eyes finding mine.
I’m just standing there staring at him with my mouth slightly open.
Shit.
I snap my jaw shut, hoping he hasn’t noticed me practically salivating over his forearms flexing as he brushes the pony.
“Emma,” he says, and just my name from his mouth sends a flutter of warmth through me. “Need something?”
I step further into the barn, keeping a respectful distance. “Sorry,” I manage, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Theo mentioned you had questions about the social media plan for the animals?”
I wipe the corner of my mouth discreetly, praying there isn’t any actual drool.
Liam’s eyes flicker to my lips, briefly lingering before returning to mine. “Did he now?”
The way he says it makes me suspect Theo might have been creating a reason for me to seek Liam out. “If it’s not a good time—”
“It’s fine,” he says quickly. “I was just finishing up with Buttercup here.”
The pony nuzzles his arm as if on cue, and a small smile tugs at Liam’s mouth.
“You’re so good with them,” I observe.
“She’s a sweetheart,” he says, giving the pony a final pat before hanging the brush on a nearby hook. “Better than most people, usually.”
I move closer, reaching out tentatively to stroke Buttercup’s velvety nose. “Is that why you prefer to hang out in the barn? ”
Shit. Did I just say that out loud? But Liam doesn’t seem offended.
“Partly,” he admits. “They’re simpler—honest—they don’t hide what they’re feeling or pretend to be something they’re not.”
Something in his tone makes me wonder if he’s speaking from experience or if someone in his past pretended to be something they weren’t. The thought makes me uncomfortable; it feels too close to my deception.
“Theo says you’ve been here seven years,” I say, changing the subject slightly, but then I want to smack myself.
Jeeze Emma. Why so freaking nosy? Especially when you can’t reciprocate.
Liam nods, his eyes on Buttercup. “Rowan gave me a chance when I needed one. I owe him.”
The simple statement hints at a deeper story, but I don’t press. We all have parts of our past we prefer to keep private.
Instead, I say, “I’ve been taking lots of photos of the animals for social media. People love that content. Especially Maple… She’s very photogenic.”
At the mention of the goat, Liam’s expression lightens again. “She thinks she’s the star of the show, and she’s decided you’re her person, for whatever reason.”
“I’m flattered,” I say, smiling. “Though I don’t know what I did to earn her loyalty.”
Liam looks at me directly then, his eyes intense. “Sometimes it’s not about what you do. Sometimes it’s just intuition. Animals sense things we don’t always pick up on.”
His gaze makes me feel exposed, as if he can see through my careful facade. I break eye contact first, focusing on Buttercup again.
“Well, I’m glad she approves of me,” I say lightly. “Makes my job easier when the talent cooperates.”
Liam doesn’t respond immediately, and when I glance back at him, he’s still watching me with that same intense expression. But there’s something else there now—his nostrils flare as he steps towards me.
“Mmm, it smells so good,” he murmurs, leaning closer, eyes half-closed as he inhales deeply.
I freeze as Liam drifts toward me like someone in a trance. My heart lurches painfully in my chest. “What?”
He steps closer, and his eyes suddenly snap open, widening with horror. “Shit, sorry,” he stammers, lurching backward.
His heel catches on the water bucket, clattering across the stable floor. The pony startles with a nervous whine as Liam stumbles into its flank, but thankfully regains his footing.
Panic rises in my throat. The headache, my heightened scent… something’s wrong.
“Didn’t mean—thought—” His hands gesture uselessly. “Fuck.”
He takes a tentative step forward, and that’s when his scent hits me: smoke and bourbon. The perfect combination of woodsy and masculine musk makes my inner omega purr.
Oh my gawd!
“I should go,” I say, backing toward the door. “I have—work to finish—before tomorrow.”
Liam takes another step forward. “Emma, wait—”
But I’m already turning, moving quickly out of the barn and into the sunlight. I can hear my heart pounds in my ears as I walk as fast as possible without running to my cottage. I’m so focused that I nearly collide with Rowan as he emerges between two outbuildings.
“Whoa,” he says, his hands steadying me by the shoulders. “Everything alright?”
His touch sends a warm flutter through me, and I pull back instinctively.
But not before I catch his scent; burnt sugar and musk, stronger than I’ve ever smelled.
My reaction is immediate and horrifying; heat pooling low in my belly, my body responding to his alpha pheromones in a way that should be impossible with my extra-strength suppressant and two freaking patches.
“F-fine,” I manage, taking another step back, hoping my flood of hormones doesn’t reach him. “Just in a hurry.”
Rowan’s eyes narrow, his head tilting. “You sure?” He takes a deliberate breath, and I see the moment something changes in his expression—his pupils dilating, his posture straightening. “Emma—”
“I really need to go,” I cut him off, panic making my voice sharper than intended. “Deadline for tomorrow’s posts.”
Before he can respond, I hurry past him, not daring to look back. I can feel his eyes on me all the way to my cottage.
Inside, I lock the door and lean against it, trembling.
This can’t be happening.
Not now, not when I’ve finally found a place where I feel like I can relax. I move to the bathroom, pulling open the medicine cabinet where I keep my suppressants. The bottle is nearly empty, only six pills left.
I swallow one, then check the scent patches on my neck. They’re still in place, but when I peel one back, I can smell myself, warmer and sweeter than usual.
I’m perfuming, the way an omega’s scent intensifies when they’re…
No.
I refuse to finish that thought.
I press the patch back into place. I’ll need to double the dose and renew my prescription, but that means a trip to the pharmacy in town and questions about my designation that I don’t want to answer.
I sink onto the edge of the bathtub, head in my hands.
I can’t leave—not yet. I don’t have enough money saved, and I don’t have another job lined up. And some traitorous part of me doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to run again.
These males have been nothing but pleasant and welcoming.
I have nothing to fear, right?
“You’ll figure it out,” I whisper to myself. “You always do.”
But as I raise my head and catch my reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes too bright, I’m not sure I believe it this time. Because the truth is, for the first time since I fled the city, it’s not just my past catching up with me that I am afraid of.
I’m afraid of what might happen if I stay.