6. Clayton
Clayton
W hat the fuck had my pack mate done this time?
“I expected Dakota or Zeke to bring home strays, but I thought better of you,” I said, growling at my pack mate.
After me, Montana was probably the most levelheaded member of our pack. So, the fact that he thought bringing a complete stranger home was a good idea was maybe a sign he was suffering a head injury. Had his little scuffle with the bull given him brain damage?
This woman could have been anyone. Obviously, I wasn't blind. I could tell she was beautiful, and she smelled like fucking sex, but I didn’t think Montana would have fallen for a pretty face.
Zeke? Most certainly. I loved that dumbass, but he could be led around by his cock so easily.
Then again, we were all suckers for an omega in distress. We were hard-wired to care for omegas, and this one was clearly having a bad day.
Montana held his hands up in a surrender gesture, shrugging.
“Miss Evelyn ambushed me! Apparently, the omega has nowhere to go, and she wanted her to be somewhere safe.
She slept in the back of the diner last night.
Did you really want me to say no to Evelyn after all she's done for us? How many times she's babysat Maisie in a pinch or given us food when we’ve been so busy we forgot to eat?”
A huff escaped my chest. The fucker had a good point. Even I struggled to say no to Evelyn. She was family. There was no blood relation between us, but she had been in our lives for as long as I could remember and had never steered us wrong.
There was a first time for everything, though, and this omega was certainly a risk.
“Why on earth did she decide that this omega was the best fit for our house?” I asked. “Did she explain any of her logic? Or is this another desperate attempt to play matchmaker?”
I loved and respected Evelyn, but over the last year or two, she had made some not-so-subtle attempts to encourage us to date again.
We had been pointedly ignoring her attempts. Sure, having a woman around would be good for Maisie and even for us, but we had enough on our plates without dealing with another person in our pack—especially a high-maintenance city princess.
Dating required time, and we were in short supply of that, between keeping the ranch running and trying to ensure Maisie was raised somewhat right.
I glanced at the omega, who was chatting with Dakota.
Her face lit up as she spoke animatedly about something I couldn’t hear, her nose scrunching as she shook her head playfully.
What were they talking about? Even though I’d been telling myself I had no interest in the stray, I couldn’t resist wondering about their topic of conversation.
“Come on, we’re drowning and you know it,” Montana reasoned. “We can try it for a few days and see how she does. If she’s terrible, you can kick her out on her ass like the asshole you are.”
“I’m not an asshole,” I grumbled.
“And the sky is purple and my name is Jolene.”
“You’re more of a Bertha.” I smirked.
Montana laughed ruefully. “Well, that I may be. Now, why don’t you go grab yourself some food? It’s late, and we all have an early morning. The farrier is coming.”
“I thought that was next week,” I groaned. That would be another job for my to-do list the next day—I really needed to hire a few more ranch hands.
He shook his head. “He had time tomorrow, and I jumped at the chance. You know those fancy resort ranches have so many horses, they’re inundated with work.”
That stupid vacation ranch was the bane of my existence. Working cattle and living out in the country wasn’t a costume they could put on and play pretend at. It was our way of life—my great-great-great-grandaddy had built the house I lived in, as had all my family before me.
It was a legacy, and one I wanted to protect for my children.
Vacation ranches made a mockery of that. Greasy businessmen who cared far too much about their appearances and had never touched a speck of dirt or lifted anything heavier than a laptop had no place out in the country.
“It’s brought some tourism to the area,” Montana pointed out.
“We were doing just fine before they opened up shop,” I argued.
Sure, having a new hotel in the area and more tourism meant the little shops in town got more business, but it also meant that everything we needed was more expensive.
Groceries? Now there was organic produce and free-range tofu. Kombucha? I was pretty sure that shit was mold juice that people convinced themselves was a tasty treat.
City people were wrong in the head.
“It’s not all about us,” Montana said, crossing his arms.
True, Sweetwater Springs was a community, and if cowboy tourism helped it, then it couldn’t be all bad.
That didn’t mean I had to like the stupid vacation ranch.
“I doubt the facilities are up to her exacting standards,” I argued quietly. I was grasping at straws, even I could tell that, but there was something about her scent that had my guard up. It was too good.
Montana shook his head, biting back a grin. “Well, if she doesn’t like it here, she’s free to leave. Can you stop looking for excuses, or do you want to keep working eighteen-hour days on top of looking after Maisie? Because I know you think you’re invincible, but we all have our limits.”
“Fine, but I’ll be watching her. I’m not sure we can trust her around our daughter yet.”
A snort escaped Montana’s chest. “I think we’ll all be watching her.”
My eyes trailed over to where Zeke was staring at the omega with the biggest, dopiest grin on his face.
“For some reason, that’s not exactly comforting.”