Chapter 10 #2
The fierce, possessive Alpha instinct that had been clawing at the back of my skull since she arrived finally broke loose, flooding my veins.
“Tell Boone to start planning something for dinner,” I ordered, gathering my heavy leather reins. “A real dinner. And tell the twins they’re actually dressing for it. We’ll take it slow, but if we’re doing this, then it’s time we start taking it seriously.”
Gideon’s mouth twitched into a slow, knowing smile. “We courtin’ our Omega?”
“We’re proving we deserve her,” I corrected, my jaw locking. I tapped my spurs against the roan’s flanks, turning him toward the north pasture. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”
JULIA
By the time I headed downstairs that evening, something about the ranch had shifted to a totally different frequency.
I paused on the bottom step, my hand gripping the banister. My stomach gave a demanding, highly unladylike rumble at the mouth-watering aroma of seared steak, roasted garlic, and rosemary drifting from the kitchen. But it wasn’t the food that made my pulse skip.
It was the number of sexy Alphas flitting—for lack of a better word—around the dining room, fussing over each plate setting, lighting candles, and uncorking wine. Each one of them was dressed in their Sunday best… which pulled me up short. Because, hot damn they cleaned up nice.
I looked down at my simple cotton sundress, glad I’d chosen something at least a little on the dressier side than the normal jeans and sweaters I had been wearing. I smoothed my hand down my skirt, wondering how I’d missed the memo on tonight’s apparent dress code.
For the past week, we’d eaten our meals clustered around the kitchen table, elbow-to-elbow in a comfortable, somewhat chaotic mess. But tonight, the long, heavy oak table was fully set.
And the men… oh God.
The dusty denim, scuffed work boots, and casual tees from the past seven days were gone.
Ransom and River leaned against the sideboard, their damp blond hair actually combed.
They wore crisp, dark pearl-snap shirts that hugged their muscular shoulders.
Ransom caught sight of me and gave me his usual wicked grin.
The one that never ceased to make my stomach flutter.
Gideon set a bottle of red wine on the table, straightening up to look at me. He wore a soft charcoal sweater that made his blue eyes look almost sapphire in the low light.
But it was Stetson who pulled the air straight from my lungs.
The Pack Leader stood at the head of the table.
He’d traded his usual work clothes for a black button-down, the sleeves rolled to expose his thick, corded forearms. Without his ever-present cowboy hat casting shadows over his face, the angled lines of his jaw were fully on display.
Dark green eyes locked onto mine, and Stetson’s scent warmed, beckoning me closer.
The polite distance he’d maintained all week was gone, replaced by… well… this.
“You look beautiful,” Stetson rumbled, and the low, gravelly rasp did wicked things to me. He took a slow step back, pulling out the chair directly to his right in open invitation.
It wasn’t often that I didn’t know what to say, but this was one of those rare moments. My mouth went dry, and it took a full thirty seconds for my logical brain to slam the brakes on my swooning and remind me that I was more than the hormones currently surging through my body.
I smoothed my palms over my hips, fixing my skirt, and lifted my chin, refusing to be an easy mark.
“Are we expecting the governor?” I teased, arching a single brow as I walked into the room, “or did someone finally teach you all how to use an iron?”
Ransom let out a bark of surprised laughter, his chest shaking. River just smirked as he watched me cross the room.
Stetson didn’t flinch. Dark amusement sparked in his green eyes as I approached the table, stepped in front of the chair he was holding, and turned to face him. We were close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.
“Careful, Stetson,” I murmured, keeping my gaze locked on his. “A girl could get used to this kind of treatment.”
He leaned in, his mouth ghosting over my ear, sending a wild flutter right down my spine. “That,” he whispered, “is exactly the point.”
He pushed my chair in as I sat down while my blood roared in my ears.
August stepped through the kitchen doorway carrying a platter of sliced steak. He set the meat down, then turned his full attention to me. “I hope you like steak.”
“I do, and it smells amazing,” I managed to say, my voice embarrassingly breathless from the way Stetson’s fingers brushed the bare skin at the back of my neck as he released my chair and took his own seat.
I swore he’d done it on purpose, and that light graze was all it took to send a cascade of goosebumps down my arms.
Colt followed right on August’s heels, stepping out of the kitchen with a heavy ceramic bowl of roasted root vegetables in one hand and a basket of warm rolls in the other.
He hadn’t bothered with a crisp button-down like the twins or Stetson, but his dark grey Henley hugged his chest perfectly, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal his tanned forearms that I drank in the sight of as he set the side dishes down near my plate.
He didn’t offer a charming line or a wicked grin. He just lifted his head, his storm-grey eyes catching mine for a fraction of a second. A muscle feathered along his tight jaw before he looked away, moving to take the chair at the far end of the table.
The rest of the guys took seats around us, and it didn’t escape me that none of them had sat until I did.
It also didn’t escape me that the house was entirely too peaceful.
As I unfolded the cloth napkin and laid it across my lap, my gaze swept the table.
“Where are Wyatt and Sunny?” I asked, glancing toward the hallway.
“Did Mrs. Beaumont take them for the evening?” As I’d predicted, Mary was the twins’ mother.
She and her pack lived nearby and were a huge help with the children.
A burst of animated music drifted from the living room, answering my question before Gideon could.
“Next room over,” the Beta replied, setting the wine bottle down. “Boone fed them at five so we could have a quiet dinner. Right now, they’re heavily invested in some show featuring a talking blue dog.”
“Oh.” I traced a bead of condensation dripping down my water glass, suddenly feeling unmoored.
The truth was, over the last seven days, I had fallen completely in love with those kids.
It was impossible not to. Wyatt’s fierce, old-soul protectiveness and Sunny’s sweetness and chaos had easily become the best parts of my routine.
But falling for them had also forced me to swallow a jagged, bitter pill.
This pack had a past. While I had been locked up in the OMA, wasting away in a gilded cage and fighting against a system that treated me like some prized future incubator, these men had been out living.
Sleeping with other women. Shitty women, at that, given they had been stupid enough to walk away from two of the most amazing kids I’d ever met.
And as unfair as it was, it hurt a little.
It was a selfish, possessive ache mourning the years I’d missed out on, but I could never regret the fact that it happened.
Because whenever I looked at Sunny and Wyatt, my Omega practically hummed with the maternal certainty that they were mine.
Even if I wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet, I felt it.
They were as much a part of me now as the six men sitting around this table.
But spending all my time with the kids had also come with an undeniable perk. They were the perfect buffer. It was easy to avoid unpacking the new reality of being fated to six men when I was busy untangling Sunny’s hair, or playing Barbie dolls, or helping Wyatt with his math homework.
The guys had let me do it, too. They’d kept a polite, friendly distance all week, giving me space to adjust to the whole instant-family dynamic.
Which was exactly what I’d asked for. So why was I so irritated that they’d actually listened?
If I was being honest with myself, I was a little irked by how easily they kept themselves at arm’s length.
Weren’t they just as affected by my scent as I was by theirs?
Didn’t they get just as breathless when we passed in the kitchen or shared looks across the yard?
Didn’t they ache when we said goodnight every evening without so much as a touch?
While my rational brain was happy to have time to get used to the drastic turn my life had taken, my inner Omega had started pouting on day one and was downright surly by day seven.
But as I looked around the candlelit dining room, she started to perk up even while the rest of me had a mini anxiety attack that my buffers were gone.
There were no preschoolers to hide behind, no seven-year-olds I could focus the conversation around.
I was staring down the barrel of six sinfully sexy men who seemed like they’d finally gotten their shit together and had just shifted gears from zero to sixty in the span of a single evening.
Swallowing the sudden, tight knot of nerves in my throat, I picked up my fork, sliced off a piece of the steak, and took a bite. The meat practically melted on my tongue, lightly seared, perfectly seasoned, and juicy. An involuntary groan of pure bliss vibrated in the back of my throat.
At the far end of the table, a fork scraped loudly against a stoneware plate.
Colt leaned back in his chair, away from the edge of the table. He was the only one who hadn’t engaged in the easy banter, remaining his normal brooding, silent self, but his storm-grey eyes burned with a dark heat as they tracked the movement of my throat when I swallowed.