Chapter 10 #3
I refused to look away as I took another bite. If the surly cowboy who’d barely said two words to me wanted to sit at the end of the table and stare, then I’d give him a show. I let out another happy little moan, thoroughly enjoying the meal.
August’s rumbling hum of satisfaction answered mine. I glanced to my left to find the giant chef watching me just as closely with a triumphant smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Glad you approve,” he said softly.
“August.” I pitched my voice so it carried clearly over the quiet room, loving the way his eyes warmed at my use of his given name.
“If you cook like this every night, I might just have to bite and bond you for your food alone.” A sharp bark of laughter ended the rest of the heavy silence, and just like that, the tension broke.
I sighed around another bite, truly enjoying the meal.
“Careful making sounds like that at the dinner table, gorgeous,” Ransom drawled, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the wood. Candlelit danced in his amber eyes. “Some of us have very active imaginations.”
“Ransom,” Stetson warned, though there wasn’t any real heat in the Pack Leader’s rough voice.
“What? I’m not wrong.” Ransom flashed me a mischievous grin and stabbed a piece of asparagus with his fork.
My cheeks heated. Not because I was embarrassed, but because downright pornographic images were suddenly filling my mind of Ransom pulling those same noises out of my throat for entirely different reasons…
I was almost positive they could scent my sudden arousal, and I shifted in my chair, unsure where to look.
“Delicious,” Gideon echoed, though I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the food.
A warm smile touched his lips as he turned back to his plate.
Then, as if sensing I needed the reprieve, he glanced down the table toward the Pack Leader.
“Alright, Stet. Now what were you saying earlier about that downed fence line on the north ridge?”
Silverware clattered against plates as the rest of the men finally dug into their own meals.
Just like that, the pack fell into easy, flowing conversation.
They talked about the ranch, cattle yields, tractor repairs, and the upcoming rodeo circuit, effortlessly sweeping me into their orbit.
But even as the casual banter resumed, their focus on me remained absolute.
Gideon kept my wine glass perfectly topped off, while River quietly anticipated exactly when to pass the sides before I even had to ask.
By the time August began clearing the empty plates, the tight knot of anxiety in my chest was gone.
“Let’s have dessert in the living room with the kids,” the giant announced, stacking dishes over his forearm. “I made blueberry cobbler.”
Totally stuffed, I followed the others through the archway and into the den where Sunny was cuddled up with Wyatt, happily watching the blue dog dance across the screen.
The moment River sat down, Sunny crawled directly into his lap, resting her blonde curls against his chest and doing “grabby hands” for a bowl of cobbler that August was passing out.
I made a beeline for my favorite spot on the sectional, the corner seat, curling up and tucking my legs beneath my skirt.
I half expected Gideon or Ransom to flank me, but the weight dipping the cushions to my right was much lighter.
Wyatt wedged himself against my side, keeping his eyes glued to the TV the whole time. He took a bowl, leaned back, and dove into his dessert while keeping me company.
My throat immediately closed tight. The serious little boy who guarded this pack like it was his job had actively bypassed his father’s chair to sit with me. I didn’t point it out. I ruffled his hair while he ate, letting the acceptance sink into my heart.
A little while later, a loud, upbeat jingle blasted from the TV speakers, signaling the end of the show. Stetson didn’t even wait for the credits to roll.
“Alright, you two,” he ordered, tapping the face of his watch. “Upstairs. Teeth and bed.”
“I’m too tired to walk,” Sunny whined, sliding off River’s lap to drop onto the rug in a boneless puddle of protest.
“Who said anything about walking?” Ransom grinned.
He scooped the little girl up by her waist, lifting her high over his head.
Sunny shrieked with laughter as he made loud, rumbling airplane noises, banking her left and right.
Ransom threw a challenging look down at Wyatt “Race you to the sink. Loser mucks the stalls tomorrow.”
Wyatt’s green eyes went wide. He scrambled off the couch, breaking his contact with my side, and bolted for the stairs with Ransom “flying” a giggling Sunny right behind him.
I sank deeper into the corner cushions, listening to the thud of their boots echoing up the hardwood stairs followed by an exuberant “whoop” as Ransom let Wyatt win.
At the edge of the room, August crouched in front of the stone hearth and struck a match. The kindling caught immediately. The fire blazed to life, casting low, flickering shadows across the walls and changing the vibe of the room from family friendly to cozy and romantic.
My rational brain screamed at me to stand up, say a quick goodnight, and retreat to my bedroom where it was safe from the men who had officially stopped playing the role of polite roommates.
But my inner Omega didn’t want to run from the attention pressing in on us from all sides. She wanted to bask in it.
So, instead of shrinking into the cushions, I uncurled my posture, crossed my bare legs, and tilted my chin up to meet the Pack Leader’s burning stare head-on.