Chapter 12
twelve
JULIA
I woke up wrapped in a cocoon of six different scents, and my inner Omega practically purred with smug satisfaction.
The scent of coffee and wild sage from Stetson. River’s warm graham cracker. The intoxicating marshmallow from Ransom. August’s woodsy cardamom. Gideon’s cinnamon. And underneath it all, Colt’s musk with a hint of dark chocolate.
My scent.
Their scents.
Our scents, mingled together on my skin, my clothes, my sheets.
I rolled onto my back, staring up at the timber ceiling, and let myself bask in the delicious, possessive feeling for exactly three seconds before mortification crashed over me like a bucket of ice water.
Oh God.
I had marked them. All six of them.
I buried my face in my hands, replaying last night’s events with brutal clarity.
I’d straddled Ransom. Rubbed my cheek against River’s throat like some kind of scent-drunk cat.
Buried my hands in August’s hair. Hauled Colt down by his shirt.
And kissed Stetson so hard the Pack Leader had looked like he’d been hit by farm equipment.
What the actual hell had gotten into me?
Desperate for a distraction from my mortifying mental replay, I grabbed my phone and checked my texts.
No message from Addy.
Of course.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, because apparently, I liked emotionally poking bruises for fun, then locked the phone and set it face down on the bed.
As tempting as it was, I couldn’t let myself wallow today.
Today, I had to go downstairs and face six men I had personally scent-branded like an unhinged raccoon with attachment issues.
“Get it together, Cristenello,” I muttered to myself, pushing back the mountain of blankets. “You’ve survived worse.”
I peeled myself from the luxurious, scent-laden sheets and found a pair of dark jeans, a fitted sweater, and my sparkly cowgirl boots.
After fixing my hair and makeup, I switched my focus to finding coffee in the hopes that it would help clear the haze I was in.
Was there such a thing as getting too much sleep?
I took a deep breath and headed downstairs, trying to look like I hadn’t turned into a scent-marking maniac last night.
And speaking of scents, the smell of coffee and bacon grew stronger, but so did the low murmur of male voices from the kitchen.
It wasn’t the usual breakfast chatter. This was strategic whispering.
The kind men over six feet thought was subtle even though they were all the size of furniture.
I slowed my steps, catching fragments as I silently descended.
“I called it first,” Ransom whined playfully.
Gideon sighed with exasperation. “That isn’t how courtship works.”
“It absolutely is if the lady appreciates initiative.”
“She appreciates food,” August grumbled logically.
“Everybody appreciates food, Boone. That’s cheating.”
August gave a low, amused chuckle. “Then cheat better.”
I reached the last step and took in the scene.
Ransom was the loudest whisperer, leaning against the wall with a ridiculous grin and his hands behind his back.
Gideon stood near the coffee pot, trying to moderate.
Stetson stood by the foyer, hat in hand, looking like he’d been waiting with controlled intention.
River was eating at the kitchen island while August stood at the counter, sleeves pushed up, calm but watchful while he sliced strawberries.
And Colt… Colt was sitting at the kitchen table with the kids, lurking over a mug of coffee like a thundercloud, pretending he wasn’t involved.
Sunny sat beside him, happily eating dry cereal from a plastic cup and watching the scene like it was premium television.
Across from her, Wyatt observed them all with solemn, unblinking judgment.
The sight of the surly, guarded cowboy keeping quiet company with the kids sent a soft, unexpected ache straight through my chest. There was so much more to him than he willingly showed.
The moment I stepped into the kitchen they all froze, looking like they’d been caught planning a bank robbery, which, given Gideon’s history with OMA paperwork fraud, wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility.
I arched my brow. “Should I be concerned that you all look like you’re about to ask me to join a pyramid scheme?”
Gideon cleared his throat, shifting slightly to pour me a cup of coffee before August stole it from him to add the necessary amounts of cream and sugar to it. “Good morning, Jules. And no. No pyramid schemes. We were just... negotiating.”
“Negotiating,” I repeated, crossing my arms and trying to keep a straight face. “Is that what we’re calling it when six grown men are hiss-whispering to each other in the kitchen?”
August looked smug as he passed me the mug. “I told them you’d hear us.”
River took a slow sip of his coffee, his dark eyes dancing with quiet amusement. “It’s a highly contested schedule, Pretty Girl. Stakes are high.”
“My brother speaks the truth, Sparkles. Besides, the only thing we’re pitching is a good time,” Ransom drawled, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between us.
“A good time, huh?”
He flashed his signature grin. “Depends. How do you feel about being worshipped by six cowboys with excellent stamina and questionable impulse control?”
Stetson let out a low, warning rumble. “Ransom. Little ears.”
My wild twin held up a hand in mock surrender. “What? I said worshipped. Very respectful.”
“Uh-huh,” I hummed, taking a long, much-needed sip of the perfectly sweetened coffee. “I’m sure any HR department would love that defense.”
Wyatt didn’t look up from the small pile of crayons he was sorting with the seriousness of a tiny tax accountant. Next to him, Sunny happily crunched a piece of dry cereal, unbothered by their dads’ chaos.
With a sly grin, Ransom pulled a bundle of wildflowers out from behind his back. It wasn’t an enormous, ostentatious bouquet—just a charming, messy handful of Wyoming color.
Instead of handing them to me right away, he walked over to the table, crouched down to eye level, and pulled a single, bright yellow bloom from the bunch. He offered it to Sunny with dramatic, knightly ceremony.
“For the prettiest girl at breakfast,” Ransom declared.
Sunny gasped, her amber eyes going wide like he had just handed her the crown jewels. “For me?”
“Obviously. Who else around here could pull off crumbs on her pajamas and still look this adorable?”
I hid a smile behind the rim of my mug. Sunny giggled, tucking the flower carefully beside her cereal cup. She pointed a little finger at me. “For the second prettiest girl?”
Ransom stood up, shooting his daughter a highly affronted look before crossing the distance back to me. “I’m reckless, kiddo. I’m not stupid. These are for the prettiest woman at breakfast.”
I took the flowers despite myself. They made me annoyingly, helplessly happy. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“He practiced that in the hallway,” Wyatt stage-whispered from the table.
I hid my smile behind my coffee. “Did he now?”
Wyatt nodded slowly. “Four times.”
Ransom pointed a finger at him. “Betrayal from my own flesh and blood.”
Wyatt didn’t blink. “You said honesty matters most.”
I lost the fight against my laugh. It was too damn cute.
Ransom looked wounded, clutching his chest dramatically. “Et tu, Wyatt?”
Stetson let out a rare, dry chuckle from his spot near the foyer. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, his dark green eyes gleaming with undeniable parental pride. “Taken down by a seven-year-old.”
He dropped the theatrical hand from his chest, refusing to let a little familial sabotage ruin his opening.
Shaking his head, he turned back to me and stepped right into my space.
The intoxicating scent of toasted marshmallow flared as his amber eyes dropped to my mouth and his voice slipped into a low, eager drawl.
“So, gorgeous. Sun’s out. Horses are restless. I was thinking we saddle up, ride the north ridge, pack a lunch, and disappear for a few hours. Just the two of us.”
I opened my mouth, genuinely tempted and loving his confidence, but before I could get a word out, Stetson’s heavy boots closed the distance.
“She’s not riding four hours up the ridge before we know how she handles a horse,” the Pack Leader stated protectively.
Ransom didn’t even flinch, shooting his Alpha an unrepentant, challenging grin. “I didn’t hear her say no.”
I lifted a finger, happily cutting into their competitive posturing. “For the record, I survived the chicken. But I’m not sure I’m ready for bigger livestock yet.”
Ransom looked utterly wounded. “That hen has ruined my entire courtship strategy.”
“You should have picked something safer,” Wyatt advised, not even looking up as he set a blue crayon neatly beside a red one.
Ransom stared at the boy in disbelief. “You are extremely opinionated for someone who still needs help opening applesauce.”
Wyatt just shrugged his small shoulders. “I’m right.”
I hid another smile behind my mug, my heart doing a flutter as Stetson stepped closer. The Pack Leader ignored the banter, his intense, grounding gaze locking onto mine.
“Town would be better,” he offered smoothly, though he kept his hands carefully at his sides. “Lunch. Walk around. Let you see Coldwater Creek without Ransom turning it into a rodeo event.”
“You say that like rodeo events aren’t culturally enriching,” Ransom muttered.
I tilted my head, looking up at the immovable cowboy. “Are you offering to take me to lunch, Stetson?”
The air between us charged with blatant sexual tension. Stetson’s gaze dropped to my mouth, and the memory of last night’s hungry kiss had me pressing my thighs together. The deep timber of his voice vibrated through me right down to the soles of my boots. “If you want me to.”
My pulse skipped a beat. I could practically taste the dark coffee on my tongue all over again. He tilted his chin down, leaning in just a fraction—
“Little eyes, dude,” Ransom drawled loudly, overly pleased with himself.