Chapter 27 #2
River kissed the way he did everything—slow, purposeful, and thorough.
His mouth moved over mine like we had all the time in the world, like there wasn’t a county fair happening around us, like the only thing on his schedule was learning exactly how my lips fit against his.
My fingers curled into the front of his shirt as I forgot where I was.
When he pulled back, I was breathless, swaying on my feet, blinking up at him, completely useless. My lips tingled and my panties were suddenly wet.
Ransom was watching us with dilated pupils, biting his bottom lip with want in his eyes. “You two are killing me,” he groaned.
River traced the line of my jaw with his thumb, his amber eyes dark and steady on mine. “Not yet, Pretty Girl. When you’re ready.”
The promise in those five words sank straight through me and settled low in my belly.
I looked between them—Ransom’s barely contained hunger, River’s patient, burning certainty—and for one dizzying second, I could feel exactly what it would be like to have both of them at once.
I could picture the coordination, imagine the contrast in the way they’d touch me, tease me, take me.
The way they’d move around me the same way they moved through everything else, in perfect sync.
Ransom tipped his hat to me with a wink that should’ve been illegal. “Something to think about, Sparkles.”
Good God, can an Omega die from lust? I felt my temperature rise. Literally felt it in my cheeks and my face as though they’d stoked a fire deep within me that was burning from the inside out.
I was still thinking about it when Stetson appeared at the arena gate five minutes later, unaware that his twins had just ignited a blaze that made me fan myself.
I pressed my thighs together tighter, then stole a sip of Gideon’s lemonade to try and cool off.
Stetson handed the horses off to August and headed my way with Wyatt.
Almost instantly, Wyatt spotted a group of boys from his school lingering near the cotton candy stand. He looked up at his father, silently asking for permission.
“Stay where I can see you,” Stetson instructed, tapping the brim of his son’s hat. “And don’t eat enough junk to make yourself sick before we head home.”
The boy nodded, already jogging off to join his friends.
Stetson turned to me. The razor-sharp focus he’d carried in the arena had gone. He looked relaxed, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he took off his hat and wiped his brow. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” I admitted. And not just for food…
He settled his hat back on his head and pressed his hand to the small of my back, guiding me through the thick crowd. We walked the packed midway together, the dirt paths lined with bright carnival games and craft booths. It felt incredibly easy just being beside him.
We didn’t have to walk far before the delicious scent of fried dough hit my nose, making my mouth water.
Stetson stepped up to the window of a bright red concession trailer, ordered, and returned a minute later holding out a paper plate piled high with delicious, powdered funnel cakes.
“Figured it was practically a crime to come to the county fair and not get one of these,” he said, offering me the plate.
“You’re my hero,” I laughed, taking it from him. The sweet, fried aroma smelled like heaven.
“I aim to please.” Stetson smirked, falling into step beside me.
I took a bite, the hot dough decadent on my tongue. A second later, Stetson stopped walking. He turned toward me, lifted his thumb, and brushed it gently right down the bridge of my nose.
The casual intimacy of the gesture sent butterflies loose in my stomach.
“Powdered sugar,” he explained in a way that made it very clear he wasn’t just thinking about the dessert. He didn’t pull away, his thumb lingering on my jaw before he finally let his arm drop.
I swallowed hard, my skin tingling where he’d touched me.
I needed a distraction before I dragged him behind the nearest livestock tent and had my way with him, so I turned my attention to the row of local artisan booths we were passing and spotted the perfect gift for Wyatt.
It wasn’t a generic plastic carnival toy.
It was a beautiful, hand-tooled leather sketchbook with a galloping horse pressed into the cover.
I remembered the meticulous little drawings I’d seen on the margins of his homework assignments.
I bought it without a second thought.
We found Wyatt ten minutes later, sitting on a wooden bench near the exit with his friends. He stood up and jogged over as we approached, his cheeks flushed from running.
“I got you something.” I handed over the leather book. “For your drawings.”
Wyatt took it. He didn’t rip it open, but took a moment to study the cover, tracing the embossed leather with his thumb. He looked up at me with that mature gaze—Stetson’s eyes in miniature.
Then, Wyatt reached into his own pocket. He pulled out a small, smoothly sanded piece of pine wood. It was the hand-carved horse his dad had taught him how to whittle, the slightly crooked shape of a running mustang. It was one of his prized possessions.
He held it out, pressing the warm wood into my palm.
“I want you to have it,” Wyatt said firmly.
My throat closed. I gripped the small wooden horse, blinking rapidly to keep the sudden sting of tears at bay.
I looked at Stetson. He was staring at his son, even more proud than he’d been in the arena.
Wyatt hadn’t just accepted me. By offering something he’d made with his own hands, Wyatt was claiming me back.
“Well, isn’t this a cozy little picture?”
The sharp, grating voice cut through the noise of the midway like a knife.
I winced, bracing myself. Melissa Lawson was standing three feet away, clutching a giant iced tea, her gaze sweeping over me with barely concealed disdain before landing on Stetson.
My Alpha, always polite, dipped his head in greeting but kept his demeanor cool. “Afternoon, Melissa.”
Normally, the scrutiny of the town gossip would have made me sick, but I gripped the carved wooden mustang tightly in my palm. I wasn’t an outsider anymore. I had the pack leader on my left and his son—my son—on my right.
I didn’t shrink under her glare. I smiled, unbothered. “Hi, Melissa. Gorgeous day for the fair, isn’t it?”
She tightened her jaw, then opened her mouth, eyes narrowing as she prepared to launch whatever barbed comment she’d loaded up.
Before she could get a single syllable out, Wyatt stepped right into the space between us, turned his back on the gossip, and looked up at me.
“Do you want to see the prize pigs now, Jules?” Wyatt asked, ignoring her. It was a flawless dismissal.
Stetson stifled a laugh, once again thrilled with his son.
I leaned down a fraction, matching Wyatt’s serious focus. “I would love to. You know… I’ve actually never seen a pig in person before.” I paused, feigning deep thought. “Well, besides the bacon they sell at the grocery store, anyway.”
Wyatt gave me a tiny grin and a scandalized little shake of his head at my absolute city-girl ignorance.
Stetson didn’t offer Melissa another word. He just reached down, laced his fingers securely through mine right in front of her, and guided me forward. His grip was claiming, public, and absolute. Coldwater Creek was watching, and the pack leader didn’t care.
We walked toward the livestock barns, leaving Melissa behind.
A few minutes later, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I pulled it out, shielding the screen from the bright afternoon sun. I had sent a picture to my brothers’ group chat earlier—a quick selfie of me, Wyatt, and Stetson with a few horses behind us.
I had a slew of new messages.
Marco:
Is that a real horse? Don’t get on that thing. You could die!
Kit:
Please, you’re the one who rides motorcycles and lives for speed.
Marco:
Yeah, but motorcycles don’t have brains of their own and big fucking attitudes.
Tommas:
Ignore them. You look so happy, Jules. Motherhood looks good on you!
Dimitri:
Be safe.
Giovanni:
I’m with Marco. I’m scheduling the jet.
I locked the screen and shoved the phone back into my pocket, a breathless laugh escaping me. Both of my families were total chaos, and honestly? I was living for it.
Just wait until I sent them a picture of the pigs… The bacon jokes would be endless.
Warmth flooded my veins. My two different worlds were on a collision course, but with Stetson’s hand wrapped securely around mine, I wasn’t worried about the impact.
Pack Tate had claimed me, instantly doubling my family. Now I just had to survive introducing them to my crazy brothers. I could already picture the chaos.