Rodeo & Juliette (Darling Omegas #1)

Prologue

JULIETTE

Four Years Earlier

The burn from the whiskey isn’t the only thing heatin’ up around here. There’s an itch spreading up my spine, the lights overhead are just a little too bright, and the music from the band is a little too loud.

I tap the mahogany bar, getting the bartender's attention. I’m gonna need a hell of a lot more of these to take my mind off the absolute shit storm the next week is about to become.

Take my ruined hopes and dreams, add a lurking heat, and what do you get?

A recipe for disaster, and I’m no goddamn Betty Crocker.

“That bad, huh?”

A voice, full and deep bodied, slithers along my skin seconds before his scent hits me—blueberry with underlying notes of whiskey and vanilla. It’s alluring, and I can’t help but take another deep inhale as his pheromones rush over me.

Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit. I’m in a heap of fucking trouble now.

When I check out the Alpha setting my hormones ablaze, my eyes are forced to go up, up, up until they land on a pair of striking blues that I swear are deep enough to drown in.

Of course, the rest of him could be shallow for all I know, but damn .

He is pretty . At the sight of his dark brown hair that’s long enough to curl around the edge of his backward baseball cap and a day or two’s worth of scruff surrounding plush lips that promise wicked things, my perfume begins to leak out in the space between us.

His nostrils flare, and for a second, I worry that he’s about to lose control.

He’s an Alpha after all, and I’m an Omega drunkenly rushing into heat.

If I’m honest, I doubt I’d even put up much of a fight.

Instead, he surprises me by sitting on the stool beside me.

His jeans and boots are expensive but well-worn, and the simple t-shirt that clings to his chest and arms does miraculous things for his bulging biceps.

To be honest, he’s way out of my league, but I’ve had just enough to drink to ignore that little voice in my head telling me I’d never be good enough for an Alpha like him.

“Talkative one, aren’t ya?”

Shaking myself out of whatever spell he’s cast over me, I brush a stray hair out of my eye and turn back to the amber liquid the bartender just placed in front of me, my fingers twirling the glass in a circle as I study the grain pattern in the wood like it’s the most interesting thing since alcohol delivery service.

“Not really, unless there’s something worth saying, I guess.”

“Whiskey neat,” he tells the bartender, but his assessing gaze is still burning a path across my skin.

I shouldn’t like the attention—I’ve got enough damn problems on my shoulders—but the Omega in me apparently didn’t get the memo.

She’s preening under his watchful stare, and I’m pretty sure the wooden stool under my ass is getting damp.

Guess there’s a first time for everything.

Just never imagined being slicker than a Slip ‘N Slide to be one of them.

Lifting my glass, I toss back the liquor and tap the bartop again.

“Let me guess. Guy trouble?”

I chuckle, finally deciding I’m strong enough to look at him again without wanting to jump into his lap to sit on his dick. “You know, plenty of women have problems that don’t have penises attached.”

His smirk is slow and a little bit wicked. “But there’s also plenty that do.”

“Well, I’m not one of them.”

The bartender sets our drinks down, then rushes to the other end of the bar as someone calls for a beer.

“Hmmm. Then if it’s not a man, could it be…” He picks up his glass, swirling the whiskey around and around without spilling a drop. “Your job?”

That one hits a little too close to home. Bryant’s faux-pity-filled face flashes in my mind, and my skin crawls as I replay his words.

“You know he’s here, right? The eldest son of the Ford family had a meeting with the event organizer.

Your father would shit a brick at just the thought of you in the same town as that man.

So, you see… I’m doing you a favor, JJ. Sit this one out and let the big boys have their turn. You’ll thank me later.”

I lift my glass and swallow its contents in one big gulp.

“Ah. I see I hit a sore spot. My apologies.” He sounds sincere, but the burn in my gut is starting to blur the line between whether or not I care. “You know…” He nods at the bartender, and before I know it, another glass has appeared. “I’m a really good listener.”

I fight an eye roll…and lose. “I just bet you are.”

He looks invested now. Turning on the stool, one hand holds his glass, but the other grabs my knee and swivels me around until we’re facing each other.

For a single moment, I get the craziest thought that I could lose myself in him.

There’s this inexplicable tug that I feel as he leans in, the warmth of his palm skimming up my thigh.

“C’mon. I’ve got no horse in the race. Hit me with it, and I’ll give you my honest opinion.”

For long seconds, I contemplate my options.

I don’t normally go spilling my guts to strange men in bars, and definitely not to men that look like him , but at this point, what do I have to lose?

Grandma Rose is always telling me I need to get this shit off my chest before it eats a hole in it, and he’s offering, isn’t he?

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I try to force my body to relax as I exhale.

“I thought my life was finally getting back on track and things were starting to look up.” Shaking my head, my brow furrows as I think about the last twenty-four hours.

“In hindsight, that was na?ve of me, I guess, which is something I never thought I’d say about myself.

I’m the one who can handle anything. The one who has goals and plans for the future in spite of the trajectory laid out for me.

Yet here I am, all the effort and time spent getting here wasted .

I should’ve known better. It’s just been a really rough six months, and the fall hit harder after being at the top. ”

Taking another healthy swallow of the amber liquid, I pray it numbs the guilt and pain. I can’t force myself to meet his eyes. I don’t want his fucking pity. Hell, I live with enough of it myself every damn day, and that’s depressing as fuck.

“We all make mistakes. It’s what makes us human.”

It’s his tone—understanding with just a hint of self-deprecation—that forces my gaze up.

“I don’t usually make mistakes. I’m careful, practical, and methodical. The fact that I fucked up so goddamn badly… Hell, I’m?—”

“Hurt, drowning in guilt, and pretty pissed off.”

My eyes lock with his. “Yeah. That sums it up nicely.”

He gives a small nod and takes a swallow of his drink. The bob of his Adam’s apple has me swallowing down a whine while I clutch my glass until my knuckles are white in order to stop myself from reaching for him.

When he looks up, there’s a deep moment of silence. I could swear he’s seeing straight into my soul, noting every dream, every nightmare, every little piece of me I’ve hidden behind bravado and pride. I feel…exposed and vulnerable.

I fucking hate it.

“You mentioned goals . You got a pack?” He finishes off his drink with another nod toward the bartender.

My snort is loud and unladylike, but the liquor keeps my embarrassment at bay. “No. I’m more than most packs want to handle, much to my father’s dismay.”

His tongue sneaks out, snaking along that lower lip of his, and I can’t help but track the movement. The world around us is nothing but a blur, my focus narrowed to the Alpha who’s making me feel things I’ve denied for way too long.

“Then they're blind and stupid.” He leans closer, his cheek brushing mine as he marks me with his scent.

Whether intentional or not, a thousand whips of longing unfurl in my core.

With a simple press of his lips against my ear, my blood burns for him.

“A real Alpha would snatch you up in a heartbeat.”

“Are you a real Alpha?” I murmur, holding my breath.

His sigh spreads goosebumps along my skin.

“I wish, sweetheart.” When he pulls back, I see the regret in his eyes that matches the pit forming in my gut.

With calloused fingers, he drags my hair back and tucks it behind my ear.

“My life is complicated right now, and I would never drag an Omega into a potential lifetime of hell.”

My heart, the one that has remained hardened and cold, suddenly thumps in my chest.

No. This is a bad idea.

Yeah, well. Apparently, you’re full of them at the moment, so what’s one more?

“What if…” I slip off the stool until I land right between his legs.

When I wobble ever so slightly on my four-inch heels, strong hands dart out and grab my waist to steady me.

That simple touch is like a muzzle on the negative voices in my head.

With courage born of alcohol consumption, I run my hands up his arms and over his shoulders until my fingertips sink into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “I only asked for one night?”

“One night?”

My nod is sure even though my brain is slurring curse words at me. “No commitment required. Just one night where we can forget our problems and lose ourselves in each other.”

“We’ve both been drinking, and if I’m not mistaken…” He leans in again, trailing his nose along the column of my throat with a slight purr I’m not sure he’s aware of. “You’re on the verge of a heat.”

“But it’s not here yet. I’m still lucid, and while I’ve tossed back whiskey like it was water, I’m still very much of sound mind. I know what I want.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“You.” His fingers flex against my hips. “Please…”

I wait patiently for him to fill in the obvious blank. After a millisecond of indecision, a small smirk curves the corner of his mouth.

“Beck. Suppose you should know my name if you want my knot in that ripe-smelling pussy of yours.”

I can’t force down my whine, so it slips from my throat with a neediness that’s impossible to fake.

“You can call me…Rose.”

“So, Rose, your room or mine?”