Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
shay
I’ve seen the Young Pack’s ranch on a couple of occasions but always in the light of day and never in the middle of a monsoon downpour.
Bright lights illuminate the dark brown and stone building, glinting off the silver silo built right into the design.
It’s warm and inviting—words that also describe the men living within its walls, as much as it pains me to admit that.
What I haven’t seen in all of my twenty-eight years is two grown men chasing after a pair of pygmy goats while one of them carries a rooster who’s attempting to peck off his hand, all while tugging along a reluctant Poppy by a makeshift leash.
“What’s going on?” I ask from the backseat, peering out the front window as lightning streaks across the Northern Arizona sky.
Ridge wouldn’t let me drive. Safety concerns, or so he said.
“Guys must be dragging in the menagerie before the flooding gets too bad. Apparently, not everyone is willing.”
Just as he throws the truck in park, the headlights still shining like spotlights on the pair of Alphas, Memphis wipes out in the mud. Instead of hopping back up, he simply lies on the ground like a starfish.
“I think they need help.”
“Yup,” Lyon murmurs, the sound so deep and low that I shiver.
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him talk, and thank fuck for that because his low bass tone should be classified as a dangerous weapon. My panties are soaked from that one simple word.
When neither of them move to get out of the truck, my eyes dart between the two Betas.
“Why aren’t you helping?”
Ridge grins. “Can’t make it too easy on them.”
“Fucking men…” I mutter, exiting the truck and walking toward Memphis. Peering down at him with my hands on my hips, I watch his eyes go wide. “You’re pitiful.”
“I’ve been called worse things.”
“A little help here?” August yells, holding the rooster out in front of him with both hands. “If he pecks at my nipple one more time, I’ll let the flood waters have the cranky bastard. He almost took out my piercing. Come to the country, they said. It will be fun, they said.”
Staring down at the unmoving Alpha, I tilt my head, vehemently ignoring the comment about a piercing. “You gonna let your packmate suffer like that? He may not have any nipples left by the time that rooster’s done.”
“I’m too old for this shit,” Memphis grumbles, slowly rolling over and getting to his hands and knees.
“And I’m not getting any younger,” August barks. “Houdini, knock it off. I’m trying to save you.”
When Memphis is upright beside me, I take in his large and imposing stature.
I’d normally be putting a healthy distance between us, but for some reason all I want to do is get closer.
The barest hint of spiced apple brandy hits my nostrils, and despite being muted by the rain, it clouds my better judgment. “You named your rooster Houdini?”
“Little fucker escapes every enclosure we’ve ever put him in. Seemed fitting. He’s a heathen.”
“And still trying to kill me!” August cries out.
With a chuckle, I walk over and take the rooster from his hands, tucking him tightly against my side like a football. He settles immediately.
August runs his hands over his pecs, partially out of breath. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“He just needed to feel safe and secure.”
Memphis steps up next to me with a wide smile plastered on his drenched face despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night, his clothes are soaked through, and he’s covered in mud. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a man who’s so damn happy all of the time.
His eyes are roaming the yard, paying me no mind, which I’m exceedingly grateful for. That smile of his is killer. “Where did Hansel and Gretel go?”
I snort. “Let me guess. The goats?”
“They’re worse than Houdini,” August gripes. “If they’re not sneaking up on you, they’re head butting your leg or eating your shit.”
“They can’t be that bad.” Stepping forward as another bolt of lightning flashes, followed by a resounding boom of thunder, I put my middle finger and thumb to my mouth and whistle. Loudly.
Someone behind me snorts. Looking over my shoulder, I catch a small grin on Lyon’s face. The man is large and broad and could probably make a killing in the NFL, but there’s a gentleness there that’s entirely too attractive.
“What?”
Memphis chuckles, raising one of his thick brows. “Wonder if I should tell Kash it wasn’t Wyatt that taught Charlotte that nifty trick?”
I give him a blank stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Someone laughs, but I ignore it, praying the darkness covers my smirk.
Charlotte and I have an understanding, and I’d do just about anything to stay on that child’s good side.
While I may not have much experience with children, she and I are kindred spirits.
I can only hope that if I have kids of my own one day, they are sassy and fierce like her.
Just then, two bouncing goats come around the corner.
One is black and white, the other brown and white, and are the cutest things I’ve ever seen.
They ignore the men and head straight for me, following me toward the door, nipping at my boot strings the entire time.
Holding out my hand as I pass August, his brow furrows.
I cock my head to the side. “The rope?”
He’s staring, mouth opening and closing until he finally gives up and hands me Poppy’s leash.
Looking down at the adorable white and black sopping wet fluffball with eyelashes to die for, I roll my eyes dramatically. “Boys. Am I right, Poppy?”
“Moo!”
With little fanfare, I lead the wayward animals up onto the porch, but when I turn around, the entire pack is staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“What?”
Ridge is the first one to laugh, then Memphis. Lyon’s entire body shakes as August just drops his head back and puts his hands on his hips.
“Seriously? What’s so goddamn funny?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. You just keep proving the council wrong, is all.”
I shrug. “At this point, that’s my sole goal in life.”
He strides toward me, an indecipherable look on his face as he slides his arm around my shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside. You’ve had a long day.”
Guiding me through the front door, we pause in a large entryway.
The goats make a run for it, leaving little muddy prints along the dark wood floor.
Someone grabs Poppy’s leash, and I hear the low murmur of voices as they dry her off.
I try to pay attention as Ridge helps me out of my boots, but seeing the inside of their home for the first time has left me speechless.
The dark stone, rich wood accents, and black walls should make the place feel like a cave, but instead, the space is filled with luxurious warmth.
My eyes bounce all over the place, drinking in the hints of steel and pops of color from the paintings along the walls.
It’s definitely masculine, but not at all oppressive.
That simple statement has me swallowing down a rush of nerves.
It’s too close of a description to the men that reside here.
Their combined scents are everywhere. Memphis’ apple brandy, August’s mulled wine, the softer undertones of Ridge’s mint and lime and Lyon’s green tea shot. They all but infiltrate my senses.
For the first time in six years, a whine builds in my chest. I struggle to swallow it down, but before I can begin to panic, Ridge takes Houdini and sets him on the floor.
“Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable in the den, through that door right there, and I’ll get those drinks I mentioned before. Unless you want to clean up first?”
Clearing my throat, I shake my head, worried that if I even try to speak, he’ll be able to hear the riot of emotions in my voice.
I’m still wet, my hair dripping onto my shoulders, but I’m way too overwhelmed to think.
I’ll have a drink to settle the nerves making my skin feel tight, then I’ll get cleaned up and sleep off the nightmare of this day.
There’s a pool table in front of a massive fireplace, shelves filled with liquor bottles and glasses, a leather sectional in the corner, and a cowskin rug on the floor. I suddenly feel like I’m in way over my head. Is this what prey feels like when it wanders into a lion’s den?
What was I thinking? I should’ve just called one of the girls. Now, I’m stuck in this amazing house with men who are wreaking havoc on my nervous system. Apparently, my brain has taken a backseat to my hormones, and I’m pretty sure that’s going to spell disaster.
“You look like a deer caught in headlights, sweetheart. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Ridge is suddenly beside me, holding a glass with two fingers of whiskey in one hand and a towel in the other.
“Probably should’ve just grabbed the bottle,” I mutter. His lips fight against a smile, and I just roll my eyes and throw the towel around my shoulders. “Jesus. It’s not that funny, ass man.”
“I beg to differ. Is the normally calm and collected Shay Bennett…nervous?”
“Ha! You wish.”
He winks at me. “Take a seat while I grab the bottle.”
Walking to the sectional, I’m not prepared for the way the supple leather engulfs my tired body. It’s soft and smooth, and I can feel the aches and pains from a long day already starting to ease before I’ve even had a sip of the liquor. I take a second to dry my hair and what I can of my body.
“Memphis reached out to some business contacts. As soon as the rain stops, a few well-respected contractors will evaluate the condition of your roof and put together some quotes for you.”
“Ridge, that’s not—”
Setting the bottle down on the table and falling onto the opposite side of the large sofa, he spears me with a look that dares me to argue. “It’s just a few quotes, Shay. It will be up to you how you want to handle them, but know that if you need me to help you make a decision, I’m there.”
Lifting the glass to my lips, I take a healthy swallow, savoring the warmth when it hits my belly. “Where did the others run off to?”
“Um…” He looks down at his glass, then around the room, careful to avoid my eyes. “It’s pretty late, and the guys have to be up early to check on the cattle. I’m sure they probably went to get cleaned up so they can get to bed.”
“Ridge, I may be exhausted, but I’m not an idiot. Have I made things awkward by being here?”
He shakes his head, brows pinched together as he leans forward until his elbows hit his knees. “Not at all. Why would you think that?”
“Maybe because I’m an unbonded Omega in a home with two Alphas and their bonded Betas?”
For a moment, the room is quiet other than the sound of rain pelting the window behind us.
I finish off my whiskey, all while Ridge’s eyes stay locked on mine.
Leaning forward, I pour another finger and just slam it back.
The soft buzz flitting through my body makes my muscles relax even though the burn in my gut is growing fiercer.
What have I eaten today? Not a whole helluva lot that I remember. Some bar nuts, a stale bag of potato chips from the vending machine, and a piece of an orange I was slicing to replenish the container.
Lovely. Hangover, here I come.
Ridge looks down at his glass that’s hanging between his knees, staring at it for a long time before he tosses its contents back in one gulp.
I’m pretty sure he’s not going to answer me, so I figure another shot of whiskey isn’t such a bad idea.
Just as I drain my glass again and reach for the bottle, his tentative voice draws my eyes up to his.
“What if I told you that there’s not a man in this house that isn’t attracted to you?
That they’d move Heaven and Earth if you only asked?
But their respect for you is so great, they’d never so much as slide a toe across the lines that are very clearly established, for risk of losing something even as simple as your friendship? ”
I blink, the alcohol making my brain process everything he just said in slow motion. There’s a lump in my throat. Emotion I thought long gone and buried from a time I’ve done my damnedest to forget is making my lungs constrict.
I’m not sure what I’m most afraid of. Is it the possibility that these men actually want me, or is it the fact that I might want them back?
The once confident girl that was set to be one of the richest Omegas in the country no longer exists.
In her place is a woman full of insecurities and walls higher than the Eiffel Tower.
I have rules—not because I’m some bitter Betty unable to see the good in anyone, though that’s what most people assume.
It’s because I’m a realist. It’s just easier not to let people in at all than to remove them once they’ve made it into your heart.
Outside of Jules, Iris, and the other girls that have fought their way into my life despite my best attempt at trying to scare them off, no one else has been brave enough to try. My icy demeanor made sure of that.
Until now.
And I have no idea what to do about it because I’ve held onto one motto for years.
Expect people to fail.
How fucking depressing is that?