Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
EMILY
T riston hesitates, his hand on the handle of my Jeep’s passenger door.
His gaze is wary, flitting over the groups of people walking down the sidewalk while he pushes the brim of the ball cap lower over his eyes.
His fingers tremble just a bit as he traces the dark purple hickey I left behind his ear earlier this morning.
Beau had already left for the cattle herds, dressed for a long day in Megara’s saddle while they move the herds onto the first bit of summer pastures.
Triston had turned into me, his clove scent settling over us with that sour edge that’s lessened but not gone away, and the urge to roll him over and claim him and roared up on me stronger than a damn spring thunderstorm.
I’d settled for waking him up with my hands wrapped around his cock and biting his neck until the urge faded away.
I should probably feel guilty that I left the marks somewhere so exposed, knowing it would be difficult for him to hide them. Instead, a smug satisfaction that it’ll be obvious to anyone who sees him today that he’s taken, that he’s with someone—with me —warms my limbs.
“You okay?” I ask, knowing he definitely isn’t.
Assuming things with Omegas tends to backfire, though.
He’s been so on edge, and I don’t want to be the reason he spooks and goes back to staying at Mom and Dad’s place.
His scent is blocked now, hidden underneath scent blockers and a lotion, too, that he’d applied on the drive up here after Joan had gotten to the house to watch Penny.
“Not really,” he admits. His cheeks darken as he focuses on me.
“Want to talk about it?”
I sip on the mostly-cold coffee Joan had handed me on the way out of the door.
“It’s… a lot. The attention.” He pulls the hat off, presses the edges of the brim, and then puts it back on. It hides more of his eyes now. “Especially in a place like Jackson where most people have at least passing knowledge of the rodeo and NbrA worlds.”
I nod then reach across the middle console, tracing the shell of his ear.
“I figured,” I say, keeping my voice light.
Vanilla weaves around us both, trying to soothe him, too. He relaxes in small increments, some of the tension finally falling away from his shoulders and loosening his jaw. With a quick, delicate touch, he pulls my hand to his mouth, running his nose along the inside of my wrist.
“I need to admit something,” he whispers against my skin. “Since they’re probably going to ask about a refill.”
“What’s that?”
The edge to my scent changes, warming and darkening with my arousal. The urge to straddle him, lock him here, in my Jeep, is nearly as overwhelming as the need to mark him was this morning. I breathe through my nose like a racehorse, trying to settle the urges.
“I’ve…” He closes his eyes and swallows.
I follow the movement of his throat, the way his Adam’s apple ripples.
Vanilla pulses out again, and he groans.
“I’ve been using a synthetic pheromone. It’s…
it’s actually one of the reasons why the Haven doctors in Oakland think I didn’t have a more severe Drop. ”
“I didn’t realize they made synthetics.”
A corner of his lips flips up. “Not in most people’s income brackets, they don’t.
They’re like that specialty lube that triggers an Alpha’s knot or lock when their partners aren’t Omegas.
” He presses his lips into the palm of my hand.
“It’s vanilla. The… the pheromone I purchased.
I would always put a couple drops on my wrist before riding. ”
Something warm and weighty spreads under my sternum.
“Did you wear it the night you won the buckle?”
He nods.
“Fuck, Triston,” I groan, pulling my hand out of his hold.
His eyes are wide when he twists to look at me.
“I want to lock you so damn bad right now,” I admit a bit ruefully. “And knowing it was my scent you craved while you were chasing your dreams only makes me want to do it more.”
He grins, and some of the fragility that’s clung to him since he came back to Creek Falls disappears.
I ease out of the Jeep and lock my arm with his once he’s on the sidewalk with me, palming his bicep.
He’s only an inch taller than me, my extra height from being an Alpha and his more slight build from being an Omega making us nearly even.
I press my lips to his shoulder as we walk across the street to the Haven’s mixed designation entrance.
There’s a few gasps around us, but Triston doesn’t stop or look toward the sounds at all. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a pair of women around my age—late twenties or early thirties—holding up their phones toward us.
Nerves rocket through me, but I swallow them down as we step into the Haven and away from the prying eyes on the street.
BEAU
Mom hands me both paper cups with a smile before grabbing the small pastry on the counter and giving it to Penny.
She giggles as I perch her on the bar height table that overlooks Main Street.
While she takes a big bite of the berry filling coming out the side, Mom leans against the table beside me and sighs.
Her eyes scan over the Rustic Roast before they freeze on someone across the space.
I don’t bother looking. It’s the corner Molly Bailey always occupies when she stops by for her coffee most weekdays.
I’m sure this Friday won’t be any different.
Her lips purse, and then she busies herself wiping crumbs from the counter beside Penny.
“You’re in the paper this week,” she says, her voice low enough it won’t carry beyond the table nearest us, currently occupied by tourists I’ve never seen before. “Don’t let Emily read it.”
Ever since she mentioned people had their phones out while she and Triston were in Jackson for his appointment onWednesday, I’ve been waiting for the news to break in Creek Falls.
The Baileys hate the Monroes, and Jessica gets way too much delight out of making life miserable for both Emily and Ethan.
Two full days is honestly better than I’d expected.
When Ethan and Brielle were seen making out on the Fourth, Jessica hadn’t wasted any time dragging Ethan through the mud over it.
At least she’d left Brielle out of it, though there’s been some rough articles since then.
There’s no way Jessica will pull punches with Emily, though.
I grimace. “That bad?”
Mom nods, her lips thinning.
“It also includes Triston,” she says, continuing to clean up the crumbs Penny’s dropping.
It’s her way of keeping her own reactions in check, a habit she picked up when Caleb and Hudson were driving her up the wall in high school.
“I expect all of us are about to be inundated with questions. He’s the darling of the NbrA, the one every woman—and a lot of men—is hoping to end up snagging a date with. ”
I swallow down a large portion of the coffee to keep from groaning.
As if on cue, Molly Bailey approaches Joan with a large smile.
Her eyes, though, are shrewd as can be. Her heavily-highlighted brown hair is styled into the large barrel curls she’s worn since I was a kid, the ends landing just below her collarbones.
Today, she’s wearing a yellow sundress with flowers embroidered along the bottom hem that hits a few inches above her knees.
I turn and focus on Penny, using her dirty hands as an excuse to ignore Molly completely.
“Oh, hi Joan,” she says, her voice that fake sweet that makes me want to vomit every time I hear it.
I tune her out, knowing Mom’s more than capable of handling the thinly veiled jabs and snooping. My phone vibrates with a text, and I quickly swipe it open. It’s from Brielle.
Faedra said they’re just getting into town. They should be there any minute.
Thanks for meeting them for me.
I send her a quick text back to soothe the anxiety that’s clear in her words.
Of course. You rest with Naomi.
She sends back an eye roll emoji, and I can’t help but chuckle under my breath.
Don’t you start on me. Your brother’s done enough already, promise.
Yeah, I’m sure Caleb’s been hovering like mad since Ethan started working shifts with the ranch hands again this week.
We’d all told him to take another couple weeks, wait until after the annual camping trip with the Bennetts, but he’d insisted on getting ahead of some of the maintenance projects knowing Paul, Jake, and Kyle will be pulling longer hours while we’re gone next weekend.
“Well I just wanted to check and see how everyone was adjusting,” Molly’s cloying voice sets my nerves on edge as I drop my phone back into my pocket. “Having such a huge star in town has been such a lovely surprise.”
Her eyes cut to me when Mom doesn’t answer fast enough.
The urge to just lay her out with a well-placed right hook hits me so damn hard.
I shove my open hand into my pocket to resist it.
Before I can figure out what to say that won’t start a whole new train wreck of gossip, the doors of the Rustic Roast open, the bells jingling merrily above the threshold.
The Bennetts walk in like they belong here, their clothing more practical than most of the tourists taking up seats around the room.
I slide Penny onto my hip, deftly avoiding the rest of her destroyed pastry, and cross to them without a single word to Molly.
That’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I can’t care right now.
Mom follows behind me after only a few heartbeats, quietly escaping the conversation, too.
Faedra smiles as we approach. She holds out her hand palm up in greeting to Penny.
“She has gotten so big since Thanksgiving,” she says warmly.
I manage a smile. “So has Rue.”
Rue was born the week before Penny. Logan chuckles behind Faedra, kissing the red curls at the crown of Rue’s head and adjusting his hold on her. She looks at us for a moment and then twists her face into Logan’s shoulder the same way Penny does when she isn’t interested in being social.
“How was the drive and flight?” Joan asks.
“Easy as always,” Carter says. “It was almost easier timing it with the girls’ last day of school rather than waiting a couple weeks.”
He pushes his glasses up and then expertly grabs Dahlia’s wrist a second before she tries to bolt across the room.
“Juice,” she says, holding her hand out. Her lips push into a pout and she stomps. “Juice, Dada.”
“Give us just a few minutes, Dahlia baby,” Carter croons. “And then we’ll get you juice and let you go see the mini goats.”
He glances up at me and scrunches his nose, realizing the goats might not be available to interact with today.
I smile and nod, setting the worries to rest. “Emily and Melissa are ready. They’ve been making sure the animals are up for attention all morning.”
“ Goats !” Dahlia claps. Then she makes a couple goat sounds before cheering again.
I focus on Jude and the two older girls who stand with him, their arms around his back.
“Emily thought you girls might want to try a trail ride this year,” I say.
Iris grins and nods. “Yes, definitely! Can I ride the one with the brown spot on his forehead that looks like a heart?”
“You’ll have to ask Emily,” I say. “She’s the one who makes sure they aren’t overworked.”
It’s her favorite part of Misty Mountain, though she’ll never tell Melissa that. It’ll only make Melissa feel guilty for having Emily join on to help her run the business side of things.
“Is Brielle with the baby?” Rose asks.
She’s always the first to ask about Brielle. The two of them have one of those bonds that only happen every once in a while, something bigger than family ties. When I nod, she purses her lips and then sighs.
“Papa, will you go, too?” she asks, looking up at Jude.
His eyes crinkle with a large smile.
“Of course, darling,” he says. “I think Father and Mom want to go, too. Is that all right?”
Rose nods, looking over her shoulder at Logan.
He runs a hand through her hair, and she leans into the touch.
They look nearly identical now, even more so than last year, with their bright blue eyes and blond hair.
Rose has Faedra’s narrow chin and freckles, though.
All four of her daughters do. Iris is the perfect blend of her and Jude.
Dahlia’s the only one that got Carter’s olive skin and brown eyes.
Carter walks with Dahlia and Joan to the counter, ordering a swath of drinks and snacks. Jude and the twins join them as Miranda sets the various drinks on the counter for pick up.
“Rue’s going to be needing her second nap soon,” Logan says after everyone has a drink in their hand. “If you’re going to go see the animals at Misty Mountain today, we should probably get moving.”
I smile, hug Mom, and then walk with them to their two rental SUVs.