Page 24 of Cowboy Wolf Christmas

Silas shot the other wolf a glare. He was good and tired of this annoying motherfucker.

Cayden threw up his hands like he realized what Silas was thinking. “Look I know I was a jerk before, but I’m going to apologize, okay? I never would have said that if I’d known.”

Silas growled. “Doesn’t matter if you knew or not. You were an asshole all the same.”

And so was he. In the beginning at least, though she’d quickly worked her way into his heart. Silas’ eyes went wide. Isthatwhy she wanted to join the military, MAC-V? To belong? Because here on the ranch, she didn’t feel understood, seen, and the military was a place that thrived on forced teamwork, routine, where she could do what she loved all day, hyper-focus, and not have to explain? Or had she thought if he’d known she was autistic that maybe he wouldn’t want her? That maybe they’d be over? So she’d ended it, ended them, before it even really began?

When she’d told him one night only, it’d sounded like she was repeating a phrase she’d no doubt heard before. One that’d been used to hurt her. Even as she’d said it, it hadn’t sounded like her. Didn’t have her same positivity. That shimmer and shine he’d come to associate with her. The phrase had seemed . . . foreign on her lips. Like she’d panicked and didn’t know what to do with it.

Shit.

“Maverick also said that when you got back you were in charge. Said you’d know what to do,” Cayden shrugged, drawing his attention again. “Guess he doesn’t care you used to be Wild Eight. Just like Wes.”

Silas shook his head, barely registering that he was answering. “No. No, it’s not the same.”

This. This was the trust test.

Not just protecting Cheyenne. But protecting the ranch, getting her to stay. The pack would never want her to leave. All of it. The tasks were one and the same.

Take care of her,he could hear the packmaster saying it clearly in his mind’s eye now.

Though admittedly, Silas had failed the first part. Hadn’t left her untouched. But he and the packmaster were going to have a little discussion about that, about female packmembers making their own choices, especially marginalized ones,andabout the holes in the holiday security, whenever the pack returned. But until then . . .

“I have to make this right.”

9

It was well past dark by the time anyone came looking for her. A knock rapped at her cabin door, sharp and quick. Cheyenne laid on her bed, beneath one of her weighted blankets, staring up at the ceiling. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to answer. She didn’t have to, did she?

No one couldmakeher come out.

She debated for several moments until finally social obligation won. Her mother would have told her to answer it. That was the polite,acceptablething to do. Thenormalthing. Wiggling from beneath her blanket, she padded across the cold hard wood floors, thankful for the seamless red and green Christmas socks she’d put on. They made it feel like her feet were snuggled into a warm, tight cocoon, but still kept her toes free.

She made her way to the door.

When she opened it, Silas stood on the other side, waiting for her. Standing there in the moonlight, his Stetson tipped low over his face and a fitted leather jacket covering his arms, she could hardly believe he’d wanted her enough the night before to do the things they had. She blushed slightly.

She was still a bit sore today, a steady, welcome kind of ache. One that reminded her every time she moved of all the ways he stole her breath away.

He flashed her devious grin.

She blinked at him, uncertain what to do—he’d never come to her cabinbefore. Once they’d parted ways this morning, she hadn’t expected him to ever look at her with more than a passing glance. That’s what any other cowboy wolf on this ranch would do. Brag about the fact they’d slept with her, because she was objectively good looking. A bombshell. Whateverthatmeant. Her last partner had said so anyway. Maybe they’d even felt proud of themselves for being progressive, like sleeping with the autistic girl was some fun novelty, before they promptly forgot about her.

But Silas hadn’t forgotten her. Not today.

He leaned one large arm over the entryway, his biceps straining against his leather in a way that drew far too much of her attention as he watched her. An appreciative rumble sounded low in his throat as his gaze raked over her, before settling on where her bare toes peeped out from her seamless socks. He bit his lower lip for a moment, before he visibly swallowed, but she wasn’t certain whether he was trying not to growl in appreciation or laugh at her outrageous socks. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I came to save Christmas.”

Cheyenne stared up at him, blinking. He was so tall he’d have to duck to come through the doorway, but while she appreciated his directness, she still didn’t know what he meant. “Does Christmasneedsaving?” She lifted a brow.

Silas smirked a little at that, amused. “What I mean is that I know you’re disappointed the pack left you behind and I want to make you feel better,” he explained. “By doing . . . ” He cringed a little like something he was about to say pained him. “Christmas things with you.”

On his tongue, the word Christmas sounded like a curse word.

Cheyenne wasn’t certain what to make of that.

She stepped to the side, letting him come through the door as she retreated into the warmth of her cabin. She heard the door close behind him, but she was too busy shaking her head, not looking at him. She didn’t think she had it in her to try and maintain eye contact right now. She was struggling today. Unable to mask in her usual way.

“You don’t have to do that, Silas. I––” Her voice trailed off as she tried to explain. “Sometimes . . . Sometimes Christmas is overwhelming for me anyways. The lights. The music. It’s all a bit much. Unless I brace myself for it.” All true, but she also loved Christmas when it didn’t overwhelm her. But that part she failed to say.

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