Page 33 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

I spot Peaches first, sitting in the grass with a ball of yarn in her lap, her fingers deftly working a crochet hook. Will and Grant are nearby, playing cards on a makeshift table. My chest tightens at the sight of her, that quiet focus, the way her lips move slightly as if she’s counting her stitches. She looks...safe. Happy. Like someone who’s finally found what she was running from.

And I’m the asshole who’s supposed to take it all away.

I force myself to move toward them, shoving the guilt down into the pit of my stomach. Peaches glances up as I approach, her hands pausing mid-stitch. She grins, eyes bright and smile brighter, wild red curls blowing in the breeze.

How did a person like this get out of a place like that? The Rig…it’s not kind.

It’s fucking awful, actually.

“Morning,” I say, nodding toward the group. Will, one of Reyes’ generals, looks up and nods; Grant smiles, waving with his free hand.

“Mornin’, Colt!” Peaches replies. “You need somethin’?”

“Yeah,” I say, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets and trying to keep my tone casual. “I’m working on that projector Magnolia–uh…Maggie–brought in. Think I’m missing a part.”

“A projector?” Peaches frowns. “Like…for pictures?”

“Movies, I think,” I nod. “They had it out in the classroom.”

“Movies,” Peaches says, eyes widening. “Oh…that would be so great. I’ve never seen one before.”

“Seriously?” Grant asks.

“Nope,” Peaches shakes her head. “We didn’t have ‘em out on the Rig. Pretty primitive where I’m from.”

Damn–she doesn’t even hide it. I can’t imagine it will be long at all before bounty hunters are knocking down the doors.

Will quirks an eyebrow, setting his cards down. “That would be great for the classroom. What kind of part?”

“Some kind of filament or circuit,” I say. “Specialized, old. Not the kind of thing you’d find lying around.”

“Sounds like a real bitch,” Grant says. “You sure it’s worth fixing?”

“It’s worth fixing if Magnolia wants it fixed,” I reply. It slips out before I can reel it back, and the moment the words hit the air, I catch the way Peaches’ lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” Grant says, his grin widening as he looks at Peaches for backup. “Guess Maggie’s got herself a fan.”

“It’s not like that,” I reply, but my own smirk betrays me. “It’s about keeping my word. Some of us still care about things like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Grant drawls, dragging the word out like he’s savoring it. He flips another card onto the makeshift table with a dramatic flourish. “Sure, buddy. Definitely nothing else going on there. Just a man, fixing a projector for purely selfless reasons.”

“Purely,” I deadpan, crossing my arms and giving him a look. “You’re very perceptive, Grant. Maybe next you can tell me my star sign.”

“Alpha,” he shoots back without missing a beat, leaning forward like he’s cracked the code. “Which also means you’ve got no patience for subtlety. You don’t fix something like that for someone unless you’re hoping to, you know?—”

“Say it,” I challenge, tilting my head. “Go ahead. Let’s hear what you think I’m hoping for.”

Grant hesitates, his grin faltering just slightly under my stare, and Peaches snickers, her crochet hook pausing mid-stitch. “Careful, Grant,” she warns lightly. “You’re playin’ with fire.”

Grant raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin returning. “Hey, I’m just saying, it’s a lot of effort for a girl who didn’t even ask you to walk her home.”

Okay…so everyone knows about that. Damn–word travels fast in the Austin den.

“Didn’t need to ask,” I say easily, letting the implication hang between us. “Sometimes you see an opportunity, and you take it.”

That earns me a low whistle from Grant and a laugh from Peaches. “Alright, Morgan,” she says, shaking her head as she resumes her stitching. “We get it—you’re bold. But you’re not fixing that thing with charm alone.”

“Don’t need charm for that,” I reply, shrugging. “Just need the right part. Speaking of which—any idea where I can find one?”

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