Page 78 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

As I step back out onto the porch, the morning sun feels brighter, the air lighter. The weight of Bruce’s trust and Sarita’s cautious acceptance is heavy, but it’s a burden I’m willing to carry. Magnolia’s worth it. She’s worth everything.

And as I head back toward the workshop, I know one thing for sure: I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.

Starting with sending a message to the Gulf Pack that they’d better stay the hell of way…because I’ll go toe to toe with them to protect this den.

To protect my family.

27

MAGNOLIA

Dinner that night feels completely different than any other.

It’s not the food—though the roast smells amazing—or the hum of conversation around the table. It’s the way the pack watches us as Colt and I walk in hand-in-hand. Some of the gazes are warm, approving. Others hold curiosity or hesitation. But for once, I don’t feel the usual pang of self-consciousness under their scrutiny.

Because Colt’s hand is in mine, and that’s all I need.

I sit beside him at the long dining table, my fingers laced with his. He holds on like he doesn’t want to let go, and the warmth of his palm grounds me, makes my heart beat just a little faster.

I glance up at him, and the look in his eyes makes my breath hitch. It’s a simple moment, just the two of us sitting together, but it feels monumental. Like everything is falling into place.

The pack is watching. I know they see the mark on my neck, the claim I wear as boldly as the one Colt does. Some look away quickly when I catch their gaze, pretending to focus on their plates. Others—like Grant—smirk and wink as though to say finally. I could let their opinions bother me, but tonight, I don’t care. Let them look. Let them see.

When Colt leans closer, his lips brushing my temple, I feel my cheeks heat. He doesn’t say anything, but the quiet press of his affection sends another rush of warmth through me. My fated mate. The thought blooms in my chest, sweet and certain. He’s mine. And I’m his.

Down the table, my dad catches my eye, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. But when I glance at Mom, her expression is harder to read.

There’s no hostility—just watchfulness. I wonder if she’ll ever truly accept Colt, but I know better than to push it.

It’ll take time. I’ll give her that.

The scrape of a chair draws my attention, and I glance up just as Peaches plops into the seat across from me, her eyes already wide and sparkling like she’s just walked into the best romance novel of her life. She clasps her hands together under her chin, leaning forward with a dreamy sigh. “Oh my God, look at you two,” she says, her voice high and breathless. “I’m going to cry. You’re so cute it’s physically painful.”

Grant drops into the chair next to her with considerably less enthusiasm, his usual smirk already firmly in place. “Painful is the right word,” he says, grabbing a piece of bread. “I might actually lose my appetite.”

Peaches ignores him completely, her gaze darting between me and Colt like she can’t decide who to gush over first. “I mean, Magnolia, the way he’s holding your hand right now? Like you’re the last piece of chocolate cake at a potluck? Are you kidding me? I’m obsessed.”

I can’t help but laugh, a little embarrassed but mostly warmed by her enthusiasm. “It’s just hand-holding, Peaches,” I say, though my cheeks are already heating.

“It is not just hand-holding,” she protests, sitting up straighter and pointing dramatically at Colt. “It’s claiming. It’s devotion. It’s ‘this woman is mine, and I will fight anyone who looks at her sideways.’ Right, Colt?”

Colt raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in a half-smile. “Pretty much,” he says simply, and Peaches claps her hands like he’s just announced our engagement.

“See? I knew it. I’m never wrong about these things.” She leans closer, her gaze softening as it lands on me. “And you, Maggie…you look so happy. Like, glowing-from-the-inside-out happy. I could cry.”

Grant rolls his eyes, tearing a piece of bread in half. “You’ve already said that twice. You crying yet, or are you just building up to it?”

Peaches smacks him on the arm without breaking eye contact with me. “Let me live, Grant. Not all of us are emotionally constipated cynics.”

“Not all of us are walking Hallmark cards either,” he shoots back, though his smirk softens just a little when Peaches ignores him again and reaches across the table to grab my free hand.

“Maggie,” she says. “You deserve this. You deserve every ounce of whatever this is, because you’re amazing, and anyone who can’t see that is a fool.”

I blink at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. “Peaches…”

“And Colt.” She turns to him now, her expression deadly serious. “You’d better treat her right. Because if you don’t, I will personally hunt you down and make your life a living hell.”

The words are frankly hysterical coming out of Peaches–maybe the smallest omega in our pack, curvy, sweet…not exactly someone who could take on a guy like Colt.

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