Page 79 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

Still, I believe her.

Colt grins, leaning back in his chair with an ease that makes my heart flutter. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, his thumb brushing over my knuckles again. “She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

Peaches lets out an actual squeal, clutching her chest like she’s been shot. “Stop it. Stop being perfect. I can’t take it.”

Grant groans, throwing his head back like he’s in actual pain. “Peaches, for the love of God, dial it back.”

Peaches glares at him, her hands still pressed dramatically to her chest. “How dare you diminish this love story? Do you have eyes, Grant? Have you seen the way he looks at her? It’s like she invented oxygen.”

“It’s exactly like that,” Colt says, completely deadpan, and Peaches nearly melts right there on the spot.

“You’re killing me,” she moans, her hands covering her face. “This is too much. It’s too beautiful. I need a moment.”

“You need therapy,” Grant mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watches Peaches dissolve into romantic hysteria.

I laugh, shaking my head as Colt leans in to press a kiss to my temple. “Peaches,” I say gently, “you’re going to scare him off if you keep this up.”

“Impossible,” she says, peeking at me through her fingers. “He’s clearly head over heels. Aren’t you, Colt?”

Colt doesn’t even hesitate. “I am,” he says, his voice low and sure, and the way he looks at me in that moment makes my breath catch. “Completely.”

Peaches actually gasps, clutching Grant’s arm like she needs support. “Grant, did you hear that? Are you hearing this?”

“I’m hearing it,” Grant says dryly, pulling his arm free and reaching for another piece of bread. “Doesn’t mean I want to.”

Peaches shakes her head, her eyes shining. “You’re hopeless. But Magnolia and Colt? They’re everything. And I’m so, so happy for you.”

Her words, as over-the-top as they are, settle warmly in my chest. And as Colt’s hand tightens around mine, his thumb still brushing over my knuckles, I realize I’ve never felt more seen.

More supported.

More loved.

Grant groans again, but I can see the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, lovebirds. Can we eat now, or do we need to stage an intervention for Peaches first?”

“We can eat,” I say, laughing as Peaches dramatically dabs at her eyes with a napkin. “But only if Peaches promises not to cry into the potatoes.”

“No promises,” she says, grinning through her faux tears. “But I’ll try.”

The sound of clinking silverware and soft conversation fills the dining hall as the pack settles into their meal. The warm aroma of roast and baked potatoes mingles with the hum of voices, but all I can focus on is the way Colt’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. It’s a small, absent gesture, but it feels monumental as the pack watches us.

And Peaches and Grant aren’t the only ones who’ve noticed. We’re about halfway through dinner when I notice Reyes making his way toward us, his movements measured but purposeful. He stops at the edge of the table, one hand resting lightly on the back of an empty chair, his deep brown eyes taking us both in with a mixture of warmth and scrutiny.

“Well,” he says after a moment, his voice even and rich, carrying the authority of a man who’s led for decades but with the gentleness of someone who knows when to be soft. “Look at you two. I’d say it’s about time.”

I can’t help but laugh. “That seems to be the consensus.”

Reyes smiles faintly, a touch of amusement in his gaze, but then he turns his attention fully to Colt. “You’ve claimed her,” he says, not a question but a statement of fact. “That’s not a step you take lightly.”

Colt straightens slightly beside me, his hand tightening around mine. “No, sir,” he says. “It’s not.”

Reyes nods, his expression thoughtful. “Good.” He pauses. “She’s the heart of this pack in a lot of ways. You take care of her, Colt.”

“I will,” Colt replies, his voice firm, and the weight of his promise feels real. Reyes holds his gaze for a long moment before finally nodding, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve got my blessing,” he says simply, and my chest tightens with emotion. “Now don’t make me regret giving it.”

“Thank you,” Colt says, and I can hear the genuine gratitude in his voice. Reyes pats his shoulder, his grip firm and fatherly—and to my surprise, Tilda speaks up from his side. She’s normally reserved with how she talks to people, preferring action to words…but that just means she has something to say to Colt.

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