Page 71 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

I gave her everything I had, and if the whimpers and sighs and the way she clung to me meant anything at all, she gave it right back.

But now I’ve got this wild energy thrumming beneath my skin.

Anticipation.

Hunger.

A primal sense of rightness.

And underneath it all, this weird little flutter I can’t shake.

Nervousness.

Imagine that.

Nervous.

Me. The big bad Bull.

The one who’s fought off wild predators, rival Shifters, and inner demons the size of houses.

And here I am, standing in the barn pretending to care about haystacks and the current state of the northern cornfield, while my heart’s still back there in bed with her.

Just waiting for the moment I can go back and feed her, hold her, kiss her, worship her.

She’s not just some fleeting heat.

She’s not a mistake.

She’s mine.

And that—that terrifying, thrilling realization—might just be the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me.

But all my musings and over analyzing are interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“So. A mate, huh?”

I stop stacking bales of hay inside the dairy barn and turn towards the sound of my Alpha’s voice.

Only, it isn’t just Max.

It’s all of them.

The entire Crew.

Every last loner, misfit, and last chancer living on the Motley Crewd Ranch.

I remove my gloves and slap them together, facing the crowd.

“Look, I know we’re supposed to ask or some shit, but it just happened,” I explain, ready for Max’s explosion.

Only the former millionaire playboy Maximillian Leeds doesn’t yell.

This Jersey Devil doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t do a damn thing.

He just stands there, with his hands on his buckle, and he waits.

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