Page 27 of Meadowsweet and Marigold
And she'd loved him for it, told him so with her body curved against his at night, with her fingers tracing the scars on his back, with whispered plans of their future.
"We'll have three pups," she'd said, tucked under his arm as they watched the sunset from his porch swing. "Two boys and a girl. The boys will have your eyes."
"And the girl will have your spirit," he'd added, inhaling the scent of her hair, believing with all his heart that this happiness was meant to be his.
Meadow's hands clenched into fists.
The memory of what came next tightened around his chest like barbed wire.
The call from the city hospital.
Eliza, pale against white sheets, machines beeping around her. The doctor's gentle explanation of the accident, the internal bleeding. Her trembling hand in his as she told him the truth she'd only just learned herself.
"I'm sorry, Meadow," she'd whispered, tears tracking down her face. "I was coming to tell you. I'm pregnant."
Was. Past tense. By morning, he'd lost them both — the woman he loved and the child he would never know.
Meadow stood again, moving to the window to stare out at the dark expanse of his ranch.
His sanctuary. His escape.
"Never again," he'd vowed at her graveside.
Never again would he allow himself to feel that depth of loss, that hollowing out of everything that made life worth living.
Yet here he was, his senses alive with the scent of an Omega who'd literally fallen into his arms. Marigold Everhart, with her dancer's grace despite her momentary stumble, had eyes that held more sadness than someone her age should know.
He recognized that look.
Had seen it in his own reflection every day for years after Eliza.
"It's not the same," he told himself firmly. "She needs help, not complications."
But his Alpha instincts weren't listening to reason.
They recognized something in Marigold — something wounded but resilient that called to the protector in him.
That made him crave to be the Alpha in her life and submit to whatever need she required to keep those beautiful serene eyes sparkling with excitement and pure joy.
Meadow pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window.
Tomorrow she would come to the ranch. He would be professional, and kind but distant. He would help her find healing with his horses, as he himself had done.
And he would ignore the way his heart had thundered when she'd looked up at him from the circle of his arms, green eyes wide with surprise and another emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge — something that had mirrored his own unexpected reaction.
"Just business," he said aloud, his breath fogging the glass. "Nothing more."
But even as he spoke the words, Meadow knew they tasted like a lie.
A growl rumbles in his chest, unbidden and primal.
Meadow paces the length of his bedroom, five steps one way, five steps back, like a caged predator. The scent of her — sunshine-warming wildflowers, with an undercurrent of something wounded yet sweet honey lavender vanilla mix — won't leave him.
"This is ridiculous," he mutters, running fingers through his hair for the tenth time. "I barely know her."
But his Alpha nature doesn't care about such rational distinctions.
It recognizes an Omega in need, one whose pain calls to something deep inside him. The protective urge mingles dangerously with attraction, forming a potent combination that has his skin feeling too tight, and his breathing too shallow.
