Page 73 of Rescued By the Alien Bull Rider

Maybe?

Was my husband about to kiss me?

My heartrate, already elevated from the exhilaration of riding Wyn, moved to a rapid gallop. Zohro’s fingers slid back along my jaw, burying themselves in my hair. He lowered his head and, oh, God, there was no mistaking it now, he really was going to kiss-

A sudden vibration in the vicinity of Zohro’s butt drew him up short. He pulled back, swearing softly and reaching for his back pocket.

Nooooooo!

Dejection splashed me. Like icy water.

Or like… like liquid poop. That’s how shitty it felt.

“Is that your tablet?” I asked, trying not to cry all over again.

“It is yours.” He had both our devices in his pockets so I could ride without worrying about dropping mine. He pulled it out and handed it to me.

“Huh. It’s the warden.”

Zohro let out an impatient huff of a breath.

“He would be the one to call right now,” he grumbled. “You’d better answer it.”

I accepted the call, and Warden Tenn’s handsome, purple face filled my screen.

“Hello, Jolene. I hope you’re well. I’ve got an incoming call for you that I need to know if you’ll accept. If you do, I’ll boost the signal from my tower here and link it to you through our current call.”

“A call?”

The only people who called me were the other girls in the group chat. None of them needed the warden’s tower to boost their signal.

“It’s an off-world communication,” Warden Tenn explained. “A human man named Pete Macdonald would like to contact you.”

“Pa?!”

Zohro tensed beside me. “Don’t answer it,” he seethed, eyes burning. “He does not deserve to speak with you.”

Torn, I hesitated. Maybe Zohro was right. Maybe he didn’t deserve it.

But…

“If I don’t answer him, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what he wanted to say.”

Zohro didn’t look happy about it. In fact, he looked positively mutinous. His tail thrashed against the grass, like it was prepared to yank the tablet from my hand and hurl it across the paddock at a moment’s notice.

“Please put it through, Warden.”

“Understood.”

Warden Tenn disappeared. A second later, his image was replaced with another man’s.

It was Pa, but he looked older. Bags were heavy beneath his eyes.

“Jolene,” he said in that rough, familiar voice of his. The voice I’d waited years to hear say something like, “I love you.” But never did.

“Hi, Pa.” My voice sounded shredded. I swallowed and glanced at Zohro, wondering if he was going to butt in. But for now, he seemed content – or maybe not so content – to stand beside me and stare daggers at the screen.

“You look well,” Pa said.

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