Page 2 of Claimed By the Cowboys
My posture deflated. The last thing I wanted to do was make them look bad, but if I spent one more day cooped up inside, I was going to scream.
It was only our third day here, and already I had cabin fever.
“Okay, I'll stay here while you go check out those guns.” I smiled, trying to smooth over the tension that was rapidly building.
“Good.” Lance rolled the cuffs on his western shirt. “And make some reservations for dinner tonight—somewhere that has a decent wine selection this time.”
“Yeah, the place you booked that first night was shit,” Ralph agreed, shaking his head in disgust.
Kyle laughed at the dig, following Lance and Ralph out the door—bound for antique guns and networking opportunities. Francie, the overly helpful concierge, was there, beaming at them with that sickly sweet smile. The resort was a bit over the top; several cabins equipped with luxury appliances surrounded the main building, which was more like a fancy hotel, concierge and all.
I picked up my phone and began to search for restaurants when it occurred to me I might find an acceptable place to make a dinner reservation by actually visiting some of the local establishments.
Even though I’d agreed to stay in the cabin, I’d also agreed to make a better dinner reservation than my last attempt.
If Pack Adamar was going to be busy looking at antique guns and shooting the breeze with potential business partners, and a particular blonde concierge that had been hanging on their every word, what could it hurt if I skipped out for a few minutes to go check out local restaurants?
Only to make a reservation, of course.
Chapter 2
Dakota
Fruit snacks.
When I thought about what my undoing in this life would be, never in a million years would I have thought that fruit snacks would be part of it.
Maisie…My sweet little four-year-old daughter had been possessed by a demon.
There was no other explanation for the catastrophic meltdown happening back at the ranch. Somehow, one of us had bought the wrong treats, and our tired little terror was having none of it.
We had tried all the usual tactics. Comforting her, reading books, cuddles—but no. Berry Bunny fruit snacks were the only acceptable answer. Usually, we wouldn’t give in to a temper tantrum, no matter how painful it was for us—because that was just asking our sweet Maisie to grow up to be an entitled asshole.
This was different, though. Nothing could console her but her favorite treat, so I had offered to go on a hunt for the correct fruit snacks.
Nodding at Darlene, the sweet middle-aged woman who my daddy went to high school with and who ran the register, I madea beeline for the snack aisle. Grocery stores were a melting pot of scents, given all the people who wandered through, and usually I wasn’t fond of that, but this time there was a sweet scent that was more obvious than the others.
Sweet floral, almost painfully so, with a subtle fruity hint. It wasn’t cloying—quite the opposite. It was inviting.
As an alpha, my world revolved around scents. The scents of my pack mates were home to me, comforting me at my lowest points. Pack mates didn’t have to smell good to each other, technically, but what man would form a pack with another male who smelled like wet socks? No sane man wanted to spend the rest of his life sniffing that.
Now, omega scents were different.
I had never met an omega who didn’t smell good. Their scent was meant to attract alphas—it was a crucial part of their designation—and we, in turn, were hard-wired to protect omegas.
Every now and again, though, an alpha would find an omega whose scent was simply perfect—nothing could compare—and the feeling would be mutual.
Scent matches. That’s the term people used to refer to these insane relationships where a scent would be so damn appealing that it addled their minds and they couldn’t think of anything else. Scent-matched packs were some of the strongest out there, and more importantly, the happiest.
Though the idea of destined scent matches was romantic, I wasn’t convinced they were entirely real. Sure, some omegas could smell extra good, but enough to make your brain turn to goo and lose all reasoning?
Still, deep down, a small part of me wanted that for myself. The life of four ranchers alone with a toddler wasn’t lonely, by any means, but there was still that small something missing from our lives.
As I turned the corner to the shelves of snacks, my mind lost in a sweet fog, my gaze was immediately caught by a tiny woman reaching up on tiptoes to grab something off the top shelf.
Her fingertips were barely brushing against the bag of cookies that had been pushed to the very back, way above her head. With every reaching grasp, her sundress rode up, exposing more of her legs. I couldn’t decide if I should keep watching, or hide her so no one else would.
Thick, dark russet waves fell down her back in a haphazard ponytail with most of the tendrils already escaping. Her face was full of concentration as she desperately tried to retrieve her snack.
