Page 3 of Wild Omegas
His cedar scent. His voice. Hisalphaness.
His scent.
Carson the gardener is a scent match.
The realization sinks its teeth deep into me. Not only am I not quite so alone at Wild Skies, there’s an alpha here who’s a match.
Did my grandparents know?
“Really, I can hobble my way in there on my own,” I persist because I desperately need distance from him in this instant. Too many things are happening at once.
“Not a chance.” Carson puts an arm under mine and starts helping me up to the house. “Don’t make me carry you.”
He says it with a jesting tone, but my greater objection to logic has me wishing he would. Maybe if I just stop walking for a single second?—
What thehellis wrong with me? I can’t do that. I just—can’t.
But I want to. I don’t think this is the type ofhelpGrandma said Wild Skies gives if life gives you troubles. Notat all.
“No, I can take myself inside?—”
“Alrighty then.” Carson scoops me off my feet and carries me toward the house.
CHAPTER 2
Carson
There are probablya hundred other ways I could have resolved this. Lifting an omega I don’t know and holding her against my chest until I’m inside the main house at Wild Skies Ranch is absolutely the most red-flag solution. But she didn’t seem keen on keeping weight off her ankle.
Now I’m awkwardly placing her on the closest couch in the sitting room and trying to forget the floral and honey scent wafting from this omega. Although wafting really isn’t a strong enough word. Her pervasive scent is like a tornado. I can’t think straight.
What are the chances a scent-matched omega ends up in my arms on any given day? Apparently not zero.
“Everything okay?” I hear called from outside.
Luke appears in the front doorway down the hall. His black t-shirt is sweat-marked and his jeans are covered in dirt. He kicks off his dirty work boots at the entrance though before coming farther inside.
I nod toward where the omega sits on the couch, cursing me under her breath. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I say. “But you putting weight on that ankle is only going to make it worse.”
“You could have maybe, I don’t know, justsupportedme,” she shoots back with a hazel-eyed glare that ignites a fire within me. Her long brown hair is slightly untamed from the wind but it makes her look wild and breathtaking. “Not hauled me around like a doll.”
“Like adoll?” I hold in a snorted laugh but can’t stop the smile from twisting my lips. “A bit dramatic.”
“Are youlaughingat me?” she fires back.
Luke steps in between us. “Now, I know Carson can be a bit thick-headed, but I’m sure he meant well. Are you okay—” Luke stops dead in his tracks. He can scent her too, can’t he? His bearded jaw slips open, but when words finally make it past his lips, they’re not what I expected. “Josie Rose?”
I step back. He knows her? Let him handle her fire then.
Josie’s eyes move to him and narrow as if she’s trying to place him in her memory. “I’m sorry?”
Luke raises his hands. “Luke. Our grandparents were friends. God, it must be nearly twenty years since I last saw you.”
Josie’s face relaxes slightly, her full lips parting with surprise. I study the motion. It’s hard to look away. “Luke—yes! I remember. Yes, twenty years at least.”
Luke approaches her so I busy myself with kicking off my own shoes. The Roses don’t have many rules they wish to be followed when they’re not here, but not allowing shoes in the house were the first on the list. The least we can do is oblige them.
While I remove my boots I catch movement down the driveway. Brooks is on his way back from the sheep fields. He stops when he sees Josie’s car, then spots me in the doorway and tilts his head with an unspoken question.
