Page 7 of Wild Omegas
I smile up at him. “I’d love a tour, thank you. It’s been a while since I was last here. But I should warn you I’ll be protective of the kitchen.”
Luke waves me off. “None of us are good cooks. The kitchen is yours.”
“Good.” I look at my ankle then back up at him. “Give me an hour?”
“Perfect, I’ll come back then with Brooks and Carson.” Luke ducks out into the main hallway.
When I see them all again it’s to load onto three ATVs. I climb gingerly onto the back of Luke’s and they show me around the ranch. Not much has changed but it’s nice to see it all. To take in the fresh air and the view of the powerful mountains surrounding us on three sides.
Luke works with the horses, with a specialty in breaking in the wild or unruly ones. Carson keeps the gardens and grounds. And Brooks already has my car rigged up in his mechanics shed near the sheep fields.
The three of them have things working in such a flawless manner that it almost seems rude to barge in on them like I have. I’ll do my best to stay out of the way and help where I can. It’s the least I can do. But I’m not quite sure how the hell I’m going to ignore three alphas and the giant scent-matched elephant hanging in the room between us every minute of every day.
Especially not once my heat comes.
Andespeciallynot if Damien manages to find me here… I’ll be placing these alphas’ lives on the line. Damien’s notoriously ruthless way of handling things is why I had to leave New York in the first place.
That solidifies it then. I can’t get attached. I can’t get involved.
In fact, I need to make them all leave me alone. Nothing can happen between us or they’ll become a pawn for Damien if he finds me here.
Maybe Damien won’t.
Maybe Damien doesn’t even care anymore.
But I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I can’t let myself grow close to Wild Skies Pack. Even though I want to.
CHAPTER 4
Brooks
Josie goes backto the house after the ranch tour. I have half a mind to follow her but anytime one of us even attempts to do something that vaguely resembles helping her, we receive a glare and a hand wave. It’d probably be far more effective if she wasn’t limping with every step or biting her lip from the pain.
I wonder if she realizes how much of an open book she is. Or maybe that’s just my ex-cop instincts going off.
Still, I return to my sheep to finish work for the day and wonder the entire time where the hell this omega has been all my life. Even Luke, who knew her before, somehow lost track of her. At least until she roared down the road in the loudest Camry I’ve ever heard in my life. I genuinely had no idea they could evengetthat loud.
I smile thinking about it and her equally roaring entrance into our lives on this quiet little ranch. But every time I think of her eyes, I see layers of walls put up with stark reinforcements. I’ve seen that look on countless criminals and victims throughout my years on the force. It’s not the main reason I left and retreated to Wild Skies Ranch, but it certainly wasn’tnotin play. My last case was…
A vicious chill rips through me as I climb the stairs to the front door of the main house. I have to let it go, what happened. But saying you’re moving on and escaping from law enforcement andactuallyescaping from the eyes of victims you couldn’t save are two very different endeavors.
Spoiler: One is far easier than the other.
I peel off my boots and hang my Stetson along with my work jacket on the hooks at the front door before heading upstairs for a much-needed shower. Only once I’m dirt-free and presentable do I wander downstairs to the living wing of the house to see what my packmates might have in mind for dinner. Usually it’s something grilled—steak and veggies, burgers and fries. Something quick, easy, and filling. Idosmell steak, but it’s certainly not being grilled.
I round the corner to the kitchen and stop frozen in my tracks. Josie stands at the stove cooking with two burners and the oven on one good leg because theotheris sporting frozen peas around the ankle.
“What are youdoing?”
The words are out past my lips before I can even think of stopping them. It’s not my place to judge but she’s here under our sort-of watch, has already injured herself, and is now definitelynotresting.
Josie jolts when I speak and then inhales sharply. She turns to me. “Cooking dinner, obviously.” Then she must see some of my more brazen thoughts on my face because she lifts a spoon at me. “I know, I know. I should be resting. But I didn’t trust you all to make dinner and figured I owed you all for having to come to my rescue on day one.”
Her words are grateful but there’s a tone there doesn’t fit in. Hard, like a forced disinterest. Another instinct I’ve seen a hundred times.
“We can cook.” I make my way to the fridge for a beer only to discover she’s rearranged the entire thing with all the groceries she purchased on her way here and stored in the huge cooler we brought into the house for her. Vegetables, meat, baking supplies, oils, other basics fill the fridge and the surrounding counter. I grab the one beer bottle I see poking out between broccoli and cauliflower heads. “So can you, apparently.”
Josie clicks her tongue. “Understatement.” Then she frowns and tilts her head. “Well, really I’m more of a baker. But I’m all right at cooking too.”
