Page 99 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
"Does it fucking matter?" she snapped, yanking open the rear door of our extended cab truck before anyone could answer. Once she was inside, my pack brothers and I just stood likeidiots, not sure what to do or where to sit. Two of us would have to sit beside her, and she’d obviously hate that. In the end, Levi and Boone moved first, taking the seats next to Nelly. That sent a pang through my chest.
The drive back to Sagebrush was thirty minutes of exquisite torture.
We'd rolled down the windows, on the excuse of getting some fresh air, but really so we wouldn't suffocate on her intoxicating scent in the enclosed space. Even with the wind whipping through the cab, I could feel her presence behind me like a physical touch. Every breath brought a fresh wave of her—that maddening combination that somehow smelled like home and desire and everything I'd never known I needed.
Wyatt kept shooting glances at her in the rearview mirror, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Wade sat in rigid silence beside him, worrying his hands the way he did when a calf was breach or refused to bottle feed. In the back seat, Levi and Boone were pressed tightly against the doors, leaving enough space that she wouldn't feel trapped. They each stared out the windows, expressions strained as they fought their instincts.
Which echoed mine?—
Touch her.
Smell her.
Kiss her.
Mark her.
Nelly stared down at her hands, refusing to acknowledge any of us. We passed a gap in trees and sunlight streamed into the truck, catching in her hair, turning it to living flame. I couldn't help wondering what it would feel like between my fingers.
Shit, I needed to get myself under control.
"Almost there," Wyatt announced, his usually confident voice strained as he took the turn onto our property.
I leaned over toward Wade, watching Nelly in the rearview. Her eyes widened slightly as we passed through the main gates of Sagebrush Ranch. I wondered if it looked the same to her as it had in the video Eros made. They’d interrupted operations for two days getting footage. Did she see the beauty? Did it make her soften towards us?
Wyatt guided the truck around the final curve which brought, not the magnificent lodge from the Eros promotional video, but the modest one-story rambler once owned by Wyatt and Wade’s grandparents into view. The new house was still under construction, a sore point for all of us. We’d wanted it done. We’d wanted to bring her home to a gourmet kitchen, massive fireplaces, and a master suite perfect for six. Instead, all we could currently offer was the cramped house with too few bedrooms and too many bodies.
"Home sweet home," Wyatt muttered as he pulled the truck to a stop in its usual spot. My brothers and I climbed out. Nelly hesitated but then seemed to gather her resolve and slide across the bench seat to exit. She missed the running boards and dropped the two feet down, stumbling slightly as the ridiculous sandals failed her—straps snapping and soles folding. I shot forward instinctively to steady her, hands first going to her arms, then thinking better of it, worried I’d hit her injured wrists.
But that meant my hands wrapped around her waist.
That I felt the warmth of her beneath the silky fabric.
My eyes closed, my nostrils flared, as I fought the waves of need rolling over me.
Then a hard shove in my stomach brought me back from the brink.
"I don't need your help.” She scowled. The expression should have made her look unattractive, yet it only made her more beautiful.
"Never said you did," I replied, releasing her waist—my hands prickling as if they’d just touched forbidden fruit—and stepped out of her space.
The five of us formed an unconscious perimeter around her as we approached the house, not close enough to crowd but positioned to intervene if she bolted. It wasn't just protective instinct—though that was certainly part of it—but also a desperate attempt to catch more of her scent on the gentle wind pulsing around us.
Wyatt unlocked the front door and stepped aside. “After you.”
Nelly seemed to freeze at the sight of the open entrance.
“Maybe I’ll just stay outside a bit longer,” she said quietly, looking to the right, gaze falling on one of the rocking chairs we’d recently added to the newly poured front porch. Her animosity waned, wariness waxing. Maybe sitting out here was a good idea, give her a bit more air.
I was glad we’d made a few upgrades. The rambler used to have a four-by-four slab of concrete, big enough to knock off our boots and let the dogs rest, but that was it. Now, at least, it had an inviting entrance. Still wasn’t the big house. Still wasn’t good enough for her.
“We can stay outside if you’d like,” Wade offered. “Maybe show you around the ranch?”
Nelly’s face screwed up, as if she were debating her options.
Maybe she thought we’d let her stay out here alone.
Maybe she couldn’t handle going inside because it meant this was all real.
