Page 133 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
Something in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.
"You had dirt," I managed to say, dropping my hand quickly. "On your face."
Wade swallowed visibly, the sharp line of his jaw working. "Thanks," he mumbled, shifting the box in his arms. His gaze darted to the side, then back to me, hesitant but oh-so-very warm. I didn’t know what to say, but I realized my stupid hand was still near his sharp-hewn jaw. I dropped it quickly, fingers feeling like they were on fire.
“I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry,” I mumbled, feeling awkward.
“You can touch me,” he said softly.
Our eyes met again.
So many unspoken things swimming between our gazes.
Wade cleared his throat. “I found some things that might work better.” His words trembled at the edges. “Gramps and Gran never threw anything away.” He gave me the box, then placed the boots atop it. “These were ours when we were kids. Maybe something will fit. I don’t think the boots were even worn once. Probably bought ahead of time and then we grew too fast. Gran was always trying to take advantage of sales. Rarely worked out.”
I stared at the box and footwear. The cardboard was soft with age, corners worn from years of storage. The boots did honestly look new, aside from a thick layer of dust. Borrowing clothes from their childhood felt oddly intimate, but I couldn't exactly wander around a ranch in lobster shorts and an oversized t-shirt. I should say, ‘thank you,’ but I felt tongue tied.
"Take whatever you need," Wade spoke again, his voice careful and neutral. The tiny quakes were gone. "Not like we’ll fit in them now. I think my grandparents kept them hoping for great grandkids someday.” He blushed, glancing around sheepishly. “I’ll wait for you by the front door, okay?”
He turned quickly, disappearing.
Great grandkids.I looked at the box, then at his retreating back. For a moment, I imagined what little Wade might look like. Then… I imagined how big Alpha pups would be when they exited my body. Yikes.
I retreated to my borrowed bedroom. The aged box released a faint, powdery scent once opened. Inside, neatly folded clothes waited like a time capsule from the twins’ past. I pulled out a pair of jeans first, holding them by the waist, letting them unfold naturally as I hoisted them into the air. I placed the waist against my body, almost annoyed to find the legs stopped at nearly the perfect height.
“God, they were my size in freaking fifth grade.”
I don’t think it had fully struck me how big the men were. I’d just been so pissed. So full of fight and ready to escape, that I hadn’t taken in the enormity of their bodies. The size of their childhood clothing made me picture the current them. Endless height and freaking muscles.
If they really wanted to keep me here?
They wouldn’t have to try very hard.
Any one of them could probably physically subdue me with one hand, while blindfolded.
Earlier, I’d imagined being tossed over a shoulder and held against a wall. Now, I imagined the same thing, only without a happy ending.
I should be totally turned off. Yet, the grain of fear somehow made my desire richer. Like adding chipotle to dark chocolate. The spice brings out the cocoa.
Dressing quickly, I tried to stop thinking about things like toned torsos, braids I could pull, strong arms hoisting me into the air. Great grandkids. Pushing out pups. Them… pushing into me.
Wade said nothing when I rejoined him in the living room. He simply handed me a worn jacket from a hook. I hesitated before taking it, reluctant to accept anything else. I was already dressed in his clothing and shoes. Well, their old clothing, not just his. I wondered if the shirt printed with a faded Mustang convertible was his, or his brother’s. And who had ripped the dark wash jeans? A lighter denim patch covered the tear at the knee. Did the wearer get hurt at the time? Did they bleed? Did someone kiss the wound and make it better? I hoped so.
“It’s fairly warm, but starting to rain,” he explained, still holding the coat out to me.
I nodded, taking the offering, and noting that he wasn’t wearing any outerwear. Maybe because he was giving me his. Seconds later, I confirmed that. The jacket smelled like him, asif his personal Alpha cologne had spent years and years seeping into the cracked leather. It hung mid-thigh on my smaller frame, and I had to roll the sleeves up three times before my hands emerged.
When I looked up at Wade, his lips were slightly parted, his face slack and eyes soft. I looked down at my feet as my inner Omega pulsed, wanting me to touch him again. Instead, I moved my toes inside the boots as a distraction. They were the tiniest bit too big, but nothing like the ones I’d used for my ill-planned escape. And, strangely, my feet felt better inside them. A pair of thick socks would probably help them fit perfectly, and pad the wounds, but I wasn’t willing to ask Wade for something else.
“Ready, Nelly?” Wade’s soft voice questioned.
I nodded without looking up at him. I heard him turn around, walk a few paces, and open the front door. Only then did I raise my head and follow. Wade waited just inside, hand on the door, waiting to close it behind us. I brushed past him, painfully aware of the heat radiating from his body, and I moved over the threshold, walking until I came to the very edge of the covered front porch.
Outside, the never-ending blue sky was populated by various shades of gray clouds. It was a beautiful day, in its own way. The rain was intermittent, falling softly to the Earth, as if the clouds were still debating when, where, and how to let go of their contents. Wade walked around me, giving me a wide berth this time—did he feel what I felt? Was I as warm to him as he was to me?Slowly, I moved my feet, staying a little way behind him. But he slowed his pace, until we were side-by-side.
A fat droplet of rain fell on my face and rolled down my cheek as we moved past the safety of the small porch’s overhang. I swiped the wetness away. Soon after, another drop hit my nose, rolling down the bridge and hanging off the tip for a heartbeat before continuing its fall. Without saying anything, Wade tookoff his cowboy hat and settled it gently atop my head. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he was paying such close attention to me. But…
The way he now shielded his eyes with one hand as the rain momentarily picked up, caused the crack in my chest to fractionally widen. He had no coat, because I was wearing his. And now, he had no hat to cover his face from the rain.
