Page 141 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
But I still felt it. I still loved him deeply. I still wanted him with me.
I learned back then that you can’t force a one-sided love though.
Just like I couldn’t force her to stay now.
I'd spent years rebuilding myself after Danny. Cooper and Levi had been my salvation. Their love safe, healing, constant. Little by little, day by day, they helped me trust that they wouldn’t abandon me for greener pastures. They brought me to Sagebrush. They gave me the life and the home. Wade joined our tangle of limbs and hearts sometimes, fitting perfectly into spaces we didn't know needed filling. I loved Wyatt too, though in a different way.
Yet, despite all the rich history and deep love, none of my pack mates had ever hit me like this.
And now here was Nelly, fiery-haired and defiant, intoxicating scent permeating my skin, flavoring the flesh, mixing with the marrow. A scent match Omega was a physical blow that left you bruised. It made you unwillingly feel. Every cell in my body recognized her, reached for her, even as my mind screamed in warning. I couldn't survive that kind of rejection again.I wouldn't.
I realized I'd been staring too long. Wade cleared his throat.
"Boone was just about to introduce you to your horse," he said, the lie slipping easily from his lips. He was covering for me, giving me a reason to be here, to approach her. And I did. I got as close as I dared. She smelled too damn good. My inner Alpha stretched and reached and wanted.
"My horse?" Nelly's eyebrows rose, confusion and suspicion battling across her features.
I seized on the distraction, grateful for the shift in focus. “Your horse,” I confirmed.
The snowy Arabian had been with us for quite some time now. I still remembered the day she was delivered. Cooper had been full of glee, saying he’d bought the perfect welcoming giftfor our Omega. We'd all rolled our eyes at his enthusiasm, but secretly, we'd each spent time with the mare, training her, gentling her, preparing her for the woman we thought would happily join our pack. None of us knew how damn long it would take. Too damn long.
"She's still being trained," I continued, trying to keep my voice steady, "but she's got a good temperament. You respect her and she’ll respect you.
“I don't know how to care for a horse," Nelly admitted, looking vulnerable. “And you know I can’t even ride one.”
“I’ll teach you," I said, the words coming out more forcefully than I intended. I softened my tone. “And then you can ride, Nelly. Riding is like flying. You’ll find out how freeing it can be if you stay here.” Those last four words slipped out before I could stop them.
Wade shot me a look. He knew what I was feeling, knew how hard I was fighting my instincts. The Alpha in me wanted to claim, to protect, to provide. To show Nelly that I could give her everything she needed. But the man in me, the one who'd been shattered before, wanted to run as far and fast as possible from the potential pain.
I could feel the pull between us, like an invisible thread drawing tighter with each passing second.Did she feel it too?Or was it just me, projecting my desperate hope onto an unwilling target? I couldn't tell from her guarded expression, and the way she kept her distance.
"Would you like to meet her?" I asked, forcing myself to remain still, to not crowd her, to not push her too much. "No pressure. She's just down this way."
Something flickered across Nelly's face—curiosity, perhaps. Or maybe just the desire to move away from the intensity of this moment. She nodded once, a quick, jerky movement.
“I'm going to go bottle feed the calves." Wade gestured vaguely toward the stable entrance.
He was giving us space, I realized. Giving me a chance to connect with her or maybe giving her a chance to reject me privately if that's what was coming. My throat tightened at the thought. Had she already made it clear to Wade that she’d never stay? No, that couldn’t be the case. Wade still smelled hopeful, his scent like campfire and honey.
As Wade started walking away, I turned back to Nelly, trying to construct a smile that didn't reveal the hope and anxiety battling inside me. I wanted to make her happy, even if just for this moment. I wanted to see her face light up when she met the horse. I wanted to be the cause of that happiness.
God, I was already in so deep, and we'd barely exchanged a handful of words.
"This way," I said, gesturing down the row of stalls. "She's been waiting to meet you."
As we walked side by side, careful inches between us, I could feel that invisible thread pulling tighter, drawing us together despite every rational thought that warned against it. Every step was a battle between wanting to lean closer and needing to maintain distance. Between hoping she'd stay and knowing I should let her go.
I wanted her to choose us—choose me—so badly that it was eating away at my insides. A cancer with exactly one cure.Her.
"I know you don't want to be here," I said quietly, the words escaping before I could stop them. "And I'm sorry for how it happened. But I’m damn glad you’re here."
It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. But it was all I could offer in that moment, walking beside an Omega who stirred feelings I'd thought were long dead and buried, toward a horse we'd hoped would be hers forever but might instead become just another reminder of what could have been.
I led the way deeper into the stables, my footsteps deliberately measured, conscious of Nelly trailing behind me. The familiar stable scents wrapped around us, a comforting blanket that usually eased my mind. Not today. Today, those scents mingled with Nelly's, creating something new that set my nerves on edge. My body reacted to every breath she took. My peripheral vision absorbed the way she moved, arms crossed over her chest, spine straight, expression trying to be neutral. My tongue darted out to wet my lower lip, mouth tingling with the need to press against her lips.
I could feel her hesitation in the way she hung back, in the soft, uncertain rhythm of her steps against the packed dirt floor. Ghost's stall appeared ahead on the right, the Arabian already alert, ears pricked forward at the sound of our approach.
"Here she is," I said, keeping my voice low and steady.
