Page 178 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
Her hands moving with tender care over my body.
My hands, pushing through her ginger hair.
Our bodies, naked, pressed together. Not mating. Not marking. Just holding onto one another.
Each time I dreamed of her, I woke up poisoned by greater longing.
I paused my scrubbing, rocking back on my heels to survey how much I’d accomplished. I wiped the back of my hand across my slick forehead. My mustache was damp with sweat too, my shirt clinging to my back. The barn was cleaner than it had been in years, but it still wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough when it came to Nelly.
My Alpha side was in constant turmoil around her. Protective instincts warred with respect for her independence. Possessive urges fought against the knowledge that she wasn't mine to possess. And beneath all the inexplicable, unstoppable Alpha shit was a simpler, human truth: Nelly Shaw made me feel whole when I hadn’t even known I was broken.
And now she might leave.
The pain of imagining her gone was a crushing pressure in my chest my lungs couldn’t expand against and a hollowness in my gut no amount of food could fill.
I attacked the floor again, my movements growing desperate. As if I could scrub away the reality of her eventual departure. As if I could clean this barn so thoroughly, make it so perfect for her dancing, that she'd choose to stay.
Wade returned, gallon of enzyme cleaner in one hand, sponges in the other.
Our eyes met.
He and I never talked openly about what Nelly meant to both of us. We didn’t need to. I could see the same storm brewing in my twin’s eyes. The same fear. The same hope. The same horrible hurt.
Wade nodded at me, then moved back to where he’d been cleaning before going to get extra supplies. I went back to work as well, scrubbing until my hands were raw, until blisters formed, until blisters ruptured, until the sting of the pain was so great my eyes watered against it.
"Please stay," I whispered quietly, watching as my blood swirled with soapy water on the floor. "Please choose us."
Choose me.
Wade.
I braced my shoulder against the rusted frame of the old tractor, my boots digging into the dirt floor as I strained to push the hulking mass deeper into the shadowy corner of the barn. Sweat trickled down my spine despite the cool night air seeping into the barn.
The machine groaned in protest, its weight fighting my efforts, but I needed it gone. I needed to clear every possible inch of space for Nelly's dancing. I glanced across the barn at Wyatt,who was attacking the floor with brutal focus, and I pushed harder, muscles burning with the effort. Pain was good. Pain was simple. Unlike the complicated ache that had taken up residence in my chest since Nelly Shaw arrived in Wyoming.
Before Eros came into our lives, my days had followed a comfortable rhythm.
Though I woke before dawn, I never went straight to work. I’d wait a while before going outside, giving Wyatt his space in the stables—something we all did, because the man was an ogre first thing in the morning. I’d dress, then have a leisurely cup of coffee in the kitchen, my sips usually serenaded by the sounds of Cooper clanging pots and humming as he cooked. After my daily dose of caffeine, I headed out to check on pregnant heifers and bottle feed a few calves. If I had extra time, I’d take Duck out for a morning ride to, as ridiculous as it sounded, check on the actual ducks. Then I was back home for breakfast with my pack brothers. Often, Wyatt would still be mucking out the stables, something that drove Cooper nuts. Sometimes, he’d announce our breakfast would be later than usual, trying to get Wyatt on board. It never worked.
But even the sporadic fluctuation of breakfast was routine and familiar.
Like checking the fence line, helping the vet when vaccine time came around, and spending my nights pouring over animal husbandry books by lamp light.
Before I knew how much I was missing, I'd been content with solitude, more comfortable with animals than people, and happy to let Wyatt carry the bulk of ranch responsibilities on his shoulders. A predictable world was safe, made it easier to stay sane against the first brushes of ferality.
But nothing made sense anymore.
She’d tilted my entire existence sideways.
I heaved as hard as I could, and the tractor finally gave way, sliding back several inches. I repositioned myself, pressing my entire body against the metal behemoth. My muscles strained against my skin, veins standing out on my forearms as I pushed with renewed determination. Each inch gained was another inch for her to move, to dance, tostay.
My mind drifted to Dolly’s hard birth. Nelly was part of the reason the mother and her calf were doing well now. She’d followed my instructions without hesitation, taking to the task like she’d done it a million times before. I’d been fucking amazed by her, though I’d not had the chance to tell her at the time. The vet had come, and I’d run out to meet him. By the time he and I started walking back to the birthing paddock, Nelly was disappearing into the stables with Boone. Not long after, they’d ridden off in the direction of the lake. The lake with my ducks. The ones I’d wanted to show her at some point. As I’d watched them leave together, jealousy burned through me. I’d wanted my body to be the one behind hers in the saddle.
The next morning, her hair damp from the shower and curling around her flushed face, she’d looked at me across the kitchen table and said, “Thank you for letting me help. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever been a part of.”
In my head, I’d told her she was the amazing thing.
In my head, I told her the calf’s birth proved she belonged at Sagebrush.
