Page 38 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
Before Cooper's inheritance, I'd felt essential. Every penny I squeezed from our budget, every creative maneuver I used to keep the bank at bay, every phone call asking for an extension on credit for hay and feed, had kept Sagebrush alive. What purpose did I serve now?
"Levi." Wyatt's voice cut through my thoughts. "You hear from the feed supplier about that special mix Wade wanted to try?"
I nodded, wondering if Wyatt distracted me on purpose. I wasn’t good at hiding my feelings. "Should be here next week."
"Good." He nodded once, then returned to his food.
That was Wyatt—direct, efficient, no wasted words. He didn't need to thank me or elaborate. The fact that he'd asked at all was acknowledgment enough of my role in the pack. Maybe I wasn’t out there on the back of my horse Samos every day, sun beating down on me, patching holes and tending the herd, but I kept things going behind the scenes.
In a pack of Alphas, perhaps that was contribution enough.
But I wanted to earn my keep. I wanted to earn the food I ate, the clothing I wore, the electricity I used. I wanted to deserve what I had, because as I kid it felt like I’d deserved nothing.
I focused on eating.
The quiet this time wasn’t heavy.
Well, it wasn’t heavy until Cooper brought up the taboo subject.
“Got an email from Eros today.” He almost sounded reluctant to reveal the news.
My heart stopped beating.
“Said the process is going smoothly. They’re sending another Alpha care basket.” He averted his eyes, staring down at his plate, not meeting any of our gazes.
My heart started beating.
Sluggishly.
The air in the room shifted. Alpha scents taking on bitter edges.
Silence stretched thin, taut as a wire between us. Five grown Alphas, sitting around a table like strangers at a funeral, not knowing what to say or how to say it. We'd been packmates for years, had shared everything from blood to sweat to beds, yet now we couldn't even manage casual lunch conversation.
"Did they say anything else?" I asked finally, when it became clear no one else would speak.
Cooper's smile faltered, then strengthened with obvious effort. “Just reassurances and a reminder about the nondisclosure.”
“No reason to remind us of the NDAs unless other Alphas have lost their shit at unfulfilled promises,” Wyatt grumbled. “I’m going back to work.” He shoved away from the table, walked his plate to the sink, dropping it into the basin with a loud clank, and then vanished out the backdoor.
I glanced at Wade, still sleeping through it all. His mouth had fallen open slightly, a thin line of drool threatening to make its way down his chin. The lunch plate sat untouched before him. There was something both ridiculous and endearing about him—this giant of a man, who could lift a calf with one arm and recite entire veterinary textbooks from memory, passed out at the dinner table like an overtired child.
Suddenly, Wade let out a deafening snore, his body jerked, and his lashes parted. He looked around the room, expression slack, eyes disoriented. When he realized where he was, he straightened up so quickly that his chair tipped backward. Only Boone's lightning-fast reflexes saved him from crashing to the floor.
"Wha—?" Wade blinked rapidly, his gaze darting around the table. "What happened? Are the ducks okay?"
"The ducks?" Cooper repeated, his voice holding back laughter.
"My Canvasbacks," Wade clarified, as if this explained everything. "I was just..." He trailed off, whatever crazy dream he’d been having fading against reality.
The absurdity of the moment—Wade's confused expression, the lingering echo of that monstrous snore, the non sequitur about ducks—hit us all at once. Cooper barked out a laugh, covering his mouth too late to hold it back. Boone's shoulders began to shake, his brooding façade cracking as a deep, rumblingchuckle escaped him. I felt my own laughter bubbling up, unstoppable and cleansing. Soon we were all howling, gasping for breath, tension dissolving against pure joy. I hated Wyatt had left too soon to feel this relief. Wade's initial confusion gave way to a sheepish grin, then full-throated laughter of his own.
"Jesus Christ, Wade," Coop pushed out the words, wiping at his eyes. "You sounded like a dying moose."
"Scared the shit out of me," Cooper added, holding his sides. "Thought the roof was caving in."
"I just want to know if the ducks are okay," I added, which set us all off again.
Wade's face had turned bright red, but he was laughing as hard as the rest of us. "Fuck all of you," he said without heat. "Like none of you guys snore."
