Page 4 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“This is it?” Hollie asks. “This is the ranch?”
“Yep,” Annie says, with a definite hint of pride in her voice.
“Wow,” Hollie gasps.
And am I crazy, but I can’t help a sense of pride myself at her obvious admiration. Then again, who wouldn’t admire Big SkyRanch? Of course I’m biased, but I happen to think it’s the most beautiful ranch in the whole of Colorado – scrap that – probably in the whole of the country.
We pass by one of our winter pastures where part of the Hereford herd is huddled together, and Annie points them out.
“Aren’t they cold?” Hollie asks almost immediately.
“No,” I tell her. “Cattle are hardy. They’re built for weather like this.”
“Really?” she says. “But what do they eat?”
“Hay!” Annie says, giggling. She leans forward in her seat. “Hollie is a big animal lover.” I don’t need reminding. I happen to have catalogued and stored away every bit of information my sister has ever mentioned in passing about her best friend. “Clay, expect to answer a whole host of animal welfare questions while she’s here.”
I snort. “You’re one of those… vegans, are you?”
“No,” Hollie says. I sigh in relief. “I’m a vegetarian.”
“I can’t help thinking that’s worse,” I mutter.
“Don’t listen to him,” Annie says. “My dad is actually super excited about the prospect of cooking for a vegetarian this Christmas. He has about a million different recipe ideas he wants to run past you.”
“I’m happy with just a block of cheese or a boiled egg,” Hollie says.
And I snort again. Omegas may be tiny, but everyone knows they need to eat well. There can’t be a lot of protein and nutrients in a lump of cheese.
We drive past the second pasture. Tucker’s out on this one on the back of Storm, breaking ice on the water trough. He spots us too, knocking the hat off his head and swinging it in circles above his head, waving at all of us. Annie waves back.
“That’s Tucker,” she says.
“Ah,” Hollie says. “Who’s Tucker?”
I fidget in my seat.
“Oh,” Annie says, innocently – although I wonder if my little sister Annie is ever innocent. She’s been wrapping the lot of us around her little finger ever since she was born 29 years ago. “Tucker is one of Clay’s … pack mates.”
There’s silence in the car – a loaded one – and it takes all my self-control not to peer into the rearview mirror at Hollie’s face.
I do not care about her reaction.
I do not care. I repeat, I do not care.
“P-p-pack,” she mumbles at last, the unease in her voice automatically setting off a reciprocating unease in my body.
Obviously, I do care.
“Oh yeah, didn’t I tell you?” Annie says, still sounding suspiciously innocent, as if this was a casual piece of information that just so happened to slip her mind. “Yeah, Clay’s pack mate. Tucker.”
“You have a pack?” Hollie says, this time directing her question to me. “Since when did you have a pack?”
“Since a year and a half ago,” I say. This time I can’t help but peer at her reflection. She looks shocked. Utterly shocked. And I wonder why it’s so hard to believe that a man, an alpha like me, could be part of a pack. Okay, I know I can be an asshole. Stubborn. Seclusive. Downright irritating sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get along with people. And it doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to form a pack.
And I’m in a good position to form a pack now. I’m running the family ranch, and luckily I’ve found two alphas who love the work, who love the ranch, just as much as I do. We bonded over cattle driving. It was always inevitable that when I stepped up to take over the family business, they’d want to do it with me and we’d make it official. We’d become a pack.
Plus, every sensible alpha – every alpha in his right mind – wants a pack. And a little omega to go with that pack.
