Has she really been here in Muddy Creek for weeks? I guess even if she had been, it wouldn’t be hard to believe I hadn’t run into her before. With competition, I’m usually not around any place longer than a few weeks during the season. And when I’m off, I usually recover.
Riding. That’s where my head needs to be. I’m a man on a mission who doesn’t give two fucks about the opposite sex.
Right.
Fuck, I want this woman. Her scent crawls underneath my skin and takes up residence like it has every right to be there.
I’m putting my phone back in my pocket and head around the truck when it buzzes. Checking the screen, it’s our group text.
Jake: Where are those biscuits, asshole?
Beau: On the way home, you impatient fuck.
Charlie: We’re all so nice to each other.
Beau: What else would we be?
Jake: If we were nice, I’d think the old man was dying.
The “old man” is me. It’s been his joke since we met, though fuck if I know why he thinks thirty-seven is old enough to be geriatric.
Charlie: Easy, junior.
Jake: HA. HA.
Beau: Alright, children, I’m on the way. Got held up.
Held up and steamrolled. I bring my hand up to touch where we connected, feeling a sizable goose egg forming on the side of my cheekbone. And the smell assaults me all over again—her scent is all over my hands where they cradled her head and nestled into the crevice of her neck and shoulder.
Her sultry, thick, sweet scent is so damn good. The way she looked up at me with those gray eyes dilated, pupils blown wide. Fuck. When she parted her lips, I was seconds away from picking her up and kissing every sassy thought out of her head.
If that group of old biddies hadn’t picked the exact wrong moment to interrupt, I would have.
I nearly groan at what I imagine those thick thighs and round ass would feel like in my hands, lifting her up and pressing her against me. My cock twitches in agreement, and I have to adjust myself before climbing into the truck.
I shake my head.Good God, get it together, McCrae.
I toss the bag of biscuits onto the passenger seat before climbing into the truck.
Normally, I would’ve eaten them at Sweet Buns. There’s something about that place, the aesthetic of it, that I just love. The first day I walked in there and saw the collection of little green picnic tables with checkered tablecloths, I was sold. It definitely helps that Hattie Belle makes the best damn biscuits in Wyoming. Lord knows people would kill for that gravy.
I head toward the ranch. It’s the last day of this competition. I have to get my head in the game. My scores have been pretty good, and I’m feeling decent about today. I just need one more good ride, and the championship title is mine. I can feel it.
Open fields flow out around me as I drive down the road. Who knew I’d learn to love the desolation here as much as I have? Few things are more beautiful than Wyoming. After this season is over and I finally retire, I can’t wait to call this place home permanently.
But for now, I have less than a week before I’m on the road again. Today is probably the last day that me and the pack will be together before I leave with Jake.
There’s something we need to talk about… now, before we all get pulled away again. It’s all I can think about.
We did talk a bit about Willa last night. Not gonna lie, I did get a pang of jealousy that Jake already knows what she feels like, tastes like. I hold onto the look in his eye that told me he’s a long way from being over her.
Maybe it’s time we brought an Omega into our pack. I don’t know why we’ve put it off for so long—shit just got busy, honestly. Jake and Charlie never really talked about it, and life hasn’t slowed down enough to want it or miss it.
There’s always been somebody there to scratch the itch, but maybe it’s time we all start talking about settling down. Maybe the pack needs an Omega… Maybe we just need Willa.
The rightness of it settles over me.
There’s some magical shit at work here. I don’t even understand it. A week ago, Pack McCrae was well-rounded, high-functioning. Fuck, we all have shit we’re dealing with. Charlie’s only been back for a few weeks—Horses of Hope has kept him busier than I ever thought possible.
