Behind her, a deep laugh rang out. Genesis spun toward the sound, cheeks reddening. Gabriel Acosta leaned against her doorframe, the setting sun haloing him in golden light. If Genesis had been writing a piece on the sexy, brooding artist with a tragic backstory and sad, irresistible eyes to match, this would be the image she’d want with her copy.
Though Genesis was slightly above average height for an omega, she barely came up to Gabriel’s chest. She looked up at him, marveling at the way the sun kissed his tawny skin. His tousled, wavy hair was mostly dark with some silver around the temples, while his thick beard was decidedly salt-and-pepper. His broad shoulders, thick biceps, and chiseled chest were all on display in the long-sleeved henley he wore over fitted jeans that Genesis couldn’t wait to see from the back. In short, Gabriel Acosta was beautiful.
So, naturally, Genesis spent far too long ogling him before realizing she should probably say something. “There’s a chicken in the cottage,” she blurted.
Smooth, Genesis. Real smooth. Clearly, Gabriel could see the chicken, which was now making itself at home, scratching at the plush living room rug. Gabriel smiled and pushed himself off the doorframe, closing the distance between them in a few strides.
“It’s good to see you again, Genesis,” he said, taking her hand warmly and staring intently into her face as he had done the firsttime they’d met. “I was really glad to hear you decided to give us a chance. I’m sorry Duchess is behaving so impolitely on your first day.”
Genesis trembled, the low murmur of Gabriel’s voice caressing her spine, as his scent enveloped her. He smelled like vanilla, cloves, and charcoal—sweet and warm and creative, exactly like his personality. She was acutely aware of the negligible space between them, alone in the picturesque little cottage. If this were one of her preferred romance novels, Genesis knew what would happen next.
Of course, this wasn’t a book, so instead of saying something sexy, Genesis gazed into Gabriel’s depthless brown eyes and said the first word she could find. “Duchess?”
Gabriel laughed again, releasing her hands far too soon and gesturing at the feathered menace pulling threads from the understated alpaca rug. “Duchess is our resident escape artist and the bane of Luke’s existence. I’m pretty convinced she only bothers finding her way out of the coop because she enjoys pissing him off. Honestly, so do I, so I can hardly blame her. He’s such an easy target.”
Gabriel made atuck-tuck-tucksound, and the chicken lifted her head, the red flap on top waggling curiously. Genesis knew very little about livestock, but she generally liked animals, so she squatted and mimicked the sound, extending a hand to the bird. Curiously, Duchess approached her, pecking gently at her shoes.
“She likes you,” Gabriel said with a smile. “I knew you’d fit right in. Come on, I’m supposed to be escorting you to dinner. Duchess, out please.”
Obediently, the chicken ran out ahead of them, clucking happily. Genesis watched her run off in the opposite direction of the house, seemingly finished with her inspection of the farm’s newest resident. Genesis shook her head and laughed. When sheturned back to Gabriel, he was watching her with a soft smile on his handsome face.
“Should we make sure she gets back into the coop?” she asked, blushing under Gabriel’s gaze. “I don’t want anything to happen to her, considering she’s my first friend on the farm and all.”
Gabriel took her hand, threading their fingers together as if it was the most natural thing in the world and he wasn’t sending an electric current through her body that went straight to her core. “Don’t worry about Duchess. She’ll go back when she’s ready. She knows where it’s safe to go. And nothing that lives on the farm will hurt her. Duchess runs the place. Hence the name.”
Gabriel gently tugged Genesis’s hand, guiding her along a stone pathway that wound toward the main house. The early evening air was chilly, and she appreciated the solid warmth of the alpha beside her. Despite the sounds of animals in the distance, it was eerily quiet, especially considering that Genesis was used to the constant clamor of city life.
“Shouldn’t Luke be in charge, rather than a sassy chicken?” she asked, amused by the thought of the big, tough cowboy being outsmarted by a bird. “What self-respecting cowboy can’t wrangle his poultry?”
Gabriel laughed, squeezing her hand. “You’re obviously a city girl. Chickens are egg-laying anarchists or adorably dumb puppies—there’s no in between. Luke is a businessman, not a real cowboy, and Duchess knows it. He just installed a new feeder because, somehow, she was using the old one to help her escape the coop. You can see how well the new one is working out.”
“Did Luke grow up on this farm?” Genesis asked. She’d learned a lot about his career during her research into Pack Rossi, but not much about his youth. “He looks like a real cowboy to me.”
“You should tell him that.” Gabriel grinned mischievously, and Genesis’s stomach filled with butterflies. “He spent lots of time here when he was a kid, but his father had other plans for him as he got older. He pushed Luke into sports and business and kept him away from his grandfather, but the old man still left it all to Luke. In true business mogul fashion, he made it prosperous right away. The Wilder farm now supplies most of the region’s corn syrup and corn oil. But that wasn’t enough for Luke Wyatt, so he’s spent the last ten years trying to get more hands on and embrace the rugged life.”
Genesis nodded, glancing out toward where the corn fields must lay. She knew that Luke had retired right after Pack Rossi’s omega died. She wondered if Gabriel was thinking of her now, and if he’d talk about her. Genesis wasn’t sure whether she should ask; she thought she’d like it if people gave her a chance to talk about her mom. That was one of the worst things about her fathers getting remarried and sending her away so quickly—she’d had no one to reminisce with. It felt like no one else remembered the mother she’d loved so much. It’d hurt to have her erased that way.
Before Genesis could choose the right follow-up question, Gabriel spoke again. “I love Luke, even though it might seem like I just love busting his balls. He’s a pretty good fake cowboy, and I think he enjoys it…as much as Luke enjoys anything, that is. Although, I do think he misses the challenge of running the business with Lando. There aren’t enough people to argue with on the farm, so he’s extra surly. But his vegetable garden keeps us in fresh produce, the chickens are fun, and I love the taste of fresh eggs. I don’t really care for the cows, but he couldn’t technically be a cowboy without cows and horses. The horses are terrifying, by the way.”
“Whatever he’s telling you is bullshit,” a gravelly voice interrupted, and Genesis nearly jumped out of her skin.
She spun around to see Luke emerging from behind a shed she hadn’t noticed in the trees. He looked exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him—cranky and sexy. The sleeves of his plaid shirt were rolled up to reveal muscled forearms that matched his bulging biceps and broad chest. His Wranglers fit him just right and his boots were both high-quality and well worn. His salt-and-pepper hair was buzzed close on the sides but longer on top, a lock of it falling across his forehead. All that was missing from the perfect cowboy image was the Stetson.
“I should’ve mentioned Luke is also something of a ninja and has a knack for appearing where you least want him,” Gabriel told Genesis apologetically, before lifting an eyebrow at his packmate. “You’re supposed to already be cleaned up and at the dinner table.”
Luke scowled, midnight blue eyes glinting in the dying sunlight. “I would love to be sitting at the goddamn table, shithead, but I had a delinquent hen to catch. I should let the foxes get her and save myself the headache.”
Genesis gasped, widening her eyes, and pressing a hand to her chest dramatically. “Don’t you dare! Duchess and I are friends!”
Gabriel laughed at Luke’s scandalized expression and pulled Genesis toward the house. “He’s just jealous that both me and Duchess got to see you before he did. But don’t worry, he’s all talk. He loves that hen, or at least has a begrudging respect for her. Besides, the planets wouldn’t let the foxes get near her.”
Gabriel opened a set of French doors leading into a part of the house Genesis hadn’t seen on her initial visit. She took in the elegant surroundings as she tried to follow Gabriel and Luke’s teasing conversation. “Planets? Are you into astrology?”
Luke snorted a laugh. “He would be into that shit, if he wasn’t too busy making up his own hipster nonsense. The ‘planets’ are what we call the farm’s resident cats—Neptune, Venus, Pluto,and so on. They take care of vermin and, for some inexplicable goddamn reason, protect the other animals, especially Duchess.”
“I saw Jupiter run off a coyotethreetimes his size once, and Jupiter is a very big cat,” Gabriel said. “He’s missing an ear and is blind in one eye, but he doesn’t play about his territory. None of them do. I think they’d be surprised to hear that we think they’re protecting Duchess, rather than defending their own empire.”
Gabriel placed a hand on the small of Genesis’s back, guiding her through the mansion toward the alluring aroma of dinner. She shivered at the casual, possessive touch, her stomach clenching with a hunger for more than food. The scents of the alphas permeated the air around her, tugging at that hunger, deepening it. She’d thought that after their first meeting, her reaction to Pack Rossi’s pheromones would be dulled. She’d thought wrong.
