Her plush pink lips are beyond tempting. I straighten as I uncross my arms. She gulps and sits back in her seat, her body language screaming that she’s ready to bolt.
I walk over to the dining table, pull back a chair, and sit. And I lean toward her, holding her gaze. “I’m going to be very clear that I want, and have always wanted, a scent match. That’s you, sweetheart. There’s no getting around what you are to me.”
Her back stiffens. “So what you want is more important than what I want, is that it?”
She’s looking for a fight, but I’m not about to give her an excuse to run. She can read me, but I can read her too.
I slowly shake my head. “No. I just want it to be clear now, so there’s no misunderstanding or confusion later about the reason for my persistence. Something was keeping me in this town. I didn’t know what it was until you slammed into me at the topof those stairs.” I point my chin toward the kitchen doorway without taking my eyes off her. She’s highly likely to bolt if I look away too long. “Whether we stay here in Rios with your son and unborn child, or I follow you back to Tennessee and we build our lives there, is up to you. But I’m not walking away from you. You’re mine, Rose, and I mean to keep you.”
She startles. “How’d you know I’m from Tennessee?”
I sit back in my seat, forcing myself to relax and not drag her into my arms. She’s not going anywhere. No need to crowd her and scare her by being too possessive. But it’s fucking painful trying to let go of this desperate fear that I’ll lose Rose as soon as I found her.
She’s skittish. It’s why I haven’t pressed to know more about the claiming bite on her throat—and there’s no mistaking that’s what it is—or why she’s here in Rios alone. But she has a past. And it’s painful. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.
“Did a bit of work on a high-rise in Nashville a few years back,” I say, my gaze sharpening when her shoulders tense. “If I’d known you were?—”
“We wouldneverhave met,” she snaps, looking away.
My eyes drop to the bite on her throat, and I wet my lip with the tip of my tongue. Wanting to cover it with my own. Wanting to know everything there is to know about the alpha who put his mark on her skin. Where is he? No alpha would leave his pregnant mate alone, as sick as Rose is. “Probably not.”
Silence wraps around us. A couple of beats later, she glances at me. When I do nothing but sit in my chair, she relaxes. Her gaze returns to me, lingering this time. Those gorgeous brown eyes narrow with suspicion.
“Win said you weren’t a cowboy.”
She says it like an accusation, as if someone lied to her and she’s not happy about it. Win has always been truthful, sometimes more than I’d like, so for him to be lying aboutanything is new to me. He knows my family owns a ranch in Wyoming, and that’s it. I’ve never said the word cowboy to him or Joel.
I glance at the kitchen window that looks out over the backyard, though I can’t see Win or Ben from the dining table. From where I’m sitting, it’s just blue sky and fluffy white clouds. I could get up, but that would put distance between my mate and me, and I’m not ready or willing to do that just yet. Whatever Win is doing out there, Ben sounds like he’s having the time of his life. That’s not a surprise to me, and it wouldn’t be to anyone who knows him. Win is like that. Friend to everyone within minutes of meeting them. Even loners like me.
My attention swings back to the skittish omega sitting across from me. “Like I told your son, my family are ranchers. I sometimes go back home to help out when I can, but I’m a construction worker.” I tilt my head, scrutinizing her through hooded eyes as I struggle to understand why this is an issue. “Is ranching a problem to you?”
I’m close to my family, so I’ll introduce Rose and Ben to my parents and two brothers at some point, and we'll likely visit them more than once a year. If this is going to be a bone of contention between us, I’d rather know now rather than later. Maybe she’s a vegetarian or a vegan, and meat farming bothers her?
She rubs a hand over her face. “Yeah. Just not in the way you think.”
Curious, I wait for her to tell me, when I’m used to saying what I want and not apologizing for who I am. It’s important that she feels she can open up to me.
She peels her hand from her face, and I’m entranced by the faint dusting of freckles over her pert, upturned nose.
Is this gorgeous woman really mine?
“Do you have a hat?” she asks.
“Ahat?” I echo.
“Cowboy hat?”
Does she want me to wear it? Will she kiss me if I do?
“Yes.” I put my hands on the edge of the table and move to get up. “I can?—”
She slashes her hand through the air. “Neverwear it around my son. Not even once.”
The evasiveness of her gaze makes my lips curve, and my voice is husky as I ask, “Can I wear it around you, sweetheart?”
Her cheeks flush a deep pink, and she scrambles to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over. She spins around, turning her back to me. I’m smiling, ready to cross over to her when she whispers, “My alpha died.”
The smile drops from my face.
