Page 110 of Knotting the Cowboys

"And the Mayor's office held up the import permits," I guess.

"For six months." Mavi's green eyes flash with remembered fury. "National security concerns, they said. Potential spy equipment. Never mind that half the smartphones in this town have more sophisticated Chinese chips. Every appeal got buried in red tape. Every attempt to expedite hit mysterious delays."

"How did you finally get it through?" I ask, though something in his expression makes me suspect I already know the answer.

Mavi leans back in his chair, a smile playing at his lips that's equal parts satisfaction and danger. "Did you know the Mayor's son has a gambling problem? Fascinating digital footprint, really. The kind of browsing history that would make family dinners very awkward if it became public knowledge."

"Mavi," River warns, but there's resignation in it, like this is well-worn territory.

"I'm just saying," Mavi continues, examining his fingernails with studied casualness, "that sometimes having access to information can expedite bureaucratic processes. Especially when that information includes offshore betting accounts and some very creative tax filings."

"Oh, and let's not forget," his smile sharpens, "I'm not just good at security stuff. I'm very, very good at getting into people's business. Digital footprints, financial records, communication patterns—it's all data, and data tells stories. Whether those stories are good or bad..." He shrugs. "That's not really the point, as long as I can use them to our advantage."

The silence that follows feels charged, like the air before lightning strikes. I study Mavi—really look at him for the first time since the changeling room incident this morning. There's something coiled in him, a capacity for ruthlessness that should probably frighten me but instead makes me think of River'swords: Alphas who'd burn down the world to protect what's theirs.

I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "Did you blackmail the mayor?"

The smirk that spreads across his face is answer enough, but he rises from his chair with predatory grace, closing the distance between us until we're standing toe to toe. He's not the tallest of them—that's Cole—but he radiates a compact power that makes the air feel thin.

"If I did," he says, voice dropping to something low and dangerous, "what are you gonna do about it?"

The challenge hangs between us like a blade. Austin stops rocking. River sets down his knife. Even Cole shifts against the counter, everyone waiting to see how their potential Omega handles direct confrontation from one of their own.

I hold Mavi's stare for a long moment, letting him see that I'm not intimidated, not cowed by his dangerous edges. Then, quick as thought, my hand shoots up and catches his ear between thumb and forefinger, pinching with the exact pressure my grandmother used when I mouthed off as a child.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Mavi's dangerous persona evaporates as he bends automatically to ease the pressure, bringing his face level with mine. "What the hell?—"

"You," I say calmly, maintaining my grip, "can't go messing with other people's business if you don't want them messing with yours. Defense is one thing. But you don't start fights unless someone threatens your space first. Understood?"

He's pouting now—actually pouting, this dangerous Alpha who probably has half the town's secrets stored on encrypted drives—and the sight is so unexpectedly endearing that I feel a laugh bubbling up. His green eyes are wide with surprise, lips pushed out in offended dismay, and I realize with startlingclarity that under all that protective intensity is someone who just wants to keep his people safe.

The laugh escapes as a snicker, and before I can think better of it—before my brain can remind me about boundaries and medical restrictions and professional distance—I lean forward and press a soft kiss to those pouting lips.

The world stops.

Mavi freezes completely, not even breathing. Somewhere behind me, River makes a sound like he's been punched. Austin's rocking chair creaks to a halt. The only sound is my own heartbeat, suddenly loud as thunder in my ears.

I pull back, releasing Mavi's ear, and watch a flush creep up his neck to stain his cheeks pink. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, but no sound emerges. He looks simultaneously poleaxed and painfully young, all his sharp edges softened by sheer bewilderment.

"I'll forgive you," I say, trying for casual despite the way my lips tingle from even that brief contact, "since you were probably getting the equipment for Luna's safety anyway."

"I was," he mutters, barely audible, and the admission combined with his blush makes my chest feel too full.

I turn away from his stunned face, needing to break the moment before I do something really stupid like kiss him again—properly this time, with intent and heat and all the want I've been suppressing for days. My gaze finds Cole, still leaning against the counter but no longer relaxed. Every line of his body speaks of tension, control, hunger barely leashed.

"So," I say, proud when my voice comes out steady, "what did the Mayor do to annoy you?"

Cole groans, the sound coming from deep in his chest, and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling like it holds the answer to my question. The position exposes the strong column of histhroat, and I have to force myself to look away from the play of kitchen light on his skin.

"Now you've done it," Austin says with gentle humor, though I catch the tightness around his eyes. "Cole and the Mayor have what you might call a complicated history."

Cole makes another sound—somewhere between a growl and a whine—that would be comical if not for the genuine frustration radiating from him. His hands grip the counter edge hard enough that I worry about the granite, and when he finally lowers his head to look at me, his gray eyes hold storms.

"The Mayor," he bites out, "decided that a ranch foreman doesn't need the same water access permits as a 'proper' ranch owner. Tried to classify me as hired help instead of co-owner, despite all the legal documentation proving otherwise."

"That's—" I start, but Austin interrupts with a rueful chuckle.

"Oh, it gets better," he says, shifting Luna as she makes small waking noises. "Want to tell her why the Mayor has such a personal interest in making your life difficult?"

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