Page 32 of Knotting the Cowboys

Easier said than done when she walks deeper into the barn and her scent intensifies, wrapping around me like a lasso.

Every breath pulls her deeper into my lungs, and my body responds with increasing urgency. It's not just attraction—though Christ knows there's plenty of that.It's recognition at a cellular level, my Alpha instincts identifying compatible Omega and screaming to claim before another does.

Which is ridiculous.

River, Mavi, and Austin are my pack, my family. We share everything, including the responsibility of raising Luna. But the primitive part of my brain doesn't care about modern pack dynamics. It only knows that an unmated Omega who smells like heaven and home is standing in our territory, and I need to mark her before she disappears again.

"The tack room's through here," I manage, voice only slightly rougher than normal. "Austin reorganized the whole thing. Has a system for everything now."

"Let me guess," Willa says, a hint of smile playing at her lips. "Alphabetized and color-coded?"

"With laminated labels," River confirms, and her surprised laugh fills the barn like music.

That's when I notice the others watching me.

Austin has appeared with Luna, staying near the entrance but keeping sharp eyes on my every move.

Mavi lounges against a support beam with fake casualness, positioned where he can intercept if needed.

They know me too well, can see the control fraying with every passing moment.

The irony isn't lost on me. Months of waiting for William's granddaughter to arrive, preparing for every contingency except this—that I'd want her with an intensity that threatens everything careful we've built.

That her scent would bypass every wall and trigger instincts I thought I had mastered.

She explores the barn with increasing delight, exclaiming over the feed room's organization, the new automatic water system, the way we've honored her grandfather's design while modernizing for efficiency. Pride wars with desire as I follow her progress, maintaining a careful six-foot distance that does nothing to dilute her scent's effect.

"You've made it better than new," she says, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. "Grandpa would be so happy."

"That was the goal." The words come out steadier than I feel. "Preserve what mattered, improve what needed it. Same philosophy for the whole ranch."

She moves to the window overlooking the pastures, and the way the golden light silhouettes her figure tests every ounce of my control.

The curve of her hip, the line of her throat, the way she rises slightly on her toes to see better—every detail brands itself into my memory.

"Incoming," Mavi mutters, and I hear what he's noticed—Willa's breathing has changed, gotten shallower.

Her scent spikes with something sharp.

Anxiety. Fear.

The barn's enclosed space is triggering memories of other enclosed spaces, smoke and terror and?—

"Let's check the garden before we lose the light," I say, already moving toward the door. "Austin's irrigation system is something to see."

She follows gratefully, and I catch River's approving nod. This is why we work—four different strengths balancing each other. When one of us stumbles, the others compensate.

Even when that stumbling is me losing my fucking mind over a woman we've waited months to meet.

Outside, she breathes deeper, and I pretend not to notice the way her hand trembles slightly.

Just like I pretend not to notice how my own hands ache to steady her, how every protective instinct roars to life at her distress.

Professional distance,I remind myself.

She's William's granddaughter, our responsibility, and not my potential mate.

No matter how much my body argues otherwise.

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