Page 49 of Knotting the Cowboys

I can hear Austin's voice, tinny through the speaker, though not the words. Whatever he's saying makes Cole's expression darken further.

"Yes, we're getting the formula," Cole growls. "Yes, I have the list. No, I don't need you to—" He pauses, jaw clenching. "My voice sounds deep because it's my fucking voice, Austin. Christ."

I’m fighting hard not to smirk at that.

More tinny chatter from the other end. Cole's free hand clenches into a fist on his thigh.

"Tell Mavi he's a spying prick and to mind his own fucking business." He ends the call with perhaps more force than necessary, tossing the phone onto the dashboard like it personally offended him.

I can't help myself.

"What's wrong with Mavi?"

Cole's laugh is short and humorless.

"He's a psycho stalker of an over-analyst who loves to know what everyone is doing. Probably has this truck wired for sound." He glares at the roof like surveillance equipment might materialize.

The moment between us is thoroughly broken, but the want still simmers under my skin. Cole seems to feel it too, tension radiating from his frame as he collects himself. Finally, he opens his door with controlled movements.

"Come on," he says, circling around to my side. "Let's get this over with before Austin sends a search party."

He opens my door and offers his hand—palm up, patient, letting me choose.

I stare at it for a long moment, this simple gesture that feels weighted with meaning. His words echo in my mind: fierce dominant Omega begging to come out.

Maybe he's right. I've been hiding too long, letting fear and past failures dictate my choices. Maybe it's time to stop living in Blake's shadow, stop apologizing for existing, stop pretending I don't want things that scare me.

Moving forward…is scary…but it doesn’t take a way the crave to want something new? Someone new…

I place my hand in his, feeling the calluses from ranch work, the careful strength in how his fingers close around mine. It's just help getting out of a truck. It doesn't have to mean anything.

But as he steadies me onto the pavement, as his thumb brushes over my knuckles before letting go, I know I'm lying to myself.This means everything.This choice to reach out, to accept what's offered, to stop running from the possibility of something good.

"Ready?" he asks, and I know he's talking about more than shopping for baby formula.

"Yeah," I say, surprising myself by meaning it. "I'm ready."

The feed store awaits, normal life beckoning, but something fundamental has shifted.

I'm still scared, still uncertain, still carrying more baggage than any one person should.

But for the first time in years, I'm also curious about what comes next.

Cole's hand finds the small of my back, guiding me toward the store, and I let him.

Let myself lean into the touch just a little.

Dare allow myself to imagine what it might be like to stop fighting so hard against wanting this.

The fierce dominant Omega inside me stretches, testing her chains, and for once…I don't push her back down.

Small Town Gossip

~WILLA~

Hank's Hardware squats on the corner like a testament to the last century, all worn brick and hand-painted signs that promise "If We Don't Have It, You Don't Need It."

The bell above the door announces our arrival with the aggressive cheer of a dog that's been waiting all day for visitors, and the familiar scent of metal shavings and WD-40 floods my senses.

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