Page 81 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Like pack dynamics," I murmur without thinking.

His hand stills on mine. "Yeah. Exactly like that."

We stand frozen, the moment stretching taut between us. Then footsteps on gravel break the spell—someone approaching the office. Cole steps back smoothly, professional distancerestored, but his eyes hold promises of conversations we'll have later. Promises of more than conversation.

"Should get back," he says. "Dinner prep soon."

I nod, not trusting my voice. We leave the office together, and I'm so focused on not touching him that I miss the rough ground. My ankle turns, and I stumble. Cole's there instantly, arm around my waist, steadying me against his solid warmth.

"Careful," he murmurs, and the word carries weight beyond the immediate concern.

"I'm trying," I reply, and we both know I'm not talking about walking.

He holds me a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing the strip of skin where my tank has ridden up. Then he releases me, stepping back with visible effort.

"Ranch work's dangerous," he says, voice carefully neutral again. "Have to watch every step."

But as we walk back toward the main house, the careful distance between us feels more like anticipation than separation.

Every shared glance, every accidental touch, adds fuel to the fire we started yesterday.

And despite all the reasons to be careful, to go slow, to protect what's being built here—I know it's only a matter of time before we burn.

Wendolyn's cherry-red hatchback looks deliriously out of place among the ranch trucks, like a metropolitan fairy tale that took a wrong turn at the county line. Cole and I round the corner to find the front porch occupied—Wendolyn chatting animatedly withan elderly woman in a hand-knit cardigan, while River holds Luna on his hip, pointing out birds in the evening sky.

"Auntie Willa!" Wendolyn calls out, waving enthusiastically. "Mrs. H and I thought we'd stop by with the little princess. Someone's been fussy all afternoon—apparently she missed her new favorite person."

As if to prove the point, Luna's heterochromatic eyes lock onto me, and she immediately starts reaching, making grabby hands and the particular whimpering sound that means 'pick me up now.' River chuckles, moving closer to transfer her, and I catch myself reaching back just as eagerly.

"Well," Mrs. Holloway observes with sharp eyes that belie her grandmotherly appearance, "that's quite the bond already. Usually takes her weeks to warm up to new folks."

Luna settles against my chest with a contented sigh, her chubby fingers immediately tangling in my ponytail. The weight of her, the baby-powder-and-milk scent, the absolute trust in how she melts into me—it's overwhelming in the best way. Around us, the men seem to relax, like Luna in my arms completes some invisible circuit.

"How long have you been watching her?" I ask Mrs. Holloway, shifting Luna to my hip with growing confidence.

"Oh, going on four months now," she replies, producing a thermos of what smells like legendary hot chocolate from her massive purse. "Ever since these boys realized a baby couldn't exactly tag along for cattle drives. Though Lord knows they tried at first."

"She rode in a carrier on my back for the first month," Austin admits, appearing from the house with a fresh diaper bag. "Worked great until she learned to grab things. Ever try to vaccinate cattle with a baby pulling your hair?"

The image makes me laugh, which makes Luna laugh, her joy infectious. "She's lucky to have all of you. But I'm curious—how did she come to you? I mean, it's not exactly traditional..."

The men exchange looks—quick, loaded with unspoken communication. River takes the lead, his voice careful. "Luna came to us when we were... at a crossroads. The pack was struggling. We'd been through some difficult times, made some mistakes, and honestly, we were close to going our separate ways."

My chest tightens. I can't imagine these men as anything but united, can't picture this ranch without their interwoven presence. "You were going to split up?"

"It was bad," Cole admits, his usual authority tempered with old pain. "We'd lost trust in each other, in the pack structure. Everything we'd built felt poisoned. Then Luna arrived—suddenly we had someone who needed us whole, functioning, united. She saved us, really."

"But how—" I start, then Austin smoothly interrupts.

"Anyone want coffee? Mrs. H brought her famous coffee cake too. We should get inside before it gets cold." His hazel eyes hold gentle warning—this story has boundaries, places they're not ready to let me enter yet.

I accept the deflection, but my mind races as we move inside. Another Omega. There had to have been another Omega here—someone who left or was lost, someone whose absence nearly destroyed them. The thought sparks unexpected jealousy, hot and sharp. Which is ridiculous. I have no claim here, no right to feel possessive of men who've known love before.

But watching them move around the kitchen, the easy domesticity of their routine, I can't help wondering. Did she stand where I'm standing, holding Luna while Austin made coffee? Did she laugh at Maverick's paranoid security checks, learn to read the land from Cole, find peace with River's horses?The ghost of her lingers in their careful silence, in the way they've circled around certain topics since I arrived.

"You're thinking too hard," Wendolyn murmurs, appearing at my elbow with a slice of coffee cake that could feed three people. "I can actually hear the gears turning."

"Just wondering," I admit quietly, bouncing Luna when she starts to fuss. "About before. About what happened."

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