Page 9 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Oh, they hate that." She leans in conspiratorially, and I catch another whiff of sweet peas and vanilla. "I once had an Alpha at my old job get so flustered when I didn't defer to him in a meeting that he actually forgot his own presentation. Just stood there opening and closing his mouth like a fish while I calmly outlined my proposal."

"What did you do?" I find myself genuinely curious about this woman who treats Alpha posturing like entertainment.

"Marketing. Big firm in Atlanta." She waves a hand dismissively. "But honestly? After a few years of dealing with Alpha egos in corporate, I decided to try something with even more testosterone. Became a firefighter."

Say WHAT now?

I nearly choke on air.

"You were a firefighter?"

It’s the most random and so far left from the typical Omega career one could think of.

"Mmmhmm. First and only Omega in my department." She says it casual as anything, like she's telling me she used to work retail. "You should've seen their faces when I showed up for training. Five-foot-five, curves for days, and absolutely determined to prove I could haul hose with the best of them."

"That must have been..." I trail off, trying to imagine it. Firefighting is almost exclusively Alpha territory, all physical strength and danger and masculine pride.

"Insane? Absolutely. Worth it? For a while." She adjusts her victory rolls, and I notice her hands—soft-looking now, butthere's a strength in them that speaks to her past. "The physical stuff was hard, sure. Had to work twice as hard to build the muscle, develop techniques that worked with my body instead of against it. But the real challenge? The daily dick-measuring contests."

"They gave you hell?"

"Oh honey, they tried everything. Hid my gear, 'forgot' to tell me about schedule changes, made bets on how long I'd last." Her green eyes spark with remembered defiance. "Joke was on them, though. Omegas might not have Alpha strength, but we've got better flexibility, lower center of gravity, and—most importantly—we're used to doing everything the hard way."

"How long did you last?"

"Three years. Would've been longer, but..." She trails off, and for the first time, something shadows crosses her face. "Let's just say that being the only Omega in an Alpha pride parade gets old. Plus, there was an incident. Bad fire, civilian didn't make it, and somehow that became my fault for 'distracting' the team with my presence."

My chest tightens with familiar rage.

"That's bullshit."

"Course it is. But try explaining that to a review board full of Alphas who already think you don't belong." She shrugs, but I can see the old hurt there, carefully managed but not forgotten. "So I took my settlement, decided maybe it was time to try something different."

"And you came here?" I gesture at the small town around us, trying to reconcile this fierce woman with choosing Sweetwater Falls.

"I know, right? From fighting fires to selling books and making lattes." She laughs, but it's softer now, more genuine. "Thought I'd find some peace, you know? Small town, slower pace, chance to just... breathe for a while."

"Is there even a fire department here?"

"Oh yeah, tiny little volunteer outfit. Chief nearly swallowed his tongue when I stopped by to introduce myself." She grins at the memory. "Kept saying they weren't hiring, and I kept saying I wasn't applying. Poor man looked so confused."

"You really aren't going back to it?"

"Taking a break." She stretches her legs out, red heels catching the light from the street lamp that's just flickered on. "Maybe a permanent one, maybe not. Right now, I'm just enjoying serving coffee instead of saving lives. I have other commitments, too, but in general, this is peaceful. Less smoke inhalation, better outfits."

I find myself smiling—actually smiling—at this woman who gave up fighting fires to pour lattes in vintage dresses.

"Don't you miss it? The adrenaline, the purpose?"

"Sometimes. But you know what I don't miss? Proving myself every single day. Being the representative for all Omegas everywhere. Having to be perfect because any mistake reflects on our entire designation." She turns to look at me fully. "Sometimes it's nice to just exist without carrying all that weight. Don't you think?"

The question hits deeper than she probably intended.

Here's someone who understands what it's like to fight for space in Alpha domains. Who chose to step back not from weakness but from wisdom, recognizing that constant battle wears you down to nothing.

"I wouldn't know," I admit. "I've never figured out how to stop fighting."

"Well," she says, standing and smoothing down her dress, "maybe this is your chance to learn. Sweetwater Falls might not look like much, but it's got its charms. Good coffee, better pie, and at least one rebel Omega who knows where Harold hides his spare key when he locks himself out of the hotel."

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