Page 5 of Omega's Refuge

“I guess I was hoping for something more romantic like a luxurious spa on the beach, and hot tub sex.”

“I’ll feed you grapes and screw you in your bubble bath. Will that shut you up?” He stuck his feet up on the dashboard by contorting his body.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Like I said, we need this, T.” He sighed.

“Fine,” I griped “But if I get kicked in the head by a bull, I’m going to be pissed.”

His only response was a soft snore.

Chapter Two

Stuffing down my frustration, I continued driving. I wasn’t surprised Steve had fallen asleep. In fact, I’d probably have died of shock if he’d offered to drive for a while so I could take a little cat nap. He wasn’t considerate like that. I’d always known that about him and had gotten used to how he was, but since the breakup, those sorts of selfish things bugged me more.

When I’d faced life without him, I’d started thinking more about what I wanted in an alpha. But then he’d come back, begging for my forgiveness. It was hard to turn him away because I still loved him. It had seemed easier to just give in and hope for the best. At least with him in my arms again the pain of loss was gone. I’d underestimated how hard it was to let go of the hurt and damage he’d caused, though. I held out hope I could work through the pain he’d caused, but sometimes I didn’t feel very hopeful about us making it long term.

A half hour passed, and eventually Steve roused himself from his nap. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Man, I was out.”

“I noticed.”

He straightened and picked up his phone. “It looks like the turn off is only about four miles up the road.”

“Good thing you woke up or we might have missed the turn.” I shook my head.

“Well, I woke up so no harm done.” He yawned and stretched his arms, lowering his legs from the dash. “I feel refreshed.”

I once more had to stuff down my frustration, and said nothing.

After a few minutes, he pointed to a dirt road on the left of the paved highway. “That’s the turnoff. See the sign?”

“I see it.”

I slowed the car and carefully turned into the wide driveway. We passed under a big wooden sign with the name “Rambling Cow Dude Ranch” painted on it. After about a ten-minute drive over a bumpy dirt road, we came to the main ranch house. The house was a sprawling, two-story white building with a gray roof. Charming cabins were peppered around the larger home, which I assumed were guest cottages.

Steve and I exited the car as a tall, lanky, middle-aged female alpha sauntered up to us. She had sharp brown eyes, a narrow, angular face, and close-cropped gray hair. “Howdy.” She tipped her hat at us. “I’m Mrs. Rodwell, I own this ranch. You boys must be the Turlington party.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Steve answered.

“We’re all ready for you boys.” She scanned me head to toe. “You look like you could use an ice-cold glass of lemonade.”

“I wouldn’t turn a glass down.” I smiled politely, feeling self-conscious. I hoped I didn’t smell of sex, or look like I’d just had a blow job. I definitely felt disheveled after the long drive.

“I’ll have some lemonade sent to your cabin.” She turned to the man who’d followed her out of the main house. “This here is Rex. He’s my right hand man.”

A little buzzing jolt went through me as I met Rex’s blue eyes.

“Howdy.” His voice was husky. He was about six feet tall, lean, and gorgeous. He had blond hair and broad shoulders. He wore a blue flannel shirt and faded jeans that fit his muscular thighs nicely, and, of course, he had on boots. I was surprised he didn’t have a Stetson.

“Can’t you get arrested in these parts for not wearing a cowboy hat?” I asked, laughing. The minute I made the joke, I regretted it. Rex narrowed his eyes, but other than a cow mooing somewhere in the distance, and Steve giving me a soft pity laugh, you could have heard a pin drop.

Rex continued to stare at me with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, but then with a shake of his head, he moved to the back of the car to help unload the suitcases. I knew for a fact the suitcases were heavy as hell, but Rex lifted them out of the trunk like they were light as a feather.

“I’m Tanner, by the way,” I volunteered.

“Nice to meet you, Tanner,” Mrs. Rodwell said with a pleasant smile.

“I call him T.” Steve announced, as if anyone cared what his pet name for me was.

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