CHAPTER ONE
Billy
I should know betterthan this. I’m almost thirty years old, too damn old to be sneaking up a pine tree like some high school fool with a crush.
But in a town like Prairie Pine, a man checks into a motel with his girl and the whole county knows before nightfall. So, yeah, here I am—climbing trees.
The bark scrapes my palms as I shift my weight, balancing on the thick branch outside Sedona’s window. She always leaves it unlatched for me, though she claims it’s for “fresh air.” I grin at the lie every time.
One pull and I’m inside, boots landing on the soft braided rug by her bed. My heart’s still racing, partly from the climb, mostly from the thought of her.
Her scent hits me first. Honeysuckle and warm cedarwood. It wraps around me, thick and sweet, crawling straight into my lungs.
I swear it calms every raw nerve I didn’t know I had.
I take a breath, grounding myself before I do something stupid like growl.
Her room is disorganized in the best way. So full of life,of her.Posters of rock bands and wildflowers fight for space on her walls.
There’s a stack of worn veterinary textbooks on the dresser, a mug full of pens, and a half-empty can of lemon soda beside it. Her bed’s unmade, a throw blanket half-hanging off the side, smelling faintly of her shampoo.
An unzipped duffel spills out scrubs and jeans, and a veterinary textbook face-down beside it. On her vanity, I spot a trail of mascara tubes, perfume bottles, and a pile of bracelets tangled like vines.
This girl is even messier than my younger brother, Tex.
The mirror is cluttered with Polaroids: her with a foal, her grinning next to my other brother, Joey. There’s another one of her and her dad outside the clinic, sun glaring off their faces.
Then there’s my favorite photo. Sedona sitting cross-legged in her dad’s barn, glasses sliding down her nose, hair pulled up in a messy bun, a calf asleep beside her.
My nerd.
My girl.
I smile, brushing my thumb over the edge of the frame.
Outside, a truck rumbles up the gravel drive. I lean toward the window, and sure enough, the old Ford comes to a stop.
She jumps out, curls flying, the sun catching the red so bright it almost hurts to look at. She’s wearing that faded Metallica T-shirt tucked into her jeans, boots dusty, cheeks flushed from the day.
Every time I see her, it’s like someone flips a switch inside me. My pulse spikes.
I whistle low, and her head snaps up. When she spots me, she breaks into that grin that never fails to gut me.
My pulse thuds heavy in my veins, cock already stirring in my jeans as I straighten up and lock eyes with her.
I wink.
She shakes her head and runs toward the house. She hurries inside, and I take the stairs two at a time to meet her halfway.
“Took you long enough, baby,” I growl, crossing the room in two strides. I catch her by the waist before she can even speak, pulling her flush against me.
She smells like the clinic—faint antiseptic and hay—but under it all, that intoxicating Omega aroma that’s got my instincts roaring. Her body molds to mine, soft and yielding, her heartbeat racing against my chest.
She laughs, breathless, tilting her head up to me. “Sorry. Emergency at the clinic. Old Roy let his dog eat wire again. Dad needed the extra hands, but at least I’m here now.”
My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry and demanding, tongue sweeping in to claim every inch.
She melts into the kiss, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I can taste the urgency on her lips, the way she clings to me, just as needy.
