Page 40 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Mate. The word lodged in my throat like a bone shard. I swallowed hard against the sudden sandpaper dryness in my mouth. Sloane saw me flinch, the involuntary retreat. Her eyes narrowed.

"You haven't thought this through at all, have you." She shook her head, disgust and disbelief mingling. "You're thinking with your dick. Not your head. And definitely not like an alpha."

The rebuke stung, a lash of shame right down to my bones. I couldn't hold her gaze. Sloane was right, and I knew it, even if I couldn't bring myself to admit it aloud. I'd been reckless. Selfish. Let a base need override a lifetime of rigid protocol, and now we'd all reap the consequences of letting a human in.

I'd started something I didn't know how to stop. And now the avalanche was poised, pebbles skittering, the whole mountain holding its breath. I could only pray I found sure footing before it all came down.

20. TESS

The kitchen was filled with the scents of slightly burned butter and way too much cinnamon, but I stood at the counter stubbornly dropping dollops of lumpy batter into a muffin tin. This batch would be better. It had to be. I was grimly determined to get something right after the spectacular failures of my previous attempts at cooking for the family who'd taken me in.

Fifteenth time’s the charm. Or at least not a fire hazard.

The old limestone ranch house felt warm and homey as early evening settled in, sunlight slanting through the big kitchen windows. I could hear murmuring voices and an occasional laugh from the nearby living room where the others were relaxing before dinner. Pots clanked behind me as Midge worked at the big stove, unfazed by my baking efforts at the other end of the long counter.

The sizzle and savory smell of frying onions said she was making her chili, a meal guaranteed to please everyone. Unlike my muffins.

I slid the tin into the oven and nervously wiped my hands, glancing at the doorway every few seconds. Part of me hoped the others would stay in the living room and let me hide my latest disaster. But a bigger part of me wanted them here, wanted to be part of their laughing camaraderie, even if it meant facing my failures. I wanted to get something right for once, to see approval in their eyes. Especially Calder's dark brown ones. God help me, I was baking for approval. And possibly love.

Guilt hit me for all the lies I'd told to stay here. Outright lies, lies by evasion, and lies by omission.

Finally, they ambled in as the first whiffs of the latest attempt began spreading through the house.

Eli bounded ahead, his face lit up. "Do I smell muffins?" he crowed, making a beeline for the oven.

Reid and Gray followed at a more sedate pace, Reid's mouth quirking slightly as he no doubt remembered last week's "muffins" that could have doubled as paperweights. Sloane drifted in with Noah beside her, both of them observing silently as they settled at the big wooden table. Midge wiped her hands on a towel and turned to watch, eyes glinting with humor.

And finally Calder ducked through the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame. My stomach flipped as his gaze landed on me. "Smells good."

Okay. That? That was just what I needed.

I tried to return his half-smile without looking as desperately pleased as I felt. Maybe this time wouldn't be a total embarrassment. Please don’t break a tooth. Please don’t break a tooth.

The oven timer dinged, and Eli leaped to open it, ignoring Midge's warning look. He grabbed the tin with a rag and slid it out to cool on the counter, eyeing the misshapen lumps.

He snatched one up as soon as they were cool enough to handle, broke it open, and popped a piece in his mouth with a dramatic flourish. Everyone watched, waiting.

Eli's eyes widened. His chewing slowed. With great ceremony, he clutched his jaw and staggered back from the counter.

"I think I just broke a tooth," he mumbled around his mouthful, his words slurred. "What did you put in these, Tess? Rocks?"

Abort mission. Toss the tin. Flee the state.

For a second, I just blinked at him, horrified, and then Gray cracked a smile and Midge guffawed. Eli swallowed with difficulty and stuck out his tongue. "Just kidding," he said. "But seriously, these are like hockey pucks. You could use them as weapons."

"Guess I'll have to keep working on my recipe," I managed, trying to smile through my mortification. At least they weren't spitting the muffins out in disgust this time. If I lowered the bar any further, I’d trip over it.

"Oh, I don't know," Reid said, leaning a hip against the counter and examining a muffin. "Edible hockey pucks could be useful. We can arm ourselves next time Buck starts telling tall tales."

"Hey now," Buck protested from his seat at the table. "My tales are one hundred percent true. In fact, these muffins remind me of the time I shattered my kneecap riding a grizzly bear through a rodeo ring."

I stared at him. "Wait, what? What do muffins have to do with⁠—"

"Biscuits were involved," Buck said solemnly. "Poor planning and even worse breakfast before the big bear-riding event. Never eat biscuits before climbing on a grizzly, that's my motto."

"And that's how you hurt your leg?" I asked, torn between confusion and laughter.

"Well, that time, yes," Buck said.