Page 3 of Autumn be His Wife (Alphas Fall Hard Collection #4)

Dusty

I don’t want to find Julian Adams. The name is a bitter taste on my tongue, a splinter under my skin.

I don’t even want to mutter it again. All that does is make him real.

It proves he’s existing out there somewhere, a physical form of hope she’s chasing, and that this woman—this skittish, sad-eyed woman—plans on just… giving herself to him.

It doesn’t settle right with me. Nothing about it sits level.

I’ve heard of mail-order brides. Hell, a couple of the ranches I tend have couples that were married on arranged terms. It’s a transaction. A business deal for a fresh start. But this… this feels different. This feels like a leap into the dark without a single star to guide her.

Does she even know what he looks like?

A dangerous, selfish thought whispers in the back of my mind. If she’s willing to tie her life to a stranger… why not a stranger she’s already with? One who’s seen the fear in her eyes and the stubborn set of her jaw when she’s trying to be brave?

What if…

No.

The word is a hammer, coming down hard. It wouldn’t be right. It’d be taking advantage of a vulnerability I have no business even noticing.

She’s lost, and my job is to point her toward the road, not block it because some part of me I thought was long dead doesn’t like her destination.

Doesn’t help that I killed the mood talking about Sandra. The words always come out like that—clipped, barren.

Four years now, and the wound has scarred over, but the shape of it is still there, a permanent hollow in my life.

Sandra… God, she’d have my hide if she knew I was still using her memory as a shield against living my life to its fullest. She’d tell me to stop being a sentimental fool and get on with it.

She was always more practical than I was.

What would she think if she saw the way I was living? If I’m not tending animals, my focus is solely on Eli.

I wouldn’t say I’m unhappy. Not in the slightest. But…the hole in my chest leaves me feeling lonely.

Piper is turning what I once ignored into something very noticeable.

We’re a pair, the two of us. Both chasing futures built on shaky ground—hers on a stranger’s promise, mine on a ghost’s approval.

Seems like we’re both doomed when it comes to relationships. The future is looking shaky for everyone involved. It’s almost laughable.

The cab of my truck is cooler after dropping Eli off, the silence heavy without his energetic chatter filling every corner. Piper stares out the window at the flat, endless land, her hands folded quietly in her lap.

Her eyes have flickered toward me a few times, but she’s kept her lips pressed together like a zipper closed.

“The clinic’s just another ten minutes,” I say, just to break the silence. “I’m a vet. Ranch calls me out for their stock, but I’ve got a small practice in town for everything else.”

I see her turn toward me in my periphery. A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escapes her. It’s a good sound. The first real one I’ve heard from her in what feels like an eternity.

“That explains the scrubs,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice without having to look. “I was curious, but I didn’t want to overstep again.”

She hasn’t overstepped a single time. Damn.

“Please, if you want to know something, just ask.” The words come out a little rougher than I intended. I clear my throat. “I’m not much of a mystery. What you see is what you get.”

It’s only half true. I want her to ask. I want the excuse it gives me to turn the questions back on her, to learn the shape of her life before it gets tangled up with the need to escape.

“So what will we be doing?” she asks, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

“You’ll tag along with me through my work day,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Might be a little boring—vaccinations, a few check-ups. But while we’re in town, I can ask around. See if anyone’s heard of the man you’re looking for.”

The offer leaves a vile taste in my mouth, but it’s the right thing to do. The only thing. The thought of actually finding this man makes my grip tighten on the steering wheel.

A more practical thought surfaces, a distraction from the dread. “Your phone’s gone. We should stop somewhere and get you a new one. You can’t be without one.”

She shifts in her seat, and I don’t have to look to know she’s blushing. The heat of her embarrassment seems to fill the cab. “I…I don’t really have money for that right now.”

Everything in me is screaming. An impossible-to-ignore instinct to just fix it. To pull over at the next store and get her a phone, a coat more suitable for the weather, anything she needs. To be the wall between her and the world that’s left her so exposed.

What the hell is wrong with me? I barely know her. I want to give myself a shake to knock some sense into me. Replace these feelings with a reminder of reality.

Pity is one thing. I’ve felt pity for lost dogs and injured calves. This isn’t that. This is a compulsion, a need to provide, to protect, that’s so deep it feels like it’s etched into my bones.

I don’t want to buy her things out of pity. I want to do it because the thought of her being scared, or alone, or unable to call for help, is physically unbearable.

It’s a dangerous line of thinking. One I have no business following.

The clinic comes into view, a modest brick building with my name listed with a couple of other colleagues, and a paw print stenciled on the window. Across the toes; Meadow Haven Animal Care. My stomach knots.

What are my aids, Mary and Ben, going to think? Showing up with a strange woman, one so far out of my league that it’s not funny.

It’s unprofessional. I’m overstepping by bringing my personal mess to work.

Yet, the thought of leaving her at my home doesn’t sit right. I don’t want her to feel more lonely than she already does.

I kill the engine, and the silence is suddenly loud. Piper’s hand goes to the door handle, and I’m out of my seat in a flash. “Don’t. It’s prone to sticking,” I mutter, my voice gruffer than intended.

I round the front of the truck, my boots crunching on the gravel. Tugging at the door, the whole thing whines at a lack of use. Since I won’t let Eli ride up front until he’s older, my passenger side typically stays bare.

Piper’s already turned in her seat, her legs swung toward the open door, looking down at me as I catch myself looking back.

No, not looking. Gawking.

The morning sun catches the hidden streaks of gold in her hair and the faint dusting of freckles across her nose. Her eyes are wide, a little uncertain, and so bluish green.

The rain had dampened her appearance, but the sun is now drawing out her beauty.

She’s so pretty it’s like a physical blow. My brain short-circuits, wiping clean any coherent thought. There is only her, framed in the doorway of my beat-up truck.

The truck sits high off the ground. I watched her struggle to haul herself into it before we left my cabin, a fact that is now seared into my memory.

“Need help getting down?” I ask, my voice rough.

She starts to shake her head, the automatic refusal, but then she pauses. Her gaze flicks from me to the significant drop to the ground. Her blush, deep and warm, spreads across her cheeks and toward her ears. She gives a small, almost imperceptible nod.

I reach up, my hands finding her waist. The moment my fingers make contact, even through the fabric of her shirt, I have to swallow down the start of a groan.

She’s soft under my hands, her curves easily traceable. I’m acutely aware of my own strength. I guide her down as she leans into my hold, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders for balance.

Then her scent hits me. Not some perfume she packed. Soap. My soap. My bodywash. The crisp, clean scent of pine that I wake up to every morning. Of course, she used it in my shower. It’s a logical, mundane fact.

But fuck.

Smelling that scent on her, wrapped around her body like a second layer, is the most intimate, dizzying thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s branding her as mine in some ridiculous way my body understands instantly, even if my mind is screaming in protest that it’s just soap.

I need to make space between us. Need to pull away before I do something stupid. Something reckless.

A car pulls into the parking lot, claiming one of the empty spots. Somehow, I find the strength to release her. Pulling back, not even the cool air helps calm the heat collecting on the back of my neck.

This isn’t good. No, this is bad.

Trying not to focus on the way she bites her lip, or to take in the way her hands curl and uncurl at her sides, I clear my throat.

“We should head inside. Looks like there are already a few employees inside. Doors unlock in a few minutes.” Rubbing the back of my neck, I have to tear my eyes off of her before I accidentally do something I can’t take back.

She agrees, blind to my feelings as she clings close like she’s shy of everything else in the world but me.

Not wanting to kid myself, I guide her toward the clinic and let her in.

The receptionist, Jenny, sits behind the desk with a pen in her fingers. While she stares at the desktop, she twirls the writing utensil between her fingers. She’s always the first to show up for her shift, happily getting prepared for any morning appointments.

She turns her attention our way and looks at Piper with the exact amount of surprise and curiosity that I expect. She turns her gaze from the younger woman over to me. Blinking behind her glasses, her mouth curves into a polite smile.

“Morning, Dusty.” A few seconds of silence pass before she leans forward. “Are you going to introduce your friend?”

Circling the desk, I fetch my coat and my badge. As I work on buttoning a few buttons, I attempt to clear a pesky lump growing in the back of my throat.

“Piper will be hanging out in the lobby for a few hours while I work.” Flattening the front of my clothes like it’ll make a difference, I stand tall. “If she needs anything, you’ll take care of her, won’t you?”

“She’ll get bored.” Jenny returns her attention to her work, already no longer interested.

“I’ll be alright.” Piper glances toward the few seats and the couple of magazines spread across the side tables. “I’m pretty good at keeping myself entertained. Don’t worry, you won’t notice I’m here. Worst case, I can take a stroll around town and see what Forest Grove is all about.”

Something gnaws at me as the words leave her. I try not to worry about it, but it’s hard to ignore.

Jenny sends another curious glance my way. I’m sure the moment she finds me alone, she’ll ask all about the woman. She’s clearly not from around here. I’m the last person to get myself involved in anything outside of Eli.

I can only imagine what’s going through her head.

Sliding my gaze back to Piper, I fight the urge to tell her to stay. Instead, I somehow relax. “I’ll come find you when I’m ready to do my runs. If you would rather enjoy yourself, just find your way back here by late afternoon.”

Piper nods and takes a seat. She looks like she couldn’t possibly complain, and the curve of her lips sends a pang through my chest. It’s something that makes my heart beat a little faster. “I’ll be waiting.”

I thank Jenny softly for not minding the extra company, throwing a silent plea into the universe that my receptionist’s notorious friendliness doesn’t feel like an inquisition to Piper.

If Piper doesn’t decide to roam too far on her own, I’m half-convinced Jenny’s cheerful interrogation might just make her run for the county line.