Page 33 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

I lower myself into the water, slow so I don’t knock us both out, and it’s hotter than I expected.

The heat is nothing compared to the burn of her pressed against me, her bare legs sliding alongside mine, her knee bumping my thigh.

The bathwater sloshes over the rim, soaking the floor, but I don’t give a damn.

All that matters is the fit—like she was made for this unexpected moment, made just for me.

Fuck, she fits perfectly.

I try to ignore how my cock is twitching and begging for the warmth of her pussy instead of the water, but I'm fighting a losing battle. The way she settles against me, trusting despite everything, makes my chest tight with something I don't want to name.

"See? Was that so hard?" I mutter, trying not to sound so husky while she relaxes into me like she belongs there.

Like we've done this a thousand times instead of never.

She snickers, and I'm already pouting before she leans all the way back. Thanks to our obvious height difference even sitting in the bath, her head rests perfectly in the hollow of my shoulder.

She peers up at me with those garnet eyes, mischief dancing in them.

"You know what else is hard?"

I groan as she dissolves into giggles, the sound vibrating through her body into mine.

"I'm getting out," I grumble, not meaning a word of it.

"NO!" She twists in my arms, water sloshing dangerously. "Don't get out, I'll be good, I'm sorry."

I huff but settle back, my arm still around her waist as she finally relaxes again. Her tension bleeds out slowly, like she's remembering how to not be on guard every second. I feel it in the way her breathing deepens, the way her muscles stop holding themselves ready to run or fight.

"Comfortable?" I ask, needing to know she's okay with this. That I'm not pushing too hard, too fast.

"Yes," she whispers, and the simple word hits me like a physical thing.

The bathroom falls quiet except for Duke's occasional snoring, making me realize he’s back, but resting outside the bathroom on the hall rug. Regardless, the silence is inviting, making him even relaxed as the minutes roll by.

"Is this normal for you?" she asks suddenly, her voice curious but careful.

I chuckle, the sound rumbling through my chest into her back.

"The closest I've come to having anyone else near me in a body of water was washing Duke up. That's it."

"Why?" She shifts slightly, not pulling away but adjusting so she can see my face better. "You don't do this with your omega?"

The question hits like ice water despite the warmth surrounding us.

I frown, knowing she's watching my expression, reading every micro-change.

"Our omega..." I shake my head slowly. "Well, we had one. That didn't end well."

Her face falls, sympathy replacing curiosity.

"I'm sorry to bring up something hurtful."

"Can you keep a secret?" The words come out before I can think better of them.

She nods, a small smile playing at her lips.

"As long as you're not telling everyone and their auntie that my legs don't work."

"I'd never tell anyone, period." The vehemence in my voice surprises us both.

"What about your packmates?"

"Well, they'll find out when they need to. It's not a rush to disclose."

She seems to accept that, settling back against me as I gather my thoughts. This isn't my story alone to tell, but she deserves some truth after everything.

"Our previous omega," I whisper, the words feeling strange after so long not speaking about her. "I wasn't really into her."

She frowns, confusion clear in her expression.

"I don't understand."

"She wasn't a scent match like..." I pause, breathe in her cherry-honey perfection. "Like the way you and I are. At least…this experience is far different. More natural in comparison.” I pause as I think about the past. “It was more of an agreement, almost."

I try to explain, because she deserves at least a basic map for the ruins she's about to walk through.

“Back then, it was all about the incentives,” I say, voice low.

Bubbles cling to her chin, but she’s not hiding or ducking the hard truths.

I like that about her, the way she can stare down even the ugliest parts of history.

“The packs that had an omega got better jobs, more leniency with housing, even tax breaks. It wasn’t just about—” I falter, searching for a word that won’t come off like an insult, “—old-fashioned family stuff. It was business. Survival. The government practically threw us a parade just for signing the paperwork.”

Red hums, listening, the tips of her hair floating out like red kelp in the water.

“It didn’t matter much to me then. I’d just gotten out of the service, and I figured if the others wanted it, fine.

Consensus is how you avoid blood on the walls.

We met her at a state event, of all things.

You know those mixers the city throws at the courthouse?

Like speed-dating but with more legal liability and less dignity.

” I snort, but it dies quickly. “She was… pleasant. Knew all the rules. Her family wanted her mated off before her first heat got too severe. Good old-fashioned bargaining. We filled out the forms, passed a couple interviews, got the government’s rubber stamp. Nobody was unhappy, exactly.”

Red looks up at me, brow furrowed, and I shrug.

“I’m serious. That’s what it was. We’d eat together, watch TV, do all the things you’re supposed to do.

But I never felt the bond, not the way I was told it would hit.

The rest of the pack—maybe they caught a thread here or there, but not me.

I was always… outside it.” I feel stupid saying it, but I want her to understand.

“In the city, especially the old neighborhoods, packs with omegas were instantly respected. Like you were a real pack, not just a bunch of overgrown boys playing house. You got access to better clinics and protection from some of the more aggressive alphas. In theory, anyway.” I pause, remembering all the cold bureaucracy that went with it—the forms, the tests, the public statements about “family values” that made me want to set something on fire.

“It was a political move, not a love story.”

She listens, her palm splayed on my chest, thumb tracing the edge of a scar I got in Afghanistan. That’s what brings me back to the present. I don’t want to sound like my past is some apology for being a broken asshole, but I want it clear—she is not a formality. Not a transaction.

"So it was only natural to want one, but did I truly love her the way the others did?" The admission feels like glass in my throat. "Not really. I liked the presence of her, but her as a person... maybe not."

My hands tighten slightly on her waist, an unconscious need to hold onto something real while discussing ghosts.

"I'm not even sure I was truly attracted to her. Not like my attraction to you."

The last part slips out, too honest, too raw. But she doesn't pull away, doesn't tense.

If anything, she relaxes further into me.

"Then you weren't intimate with her?"

I think about it long and hard, remembering those awkward months of trying to force something that wasn't there. The relief when she'd gravitated toward the others instead, when I could step back and play protector rather than lover.

"No," I admit. "Never. Rafe was the only one really trying to make it work with her. He loved her, or thought he did. The rest of us... we liked having an omega around, the idea of her, but not necessarily her as a person."

We fall quiet, the weight of unspoken history settling around us like the steam. I can feel her processing, that sharp mind working through the implications of what I've shared.

"Can I ask you something?" I venture, deciding maybe this is where I should ask a prime question that’s been dancing in my mind this whole time.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why didn't you ever take on clients? At the casino?"

She's quiet long enough that I wonder if I've overstepped.

But then she sighs, the sound carrying three years of weight.

"My mom made me promise. Before she died. She knew what Dad was, what he'd probably do. Made me swear that no matter what happened, I'd save that choice for someone who deserved it. Someone I chose."

“But were you young or older?”

“Pretty young, or at least an age where I shouldn’t even know about sex really, but when you live with a Dad who brings Omegas every night to entertain with false lies and gambling dreams, you’re forced to grow up and learn how the real world is.”

It doesn’t sit well with me that she even had to experience such, but then again, maybe that’s what helped carve the Red I’m smitten for.

"And you kept that promise. For three years in that hellhole."

"Almost didn't, several times. There were nights when the money would have solved everything. When giving in seemed like the smart choice. But..." She trails off.

"But?"

"But then I'd remember her face when she made me promise. How important it was to her that I have something that was mine to give, not taken or sold or bargained away."

"She sounds like an amazing woman."

"She was. She deserved better than my father. Deserved better than dying young because he'd rather drink than pay for her treatments. She was strong in man ways, but…she didn’t have the strength to leave him, despite knowing he would never be loyal to her."

The pain in her voice makes me want to hunt down her father and show him exactly what Special Forces training can do.

But that won't help her now, so instead I just hold her tighter.

"I'm glad you kept your promise," I say quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Not because... fuck, not because I care about virginity or any of that bullshit. But because you honored your mother. Because you stayed true to yourself even when it would have been easier not to."

She turns in my arms, moving carefully to face me. The movement makes water slosh dangerously close to the tub's edge, and puts her breasts very firmly against my chest, but I focus on her face.