Page 45 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

My eyes water. Actually water, tears gathering at the corners as I stare at the donut in my hand like it's the Holy Grail.

Another bite, and I moan. Actually moan, the sound completely involuntary as the flavors develop, revealing layers I missed the first time. There's cardamom in there, and ginger, and the tiniest hint of orange zest that brightens everything else.

A third bite and I'm making sounds that should be embarrassing—little squeals and hums of pleasure as I kick my feet in their ridiculous cowboy socks. The donut disappears in record time, and I'm licking glaze off my fingers when I realize three alphas are staring at me.

Talon's grinning like he just won a prize. Corwin's holding a cup of something that smells amazing. And Rafe... Rafe looks like I just short-circuited his brain.

"What?" I ask, still licking sugar from my thumb.

"Shiloh said instead of arguing with an omega—" Talon jerks his thumb at Rafe, "which you always seem to do—feed them first. That determines whether the dispute is your fault or they're just hangry."

I pause mid-lick to glare at Rafe.

"It's still his fault. He was in my way."

Corwin steps closer, holding out the cup.

"Want to try this pumpkin latte?"

The distraction is immediate and complete.

I grab the cup with both hands, bringing it to my nose first to inhale the steam. Pumpkin and espresso and warm milk and more of those fall spices that make everything feel like comfort. The first sip makes me groan in delight, eyes closing as the warmth spreads through my chest.

"Oh my god," I breathe. "What is this magic?"

"It's just coffee," Corwin says, but he's smiling. "With pumpkin and spices and?—"

The door crashes open, Duke barreling through like a furry missile. He spots me immediately, tail going into overdrive as he races over to investigate. His paws come up on my knees, and I have to juggle the coffee to keep from spilling as I pet him.

"Hi baby!" I coo, scratching behind his ears. "Did you miss me? Were you a good boy?"

"He caught a rabbit," Shiloh's voice comes from the doorway, and my body reacts instantly to his presence—skin flushing, pulse jumping, that sweet ache between my legs throbbing in recognition. "Brought it right to the door like a prize."

He looks good. Fresh clothes—jeans and a henley that clings to his chest—hair still slightly damp from his own shower. His eyes find mine across the room, and the heat in them makes me squirm on the counter.

"Our little cherry finally wake up?" he asks, moving toward me with that predator's grace that should be terrifying but just makes me want.

"Yes," I say, suddenly breathless. "After fighting for my life to exist because of—" I cough dramatically, "SOMEONE. Cough. RAFE."

Shiloh's lips twitch as he stops in front of me, standing between my dangling legs.

"Is that so?"

"But I'm distracted, so let me eat first," I say, taking another sip of the magical pumpkin latte.

He smirks, and then his hand comes up, thumb brushing across my bottom lip. There's whipped cream there, I realize, and he wipes it away with careful precision. But instead of stopping there, he leans in, replacing his thumb with his mouth.

The kiss is smooth, confident, a clear claim in front of his packmates. His lips are soft but insistent, tongue flicking out to taste the pumpkin and cream and probably the lingering sweetness from the donut. It's not a long kiss, maybe three seconds, but it rewrites the entire room's dynamics.

When he pulls back, I'm blinking in shock, lips still parted.

The other three alphas are staring at him like he just pulled a rabbit from a hat.

"Good morning," he says, voice low and intimate despite the audience.

A smile spreads across my face without permission. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?" His hand is still on my thigh, thumb rubbing absent circles through the dress fabric.

"Like a baby," I admit.

He nods, satisfied.

"Good. I'm gonna go change."

As he walks away, I notice Talon and Corwin exchanging meaningful looks. There's something in their expressions—surprise, speculation, maybe even approval.

But Rafe...

Rafe turns on his heel and storms toward the front door, shoulders rigid with tension.

The door slams behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.

I frown, the happy bubble from the kiss popping instantly.

"Is he actually mad?"

Talon chuckles, though there's something knowing in it.

"He has at least one tantrum a day. That's completely normal."

"That's not normal for one's blood pressure," I counter, genuinely concerned despite our argument. "That much anger can't be healthy."

Both remaining alphas grin, and there's fondness in it despite their teasing.

"Let's get some real food in you," Corwin says, already moving toward the stove. "Bacon? Eggs? Pancakes?"

I blink, overwhelmed by options.

"I've never had homemade anything. Not really."

Something passes between them— a look that might be sadness or anger or both —but it's gone before I can analyze it.

"Then we'll make you something you'll adore," Talon declares. "Just like those donuts, but those are from Molly's bakery in town. Can't beat her baking, so for sweets, that's on her. But we can handle the savory stuff."

I grin, feeling excitement bubble up despite the weirdness with Rafe.

The idea of homemade food, made just for me, by people who seem to actually care if I enjoy it... it's almost too much.

"I hope this is how mornings normally go," I say, kicking my feet again as Corwin starts cracking eggs and Talon pulls bacon from the fridge.

The sizzle of meat hitting hot pan fills the kitchen with warmth and promising smells, and I let myself imagine this being my life now. Lazy afternoons that feel like morning, magical donuts, kisses that stake claims, and enough food that I never have to hoard crackers under my pillow again.

"Well," I add, glancing toward the door Rafe escaped through, "aside from Rafe being a crabby pants."

Why do I have a feeling he’s going to be the hardest to crack?