Page 64 of Secret Heart
Triston scoops Penny up from the floor, kissing her cheek until she giggles and pushes him away. It puts her in a good enough mood she only resists the swab for a moment. When they’re both finished, the woman smiles again. Just as she’s twisting the doorknob, another set of knocks sound.
The Council member from before gives a small smile as she slides past him and heads deeper into the Council offices. He scoops up the paperwork, putting most of it in an unlabeled manila envelope. The larger official registration he holds out to us. Emily takes it in a careful hold. I scoop up the contents of the diaper bag, shoving them back into the main pocket without worrying about any kind of organization. Penny screeches when I put the bunny blanket on the top, and I quickly pull it back out. She takes it in a hard grasp as I pass it to her.
The Council member leads us wordlessly to a small open space tucked in the back of the building. The spring flowers are in full bloom, their white and pink petals filling the area surrounding a small set of benches. A young woman with a camera that rivals Faedra’s around her neck smiles. He leads us to her.
“Congratulations,” she says. “Do you have any views you’re specifically wanting?”
Triston shakes his head. Then he eases the brown cowboy hat he wears when working the cattle on his head. I adjust the Western-style shirt, making sure the cuffs are straight and the bolo tie is adjusted properly. Emily runs her hands through herhair, shaking out the barrel curls. Then she messes with the small gold necklace she wears, moving the clasp to the back of her neck. Penny’s white dress coordinates with Emily’s, down to the floral lace overlay that reaches to the floor but leaves most of their legs exposed. Her pink boots are much brighter than Emily’s dark brown, though. Emily scoops her into her arms. Then I adjust Triston’s bolo tie just to have an excuse to touch him right now. He smiles, seeing through the excuse, and then he kisses me, a light meeting of our lips that’s finished too soon.
There’s the click of a camera lens.
The photographer is faster than even Faedra, arranging us in various corners of the courtyard, each of us taking turns holding the registration and Penny. By the end, my face aches from smiling so much, and Emily’s laughing as Triston pretends to eat her neck. Penny giggles on the ground, a small stick in her hands.
The Council member offers another congratulations and takes the registration form.
“The department that handles adoptions should be here in another few minutes. They typically wait until the paternity testing has finished before going through the paperwork.”
I shake his offered hand. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he says. Then he’s disappearing back inside the building.
The photographer holds out a small business card. “I should have them edited and uploaded to the portal in about a week,” she says. “Your access ID is on the back.”
I give her my thanks, too, and then we’re alone in the courtyard. I soak it all in, Triston’s soft laugh and Emily’s smile and Penny’s happy squealing as she runs around with the stick. Emily grabs my hand and pulls me to them, kissing me until I’m hard and aching and wishing we were somewhere I could lay them both out in front of me.
When she pulls away, there’s a request in her eyes. Without a word, I adjust my aching dick and pull the small jewelry box from the side pocket of Penny’s diaper bag. I offer it to Emily, and her cheeks flush. Then she holds it out for Triston.
His eyebrows furrow, a question in his gaze even as he cautiously takes the long velvet box. The sun glints off the simple gold chain nestled against the pillow of black.
“Stacking rings are more traditional,” Emily murmurs, “but…”
“Rings are dangerous working with the cattle,” I murmur. Triston’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “This should be short enough to be able to tuck it under your shirts, though. If it isn’t, we can adjust it. And you don’t have to wear it at all while riding if you don’t want to. Safety’s more important than any kind of jewelry.”
Emily nods. “We know you’re with us. A necklace doesn’t change that.”
“Thank you,” he says, looking between us both.
I lace my fingers with his, and Emily tightens her hold on his arm. She presses a kiss to his cheek even as I run my lips along his knuckles. It’s Emily who says the words.
“We love you, Omega.”
His smile is soft, nearly wondrous. “I love you, too. Both of you.”
The words send a bolt of lightning straight down my spine that spreads into a happy contentment in my chest.
Chapter Thirty-Five
TRISTON
Walking into the staging area of the arena in Billings feels like stepping through a portal, dropping me into a different time and place, separate from the last couple weeks I’ve spent in Creek Falls. The straw bedding, the metal temporary fencing, the low grunts of the bulls and louder brays of the steers. All of them settle over me like a well-worn shirt, molded to my body. The weight of my vest and the feel of my hat are just as familiar. Even my competition chaps with their extra long fringe and specialty beading and engraving. They should be soothing. The ritual of wearing them and adjusting their weight settling me the same way it has the last nineteen months.
I breathe deeply, centering myself, adjusting the cuffs of my light blue Western-cut shirt. It’s habit that has me running my arm across my forehead, wiping away nonexistent sweat just to smell the vanilla scent. It’s stronger than ever before, the warmth of it soothing my stomach better than every other ride. She hadn’t even asked, just grabbed my wrists as I was leaving the hotel and marked them.
Yes, everything about this should be as natural as breathing. It’s what I’ve lived the last eight years at various competition levels. And yet…
“There’s the man himself!”
I shake out of the thoughts and turn around, shoving my hands in my pockets. Michael crosses the large open space with a broad smile. A few of the others from the circuit follow behind him, laughing and shoving each other in that way Alphas do when they’re not entirely competitors but not truly friends. It’s another thing that’s as familiar as breathing, watching the guys chirp each other. As they get closer, I can smell the edge to one of their floral scents. Even without anything hinging on the ride, one of them is on a rut-amplifier.
