Page 65 of Secret Heart
“That buckle looks mighty damn fine, man.”
I manage a smile that’s just smug enough to not have them asking questions.
“Thanks,” I say.
Michael holds out his hand. He pulls me into a one-armed hug as soon as I take it, clapping my shoulder. The others don’t hug me, but they touch the brims of their hats and smile easily enough. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I mirror their movement, touching my finger and thumb to my own hat, and then pull my phone, swiping open the text from Lance.
Found them just fine. Be there in a few minutes.
How are they handling everything?
Like pros. Haven’t flinched at a single camera.
Thank goodness.
I don’t know that I can stomach the next two seasons if they’re unnerved by all the cameras and interested parties.
Michael pulls my attention back to him.
“A little birdie told me you went and found yourself an Alpha while you were hiding out in Wyoming,” he says. He raises an eyebrow as he adjusts his helmet, perching it on his hip.
The others stop their chatter, focusing on me like a pack of wolves.
“Oh?” One of them—Collin—asks. He breaks apart from the group to stand next to Michael. It’s his scent that holds the edge of the rut-amplifier.
Michael nods. “Lots of little birdies, actually. All over Instagram. Birdies that are pretty devastated to know the rodeo’s most eligible bachelor might not actually be one anymore.”
“Are there?” I ask with a surprisingly steady voice.
One of the guys pulls out his phone and starts messing around on it.
“Well, hot damn,” he says, chuckling. He turns the screen so the rest of us can see what’s on it.
It’s a post from Instagram. The photo is blurry and not centered, clearly not from one of the true paparazzi that sell their photos to various outlets and gossip websites. Even still, my face is clear enough and so is Emily’s where she walks beside me, our hands laced together. She’s dressed in that gorgeous off-white sundress with the floral lace overlay. Even without looking at the date of the post, I know it must have gone up some time since Wednesday. I thought the courtyard was pretty private. We all had.
How many people saw us having those private moments between signing the various forms needed to register as a pack and the paperwork to adopt Penny?
Collin swipes through the other photos in the post. All of them are various angles of Emily and me, including us kissing. My stomach twists, and it takes all my self-control to keep the desire to throw up off my face.
The only saving grace is there doesn’t seem to be any of Penny. Hopefully that means we get to control her being announced to the world.
One of the guys whistles. “Damn, she’s hot.”
Another one laughs. “Triston’s gone and found a hot-as-fuck Alpha. I need to win me one of those buckles, too.”
“Fuck off,” I growl.
They all freeze, their gazes swinging from the phone to me, surprise and indignation on their faces. More than one scent flares out from them. Fear roots me to the spot.
“Triston! There you are!” Lance’s voice cuts through the noise of the animals and the various other athletes walking through the area now. A group of four guys walks by me as I turn away from the bull riders. The one in the center tips his hat in greeting, and I offer a small smile. Their pairs of matching shirts mark them as two of the roping teams.
The one nearest me calls out, “Congrats, man! Beautiful ride.”
I only smile in answer, turning to focus on Lance. A flash of dark brown hair and tiny bright pink boots has me abandoning the guys and crossing the arena. Penny’s shriek cuts through the open space. Lance doesn’t bat an eye even as a little girl rushes past him. She’s in flare jeans and a white shirt overlayed with a pink vest that matches the boots. Her bunny blanket trails behind her, dragging along the concrete. I lengthen my stride as she trips on some of the straw littering the floor. Before she can trip again and hurt herself, I’m there and pulling her into my arms.
“Hi, Penny bug,” I whisper against her cheek between kisses. She giggles and wiggles against me. She pulls on the thin gold chain sitting around the base of my throat, tight enough it doesn’t hang down at all, and I quietly stop her.
“I like this. Let’s be gentle with it, all right?”
