Page 96 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Almost to the porch stairs, I half-turned, my gaze landing on the supply barn in the distance. No longer leaning precariously to the right, it stood straight and solid thanks to Kalith’s utter construction genius. The weathered boards had been reinforced and stained a warm honey color that caught the morning sun. The white trim around the windows was so fresh and clean. I doubted the building had looked so nice even when brand new.

Though the sight of it made me happy, it also hurt my heart.

Because inside that newly-restored structure, shielded by technology I didn’t understand and probably never would, was the ship that would eventually take my aliens away. The thought sent breath-stealing pangs through my chest, dulling the euphoric buzz of desire.

For now, they were here with me.

For now, they weren’t ready to leave.

I pushed the melancholy aside, determined not to let future worries spoil the present moment. Their ship wasn’t repaired yet. The water samples they needed weren’t collected. For now—for however long this strange, wonderful interlude lasted—they were here with me. And I intended to enjoy every second, every tentacle, every impossible, mind-bending orgasm they could give me before reality came crashing back.

Ignoring the inevitable would be harder if I loved them. And I didn’t love them. Not really. That would be insane for a million reasons, not the least of which was the fact that I’d only known them a ridiculously short time and they weren’t even human.

Did I love them?

That was a problem for later.

I turned back toward the house, a smile spreading across my face as I heard their footsteps approaching. Glancing over my shoulder, I took a mental snapshot of how sexy they looked striding beneath the sunlight in only the boxers. The bedroom was calling, and three aliens were about to answer.

36

VANTOR, CYRO, & KALITH

Two worlds. Two futures. One impossible choice.

VANTOR

Imeasured the perimeter in precise strides, each footfall landing exactly where it had the day before, and the day before that. Seven days had passed since our bonding with Tammy—seven Earth rotations that felt simultaneously like mere moments and several lifetimes. The morning sun cast long shadows across the ranch, highlighting the sun-bleached gold of high-summer grass and the weathered wood of fence posts I had reinforced with my own hands. Hands that weren’t truly mine, but a careful fabrication designed to blend among the humans of this planet. Hands that had now touched, caressed, and memorized every inch of Tammy Tucker’s skin.

My internal chronometer had lost track of Earth time. I glanced up at the sky, trying to calculate how long I’d been patrolling. The likelihood of external threats remained minimal at this rural location, yet I continued to be vigilant. Security protocols provided structure. Structure provided comfort. And in the tumultuous storm of emotions I’d experienced since our crash landing, comfort was increasingly difficult to find.

The horses watched me from the paddock—Mystery with his usual imperious stare, Sassafras with newfound contentment since her relationship with the stallion had evolved from hostility to what Tammy called “horse romance.” The older one, Artie, simply observed with patient eyes that seemed to hold ancient wisdom. Their acceptance of our alien presence still surprised me. Animals often possessed keener instincts than their human counterparts.

I paused at the northernmost point of the property, where a small stream marked the boundary. The water gurgled over smooth stones—a sound so different from the deep, resonant currents of my home world’s vast oceans. I knelt, allowing one finger to break the surface. The sensation triggered memories of home, of the crushing pressures and bioluminescent landscapes that had shaped my development. The world where I had trained, served, and sworn oaths to protect my people.

The people I was now considering abandoning.

My three hearts pulsed asynchronously, a physiological manifestation of my inner discord. The rhythm had been disrupted since our bonding, since Tammy’s biochemistry had merged with ours in ways none of us could have anticipated. Where once my cardiac system had maintained a precise operation, now it sometimes stuttered when she entered a room, accelerated when she smiled, nearly stopped when she cried.

Was this what humans called “love”?

The concept was not entirely foreign to my species. We formed bonds—partnerships based on compatibility, shared purpose, mutual protection. But nothing in my training had prepared me for this overwhelming sensation that seemed to rewrite the very code of my being. Three hearts beating as one, instead of in their natural, carefully coordinated sequence.

I stood, resuming my patrol with outward stoicism that belied my inner turmoil. The western boundary brought me past the repaired barn where our ship lay hidden beneath layers of Earth technology and alien camouflage. Its presence loomed in my consciousness like an accusation. Every day we remained increased the likelihood of mission failure, of our people continuing to suffer as their ocean home slowly evaporated into toxic mists.

I had never failed a mission.

In seventeen planetary cycles of service, I had maintained a perfect operational record. My specialized training as a security specialist had earned me commendations from the highest echelons of our cultural structure. My assignment to protect this critical research team over many star cycles had been considered an honor, a recognition of exceptional service.

And yet…

Here I stood, on an alien world, contemplating purposeful failure. Deliberate dereliction of duty. Treason, by any objective standard of our laws.

I traced the fence line, testing each post with mechanical precision while my mind wandered dangerous paths. What if we simply... stayed? What if we integrated our superior technology with this primitive but promising planet? What if we brought Tammy back with us? What if⁠—

The logical flaws in each scenario arose immediately, cutting down hopeful possibilities with ruthless efficiency. Our physiological needs would eventually betray us among humans. Tammy would die within decades in the atmospheric conditions of our world. The water samples we were sent to collect remained crucial to our planet’s survival.

Every path led back to the same brutal truth: we would have to leave.