“I said”—fire smoldered in her features as she made note of his blatant perusal—“I had it handled.”
Like a trouble-making pup who finally got a reaction from an annoyed parent, her irritation delighted him. Not because he wanted her to be pissed off, but because he liked seeing all that moxie on frank display. She wasn’t submissive or deferential like so many Omegas, nor coy and flirtatious like others. Refreshing and unexpected, the directness of her response drew him in and only enhanced the overall appeal.
Undeterred, Cal propped a shoulder against a fencepost and slid his hands in his pockets. “I’m sure you can, but I’m here, and I’m offering to help. No need to cut off your nose to spite your face.”
Nostrils flaring, her narrowed look would strike fear into any young Alpha’s heart. Good thing he wasn’t a young Alpha. “My granddad used to say that.”
“So you’ve been stubborn for a long time, then.” A grin tickled his cheek, but he kept it in check. “I figured as much.”
“I didn’t say he said it about me,” she shot back.
Cal raised a deliberate, disbelieving brow. “Didn’t he?” At that, she shifted her gaze elsewhere, a confirmation he’d hit a bullseye if he’d ever seen one. “What else did your granddad say about you, Della Mae?”
Her shoulders flinched at his use of her name, and she fussed with a lock of hair, pushing it behind her ear with a slender hand in a flustered gesture. “Della Mae isn’t my name.”
“It’s pretty, though, ain’t it?” A smile edged into his voice. “Why don’t you tell me your whole name, then, so I get it right next time?” If she was one of the Old Ones, as Riddick hinted last night and Cal was inclined to believe, she would’ve possessed more than one simple moniker. Back when the population stretched the limits of resources and people were too numerous to only go by one name, as they did now.
Somehow, her scowl deepened. Adorably. “Don’t you have a work assignment?”
He inclined his head, silently promising to revisit the name discussion at a later time. “Patrol duty with Silas, but”—he paused, opening up the space for more of Sloan’s bellowing to fill—“as you might infer, we’re having some trouble getting horses for the job.”
Her lips pursed in an expression of royal disdain. “I’d appreciated how much quieter it was while he was gone.”
Cal snickered. “There’s one in every Pack.”
“ASloan?” Despite her reluctance to engage, curiosity twinkled in her blue eyes.
“A hotheaded mini-tyrant.”
“And I suppose that’s not you?” she said with an unladylike snort.
“Me?” He grinned. “Not even close.”
Stubborn chin lifted, she folded her arms over her chest and studied him. Cal leaned into the experience, enjoying the feel of her eyes on him, reveling in her pointed, exacting examination. Liking that, concealed deep in that careful regard, Cal detected the flicker of something else he liked even more:interest.
“You came on pretty strong last night,” she finally said, voice ever-so-slightly hoarse.
“Going after something I want is not the same as being a hothead,” he said slowly. “A fact a smart woman like you knows as well as I do.”
Her steady gaze never wavered. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“But you’d like to.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Cal advanced a half step and slid the basket out of the way with the side of his boot, removing the obstruction but not coming any closer. She watched him do it, her expression guarded but permissive, and his eyes clung to hers, unwilling to let the moment go or to advance it further.
Time tautened like a bowstring, the space between them saturated with a low, thrumming pulse that swayed back and forth like waves lapping against a shore. “You’ll know when you know,”Pa had explained all those years ago. “When you find your Omega, there won’t be any space for doubt.”
Cal had no doubt, but he studied her upturned face, wanting to know,needingto know if the unseen power hooked her the way it did him. Did a similar rhythm beat in her breast; did she feel an answering tug on the other side of this unmistakable pull?
He got his answer as, bit by bit, the lines and curves of her body let go, as her strained posture relaxed into a placidity so unlike her combative default. Muscles that seized up from the moment of his approach unknotted. Shoulders slackened. Fingers uncurled. Lips went lax. Long, pale lashes fluttered weakly, as if experiencing the first longed-for touch against a sensitive body part.
Triumph warmed his chest. She did feel it, then.
“Tell me something”—his voice dipped low and gravely—“how long did you lie awake in your bed last night, thinking about our little introduction?”
The words dangled in the air for a slow breath. And then two, and then, like the slamming of a door, any softness in her countenance disappeared between one blink and the next. Her chest lifted, and a barrier snapped into place like the raising of a shield.