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Could Paige still be in our life, even if we’re not bonded to her?

Could I cope with that?

Walker pats me on the shoulder, before snatching up his beer. “Think about it.” Then his lips pinch. “Watch out. Our dumb as rocks director has arrived. Hell, what’s he wearing?” He chuckles. “That boy ain’t done one honest day’s work out on his ranches.”

I twist to stare at Devlin, the young Texan heir, who has just staggered through the archway into my garden like he owns it.

He is frustratingly handsome, and he struts around like he damn well knows it.

Most of the Omegas (or those who don’t have the sense to hate him), have been trying to tempt Devlin to bond with them since he was in college.

It’s like he doesn’t notice them, less even than I do.

Devlin’s dad has been pressuring him to select a pack for several years, but Devlin has always refused, and I can’t work out why.

Devlin is lean and athletic. The sun glows on his straw cowboy hat, which sits on his expensively cut brunette hair and trimmed beard.

He isn’t sweating into his pearl-snap shirt or dark jeans. His boots aren’t scuffed.

He is dressed for the ranch, but I bet anything that he hasn’t been out on it today.

When he smiles at Judd, a sharp thing, his teeth are painfully white.

I can’t hold back the growl, as I throw down the tongs. “Take over for me.”

“You’re letting me grill?” Walker asks in surprise. “That’s an Alpha’s sacred territory. Normally, you’d threaten to tear out my throat if I so much as touched these tongs.”

“That’s because I have someone else’s throat to tear out.” I stalk across the garden toward Devlin.

Devlin is standing now beneath a pecan tree beside a table that is laid with the supper the other guys already prepared and brought over in pans and bowls: baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad with mustard and pickle, smothered green beans and mashed potatoes.

Devlin peers at the food with distaste, before pulling a face at a peach cobbler that Walker’s Omega baked.

My blood boils.

I clench my hands, shuttering my expression.

Devlin plucks a soda out of the ice bucket, which is littered with beer and lager bottles.

Then he looks me up and down with a hatred in his icy blue eyes that he doesn’t attempt to hide.

We have clashed before. But he’s never openly shown me hate.

I’m guessing it’s because I warned him away from Paige, threatening to tear off his cock if he continued to contact her.

“I’m glad that you’re not shirking your duty, Chief, or I’d have had to take that to the board,” Devlin drawls. “I was disappointed in you.”

“My heart is breaking.”

“Putting your responsibilities on hold because you’ve whored your knot to an Omega in a Heat Wave Clinic is shameless. Perhaps that’s acceptable modern thinking in Dallas, but not in our town. It’s not the type of behavior that Oak Hollow expects from its elites or its Fire Chief.” He screws off the lid of the soda, flicking it into my flowerbed; a muscle in my cheek twitches. “Maybe I should open an official review of your decisions as Chief.”

“Maybe you should,” I grit out. “Maybe we should review yours as Director. Daddy’s influence and power can only protect you so far. I’m the one who donates my wealth to keep both the fire department and the hospital open. You’re the one who sits on boards but doesn’t do a damn thing to help this community.”

“Hostile and aggressive. I’d say that you needed to get rutted, but wait, you just did.” Something vicious twists his mouth, something unhinged and possessive. What the hell is going on with him? “Was it good? Playing the hero like always? You’ve got a savior complex, but we all know why, don’t we?”

The garden has fallen silent.

My neck prickles, as I sense my crew—my friends—listening.