Whatever he's planning is probably going to be ridiculous.
And I'm absolutely here for it.
He chuckles—a warm sound that rumbles through his chest into mine, where we're still connected—preparing to elaborate on whatever cowboy activities he's envisioning.
One of the kittens—Ember, based on distinctive markings—decides this moment requires intervention, climbing directly onto Bear's face with complete disregard for conversation or personal boundaries.
"Agh—" His protest is muffled by kitten fur, hands coming up to gently extract the tiny feline from his hair where she's become tangled.
I giggle—uncontrollable laughter at the sight of a massive Alpha defeated by a creature weighing less than two pounds, at the particular indignity of having a serious moment interrupted by a kitten invasion.
This is my life now.
Romantic moments sabotaged by baby animals.
Absolutely zero regrets.
"What in the cozy wonderland is happening here?"
Calder's voice carries from an approaching distance, amusement evident in every syllable. Silas and Aidric flank him, the three of them having apparently finished whatever task occupied their morning.
The kittens immediately abandon us—sprinting toward new entertainment with enthusiasm that suggests Bear and I have become boring through familiarity.
Traitors.
Fickle felines with no loyalty.
Bear helps me sit up properly, his hand steadying my still-disoriented body while addressing the newcomers:
"Wendolyn hasn't experienced the countryside of our pack yet. We were discussing remedying that deficiency."
Country side.
He's really committed to this concept.
Silas's expression brightens—genuine enthusiasm that suggests he's been waiting for the opportunity to introduce me to whatever rural activities they're envisioning.
"We could visit the ranch," he suggests with excitement usually reserved for medical breakthroughs. "Actually show you the property, let you experience authentic Montana ranch life rather than just hearing about it secondhand."
Wait.
Ranch?
They have an actual ranch?
My surprise must be evident because all three of them look vaguely offended that I didn't know this information.
"You have a ranch?" The question seeks confirmation of an apparently obvious fact I'd somehow missed. "Like, actual property with livestock and agricultural operations?"
How did I not know this?
How has this not come up in two months of cohabitation?
Aidric mutters something incomprehensible, clearly debating whether to contribute to the conversation or maintain his characteristic emotional distance.
Finally, he speaks—words emerging reluctant but determined:
"Why don't we attend the Sweetwater Falls line dancing event first, then visit the ranch afterward?"
