“These are really good, Scotty!” I said for probably the fifth time since I’d come to his studio. I’d spent the day there, except for a lunch break, tacos Juan had brought us from his parents’ taco stand downtown. “You really should sell them or something!”

Juan was doing landscapes in oil, mostly of the farm, but occasionally he’d take drives out across Texas to find new vistas. The one he was working on now was of a long open farm with dusty fields and a herd of longhorns milling about in the shade of a cluster of trees.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Scotty said, pooh-poohing me for probably the fifth time again. He was bashful, but I was serious. He was working with a canvas that was probably four feet wide and his brush strokes seemed so effortless and skilled that I couldn’t believe he hadn’t had a show in downtown Austin at a gallery yet.

“I do,” I told him. “Seriously. If you don’t do something with these, I’m going to steal them, tell everyone they’re mine, and go sell them in the city to some rich people!”

“Oh, I’d have to kill you!” He smiled, adding another brush stroke to the sky to solidify a group of clouds hanging over the cattle. It amazed me how his paint came together. At first, he’d add something to the canvas that looked like absolutely nothing, and then with a few more whips of his brush, he’d have something beautiful. It reminded me of watching those old Bob Ross shows where he’d teach people how to paint. I’d been happy to sit there all day watching him, and he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“Seriously though,” I pressed him. “You are talented. Maybe we could even do a show out here. How many artists have shows on a farm?”

“Not many,” he laughed.

“I dunno,” I said, getting up and stretching. “Might add a little panache to the whole thing.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet,” he said slowly. “I mean—painting for myself is one thing, but putting it on display for everyone else?”

“I know what you mean,” I told him. “I’m a writer. At least, I want to be. But the idea of people reading my work and not liking it terrifies me.”

“A writer?” he asked, putting his brush aside for a moment. “What kind of a writer?”

“Cozy mysteries?”

Before the words were even fully out of my mouth his jaw was open. “Seriously?”

“Uh, yes?” I replied.

“Dude, I love cozy mysteries!” he replied, stepping forward and taking me by the arms. “Amy Boyles? Blythe Baker!? Agatha Christie!?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” I cried out, laughing. I couldn’t believe it. The guys at the bar had no idea what I was talking about when I told them about the genre, so meeting someone who was into it was incredible.

“You have got to let me read some of your work!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied, looking at my feet.

“Uhm, excuse me?” Scotty scoffed indignantly. “You just spent how many hours here watching me paint and you’re not going to let me read one of your books?”

“I don’t have a book,” I admitted. “Not yet at least.”

“Okay, so let me read your chapters as you write them,” he pressed on. “I’ll be like…a beta reader for you!”

I pondered a moment, still nervous as no one had really even read my writing yet. But Scotty was right; he’d let me watch him paint, it wasn’t fair if I didn’t extend him the same kind of courtesy.

“Okay,” I finally said with a nervous smile. Scotty smiled and hugged me. “But if it’s not good, just tell me, okay? Don’t just be nice to me.”

“Promise,” he replied.

“Gah! I’m so nervous!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Scotty replied.

“Says the guy who won’t show anyone outside of the pack his work,” I teased.

“Okay, fine,” he grimaced. “I’ll think about doing a show.”

“See? Look how great this is!” I laughed. “We’re already encouraging each other to move out of our comfort zones!”

Scotty and I both laughed and he turned back to his painting with both hands on his hips. “I think this is good for today. It’s getting close to dinner. Should we go see if Kenneth needs any help?”

“Absolutely,” I replied. “He said he wants help with the pecan pie.”

“Oh, I love a pecan pie,” Scotty said as he held the door open for me. I stepped outside.

“I’ve never had one,” I confessed.

“What?! You’re going to love it.”

We made our way to the house and I waved over at Preston and Gabriel, who were hard at work organizing the lumber they’d picked up during the day. Gabriel smiled back at me and wiped the sweat from his brow.

God, he’s so sexy, I thought as we took the steps to the main house. Bailey, Juan’s omega, was sitting on the couch as we came in. I’d met him briefly at lunch, and like everyone else at the farm, really liked him.

“Hey, you two,” he said, waving casually as we came in.

“Working hard?” Scotty teased as Bailey tossed a pecan into his mouth.

“Taking a break,” he replied. “I’ve done everything. Kenneth’s just been watching.”

“You wish,” Kenneth said from the kitchen. I quickly went over to him and saw the mixture for the pie he was working on. It smelled absolutely divine.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Ever rolled dough?” he replied.

“Not really,” I confessed.

“Well, this is how you do it,” he said, quickly showing me with a small spare piece. “Just sort of roll it into a ball, then use this roller to flatten it out, but don’t push too hard. Can you try that for me while I get the other things ready?”

“Of course I can!” I said, taking a place at the counter.

“What’s cooking?” Scotty asked, opening the oven a crack. Kenneth swatted his hand away and threw him a scolding glance.

“A nice big turkey!” he replied. “Are you going to make some of your mashed potatoes or are we just going to have turkey and carrots?”

“I can do that,” Scotty replied. “Just let me clean the paint off my hands.”

“Yeah, no one wants to eat that!” Bailey laughed.

I rolled the dough like Kenneth had showed me, but where his had come out as a ball, mine was more like an egg. Twisting my lips, I tried again as the rest of the omegas went about their business around me. It was hard, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get it right, but it felt so good to be part of something—a pack that accepted me and supported me. I’d have to make some hard decisions soon about what to do with the bar, but for now, I was just happy to be a cog in the incredible gear that was the loving pack I’d come to be a part of.