Page 47 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Maybe I could get used to this dry planet.

16

TAMMY

Now that they had dimples and rock-hard abs, it was way too easy to forget their real bodies…

My breath came in short gasps as Kalith spun me again across the weathered floorboards of my living room.

I was dancing with an alien.

The makeshift dance floor in the middle of my living area—normally cluttered with farm catalogs and unpaid bills—now witnessed an absurd pairing: a desperate Kansas rancher and a shapeshifter who looked like he’d stepped right out of a cologne advertisement. My hands trembled slightly where they rested against his broad shoulders, the warmth of his skin seeping through shirt that I knew wasn’t real. God help me, I was enjoying this.

“I must stop now,” Kalith announced, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “My three hearts feel odd beating so quickly as one false organ. It is... disorienting.”

Three hearts? The casual revelation stunned me momentarily. Without thinking—without permission—I pressed my palm flat against his chest.

Beneath my fingertips, I felt it. Not the steady thump-thump of a human heartbeat, but something utterly foreign and mesmerizing. Three distinct rhythms pulsed under my touch, slightly out of sync with each other, creating a fluttering cascade like ripples overlapping in a pond. The sensation reminded me of something I’d read about pregnant Omegas carrying twins—how their heartbeats didn’t fully synchronize, creating that same rolling wave pattern.

“That’s amazing,” I murmured, fascination overriding any sense of propriety. My fingers spread wider, eager to map the territory of this impossible anatomy. What I felt was hard, muscular definition of a very defined man’s chest.

Kalith’s hand—warm and slightly larger than a human male’s of his size should be—suddenly covered mine, pressing my palm more firmly against his chest. The triple beat accelerated under our joined hands. I glanced up to find his eyes—rich brown dotted with gold flecks, set into his borrowed human face—gazing down at me with an intensity that made my stomach flip.

Reality crashed back. I was fondling an alien’s chest in my living room. I jerked my hand away, heat flooding my cheeks as embarrassment washed over me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have⁠—"

“You do not need to stop touching me,” Kalith said softly, though something sly glinted in his expression. His voice carried that strange echo quality they all had, like someone speaking simultaneously from two throats.

“No, I shouldn’t have... that’s not okay to touch someone without permission.” I stepped back, trying to regain composure. Turning enough so that I could see the other two aliens—currently mimicking insanely attractive human males lounging on my secondhand furniture—I slipped into what I’d come to think of as my “Earth ambassador” tone. “Remember that, okay? You only touch someone after asking, and they say it’s okay.”

The three nodded slowly, eerily in unison, like they shared a neural network.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling the situation’s absurdity afresh. Three days ago, my biggest problem had been convincing Mystery and Sassafras to tolerate each other long enough for breeding. Now I was giving consent lessons to tentacled aliens wearing human skin suits like Halloween costumes.

And, good God, what costumes they’d made for themselves.

While I’d been gone, they’d done what I’d asked, changing their original shapes into ones that wouldn’t get us followed by paparazzo.

Kalith looked like he should be leading a sexy biker gang, complete with tousled blond hair and a jawline that could cut glass. Cyro had morphed into the hot actor from that Johnny Cash biopic I’d caught on the television last month. And Vantor—well, Vantor had apparently not been able to let go of his superhero physique, but at least now his face shape was softer, with deep dimples and thick brows.

Even though they were no longer the spitting image of famous heartthrobs, I was pretty sure every sane woman who saw them would go into instant heat.

Hell, I was riding the edge of a blistering heat right now, even though my cycle was weeks from due. My Omega nature didn’t seem to give a damn that they weren’t human. My body responded to them like they’d been designed specifically to trigger every biological mating instinct I possessed. The traitorous warmth curling low in my core was proof enough of that.

“So… you guys should get dressed.” I frowned. “Undressed, then dressed.”

The aliens moved toward the pile of clothes. The outfits they were projecting across their human bodies shimmered as they moved.

Vantor picked up a button-down shirt, examining it closely. Then, without warning, he began dissolving the illusion of clothing from his body. First, the projected shirt disappeared, revealing an expanse of chiseled muscle that glistened in the afternoon light filtering through the curtains.

My mouth went dry as the illusion of pants began to dissolve next, the waistband slowly creeping downward… downward… revealing a first peek of dark hair trailing ever lower.

“Wait!” I shouted, finding my voice just before things got X-rated. “You shouldn’t change with me here. Humans only really see one another naked if they’re intimate with one another. Or... I guess if they’re nudists.” A nervous laugh escaped me. “I’m not explaining what nudists are.”

“Human specimens who prefer to be naked?” Cyro offered, his anthropologist’s brain making the obvious connection.

“Right, yes. But we are not nudists on this ranch.” I pointed toward the small bathroom off the hallway. “Vantor can go to the bathroom over there.” I directed my finger down the narrow hallway. “Cyro can use the guest room.” Finally, I gestured toward the kitchen. “And Kalith can take the kitchen.”

They blinked at me, processing this information with those unsettlingly perfect faces. I’m sure they were thinking how absurd it was for me to worry about seeing their fake bodies naked. I knew it wasn’t logical, but I didn’t care. I was already fighting my body’s urges. If I saw them stripped of clothing, I might lose my last threads of control. The three made their clothing selections and began walking to their assigned changing locations.