Page 41 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

We’re all dressed up and ready for the guests to arrive. Taylor’s been busy since this morning, and as much as we wanted to stay and help, we’ve been dragged out to every corner of this ranch to deal with a ridiculous assortment of issues.

“Where is everyone?” a voice calls out from the kitchen. It’s Beth, Jesse’s sister.

“We’re coming,” Jesse replies, already striding for the door.

Clint takes Taylor’s hand, and we all follow Jesse.

Tonight will be interesting. Where Barb and Mitch took our explanation of Taylor’s presence at the ranch at face value, Beth won’t be so easy to dupe. She’s sharp as a razor and naturally suspicious. Barb likes to see the best in people, but Beth has a tendency to look for the worst. Jesse welcomed me warmly, Beth took over a year to treat me like family, and when Clint started working here, she hated him. It’s like she could smell the sourness of his past lingering on him. Only when he proved himself to be loyal did she let up and give him a chance.

Taylor’s a woman, and Beth is even more suspicious of the motives of the female sex. It’s part of the reason why Clint was the one to marry Taylor officially. Beth would have raged if Jesse had risked the ranch on a woman he had bought at an auction. I made a vow to myself long ago that I’d never get married. Watching my parents tear each other apart soured that idea before I ever had a romantic feeling.

Jesse embraces his sister and shakes Duncan’s hand. His brother-in-law is practically part of the furniture around here. He’s been dating Beth since they were twelve. He’s easygoing, whereas she’s a tough nut. Between them, they make one well-balanced person.

“There she is,” Duncan says warmly, reaching out to take Taylor’s hand. He pulls her close to kiss her on the cheek, earning a warning glance from his wife.

“I’m Taylor.”

Beth holds out a hand to shake, her eyes raking over Taylor’s outfit, taking in her hair and face, offering a tight smile.

“This is Beth, my sister,” Jesse says. “Duncan, Beth’s husband. And these terrors are my niece and nephew, Katherine and Holt.”

“Sweet names,” Taylor says, squatting until she’s the level of the children. “I’ve made a chocolate birthday cake,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Will you help Uncle Jesse blow out his candles?”

They both nod and then hide behind Duncan’s legs, shy of a new person.

Barb and Mitch pick that moment to arrive, and the kitchen becomes a noisy hive of people meeting and greeting. I stand back, watching everyone find their place in the group. Barb embraces Beth, and it’s one of the only times I’ve ever seen Jesse’s sister relax her rigid posture. There’s something about that woman that just makes you feel like you’re a kid back in your momma’s uncomplicated arms.

“I know we did it the other day, but we have to toast to the newlyweds again tonight now Beth’s here,” Barb says.

Clint shifts his feet and, instead of smiling happily at his wife, focuses his attention on his socks. For fuck’s sake. Beth will be able to smell a rat from a hundred paces if he doesn’t get his act together. Taylor busies herself, uncovering the platters of waiting food. There is chicken and crispy potatoes with steamed vegetables and mac ‘n’ cheese. The smell fills the air, and Duncan is the first to approach. “Wow. This looks amazing.”

“You’d think he hadn’t eaten in a week,” Beth says, rolling her eyes.

“Beth usually has to bring the food when we come over,” Duncan says. “These three can rustle up some basics but nothing dinner party worthy.”

“Because you’re such a gourmet chef,” I say, feigning offense. In truth, cooking skills are not ones I care about developing in the slightest. Jesse and Clint are decent at grilling. I can make half-decent oatmeal and grilled cheese. I’m a boss at heating up canned soup.

“I don’t need to be,” Duncan admits, already heaping food onto a plate. “I have a very capable wife.”

“So does Clint now,” Beth says, eying Clint and then Taylor, suspicion growing in her expression. I swear she’s like a bloodhound when it comes to dishonesty.

“Everyone, help yourselves.” Taylor stands back while Jesse takes Barb’s jacket, and Beth fusses over small plates for the kids. I join her, enjoying the happy babble of the group. When I was a kid, our house always felt like an island that no one from outside our immediate family could ever cross to. It was silent so much, despite there being five children. We all knew that making too much noise could set Dad off. Mom moved around the house like a ghost, afraid to touch anything in case it was a trigger. When there was noise, it was the sound of my father’s escalating rage and the beatings that would ensue. I got really good at finding ways to avoid family life, making a den in the bottom of my closet that was only big enough for me to hide in.

The happy bustle around me here is such a blessing, but the contrast sets me on the outside. This isn’t my family. I’m an interloper enjoying someone else’s. I reckon now Taylor is, too.

“This is nice, huh?” I turn to witness the tell-tale signs that this isn’t typical for Taylor either. Wide eyes and flushed cheeks. A small smile plays at the edges of her mouth before dropping as she feels the same sense of uncertainty.

“Your previous homelife as bad as mine was?” I ask quietly.

Her eyes dart to mine. I had hoped that she would open up to me a bit more the other day when I told her what a prize-asshole my father was, but as yet, she still hasn’t said much about her family life.

“I can tell. The happiness feels foreign.”

She bites her lip, and her fingers twist together. I touch her arm gently and look up to find Beth staring directly at us.

Jesse waits until last to plate up his food, encouraging Taylor to go before him. We’re all seated at the table, tucking in as they move along the counter. I watch, silently urging them to keep up the pretense. Jesse has to keep his body language neutral and not mess up like I did.

Beth is cutting up the food for her twins while Duncan and Mitch talk about a small incident that occurred at the local penitentiary. “They need more to do,” Mitch says. “It doesn’t matter how much I talk about prison reform, I’m ignored at every turn.”

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