Page 18 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

JESSE

GOOD GIRL

Taylor's up with the dawn chorus, making a huge breakfast that smells like heaven. Buttermilk pancakes with blueberries rest in a tower on the table next to a platter of eggs, crispy bacon, and sausage. She's even squeezed fresh orange juice chilling in a glass jug. The table is set, and the radio is playing my favorite country music station as I stare at the young woman I chose with barely any information to go on. I'm generally a good judge of character, so when Maverick questioned my logic in bidding for Taylor as a wife for us to share, I wasn't concerned. I had a gut feeling about her, and it looks like I'm right. She's everything I want.

“This looks perfect,” I tell her as I sit at the long table that has been in my family for three generations.

She jumps and turns, holding a soapy dish in hand. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. Maybe she was expecting one of the others. Maverick noticed a very faded bruise on her cheek. He also picked up on her quick apologizing and nervous body language. He’s more sensitive to these things than I am, because of his own family history. He suspects she’s come from a difficult background. Sometimes I think he’s too sensitive for his own good, but I’m going to keep an eye out for signs.

“I'm glad.”

She's dressed in leggings and another shapeless top that looks like it was picked out at a thrift store. Her hair is twisted into a bun at her nape, and her face is scrubbed and fresh. There were other girls at the auction who cared more about clothes and makeup, but ranch life is busy and practical. Taylor's pretty in an easy, low-maintenance way that appeals to me. Her innocence appeals to me, too.

Yesterday, when I returned from inspecting the ranch's perimeter with Maverick, Clint was relaxing with a glass of neat whiskey. It was our first opportunity to discuss what happened after the wedding ceremony. It turns out that Taylor isn't a virgin, but Clint is sure her experience was very limited. In fact, he was concerned about what her experience might have involved, but he didn't ask her for details. Virginity isn't important to me. I'm looking for a woman who's happy to submit, and everything about Taylor, from her quiet, fragile demeanor to her willingness to please tell me she's perfect.

Clint was cagey about the sex, mumbling something about sacredness between man and wife. I reminded him that his wife belonged to me, and Maverick, too. His territorial attitude is a surprise. Clint hasn't been possessive of any woman in all the years that I've known him. He chooses now, with a shared woman, to want to stake his higher claim. Well, I'm the boss, and this is my house and my plan.

Maverick and Clint might take longer to see what I see in Taylor, but they'll come around.

Her cooking abilities will speed up the process.

Maverick is the first to join me. As predicted, his eyes bug out at the best breakfast spread we've had in years.

“Jesus, Taylor. Have you been up all night?”

She shakes her head. “It took me half an hour.”

“Are you serious?” Maverick pulls his chair out but stacks his plate full before he sits. “I don't think me, Jesse, and Clint could put a spread like this together if we had twenty-four hours and a gun to our backs.”

“Speak for yourself,” I grumble.

He's moaning around a mouthful of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup when Clint arrives. He left Taylor to sleep in her bed alone last night. We all did. The girl needs time to acclimate to what her life's going to be like from now on.

This isn't temporary. It's forever.

We own her. The thought sends a shiver up my spine and a slide of warm heat into my dick.

When Clint sits at the table without acknowledging Taylor, he gets my hackles up. I know the marriage wasn't his idea, but he could at least try to go along with it. I don't want Taylor getting confused. I tap him on the shoulder and nod in her direction. “Aren't you forgetting something,” I mutter, as quietly and surely as my deep voice will allow.

Clint rests his plate back on the table with just one rasher of bacon in the center, rises, and makes his way over to Taylor. “Did you sleep well?” he asks her.

She nods, her eyes wide with surprise.

“That's good.” He presses a kiss to her cheek like she's his cousin rather than his wife. I curse internally. Sometimes, I feel as though I have to do everything around here.

We eat mostly in silence, although Maverick's moans reach pornographic levels at one point, much to Taylor's amusement.

She's busy at the counter and then presents us with paper-wrapped sandwiches, slices of her homemade cake, and an apple. “Lunch,” she says simply. “I wasn't sure if you'd eat out or come back, so I thought I'd better be prepared.”

“You're a regular girl scout,” Maverick tells her with a wink.

Taylor's blush is adorable, if adorable is hard-on inducing.

Right then and there, I decide that I'm going to leave Clint and Maverick to handle all the duties this morning. Putting Taylor at ease with the house and our expectations has to be my priority today. And maybe putting her at ease with me. I should have more control, but with Taylor standing at the sink with bare feet and sweetness pulsing from her, I'm rendered weak.

Clint and Maverick are surprised when I tell them I'm staying home for the morning. They share bemused looks as they pull on their boots by the door, remembering to take their lunches with them. “Focus on shoring up the fences,” I tell them. “And keep an eye out for any trouble.”

After they've left, the silence between Taylor and I feels like a bridge that I need to cross, but before I get a chance, Taylor begins to bustle around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and bowls. She's trying to keep busy with chores, so she doesn't have to deal with me, and that's fine. It's going to take time for her to feel completely comfortable with all of us.

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