Page 2 of Claimed By the Cowboys

And I carry the heck on.

A mere five hours later, the pleasant morning has turned to a full-on summer day, and I’m breaking a sweat as I break down my tent and table.

The jars sold out. They always do. Posting the process of making all of my canned goods on my account usually draws a pretty good crowd. People love to get the finished product when they’ve seen me go through the process of making it, and today’s group was no exception. I even had a couple of people pull me aside to take a picture, which I gladly agreed to.

Even though growing the social media presence of Little Sister Farms isn’t my priority, it’s not like I can just turn off everything that I’m really good at. I know how to get people invested in what I do, and I know that if I wanted to, I could probably follow Mary Marco’s lead and turn this little farm into a big business…

Chill out, Piper. Healing era. Remember?

I huff, returning my focus to the plastic table, which absolutely doesn’t want to fold…

“You really should just go to Costco and get a new one,” a voice rumbles from over my shoulder.

A smile spreads across my face, and I turn to see a very tall shape blocking the summer sun. “Hey, Brent.”

“Hey, Pipes. How’d it go today?” Brent Hayward grins back at me.

I stand and shade my eyes from where the sun is beaming behind him, giving him a kind of halo. Brent’s the kind of handsome that makes you catch your breath a little bit. Tall, broad-shouldered, his biceps flex a little as he shifts on his feet. His dark hair soaks in the light, gleaming like a blackbird wing in the sun, and his green eyes practically sparkle in his tan face.

It’s a good thing I’ve known him since we were kids, or I’d be absolutely gobsmacked by how handsome he looks right now. Remembering someone with a bucktooth and a black eye gives you a little perspective.

Well. I try to remember it, anyway. Sometimes it’s kind of hard. Because when he looks at me like that, my heart tends to skip a beat, and my pulse goes up by about fifty beats, and my blood feels kind of spicy, so… yeah. I wouldn’t by any means say that I’m unaffected by that smile.

But, as Mary Marco would say, the best hostess is like a duck. Calm on the outside, even if they’re paddling like hell underneath the water. And I’m nothing if not radiating calm.

I shrug, realizing Brent is still waiting on my answer. “Oh, you know.”

His grin widens. “How fast did you sell out?”

“Three hours.”

Brent gives a little excited hoot, and I turn to the table again, his excitement contagious as it tugs yet another smile out of me.

“Come on, Pipes. That’s amazing,” he says. I freeze, tensing a little as I feel Brent come up behind me, his arms ghosting over mine.

“Oh, it’s just luck. Lots of people sold well today,” I murmur.

Sheesh. His arms are so distracting as he grabs the metal joist that’s sticking, keeping the table from folding down. I swear I can see every single curve in the muscles of his forearms, and the fact that he smells a little like sweat and hay shouldn’t make me nearly as flustered as it is.

Brent is afriend.One of my very best friends. He and two other guys, Tate and Dalton, are the whole reason that I moved to this little town.

They bought a ranch here years ago, and when the neighboring property was up for sale and I was in the market, I jumped on the opportunity that they pointed out.

Other than my sister, I do not have any family. I have sworn off dating for good because I simply can’t do it anymore. I am in my healing era. Being close to friends, good ones like Brent, Tate, and Dalton, was an intentional choice to facilitate that healing.

But the wholeI’ve sworn off datingthing is really a problem right now. Because it’s making me look at Brent like he’s a slice of USDA prime beef. Which, around these parts, is definitely what’s for dinner.

The metal joist finally pops, the noise jarring me from my undeniably thirsty fantasy. Brent leans back, and the rush of oxygen cools me down, giving me a little perspective.

“Come on. Let’s just go to Costco, and you can get another table.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s like a six-hour round-trip to Costco, Brent. I’m not going to do that right now.”

“You got all the asparagus out and pickled this weekend. What else is on your agenda today?” I frown, ready to tell him all about the way I wanted to make a post about the improvements I made to the chicken coop, when his finger wags in front of my face. “Do not post any pictures of that fancy chicken house. It’s disturbing.”

I laugh. “It’s not disturbing, it’s adorable.”

Brent huffs, eyeing me with mock disdain. “Piper. The whole thing looks like a gingerbread house. You literally gave it scalloped eaves and put a huge candy button on the door.”

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