Page 21 of Claimed By the Cowboys

Dalton

The mare in front of me is hell on wheels. She’s a fiery copper red color, with a mane that’s black as pitch. Her ears are permanently back on her head, and if you’re not careful, she’ll bite your fingers right off if she gets the chance.

I fucking love her.

Every day, I head out to the ring to work with her. I’m trying my goddamn best to bond with this horse, but I swear she’s been sent straight from hell just to put me through my goddamn paces. And I love every second of it.

She snorts, and I stand, holding my ground as I stare at her.

“Look,” I murmur, my voice as low as possible. “I have some carrots in my pocket. If you don’t bite my fuckin’ hand, you can have them.”

The mare’s nostrils flare.

Horses don’t speak. My uncle made that abundantly clear. But I learned while watching him that they might not speak English. They definitely do say shit, though

Right now, for example, this mare is telling me to fuck all the way off. She’s telling me that she’d rather snack on the meat of my hands than any goddamn carrot, and she’s fuckin’ pleased at the concept. Still.

Gently, I take a carrot out of my pocket. It’s a long one, so that I can give myself as much space as possible before her teeth descend on my hand. I hold it up gently, offering it to her.

“You want it?”

The mare scratches at the ground, her hoof snapping against the dirt. Still, she’s looking at the carrot with some interest.

Come on. Do it.

Slowly, she moves forward. Her nostrils flare again, and I hear the deep, snuffling breaths as she arches her long neck forward to smell the carrot. Silently, I hold my hand out, aware that she’s interested, but clearly skeptical.

Eventually, curiosity overcomes her, and she snatches the carrot from my hand before dashing over to the opposite fence. A hearty crunch lets me know that she does, in fact, like the treat. And at least this time she didn’t try to go for my fingers.

I don’t let her see, but I walk away smiling.

My phone is buzzing in my pocket, and when I pick it up, I can’t help the kick of my heart in my chest.

Piper:Hey, guys. Wanted to see if we could talk soon. I’m headed to your place, and I have some thoughts on everything.

Fuck. She’s going to back out. She won’t want to actually do this. She won’t…

“You fucking done here or what?” I hear Brent holler at me from across the barn.

I need to put the mare up, a task that can be easy or Herculean, depending on the mood she’s in, but yeah. I’m fucking done here.

Brent makes his way to the house, the ATV roaring as he speeds off, and I do my best to get her into the stall. She doesn’t bite, which is progress, and soon, I’m following after him.

The entire time, my mind is whirling with thoughts.

Piper is the brightest spot in my entire world. I’ve known that since I first met her through Tate and Brent. When my uncle worked in other states as a traveling farrier, he would dump me with either Tate or Brent, and I’d spend months wondering what the hell happened to him. Whether or not he was okay, or if he had died in an accident, just like my dad. Or if he’d just… left. Like my mom. Either way, I spent the majority of my time worrying about him. And why the hell he didn’t want me around.

Piper was like a breath of fresh air. Her parents had passed away, and she and her sister were raised by their grandparents. Piper was the only person on the planet who knew what it felt like to be me. And I hung onto that like a lifeline.

Tate and Brent are like brothers to me. They always have been. I’ve spent my life being raised by them and their families. We’re thicker than blood.

But Piper is my world. And for some reason, she tolerates me.

I’ve never known why. It’s probably because Brent and Tate make her. It’s the only logical explanation, because I don’t have shit to offer her. I barely graduated high school. Didn’t go to college. Been working with animals my whole life, to the point where I do better with them than I do anything that walks on two legs. I tend to fuck up my words and shit when I’m around people. So I just don’t say much.

Which is why this whole situation is so much fucking harder. Because if I had the words I wanted, then I’d tell Piper that I would help her have a baby, raise a baby, marry her if she asked me to. That shit would be easy. I’d go to the fucking moon and gather up some dust if she needed it for a prop for one of her photos. I’d get my ass on a boat and go to that place in the middle of the ocean where you’re closer to the international space station than you are to other humans, and I’d bring her a glass of the goddamn ocean.

There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for Piper. Giving her everything is my sole fucking function in life. But every time I open my mouth to say that, there’s fuck all that comes out.

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