Page 27 of Claimed By the Cowboys

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that are ricocheting through my body. “Shoot, Dalton. How did you get in?”

He looks down. “Door was unlocked.”

Oh. Yeah. I don’t really lock it. Who would come steal anything from me, all the way out here? “Oh.”

“I’m early.”

“You are.”

“I can go?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “No. Please. Don’t go.”

I’m begging him, because this is so awkward, and if he walks out the door and then walks back in, I won’t be able to do it.

I have to do this. Now.

Dalton’s hands are still on my shoulders, and I’m struck by how big they are. I let my eyes run over him, noting the way his pearl snap shirt is kind of straining at the edges.

I let my eyes continue up. His hair, normally flat under his cowboy hat, is a little too long. It’s dark brown and curling around the edges and looks kind of… wet. Like he just got out of the shower. He smells incredible, too. Piney, and kind of smokey.

“Did you put on cologne?”

Dalton looks away, and his hands leave my shoulders.

“You hate it,” he murmurs.

“No,” I say quickly. I step forward and take one of his hands, putting it back on my shoulder. “No. I don’t. You smell really good, Dalton.”

“Thanks.”

We just stand there. His hand on my shoulder. Me, staring at him. In the kitchen of my house. Wine drenching my clothes. Oh.

I move back, and his hands fall off.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’m just covered in wine now, and?—”

“Fuck it,” he says softly. I blink up at him. Dalton stands tall, looking at the wine. “I’ll help you clean it up. Later,” he adds.

“Later.”

After we do this.

Dalton looks over at me. “So. You want to…”

Okay. No time like the present, I guess.

“Yeah. Um. In the bedroom? I guess?” I stammer. I’m blushing like crazy. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, and I have no idea what to do. Except, I guess, it’s time to do… that.

Silently, I start to walk toward my bedroom. I can hear Dalton follow me, and his footsteps have never been louder as they echo off of the hall. I mean, this is not the first time one of the guys has been in my little farmhouse. Probably not the first time that Dalton has been here, honestly. But I feel like I’m painfully aware of his every move.

I stop in the bedroom when I get there. I spin, slowly looking at Dalton.

I don’t know what to do now. Okay, I doknowwhat to do. I know what needs to be done, and I understand the basics, anyway. But I don’t know like what… to do.

Dalton seems to register this. He steps forward, and he lifts a hesitant hand to my face.

I shiver. His palm is close enough to warm my cheek, but it’s not touching me. I want to lean into it, like a kitten. He ends up moving, his fingers gently pushing a strand of hair behind my head.

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