Page 43 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“Wants to show them what being a good parent can be like.”

I glare at him. “Is this some kind of fucking reminder that I would be a bad dad, Dalton?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just a reminder that a fresh start is a fresh start. She wants one. She wants to give one to a kid. You can have one, too.”

My jaw opens, then snaps shut. I can feel the veins in my forehead popping out. “The fuck are you saying?”

“You made one mistake, Brent,” Dalton says. “One bad investment. No reason to punish yourself for it forever.”

I’m… I don’t know what the fuck I am, but I didn’t expect that shit.

Dalton gives me a nod. He marches over to the roan, who meekly trots over, and uses all four legs to go to a gallop almost immediately.

I listen to the sound of hooves thundering away, still turning over Dalton’s advice in my mind. That’s the first thing. Advice? From Dalton? Boy, I thought I’d never see the day. But still.

I get that he’s trying to help me to move on. To let go of the past, and the fact that I did make that bad investment that lost us so much money when we were first getting the farm going.

Too bad it’s not his fuckin’ job.

I get to hold myself accountable to whatever I fuckin’ want to. Including making sure that I’m not going to fuck this up again. Because I’m not.

Fuck him. I’m going to do what Piper’s asked me to do. But I’m going to keep it as clinical as possible, because that’s what she asked for. She wants us to help her with a problem. So I’m helping her with a problem.

This is not anything else. If she wants help with her baby, then she’ll ask for it.

But I’m not a good role model. The best that I can do is be like a fun uncle.

That feels… good. Fine. Fucking great.

I pick up the pliers again, attacking the fence. I’m not going to worry about this shit. Not right now. I need to just show up and do what I’m responsible for when it comes to Piper, but I’m not going to let it eat my whole day. Not when night is hours and hours away. Right now, I’ve got a fucking fence to fix.

The fence becomes a blocked ditch. Which becomes a problem with an irrigation gate. Which ends up taking me so fucking longthat by the time I look up because my eyes hurt, I realize that it’s because the sunlight is fading.

At first, all I’m thinking is that it’s sunset. As usual. Gotta get back in, get to bed, and then…

Fuck.It slams into me.Piper.

I’m fucking late to meet Piper.

God damn it.

I swing up on Sam, who is not nearly as fast as the dapple roan that Dalton was on earlier. I kick, hoping Sam will get a little bit of a gallop going, but my horse pointedly ignores me and starts out at the same half-ass canter that he’s famous for.

Sam is what we call bomb-proof. Kids can run under him and touch his belly, and you can take him hunting, and he won’t flinch. Unfortunately, he’s slow as hell. No matter what encouragement he has.

So by the time we’re in sight of the house, it’s dark. Real fuckin’ dark. There’s a light on in the kitchen, and my heart pounds in my chest.

It could be Piper.

“Come on, Sam,” I mutter, looking down at the horse.

He snorts but just keeps plodding toward the barn. When I get there, I rush through the process of taking off Sam’s tack. I’m rushing a lot, because I feel like shit for letting Piper down.

I’m not normally this scattered. I swear I’m not. Well, not since I made those shitty gambles with our money….

I’m thinking about everything except what I should be. That’s the problem. It’s why I turn, opening the wrong stall. The wrong horse. And when I head in, I notice way too late that the horse is a copper-colored bay mare.

There’s a bunch of things that happen at once. I notice that the horse in front of me is facing away. Meaning her ass is facing me. I notice she’s not Sam. And I feel the impact of something hitting my torso. Hard.

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