Page 61 of Claimed By the Cowboys

I roll my eyes, hopping off of the bed. “Only because I thought you were like, dying or something!”

“I was dying. Dying to get you naked,” he laughs.

Tate frowns. “What? Brent, making a joke? Hath the end of days come so soon?”

Brent turns, ready to smack Tate on the arm, and I giggle.

“Don’t you have a hog to roast, chef?”

“The hog roast has been proven a success. Move the fuck on, unless you’re interested in being target practice for another horse,” Tate adds.

I laugh, leaving them behind.

In Brent’s shower, I let the hot water soak me. That was… incredible.

What if you didn’t have to choose?

I shut my eyes against the hope that’s beating frantically at my ribcage.

In a perfect world, I might not have to choose. I might be able to have my best friends, my guys, as more than just friends. We might be able to have a baby, together, and raise them. Together. It’s such a powerful vision, so wonderful, that I feel like I’m kind of dizzy, I want it so bad.

The wanting, however, is followed up very quickly by the fear.

I want that. I want it really badly. And I’m absolutely terrified that I won’t be able to have it.

CHAPTER 17

Dalton

Piper’s been living in our house for eight days. The water heater ended up being her worst-case scenario, and it won’t be fixed for another month. So she’s here. With us. And it’s been eight days.

Eight days where she’s been withdrawn, comparatively.

Sometimes she sleeps in my bed. But she’s always asleep when I get in there, because I’ve been working my ass off trying to make the bay mare less of a mean-spirited animal. By the time she wakes up, I’m already gone, back to working with the animals.

Somehow, we keep losing each other. She comes to take pictures. She eats meals with us. She sleeps. And nothing fucking happens beyond that.

I know that she and Tate and Brent got together. I know she hasn’t asked me for more. And neither have they. And every day that goes by feels like fucking torture.

There’s a little voice in my mind that lives there, more or less perpetually. It sounds a hell of a lot like my uncle, and it only has one message.

No one fucking wants you.

Some days it’s easy to ignore. Some days it’s not. And every day that I know Piper and Brent and Tate aren’t letting me get close to them…

Yeah. It’s fucking hard to ignore.

Today, I decide that I’m just going to sleep out in the barn. Fuck it. If they want to go on without me, they’re fucking welcome to do that. I’m not about to ruin their fucking happy life with my miserable ass.

The sleeping bag is set up in the corner, and I’m inspecting for bugs and shit when I hear someone at the barn door. I look over, surprised to find Piper there. She looks at the sleeping bag, then up at me.

“Um. Is everything okay with the horses?”

I nod.

Piper gives the sleeping bag another pointed look. “So… why are you sleeping out here?”

I shrug. Even on my best days, I’m not good with words. Right now, I have none.

---