Page 101 of Claimed By the Cowboys
In her sweet little voice, Maisie sang a few words. “Hush, little baby, don’t you cry?—”
I picked up on her choice and joined her immediately.
“Papa’s gonna sing you a lullaby,” I sang softly, continuing on in the face of Jackson’s high-pitched cries.
Maisie winced as I continued weaving back and forth, my voice growing louder as I struggled to be heard above the din.
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word; Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,”I continued on, Jackson’s desperate cries beginning to soften.
“And if that mockingbird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a golden ring.”
Maisie’s hands slid down from their place cupped over her ears, all the muscles in her face relaxing as her baby brother’s caterwauling murmured away into silence.
“And if that golden ring turns to brass, Papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass.” I continued the song Jackson’s breathing became slow and even as I rubbed small circles on his back.
In her bed, Maisie slumped slightly, her eyelids beginning to droop.
“And if that glass begins to crack, Papa’s gonna buy you a jumping jack, and if that jumping jack gets broke, Papa’s gonna buy you a velvet cloak.” I continued the droning soft rhythm as Maisie slowly tipped over, landing softly on her side as her eyes fluttered shut.
“And if that velvet cloth gets coarse, Papa’s gonna buy you a rocking horse…” I sang the line, reaching down with one hand to pull the covers up and over Maisie’s shoulders. I waited, letting the silence hang there for a moment, to see if either Maisie or Jackson’s cries would start anew the minute I fell silent.
Blissful quiet.
Carefully, I padded out of Maisie’s bedroom and crept on silent feet down to the nursery.
I held my breath as I lowered Jackson, like a perfect little snoozing cherub, into his bassinet. Still breathless, I hovered over the edge of the cradle for a few more seconds before I began stepping back toward the door to the nursery, closing it gently behind me as I made my way back to my pack.
Ready for some much-needed R & R after such aliterally shittyday.
“All right, are my noodles totally soggy or what?” I asked in a lowered voice as I emerged from the hallway into the kitchen, all five styrofoam cups still lined up on the counter, their paper lids curled back from the steam.
“Hey, guys?” I glanced at the abandoned noodles, craning my neck to get a peek into the living room just beyond.
There, on the big sectional couch, my entire pack lay—already asleep.
Clay sat with his neck at a terrible angle, his head braced against his hand, elbow cocked on the arm of the sofa as hismouth hung agape, a little drool beginning to seep from the corner of his mouth.
Piper lay with her head in Clay’s lap, one of his arms draped across her chest, beneath her tucked chin. Her knees bent over Dakota’s lap, her feet in Montana’s lap with his hands still half wrapped around her swollen feet. Unlike his brother, Monty’s head hung forward, his chin almost making contact with his chest.
I laughed quietly to myself, allowing a moment to enjoy this domestic scene of my pack mates, not unlike a modern Renaissance painting.
In a moment, I would toss out the bloated, cold noodles and wake the others to send them to bed. Tired or not, their necks and shoulders would thank me in the morning.
Chapter 47
Dakota
Being a dad… there was nothing like it.
We were all exhausted and near our wits’ end. Even with all hands on deck, our little terror was a handful.
Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ambling up the stairs, I headed toward the nursery. Jackson was due to be awake any minute, and I wanted to be near in case Piper had decided to go take a nap.
As I padded into the nursery, I wasn't surprised to find Piper standing over Jackson's crib, watching him with a serene smile on her face.
Wearing nothing but a tiny nightgown, her messy red hair falling out of her haphazard bun around her face, she was breathtaking. Casually stunning.
