Page 67 of Claimed By the Cowboy
“That’s worse!” Kitty swoops in, rescuing both baby and pastry.
Max immediately snuggles against her chest, and my heart does a little freefall at the sight. Someday, she’ll be holding our sons and daughters.
Luna arrives with a tray of tea and cookies. Snowflakes glitter in her blonde hair, and her cheeks are pink from thecold. “Kitty, I had an idea—what if we did seasonal blends? Like Huckleberry Mint in summer, Spiced Chamomile in winter? We could launch a Christmas collection next year.”
Kitty’s eyes brighten as she bounces Max gently on her hip. “Yes! And we could pair them with soaps or lotions in the same scent. A whole line. We could call it… Havenridge Botanicals.”
“Catchy,” Luna agrees, setting her tray beside the cinnamon rolls. “You’re already building the apothecary side, I’m growing produce and herbs, and”—she looks slyly at Shay, who comes in with a plate covered in foil—“we have a secret weapon.”
Shay laughs. “Oh, no. Don’t drag me into your schemes.”
“You make the best pie this side of the Rockies,” I remind her, tugging the foil back to reveal a golden-crusted huckleberry masterpiece. “If you don’t put your name on the business, I’m doing it for you.”
“Can you imagine?” Kitty grins. “Goat’s milk soap, herbal teas, and Shay’s Huckleberry Pie. We’d haveto fight people off with sticks at the farmer’s market.”
Shay laughs. “I just had a baby. My brain is mush.”
“Which is exactly why we’re plotting now,” Luna says with a smirk. “While you’re too sleep-deprived to argue.”
Henry mutters, “God help us if the women join forces. We’ll never win another argument.”
Angus claps him on the back. “We never did, brother.”
Dad arrives last. His movements are slower these days, but his smile is easy as he surveys the chaos with something close to wonder. “Your mother would’ve loved this,” he says, his voice a little rough. “Noise, food, snow on the ground, babies. Christmas the way it ought to be.”
A pang tightens my chest, but it’s not the heavy grief anymore. It’s lighter now—gratitude braided with missing her. “She’s here,” I say quietly, meeting Dad’s gaze. “Every time we sit downtogether, she’s here.”
Dad nods as he sits at the table, looking happier than I’ve seen him in years. “Yeah, she’d be proud of you all. Proud of what this family’s becoming.” He pauses, looking around. “No Delaney?”
“She’s still recovering from an awful cold, poor thing. I’m sure Daniel is making sure she doesn’t lift a finger,” Kitty says with a knowing smile. “She said she’ll be well enough for Christmas dinner at the ranch house.”
We all glance at the tree, lights twinkling, gifts tucked beneath, snow drifting past the window. For a moment, I swear Mom is right here with us, smiling as she watches her sons, her grandkid, her daughters-in-law.
I catch Kitty’s eye across the kitchen, where she’s still holding Max, her smile soft and certain. And I know she feels it too—that we’re building something bigger than just us.
Soon, our kitchen table is full of family and conversation, and I find myself watching Kitty with something close to awe.
Six months ago, she would have made herself invisible during conversations like this. Now, sheholds her own with ease, laughing and teasing like she’s always belonged here.
Because she has. She belongs here because we all love her, but more than that—she belongs here because she chose it. Chose us. Chose me.
“Oh, before I forget,” Kitty says during a lull in conversation. She disappears into our bedroom, returning with a small glass jar. “I finally perfected the recipe for Uncle Jacob’s eczema.”
Everyone stills at the mention of Jacob’s name.
Oblivious, Kitty sets the jar down, her voice warm with pride. “Chamomile and calendula from Ruth’s garden, and licorice from near the creek. Beeswax base. It should ease the itching.”
Dad clears his throat, eyebrows lifting. “Jacob’s getting the fancy creams, huh? Guess I’ll just keep limping around until someone remembers my arthritic knees.”
Kitty only smiles, sliding into the seat beside him and squeezing his arm. “You’re next, Dad. I’ve been testing an anti-inflammatory blendfor inflamed joints.”
He blinks, surprised as she calls him “Dad.” His mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but then his shoulders loosen and the hard lines around his eyes soften.
Angus cuts the moment with a knowing look. “Maybe you and Uncle Jacob wouldn’t need the creams if you stopped butting heads long enough to share a bottle of whiskey.”
Henry nods. “Truth. Half the time, I think you two don’t even remember why you’re mad at your brother. It’s become a habit now.”
Dad grumbles, but the edge is gone. Kitty’s still smiling at him like she didn’t just disarm the man with one word.
