Page 10 of Claimed By the Cowboy
But my body doesn't care about right and wrong.
“So,” Ben says, gesturing toward us with his fork, “Tom’s told us about the arrangement, but we’d love to hear more about you ladies.Tom mentioned you've been working multiple jobs, Delaney?”
As my sister launches into her carefully rehearsed summary of our struggles, I observe the family dynamics around the table. These people genuinely like each other. They tease and laughand support without keeping score of who owes what.
It’s everything Delaney and I never had.
“What about you, Kitty?” Luna asks. “Any career plans, or are you more focused on other things?”
Career plans? I barely finished eighth grade before our parents died. I’ve spent years being Delaney’s medical emergency, her burden, and her responsibility.
“I—” The words stick in my throat. “I don’t have any, on account of doing odd jobs here and there.”
“She's brilliant with plants,” Delaney says quickly, jumping to my rescue like always. “Could probably be a botanist or horticulturist if she wanted.”
“Oh, I love all things plants too,” Luna says enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up. “Angus and I dug a new plot behind the coop where we planted sunflowers for Ruth, and he’s building me a greenhouse.”
“A greenhouse?” I ask eagerly. “I’d love to see it. And I want to learn all aboutmountain herbs. I’ve read about medicinal herbs, but seeing them growing wild would be incredible.”
Tom leans closer. “Mom’s garden hash wild varieties. Echinacea, red clover, plenty of others.”
Hours ago, his mouth was half-numb from the dentist, his words thick and awkward. Now the haze is gone, leaving only that deep, resonant rumble. And God help me, it’s unfair how much more attractive his voice is when it’s fully his.
I lean toward him without thinking, drawn by the warmth in his tone when he mentions his mother. “You know about herbs?”
“My mom taught me.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “Could show you the best spots tomorrow. If you're interested.”
“I'd love that,” I whisper.More than I should.
His gaze drops to my lips for just a heartbeat before meeting my eyes again. “It's a date then.”
Delaney clears her throat. “Actually, Tom, I was hoping we could discuss our arrangement tomorrow. Timeline, expectations, that sort of thing.”
Heat floods my face as reality crashes back. Tom and Delaney need to plan their marriage, their future together. I’m just the tagalong sister who needs to figure out where she fits.
“Sure.” Tom’s eyes stay locked on mine. “Plenty of time for everything.”
The conversation moves to ranch operations and weather, but I can’t focus on anything except the man beside me. Every casual gesture draws my attention—the way he cuts his meat with precise movements, how his throat works when he swallows, the play of muscles in his forearms as he stretches for the salt.
I’m in so much trouble.
“MAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”
The sound explodes from outside, loud enough to rattle windows. Everyone freezes for exactly two seconds before chaos erupts.
“Cheese Puff,” Ben, Henry, and Angus say in unison.
Tom shoves back from the table,his chair scraping against the floor. “Dear God, what’s she into now?”
Before anyone can answer, the front door bangs open and the mischievous goat crashes into the room. Her yellow eyes survey the dinner table with calculating intelligence.
“Cheese Puff, no!” Luna shouts.
Too late. The goat launches toward the table with surprising grace, clearly aiming for the cornbread basket. Tom moves like lightning, intercepting her mid-leap and wrapping powerful arms around the animal’s barrel-shaped torso.
“Got you, you hairy menace,” he grunts, wrestling with sixty pounds of pure determination.
But Cheese Puff has other ideas. She twists in Tom’s grip, hooves scrabbling for purchase, and somehow knocks over the water pitcher. Ice water cascades across the table, and everyone scrambles to save their plates.
