Page 21 of Claimed By the Cowboy
“What?” The brown eyes so like mine pin me in place, and her mouth twists into a wry smile. “Are you suggesting I throw away my only chance at security for a fairy-tale romance? What if I decide I deserve some grand passion, and we end up back in a run-down apartment where the landlord thinks he’s owed more than rent?”
The bitter edge in her voice cuts deep. She’s right. For years, our lives have been about making practical choices that keep us fed, clothed, and out of reach of predators.
“I need air,” I mutter, grabbing my jacket.
“Don’t wander far. And if you see any wildlife?—”
“I’ll scream and run. I know.”
Delaney hesitates, then adds, “Do you have your inhaler?”
I roll my eyes, though my chest warms at her concern. “Yeah, yeah, it’s basically my fifth appendage. But honestly, I’ve been so much better since we got here. Must be allthis clean Montana air.”
Her mouth softens, but she still looks unconvinced. “Just… humor me.”
How many years has Delaney been protecting me from imaginary dangers while I ignored the real ones?Which now includes falling for my sister's intended husband.
“I will.” I paste on a smile before slipping out.
The ranch sprawls before me in afternoon gold, and despite everything, my chest loosens. This place calls to something deep inside me—the part that’s been suffocating in cramped apartments and gray city blocks.
A narrow trail leads toward the sound of running water, and the need for a physical outlet sets my feet in motion. I follow it through whispering aspens and sun-dappled clearings, the air scented with pine and wildflowers. Maybe if I keep walking, I can sort through the chaos in my head.
Tom Sutton is off-limits. He’s Delaney's future, our security, the answer to problems I can’t solve on my own.
He’s also the first man who's ever looked at me like I matter.And the firstman I’ve ever kissed. I felt that perfect kiss in every part of me. Not just the spark, but the ache as if my body was waiting for that exact moment. Forhim.
Ishouldregret it. But I don’t. And that’s the problem.
We’ve been around each other constantly since that day at the barn—hard not to, when we’re living under the same roof. Meals. Chores. Late evenings sitting around the firepit with Luna and Shay, where our knees almost touch, and I pretend not to notice.
And even though nothing’s happened since, the tension between us hums like a live wire. Every glance feels loaded. Every brush of his hand, every shared smile, feels like a secret we’re both too scared to name.
Tom’s the joker of the family. Always quick with a wink, a joke, or some ridiculous story that gets the whole table laughing. He makes it easy to forget the weight we’re all carrying.
But sometimes, when he thinks no one’s watching, I see the shadows behind his smile. The way his jaw clenches when he talks about his mom. Thequiet moments when his laughter fades too fast, like the joy was only ever borrowed.
And I can’t help but wonder what put those shadows there. What he’s lost. What he’s still holding onto when the world isn’t looking.
Whatever it is, I want to reach for it. For him.
Even when I know I shouldn’t.
I keep waiting for it to fade. For the feelings to dull. But instead, they grow sharper, more dangerous, with every passing day.
Because the more I see of him—the way he teases Luna, the way he helps his dad without being asked, the quiet way he watches over everyone—the more I realize the truth.
I’m not just falling for him.
I’ve already fallen.
The path winds through tall grass and scattered trees before opening onto a hidden creek. Water flows clear as glass over polished stones, wildflowers painting the banks in shades of purple and gold. I sink onto a fallen logat the water's edge, grateful for this quiet refuge where I can pretend my life isn't completely falling apart.
I settle on a sun-warmed boulder and pull off my boots and socks, digging my toes into the grassy bank.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Tom’s voice makes me jump, though some traitorous part of me isn’t surprised he found me. I turn to see him leaning against an aspen trunk, hat pushed back, eyes the color of the July sky.
