Page 3 of Claimed By the Cowboy
I want to remind him that we can’t afford to be picky.
“Don't keep her waiting,” he adds without looking up.
I nod and head out to the truck.
The short drive to town gives me too much time to think about everything riding on this meeting. The ranch. The deadline. And my prospective bride.
Delaney Phillips, twenty-six, juggling multiple jobs to support her younger sister, looking for a fresh start in Montana.
That’s about all I know, courtesy of Marlie’s Angels and their thorough but cryptic matchmakingclient files.
Marlie, the agency’s owner, was reassuring on the phone yesterday.
“She’s perfect for you, Tom,” she said in that knowing way of hers. “Just trust the process.”
Easy for her to say. She’s not the one whose family legacy hangs in the balance, whose brothers both managed to find their soulmates while I’m scrambling to find anyone willing to take a chance on a cowboy with thirty days to spare.
But the primitive part of me has been restless and hungry since my brothers settled down. That part of me stirs with hungry anticipation. Soon,I’ll meet the woman who could save or doom us. Falling in love with my bride like my brothers did with their wives seems highly unlikely. Once is a fluke, twice a charm... but three times? That would take a miracle.
The bus station comes into view—a small building that’s seen better decades, with a parking lot that’s more pothole than asphalt. A crowd waits outside, which means the bus is on time.
I park and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. The swelling’s gonedown, but my smile is still crooked, and when I try to say “hello,” all I manage is “hewwo.”
Perfect.
I climb out of the truck and lean against the tailgate, automatically scanning the area for threats. Old habits from my SEAL days—know your exits, identify potential problems, protect your back.?
The bus rounds the corner with a hiss of brakes and a cloud of diesel exhaust.
This is it. In a few minutes, I’ll be face-to-face with the woman who might save the ranch. A stranger who will become my wife and might—if I’m lucky—become mine in every way that matters.
The bus doors open with a mechanical wheeze, and passengers start filing out. An elderly man with a cane. A woman with two screaming toddlers. A teenager with purple hair and enough piercings to set off a metal detector.
A dark-haired woman steps forward, scanning the crowd until she spots me. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and her shoulders are squared like she’s braced for battle.
That has to be Delaney. Strong, capable, exactly what Marlie described.
“Tom Sutton?” she calls, her voice carrying clearly across the parking lot.
“That’s me,” I call back, which sounds more like “Thash me.”I push off from the truck and make my way over to her.“You must be Delaney.”
The dark-haired woman nods as I draw closer. She tries to smile, but it doesn’t cover the worry I see in her brown eyes. Is she that nervous about meeting me?
Of course, she’s nervous. You’re a stranger, yet she’s agreed to marry you.
That's when I see her.
A smaller woman steps out from behind Delaney, and every primitive instinct I possess goes on high alert.
She's tiny—perhaps five-foot-two in boots—with blonde hair that catches the afternoon light like spun gold. Despite their differences in height and coloring, their resemblance is unmistakable. Same brown eyes, high cheekbones,and stubborn chin.
Before anyone can say another word, the blonde suddenly doubles over in a sneezing fit that looks like it might launch her into orbit.
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo! AH-CHOO!”
She straightens, her face red with embarrassment, and mutters, “Pineapple, pineapple, pineapple.”
I blink. Is that some kind of sneeze code?
