Page 44 of Claimed By the Cowboys

Jensen nods toward the cleared field on our left. “We’re opening that up to produce more alfalfa hay this fall. Should give us enough to get through winter without buying feed.”

Brandy listens with one hand resting on the horse’s warm neck, occasionally giving him a soft pat. She rests her weight against me, tucking her head under my chin. Now and then she lets out a long breath that sounds like she’s been holding it for days.

“It’s so peaceful,” she says after a while.

“Yeah.” I tighten my arm around her middle. “It’s like that this time of day. Morning, not so much.”

She goes quiet again, but her fingers curl a little tighter over mine where they rest against her stomach.

She seems more tired than ever. Like life is sucking her dry to the very marrow. The strong, capable woman who holds everyone else together is running on fumes, and it kills me to watch.

I’m a patient man, but not when it comes to watching Brandy suffer.

We could transform her life tomorrow if she let us. Today, if she wanted it. We’d take every bit of her burden and make it lighter. All she has to do is say yes.

But we can’t ask, and I don’t push.

She isn’t ready, and I don’t want to make us another weight she has to shoulder.

We ride in easy silence for a while, the horses’ hooves clip-clopping on the dirt, and the wind moving through the tall grass. Somewhere in the distance a cow lows. When the hour starts to run short, we circle back to Brandy’s car.

I dismount first and lift Brandy down carefully, keeping my hands on her waist longer than necessary. Jensen swings off and comes to stand on her other side.

Then we kiss her.

Jensen’s mouth finds hers while I press open-mouthed kisses along her neck and jaw. She melts between us, fisting her hands in our shirts. We switch places, and she tastes so sweet, and accepts the deepness of my kiss, moaning softly as I tug her flush against me. When we finally let her go, her lips are swollen, and her eyes are dazed.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For… this. For not being angry.”

I brush her cheek with my thumb. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You come to us when you can. We’ll be right here waiting.”

She nods and climbs into her car, and I lean down before she closes the door.

“Your hair looks pretty,” I say, earning a sweet smile.

“All my mama’s skill,” she says.

“And your beauty,” I add.

She drives away with one last glance in the rearview mirror, taking my heart with her.

Jensen and I stand in the yard watching the dust settle.

“She’s drowning,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.” I set my jaw. “Then we’ll keep showing her the shore until she decides to swim toward it.”

We head back to the barn together, already planning the next small way to remind her she doesn’t have to carry everything alone.

Chapter 22

Brandy

The air in Mr. Jenkins' room smells faintly of lemon disinfectant and the powdery scent of the crisp, white sheets that cover him. He doesn’t look right the moment I walk into his room. His usual bright smile is gone. The spark in his eyes that always lights up when he sees me is dimmed, and his breathing is shallower than it should be. This morning, I had a bad feeling, and now, as afternoon light filters weakly through the half-closed blinds, that creeping dread only swells. I pull a chair close to the bed and take his cool hand in both of mine, glancing at the small, framed photo of his late wife on the nightstand.

“Hey there, Mr. Jenkins,” I say softly. “It’s Brandy. How are you today?”

He turns his head slowly on the pillow, his watery blue eyes finding mine. A faint smile turns up the corner of his mouth for a moment.