Page 42 of Claimed By the Cowboys

“Well?”

What do I say? He’s a self-centered, uncaring, ass? I don’t want to upset her. “He seems… nice.”

She beams like I’ve announced an engagement. “What did he think of your hair?”

“He didn’t mention it, but I think I looks beautiful, Mama. I felt like a queen.”

She smiles, and I head upstairs, close my bedroom door, and sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone.

My chest aches.

James is exactly the kind of man I’m supposed to want on paper.

But in reality, he’s nothing like the man I need. My mama is traditional. She’d see none of the red flags that were flapping in front of my face all night because he ticks all the boxes the women at our church of the older generation believe are important. Educated. Handsome. Stable income. But none of that matters to me if it’s a slick cover for selfishness, self-interest, and callousness.

I close my eyes, and I’m back on that ranch porch. Back between two strong bodies. Back where I’m truly seen and spoiled. Back where men actually care about the life that I’m trying to keep them out of enough to ask questions and focus on my answers.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending.

With shaking hands, I open the group chat I finally let them create.

Brandy: I’m so sorry. My mama set up a date with a guy from church. I tried to get out of it, but I couldn’t without hurting her feelings. It was awful, and I hated every second of it. I kept thinking about you both the entire night.

I hesitate, then type more.

Brandy: I saw Jensen outside the bar. I wanted to run to him so badly. I’m sorry if it hurt you. I didn’t want to be there. I want to be with you. Both of you, but I…

I don’t know how to do this without blowing up my whole life.

I don’t know how to devastate my family and make myself into a pariah for love.

I can’t say either of those things, so I send it before I can overthink it, then sink onto my bed with a pounding heart.

Their replies arrive almost immediately, and my fingers shake as I read.

Bo: We understand, sweetheart. Doesn’t feel good, but we understand.

Jensen: Seeing you with him was a shock. But I get it. We’re not mad at you, darlin’. We’re mad at the situation. Come to us when you can. We’ll be waiting.

I clutch the phone to my chest as my eyes sting with unshed tears.

Jensen: You looked so beautiful. I hope he told you.

They’re so sweet and patient with me. So understanding.

I don’t deserve them, but I’m falling harder every single day, and I don’t know how to stop it.

Chapter 21

Bo

Brandy pulls up the next afternoon, looking like the world is about to end.

From the barn doorway, I watch her car approaching and step out into the dusty yard. Jensen comes around the side of the house, wiping his hands on a rag. Brandy climbs out slowly, still in her light blue scrubs, with shoulders bowed under some invisible weight. Her new braids are twisted into low bun, accentuating her high cheekbones. Dark circles sit under her eyes like bruises, and when she looks at us, her mouth trembles for half a second before she presses it into a tight line.

“I only have an hour,” she blurts. “But I couldn’t bear going another day without seeing you both and explaining about last night—”

I don’t let her finish.