Page 1 of Claimed By the Cowboys

DESCRIPTION

One unforgettable night with a stranger should’ve stayed in the past… until I accused his identical twin of ignoring me in front of the entire bar.

I’ve spent the last two years drowning in responsibility: double shifts at the care home, raising my late sister’s children, and holding my grieving mother together. Romance? Not even on the radar.

But two months ago, a rugged cowboy passing through Rockwell Ridge gave me permission to fall apart. He pinned me down, wrecked me so thoroughly I still feel him, then disappeared before sunrise.

Now he’s back.

At least… I think it’s him. Until the real Bo Caldwell walks in wearing the same devastating face and a slow, knowing smirk that makes my knees weak.

Turns out I yelled at his twin, Jensen.

Bo is the man who ruined me for anyone else. Jensen is the equally possessive brother who looks at me like he’s been starving for his turn. And when Bo corners me in the parking lot and offers me a night with them both?

I should say no.

Instead, I end up tangled between two rough cowboys who refuse to let me stay in control. Bo holds me down and praises every desperate sound he drags from my lips. Jensen kneels for me and soothes the parts of me that have been carrying everyone else for far too long. Together, they make me feel soft, spoiled, and shameless in ways I never knew I needed.

But small towns have long memories, and my mother has already buried one daughter because of “bad choices.” She wants me respectably married to a nice man from church.

The more my family needs me, the more impossible this becomes.

Because when Bo and Jensen hold me between them and treat me like I’m precious instead of unbreakable…

I don’t want one more wild night.

I want forever with them both.

Hold tight for a forbidden, fast-burn cowboy ménage featuring kinky twins who are into sharing, restraints, and praise, who are determined to take care of the woman who’s spent her whole life caring for everyone else.

Chapter 1

Brandy

I wipe down the medication cart with slow strokes. My shoulders burn beneath my scrub top and my feet throb inside sneakers that gave up on cushioning me months ago. Overhead, the fluorescent lights buzz with a mean little persistence, adding to my exhaustion.

The care home has finally gone quiet.

Mostly.

Down the hall, Mr. Jenkins snores loud enough to rattle his water cup, and somewhere near the nurses’ station, the ice machine gives a tired cough and drops another handful of cubes. The air smells like lemon disinfectant, latex gloves, and the faint powdery sweetness of the lotion Mrs. Bell insists on using after every bath.

I’m dreaming about getting home, peeling off my compression socks, and falling face-first onto my bed for exactly six minutes before somebody needs me.

Then Annie comes flying into the supply room like a glitter bomb with a pulse, her huge diamante earrings swinging.

“Don’t say a word,” she warns, one glossy pink, gem-encrusted nail pointed straight at my face. Her earrings swing again as she plants herself in front of me. “You are done. Badge off. Scrubs off. And whatever excuse you’re about to give me about Naomi’s science project, Elijah’s nightmares, or your mama’s prayer circle? I do not want to hear it.”

I huff a laugh and toss the rag into the bin, though the tightness in my shoulders doesn’t loosen. “Annie, I’ve got a double tomorrow. Elijah’s been waking up crying again, and if I’m not there in the morning—”

“Brandy.” Annie’s voice softens before I can finish. She steps closer, all that sparkle settling into tenderness. “You’ve had a double practically every week for six months. Those babies love you. Your mama loves you. Everybody loves you. But love does not mean working yourself into the ground until there’s nothing left but bones and good intentions.”

I look away because she isn’t wrong, and I hate that. The truth aches in my chest, familiar as an unpaid bill. Between shifts at the care home, raising my late sister’s children, and trying to keep my mama from crumbling under grief, I feel like I’m holding up the sky with one hand and smiling so nobody notices the tremor.

Annie snatches my tote bag off the counter before I can argue.

“Hey.”